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ANNALS 


OFTHS 


AMEKICAN  PULPIT; 


I  OR 


COMMEMORATIVE  NOTICES 


Of 


DISTINGUISHED  AMERICAN  CLERGYMEN 


or 


VARIOUS    DENOMINATIONS, 


FROM  THE  EARLY  SETTLEMENT  OF  THE  COUNTRY  TO  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  YEAR 

EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  AND  PIFTT-FTVE. 


WITH  HISTORICAL  INTRODUCTIONS. 


BY  WILLIAM  B.  SPRAGUE,  D.  D. 


•*■  ^*    C  T    *    * 


^ 


VOLUME  IV.    ' ;  /;  v  - 


NEW   YORK: 
ROBERT  GARTER  &  BROTHERS, 

SSO   BROADWAT. 
1858. 


t~'  -rc^ 


Entered  accordiDg  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856. 
By  ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  tlie  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 

District  of  New  York. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  INDEX. 


■■♦♦— 


SUBJBOTS.  WUTVR8.  PAaC. 

1792-  J<dm  Mitten  Maton,  D.  D Robert  M'Cartee,  D.D 

Benjamio  Silliman,  L.L.  D 

G.  W.  Bctlmue,  D  D 

W  D.  Snodgras8«  D.  D 1 

17W.  Edward  Dorr  Griffin,  D.  D Asa  Uillyer,  D.D 

Nicholas  Murray,  D.  D. 

J.  W.  Yeomans,  D.  D 26 

1792.  Gideon  Blackburn,  D.  D J.  W.Hall, D.D 48 

179-i.  Kobert  M.  Cunningham,  D.  D N.  S.  S.  Beman,  D.D 58 

179^  Jfoses  Waddel,  D.  D Hon.  A.  B.  Longstrcet.  LL.  D 

Hon.  J.  C.  Calhoun,  LL.  D 

Alonzo  Church.  D.D (58 

1793.  George  Buist,  D.  D Hon.  Mitchell  king 71 

17M.  Samuel  Brown.  ......«• S.  B.  Wilson,  D.D 

Henry  Kuffner,  D.  D 74 

1798.  Thomas  Marques J.  M.  Stevenson,  D.D 

WUliam  Neill,  D.  D 83 

1793.  John  Makemie  Wilson,  D.  D H.  H.  Morrison,  D.  D 90 

1798.  Robert  Hett  Chapman,  D.  D Hev.  James  Morrison 

Hon.  F.  Nash 95 

1795.  James  Richards,  D.  D Hun.  Theodore  Frelin^huvseu,  LL.  D 

Charli'8  Wilev,  D.D.  . .  .*. 

Kcv.  J.  T.  UeadlLv 

Hon.  W.  H.  Seward.  LL.  D 99 

1798.  John  Robinson,  D.  D K.  H.  Morrison ,  D.  D 113 

1793.  Samuel  Martin,  D.  D Rev.  William  Finney 118 

1793.  Robert  G.  Wilson,  D.  D James  Huge.  D.  D 122 

1794.  Robert  Finley,  D.  D Samuel  Fisher,  D.  D 120 

1791-  Ebenezer  Dickey,  D.  D George  Juukin,  D.  D 

John  Knox, D.D 133 

1794.  James  Gilliland Rev.  H.  S.  Fullerton 137 

1794.  Seth  WiUiston,  D.  D John  Fiske,  D.D 

Rev.  Daniel  Waldo 140 

1794.  Samuel  Ralston,  D.  D A.  T.  M'Gill,  D.  D 146 

1796.  Samuel  Graham  Ramsey J.  G.  M.  Ramsey,  M.  D 100 

1795.  Amzi  Armstrong,  D.  D E.  R.  Fairchild,  D.  D 155 

1795.  Samuel  Blatchford,  D.  D Mark  Tncker,  D.  D 

Kavaud  K.  Rodgers,  D.  D 158 

1796.  Archibald  Cameron Hon.  C.  S.  Todd KiS 

1796.  Joseph  Caldwell,  D.D Deuison  Olmsted,  LL.  D 

^hel>.1rd  K.  KoUock,  D.  D 173 

1797.  John  Lyle Robert  Stuart,  D.D 

H.  H.  Kavanau<;h.  I).  D 

W.  H.  Mc(;uffe\ ,  D.  D 

Hon.  Chilton  Allan 

G.  W.  Williams,  Ksq 178 

1797.  Joshua  Williams,  D.D Hon.  R.  B.  Taney,  LL.  D 

David  McConaughy ,  D.  D 

David  Elliott,  D.D 186 

1797.  George  Addison  Baxter,  D.  D John  Leyburn,  D.  D 192 

1797.  David  M'Conaughy,  D.  D.,  LL.  D.. .  David  Elliott,  D.  D 199 


{y  CHRONOLOGICAL  INDEX. 

8VBJSCTS.  WBRSBS.  PAOS. 

1798.  John  Watson James  Caniahan.  D.D 205 

1798.  John  Blair  Linn,  D.D Kev.  Alexander  Phoenix 210 

1798.  John  Brodhead  KomeynyD.  D Theodoric  Romejm  Beck,  LL.D 

Thomas  £.  Yermilye,  D.  D 216 

1798.  Henry  Davis,  D.  D Jeremiah  Day,  D.  D 

Hon.  Samuel  Nelson 224 

1799.  John  Glendy,  D.  D Rev.  Thomas  B.  Balch 

Elias  Harrison,  D.D 229 

1799.  Matthew  La  Rue  Perrine,  D.  D A.  E.  Campbell,  D.D 

S.H.Cox,D.D 287 

1799.  Elisha  Macordy William  Neill,  D.  D 211 

1799.  Charles  Coffin,  D.  D Daniel  Dana,  D.  D 

Francis  A.  McCorkle,  D.  D 

'  MissC.M.MeMUe 

Frederick  A.  Ross,  D.  D 246 

1799.  Matthew  Brown,  D.D.,  LL.D Robert  Baird,  D.  D 266 

1800.  Henry  Kollock,  D.  D James  Caniahan,  D.  D 

William  Capers,  D.  D.. 

Hon.  John  Macpberson  Berrien,  LL .  D.  268 

1800.  Andrew  Flinn,  D.  D A.  W.  Leland,  D.D i  276 

1801.  James  Inglis,  D.  D Hon.  Alexander  Nisbet, 

J.  Meredith,  Esq 

Rev.  T.  B.  Balch 278 

1801^  Conrad  Speece,  D.  D Rev.  William  Brown 

Henry  Ruffner,  D.D 

William  Hill,  D.  D 284 

1801.  John  Matthews,  D.  D James  Wood.D.  D 

J.  M.  Brown,  D.D 

S.B  Wilson, D.D 

W.  C.Matthews,  D.D 292 

1801.  Henry  Rowan  Wilson,  D.  D Robert  Steel,  D.  D 

S.  M.  Andrews,  D  D 800 

1802.  William  M'Pheeters,  D.D Drurv  Lacy,  D.D 

Hon.  D.  L.Swain,  LL.D 804 

1802.  Joshua  Lacy  WilBon,  D.  D Thomas  Cleland.  D.D 

Hon.  C.  S.  Todd 

R.  G.  Wilson,  D.  D 808 

1802.  James  Laurie,  D.  D Elias  Harrison,  D.D 

Rev.  R.  R.  Gurley 814 

1802.  Robert  Hamilton  Bishop,  D.  D J.  M.  Mathews,  D.  D 820 

1803.  John  Holt  Rice,  D.  D J.  W.  Alexander,  D.  D 

B.M.  Smith.D.D 325 

1803.  Bei^amin  Morgan  Palmer,  D.D... .Rev.  W.  C.  Dana 

B.  M.  Palmer,  D.D 341 

1808.  Elisha  Yale,  D.  D Rev.  Edward  Wall 848 

1804.  James  Patriot  Wilson,  D.  D T.  H.  Skinner,  D.  D 

William  Patton,  D.  D 

E.S.Ely,D.D 

John  Hall,  D.  D 

Rev  Albert  Barnes 858 

1805.  Uzal  Ogden,  D.  D Archer  Gifford.  Esq 

John  McDowell,  D.V 

o.  IX .  Oox,  LI.  IJ*.... •...•. •••••,...   ou4 
1805.  Samuel  Porter  Williams Leonard  ^V  ithington,  D.D 370 

1805.  Ephraim  Putnam  Bradford Rev.  J.  J.  McCollum 

Rev.  Thomas  Sava^ 373 

1806.  Samuel  Whelpley Hon.  Theodore  Freliiighuyscu 

Hon.  Lewis  Condlct 880 

1808.  William  H.  Barr,  D.  D Hon.  Alexander  Bowie 884 

1806.  William  Shields  Reid,  D.D C  R.  Yaughan,  D.D 

John  Early,  D.D 

Rev.  W.  H.  Kinckle 388 

1806.  John  Johnston,  D.  D John  Forsyth,  D.  D 304 

1807.  John  Chester,  D.D Hon.  Martin  Van  Buren 

Hon.  B.F.  Butler 401 

1807.  Edward  Lutwyche  Parker Daniel  Dana,  D.D 410 

1807.  Samuel  Kelsey  Nelson Hon.  C.  S.  Todd 415 

1807.  John  Mclntyre Rev.  Robert  Tate 

Rev.  Adam  Gilchrist 418 


CHKOKOLOGICAL  INDSX.  V 

SUBJSCTS.  WBITSB8.  PaAB. 

1806.  James  PattenoD Thomas  Brainerd,  D.  ]) 428 

1806.  Joseph  GampbeU,  D.  D .James  Scott,  D.  D 429 

1808.  CofiMslitia  G.  Cuyler,  D.  D Thomas  Dew itt/D.  D .' 

Hon.  J.  K.  Kane 

J.  H.  Jones,  D.  D 482 

1809.  James  M'Chord. .••••••.. J.  M.  Duncan,  D.D 

J.M.Mathews,  D,D 487 

1809.  ThomM  Barr Kev.  John  Seward 442 

1810.  JohnBlairUoge Mrs.  Dr.  J.  H.  Hice 

D.H.  Riddle,  D.  D 448 

1810.  Henry  Axtell,  D.  D S.  H.  Cox,  D.  D 468 

1810.  EiraFiak,  D.D Luther  Halsey,  D.  D 457 

1810.  Daniel  A.  Clark Samuel  Osgood,  D.D 400 

1810.  PhUip  Lindsley,  D.  D John  Maclean,  D.  D 

L.  J.  Halsey,  D.  D 4G5 

1811.  William  Raymond  Weeks,  D.  D Baxter  Dickinson,  D.D 478 

1812.  Thomas  Dickson  Baird William  Jeffery,  D.D 

David  EUiott,  D.  D 476 

1813.  Samnel  Davies  Hoge Moses  D.  Hoge,  D.  D 483 

181S.  Charles  Backus  Storrs E.A.Park,  D.D 487 

1813.  Thomas  Goulding,  D.D S.  K.  Talmage,  D.  D 

Hon.  J.  H.  Lumpkin 491 

1813.  William  Anderson  McDowell,  D.  D.  W.  M.  Engles,  D.  D 495 

1814.  Plulip  Melancthon  Whelpley Gardiner  Spring,  D.D 490 

1814.  Salmon  Giddings. J.  M.  Peck,  D.  D 

Ralph  Emerson,  D.  D 504 

1814.  John  Kirkpatrick S.  L.  Graham,  D.  D 510 

18R  John  McElroy  Dickey Rev.  Henry  Little 

Rev.  Henry  Ward  Beecher 514 

1814.  Richard  B.  Cater,  D.  D R.  H.  Chapman,  D.D 520 

1815.  B«i\iamin  Franklin  Stanton H.  R.  Weed,  D.D 

Hon.  B.  F.  Butler 

D.L.Carroll,  D.D 524 

1815.  James  Gallaher F.  A.  Ross,  D.  D 

R.  J.  Breckenridge,D.  D 533 

1816.  Thomas  Charlton  Henry,  D.  D WiUiam  Keill,  D.D 

Rev.  Benjamin  Gildersleeve 588 

1816.  Matthias  Bmen S.  H.  Cox,  D  D 

Mrs.  M.  G.  L.  Duncan 548 

1816.  ObadUh  Jennings,  D. D David  Elliott. D.D 

Hon.  John  Fine 549 

1817.  Sylvester  Lamed William  Allen,  D.  D 

Francis  Hall,  Esq 

Alfred  Hennen,  Esq 

J.  N.  Danforth,  D.D 556 

1817.  EUha  WhiUleMy  Baldwin,  D.  D. . . .Edwin  F.  Hatfield,  D.  D 

Rev.  Joseph  Uurlbut 572 

1817.  James  Long  Sloss N .  Rowell ,  M .  D 

Rov.J.O  Stedman 681 

1817.  Jeremiah  Chamberlain,  D.  D John  N.  Waddel,  D.  D 

George  Potts,  D.  D 590 

1817.  Elipbalet  Wheeler  Gilbert,  D.  D . . . .  Rev.  B.  J.  Wallace 596 

1818.  James  Wharey W.  S.  White,  D.  D 601 

1818.  William  Jessup  Armstrong,  D. D. .  .David  Magic,  D.  D 610 

1818,  N  orris  Bull,  D.D J.  C.  Lord  D.  D 615 

1^18.  Samuel  Lvie  Graham,  D.D Hon.  A.  W.  Yeuable 622 

1810   WillUm  Mevms,  D.  D Stephen  Collins,  M.  D 

J.  N.  Campbell,  D.D 629 

1890.  WillUm  Ashmead S.  H.  Dickson,  M.  D 641 

1822.  John  Biedcenrldge,  D  D Hon.  Henry  Clay 

J.  M.  Krebs,  D.  D 645 

1822.  Alexander  Angostns  Campbell James  Holmes,  D.  D G51 

1823.  Joseph  Sanforo J.  B.  Waterbury,  D.  D 655 

1824.  Joseph  Stibbs  Christmas £.  N.  Kirk.  D.  D 

Henry  Wilkes,  D.D 662 

1824.  Joseph  Ives  Foot,  D.  D Timothy  Mather  Cooley,  D.  D 669 

1824.  Stephen  Taylor,  U  D H.  P.  Goodrich,  D.  D 

Rev.  Halsey  Dunning 678 


yi  CHRONOLOGICAL  INDEX. 

flTBJBOn.  WBITBM.  PAOB. 

1825.  DaWd Nelson.  K.  D F.  A.  Ross,  D.  D 

J.  A.  Jacobs,  Esq 

W.  S.  PottSjD.D 

R.  J.  Breckenridge,  D.  D 677 

1825.  John  Watson  Adams,  D.  D R.  W.  Condit.  D.  D 688 

1826.  Henry  White,  D,D Asa  D.  Smith,  D.  D 691 

1826.  Daniel  Lynn  Carroll,  D.  D Robert  Baird,  D.  D 

D.  H.  Riddle.  D.  D 697 

1826.  Erskine  Mason,  D.  D William  Adams,  D.  D 

J.  W.  McLane,  D.  D 705 

1826.  Ichabod  Smith  Spencer,  D.  D ..... .  .Gardiner  Spring,  D.  D 

M.  W.  Jacobus,  D.  D 

R.  S.  Storrs,  Jr  ,  D.  D 710 

1827.  William  Stephens  Potts,  D.  D H.  P.  Goodrich,  D.  D 

Hon.  S .  G.  Potts 728 

1827.  Charles  Hall,  D.  D Nicholas  Murray,  D.  D 

AsaD.  Smith,  b.  D 780 

1828.  Albert  Baldwin  Dod,  D.  D Charles  Hodge,  D  D 787 

1828.  Asa  Theodore  Hopkins,  D.  D William  Wisner ,  D.  D 

Hon.  Millard  Fillmore 741 

1828.  HughMair,  D.D Tayler  Lewis,  LL.  D 744 

1828.  Artemas  BuUard,  D.  D Rev.  Timothy  H,ill 

Thomas  Brainerd,  D.D 748 

1829.  Samuel  Goyer  Winchester William  M.  Engles,  D.D 754 

1880.  Thomas  Sydenham  Witherspoon. . .  Robert  Nail,  D.  D 

W.  H.  Mitchell,  D.  D 768 

1880.  Samuel  McCulloch  Williamson Rev.  David  Irving 764 

1830.  James  Morrison  Arnell Rev.  William  Mack 768 

1880.  Reuben  Tinker M.  L.  P.  Thompson, D.  D 770 

1888.  William  Mayo  Atkinson,  D.D Charles  Hodge,  D.  D 

Waiiam  Plumer,  D.D 

Rt.  Rev.  Thomas  Atkinson,  D.  D 777 

1888.  John  A.  Gretter Rev.  James  H.  McNeill 782 

1889.  Nicholas  Murray H.  R.  Weed.  D.  D 

Rev  H  G.Comingo 787 

1839.  Francis  S.  Sampson,  D^D R.  L.  Dabney,  D.  D 795 

1840.  William  Cowper  Scott J.  S.  Armistead,  D.  D 

C.  R.  Vaughan,  D.D 802 

1841.  Walter  Maccm  Lowrie R.  W.  Dickinson,  D.  D 807 

1811.  John  Humphrey William  J.  Budington,  D.  D ' 

Rev.  Samuel  Harris 821 


JOHN  MITCHELL  MASON,  D.  D  * 

1792—1829. 

John  Mitchell  Mason  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  March  19, 
1770.  He  was  a  son  of  the  Rev.  John  Mason,  D.  D.,  who  emigrated  from 
Scotland  to  this  country  in  1761,  and  took  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Scotch 
Presbyterian  Church  in  Cedar  Street,  New  York,  where  he  laboured  with 
great  fidelity  and  snccess,  until  his  death  in  1792.  One  of  the  noblest 
tributes  which  a  son  ever  paid  to  the  memory  of  a  father,  is  to  be  found  in 
the  Address  which  Dr.  Mason  (the  son)  delivered  before  the  Presbytery, 
relative  to  the  resignation  of  his  pastoral  charge ; — ^a  tribute  which  no  one 
can  read  without  feeling  a  sentiment  of  veneration  for  the  parent,  and  of 
admiration  for  the  intellectual  greatness  and  filial  sensibilities  of  the  son. 

Yoong  Mason  is  said  to  have  been  characterized,  in  his  childhood,  by  a 
fireedom  from  every  thing  vicious,  an  unusual  sprightliness  of  temper,  and  a 
strong  relish  for  study.  It  was  obvious,  in  the  earliest  development  of  his 
powers,  that  he  possessed  an  intellect  of  no  common  order ;  and  the  rapid 
improvement  and  brilliant  exhibitions  of  the  boy  gave  no  equivocal  presage 
of  the  pre-eminent  greatness  of  the  man.  His  father,  who  was  distinguished 
for  bis  classical  attainments,  mainly  conducted  his  education,  up  to  the  time 
of  bis  admission  to  College;  and  it  was  during  this  period  that  he  laid  the 
foundation  of  those  habits  of  intellectual  discipline,  for  which  he  was  sub- 
sequently BO  mueh  distinguished.  In  May,  1789,  he  was  graduated  at 
Columbia  College  in  his  native  city,  at  the  age  of  a  little  more  than  nine- 
teen. Afler  having  alluded  to  his  diligent  application,  it  is  hardly  neces- 
sary to  add  that,  with  such  powers  as  he  possessed,  he  held  a  distinguished 
imnk  in  point  of  scholarship.  His  comprehensive,  brilliant,  versatile  mind 
gave  bim  the  power  of  attaining  the  highest  rank  in  any  department  of 
learning  to  which  he  applied  himself;  while  he  is  said  to  have  been  actually 
n&ost  distinguished  for  his  familiarity  with  the  classics,  and  with  metaphysi- 
cal science. 

The  foundation  of  his  religious  character  seems  to  have  been  laid,  at  a  very 
early  period,  in  the  blessing  of  Qod  on  a  course  of  faithful  pn rental  efforts. 
His  mind  was  imbued  with  a  knowledge  of  the  great  truths  of  the  Gospel, 
as  soon  as  its  faculties  were  sufficiently  developed  to  admit  of  comprehend- 
ing thoBi;  and  these  truths  seem  to  have  become  very  early,  through  the 
influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  commanding  principles  of  his  conduct. 
He  once  incidentally  remarked  that,  at  the  age  of  ten,  he  used  sometimes  to 
go  into  the  garret,  taking  with  him  Ralph  Erskine's  work,  entitled  "  Faith's 
Plea  upon  God's  word,"  and,  as  he  read  it,  to  weep  in  view  of  his  sins^  and 
humbly  supplicate  God's  mercy.  At  seventeen,  his  religious  views  and  feel- 
ings were  so  matured  and  settled »  that  he  made  a  public  profession  of 
religion,  and  was  received  to  the  communion  of  the  church  of  which  his 
father  was  pastor. 

*  McMob  pnflxcd  to  Ms  woifc.--Henrojr*S  Tub.  Bflna.— 6iiodgn«*  4»k—'UB.  tnmt  B«r.  J* 
H.  lf«  Kaois.  . 

Vol    IV  1 


2  PHESBTTERIAK. 

From  the  tiiae  of  hia  leaying  College,  and  probably  at  an  earlier  period, 
bis  views  seem  to  have  been  directed  towards  the  Christian  ministry.  Hb 
coarse  of  preparation  for  the  sacred  office  was  begun  and  continued  for  a 
while  under  the  direction  of  his  father ;  and  it  was  during  this  period  that 
he  became  so  familiar  with  the  original  languages  of  the  Bible,  especially  the 
Greek  ; — a  circumstance  which  he  afterwards  turned  to  great  account  in  his 
expository  labours.  But,  after  having  passed  a  year  under  his  &ther*8 
instruction,  he  crossed  the  ocean  in  1791,  with  a  view  to  complete  his  theo- 
logical course  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh.  Here  he  was  honoured  with 
the  respect  and  friendship  of  many  distinguished  men,  among  whom  were 
Doctors  Hunter  and  Erskine,  who  rendered  him  marked  attentions,  and 
continued  his  cordial  friends  through  life.  Here  also  he  became  associated, 
as  a  student,  with  several  individuals  with  whom  he  formed  an  enduring 
intimacy,  and  who  have  since  risen  to  the  highest  respectability  and  useful- 
ness. 

One  of  the  most  important  advantages  which  he  seems  to  have  derived 
from  his  connection  with  the  University,  was  the  admirable  facility  which 
he  acquired  at  extemporaneous  speaking  He  possessed  an  original  talent 
for  this,  in  no  common  degree ;  and  here  he  had  an  opportunity  to  cultivate 
it,  which,  at  that  time,  he  could  scarcely  have  enjoyed  in  an  equal  degree 
any  where  else.  Connected  with  the  University  there  was  a  Theological 
Society,  composed  of  students,  which  held  its  meetings  every  week,  for  the 
purpose  of  mutual  improvement ;  and  the  exercises  of  this  Society  consisted 
chiefly  in  extemporaneous  debate.  In  these  exercises  Mr.  Mason  had  a  promi« 
nent  share ;  and  no  doubt  this  was  an  important  part  of  the  instrumentality 
by  which  he  ultimately  attained  a  rank  among  the  first  extemporaneous 
preachers  of  the  age. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1792,  his  course  in  the  University  was  sud- 
denly arrested  by  his  receiving  the  afflictive  intelligence  of  the  death  of  his 
father,  together  with  an  invitation  to  take  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  church 
with  which  his  father  was  connected.  Considering  that  it  was  the  church 
in  the  bosom  of  which  he  had  been  bom  and  educated,  and  that  he  was  now 
but  little  more  than  twenty-two  years  of  age,  this  might  have  seemed,  at 
first  view,  a  hazardous  experiment;  but  the  knowledge  which  they  had  of 
his  talents  and  piety,  and  their  conviction  that  he  was  destined  to  eminent 
usefulness,  led  them  unhesitatingly  to  direct  their  eyes  towards  him  as  their 
spiritual  guide.  The  event  proved  that  their  confidence  was  not  misplaced. 
In  compliance  with  their  wishes,  he  returned  immediately  to  this  country  ; 
was  licensed  to  preach  in  November,  1792 ;  and,  after  preaching  for  them 
a  few  months,  was  installed  in  April,  1793,  as  their  Pastor.  In  this  relation 
he  continued,  growing  in  favour  and  usefulness,  for  seventeen  years.  *  On  the 
13th  of  May  succeeding  his  installation,  he  was  married  to  Ann,  the  only  child 
of  Abraham  Lefierts  of  the  city  of  New  York, — who  survived  him  several 
years. 

One  important  service  which  he  rendered  to  the  Church,  especially  to  the 
denomination  with  which  he  was  connected,  a  little  before  the  close  of  the 
century,  was  the  publication  of  his  <*  Letters  on  Frequent  Communion.*' 
Up  to  that  period,  it  had  been  the  practice  of  the  Associate  Reformed 
Church  in  this  country,  to  celebrate  the  Communion  bat  once,  or  at  most 
twice,  a  year;  and  to  precede  it  by  a  day  of  Fasting,  and  follow  it  by  a  day 
4»f  Thanksgiving.    The  «*  Letters"  now  referred  to  were  addressed  to  the 


JOHN  MITQHBLIi  MASOK.  | 

dimches  of  thftt  denommation,  and  were  designed  to  hrbg.tliem  to  ajnore 
frequent  celebration  of  the  ordinance,  and  to  lead  them  to  view  it  Qiore  in 
what  the  writer  regarded  its  scriptural  simplicity.  This  pamphlet  was 
extensiyelj  circulated,  and  produced  a  powerful,  and  to  a  great  extent  the 
desired,  effect;  for  it  was  followed,  on  the  part  of  most  of  the  churches,  by 
a  gradual,  and  ultimately  an  almost  entire,  relinquishment  of  the  ancient 
practice,  and  by  a  practical  adoption  of  the  views  which  the  ''Letters'* 
were  designed  to  recommend. 

As  Mr.  Mason  had  known  by  experience  the  advantages  of  a  thorougli 
tiieologicai  education,  he  was  exceedingly  desirous  not  only  that  the  stand- 
ard of  qualification  for  the  mbistry  in  this  country  should  be  elevated,  but 
that  young  men  destined  to  the  sacred  office  should  enjoy  better  opportuni- 
ties for  theological  improvement.  This  led  him,  about  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century,  to  project  the  plan  of  a  Theological  Seminary,  to  be  estab- 
lished by  the  authority,  and  subject  to  the  direction,  of  the  Associate 
Reformed  Church.  This  plan  he  succeeded  in  carrying  into  effect  in  1804 ; 
and  the  result  was  the  establishment  of  an  institution,  which  soon  attained 
a  high  degree  of  respectability.  Of  this  institution  be  was  himself  the  very 
life  and  soul, — he  was  appointed  its  first  Professor,  and  continued  to  discharge 
the  duties  of  the  office  with  almost  unparalleled  ability,  in  connection  with 
his  various  other  official  duties,  until,  by  the  gradual  decay  of  his  constitu* 
tion,  he  was  admonished  to  retire. 

To  aid  in  the  accomplishment  of  this  favourite  object, — the  establishment 
of  a  Theological  Seminary,  he  again  visited  Great  Britain  for  the  purpose 
of  procuring  a  library ;  and  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  about  three  thousand 
volumes.  During  this  visit,  he  made  an  impression  of  intellectual  great- 
ness which  few  other  men  have  ever  made ; — an  impression  in  respect  to 
which,  in  some  cases  at  least,  I  am  myself  a  witness  that,  after  the  lapse  of 
nearly  half  a  century,  it  remained  as  vivid  as  ever.  Some  of  the  most  emi- 
nent clergymen  and  statesmen  of  England,  rendered  the  highest  tribute  to 
bis  genius  and  eloquence ;  assigning  him  a  high  rank  among  the  very  first 
preachers  of  the  age.  It  was  during  this  visit  that  be  preached  in  Edin- 
burgh, before  a  Society  for  the  relief  of  the  destitute  sick,  his  famous 
Sermon,  entitled  ''Living  Faith;"  and  in  London,  before  the  London 
Missionary  Society,  his  Sermon,  entitled  "Messiah's  Throne;''  both  of 
which  have  been  several  times  printed,  and  are  justly  reckoned  among  hia 
finest  efforts. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  Uni^ 
versity  of  Pennsylvania  in  1804. 

-In  the  year  1806,  his  fertile  and  active  mind  projected  the  plan  of  the 
r  Christian's  Magazine ;  a  periodical  which  he  conjii]icted  for  several  years, 
furnishing  not  a  small  part  of  the  matter  which  it  contained  from  his  own 
resoorces.  In  this  work  his  versatile  mind  had  full  scope.  Though  it  par- 
takes, in  no  small  degree,  of  a  polemic  character,  it  shows  that  he  was 
equally  at  home  in  almost  every  species  of  composition,  and  almost  every 
department  of  learning. 

In  1810,  owing  to  the  small  size  of  the  building  in  which  Dr.  Mason 
preached,  as  well  aa  to  various  x)tlier  circumstances,  he  formed  the  purpose 
of  establishing  a  new  congr^ation.;  and  in  view  of  this,  asked  »nd  obtained 
leave  of  his  Presbyt^y  to  leugi  hia  pastoral  chai^. .  On  this  occasion  be 
delivered  the  Speech  alteady  r^erred  tO|  stating,  the  grounds  of  fab  request} 


4  PSSSBTTEBIAK. 

and  urging  it  with  a  force  of  argament  and  eloqnence,  wUeh  perhaps  he  him« 
self  never  surpassed.  I  have  been  assured  bj  more  than  one  competent 
witness,  who  heard  it  delivered,  that  its  effect  upon  the  audience  was  entirely 
overpowering. 

During  the  interval  that  elapsed  between  Dr.  Mason's  resignation  of  his 
pastoral  charge,  and  the  completion  of  the  new  Church  in  Murray  Street, 
which  was  built  under  his  direction,  the  in&nt  congregation  to  which  he 
ministered,  held  their  meetings  for  public  worship  in  the  Presbyterian 
Gburch  in  Cedar  Street ;  and  never,  it  is  said,  did  his  transcendent  pulpit 
talents  shine  more  brightly  than  during  this  period.  But  though  this 
arrangement  was  exceedingly  pleasant  to  him,  it  was  an  occasion  of  some 
subsequent  annoyance,  as  he  suffered  it  to  bring  him  into  more  intimate 
relations  with  Dr.  Komeyn*s  Church  than  were  thought  by  some  of  his 
brethren  to  consist  with  his  obligations  to  his  own  denomination  ; — not  only 
joining  with  them  in  the  ordinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  but  using  what, 
with  the  Associate  Reformed  Church,  was  an  unauthorized  version  of  the 
Psalms.  At  the  meeting  of  Synod  in  Philadelphia  in  the  spring  of  1811, 
the  alleged  delinquency  came  up  as  matter  of  formal  investigation ;  and, 
though  it  resulted  in  a  very  conciliatory  resolution  on  the  part  of  the  Synod, 
their  doings  in  the  case  were  the  subject  of  severe  animadversion,  especially 
by  many  of  the  ministers  and  churches  at  the  West.  It  was  this  circum- 
stance that  suggested  to  Dr.  Mason  the  idea  of  writing  his  work  on  Catholic 
Communion,  which  apppeared  about  four  years  after,  and  which  produced 
no  little  sensation  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic. 

In  the  summer  of  1812,  the  Murray  Street  Church  was  ready  for  occu- 
pancy, and  was  henceforth  the  place  of  his  stated  ministrations,  until  his 
increasing  infirmities  obliged  him  finally  to  relinquish  the  active  duties  of 
the  ministry. 

The  duties  of  Dr.  Mason  as  Professor  of  Theology,  and  as  minister  of  a 
large  congregation,  in  connection  with  the  numerous  demands  which  were 
made  upon  his  time  by  other  public  engagements,  and  in  the  ordinary  inter- 
course of  society,  were  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  even  for  his  gigantic 
constitution ;  but,  in  addition  to  this  accumulation  of  labour,  he  accepted, 
in  the  summer  of  1811,  the  office  of  Provost  of  Columbia  College.  ThLs 
with  him  was  much  more  than  a  mere  nominal  concern  ;  for  he  was  really 
the  acting  head  of  the  institution  ;  and,  by  the  splendour  of  his  talents  and 
the  energy  of  his  efforts,  he  gave  to  it  a  character  which  it  had  never  had 
before.  The  amount  of  labour  which  ho  performed  for  several  years,  after 
accepting  this  appointment,  would  seem  scarcely  credible.  During  five  dajrs 
of  each  week,  he  was  in  the  constant  habit  of  attending  to  his  classes  in 
College,  from  twelve  o'clock  until  half  past  one ;  and  to  his  theological 
students,  from  two  until  half  past  three  ;  besides  devoting  part  of  every 
Saturday  to  hearing  and  criticising  their  discourses.  In  addition  to  this,  he 
made  his  preparation  for  two  public  services  on  each  Sabbath  ;  and  though 
his  preaching,  so  far  as  language  was  concerned,  was,  to  a  great  extent, 
extemporaneous,  yet,  it  was  always  full  of  weighty  instruction,  and  often 
the  result  of  much  intellectual  labour. 

But  Dr.  Mason,  during  these  years,  was  exhausting  his  strength  more 
rapidly  than  either  he  or  his  friends  imagined ;  for,  while  he  was  seen  moy- 
ing  majestically  forward  under  this  mighty  burden  of  responsibility  and 
intellectual  toil,  in  the  enjoyment  of  vigorous  health,  it  seemed  to  be 


JOHN  MITGHSLL  MASOK.  |^ 

almost  forgotten  that  any  shook  eould  bo  severe  enoi;^h  to  undermioe  his 
constitution.  Bat  time  soon  put  this  delusion  to  flight.  In  1816,  his 
health  had  became  so  far  impaired  bj  his  exoessive  labours,  that  he  found 
it  necessary  to  resign  the  office  he  had  assumed  in  coonection  with  the  CoU 
lege,  and  resolved  to  try  the  effect  of  a  voyage  to  Europe.  On  the  Sabbath 
previous  to  his  departure,  he  preached  a  Farewell  Sermon  on  the  text — 
**  Hold  that  fast  which  thou  hast,  that  no  man  take  thy  crown.*'  The 
parting  with  his  family  is  said  to  have  been  a  most  striking  example  of  the 
tenderness  of  natural  affection,  united  with  the  sublimity  of  Christian  faith. 

At  this  time.  Dr.  Mason  visited  the  Continent,  and  travelled  extensively 
in  France,  Italy,  and  Switzerland.  The  journey  was  a  source  of  constant 
delight  to  him,  not  only  as  bringing  relief  from  the  cares  under  which  his 
constitution  had  begnn  to  sink,  but  as  carrying  him  into  a  field  of  most 
interesting  observation.  His  familiarity  with  the  classical  as  well  as  reli- 
gious associations  of  the  countries  through  which  he  travelled,  and  the 
cordiality  with  which  he  was  every  where  greeted  by  the  wise  and  good,  as 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  characters  of  the  age,  gave  him  an  advantage 
which  few  travellers  in  foreign  countries  have  ever  enjoyed. 

From  the  Continent  he  passed  over  to  England,  where  he  arrived  just  in 
season  to  attend  the  anniversary  of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society, 
— an  institution  which  he  regarded  as  among  the  brightest  ornaments  of  the 
British  Church.  On  this  occasion  he  delivered  an  Address  which  did  justice 
alike  to  his  powers  and  his  feelings,  and  which  was  received  with  most 
enthusiastic  applause.  During  this  visit,  he  had  an  opportunity  to  revive 
many  of  the  friendships  of  other  days,  and  to  hold  delightful  communion 
with  some  of  the  purest  and  brighest  spirits  of  the  age. 

In  the  autumn  of  1817,  Dr.  Mason  returned  to  this  country,  and  met 
his  congregation,  for  the  first  time,  apparently  in  a  much  improved  state  of 
health,  on  the  2d  of  November, — the  day  after  his  arrival.  On  the  evening 
of  that  day,  he  preached  to  an  immense  congregation  from  the  text, — '^  My 
meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  me  and  to  finish  his  work;'*  and  I 
can  truly  say  (for  I  happened  to  be  present  on  the  occasion)  that  I  never 
heard  him  preach  with  equal  force  or  effect.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted 
that  this  sermon  is  not  included  in  his  published  works ;  and  still  more,  that 
no  trace  of  it  is  known  to  exist,  except  in  the  minds  of  some  who  heard  it. 

Dr.  Mason  now  resumed  his  accustomed  labours  in  connection  with  his 
pastoral  charge,  in  the  hope  that  his  health  was  so  far  confirmed  that  he 
should  be  able  to  prosecute  them  without  interruption.  But  it  was  not  long 
before  the  painful  conviction  was  forced  upon  him  that  his  jconstitution  had 
been  effectually  undermined  by  the  labours  of  preceding  years,  and  that  his 
subsequent  course  must  be  one  of  gradual  decline.  In  the  summer  and 
autumn  of  1819,  he  experienced,  in  two  instances,  a- slight  paralytic  affee* 
tion,  which,  however,  soon  passed  off,  though  it  was  an  admonition  to  him 
and  to  his  friends  of  an  advancing  process  of  decay.  After  the  second 
attack,  he  reluctantly  consented  to  suspend  his  public  labours  for  six  weeks  ; 
but,  at  the  end  of  that  period,  he  resumed  them,  and  continued  them  with* 
out  further  interruption  until  February,  1820,  when  an  affecting  and  moni* 
tory  incident  occurred  in  his  pulpit,  which  left_no  doubt  that  his  work  was 
drawing  to  a  close.  During  the  week  which  preceded  the  Sabbath  on 
which  the  incident  occurred,  his  family  had  noticed  that  he  had  not  only 
lost  his  accustomed  cheerfulness,  but  was  in  a  state  of  great  bodily  depres* 


(  P8ESBTTEBIAN. 

f^OD.  When  the  Sabbath  came,  he  went  to  the  hense  of  God  as  nsxial,  and 
eommenoed  the  seryice  ;  bnt,  shortly  after  reading  the  portion  of  Scripture 
on  which  he  intended  to  lectnre,  his  recollection  fetiled,  his  mind  beearae 
confused,  and,  bursting  into  tears,  he  told  the  audience  that  such  was  the 
infirmity  that  had  been  induced  by  disease  that  he  was  unable  to  proceed ; 
upon  which,  he  immediately  offered  a  short  prayer,  gave  out  three  verses  of 
the  fifty-sixth  Psalm,  and  dismissed  the  congregation. 

His  people  being  now  fully  satisfied  of  his  inability  to  sustain  the  burden 
of  care  and  labour  incident  to  his  pastoral  charge,  and  yet  wishing,  if  pos- 
sible, to  retain  him  among  them,  that  they  might  enjoy  his  counsels  and 
sympathy,  and  do  what  they  could  to  brighten  the  evening  of  his  days, 
resolved  to  endeavour  to  procure  an  assistant  minister.  Repeated  attempts 
to  effect  this,  however,  proved  unsuccessful ',  and,  meanwhile,  Br.  Mason, 
by  entire  cessation  from  active  labour,  had  gathered  so  much  strength  that, 
on  the  first  Sabbath  of  October,  he  again  appeared  in  the  pulpit.  He  com- 
menced, at  this  time,  an  exposition  of  the  First  Epistle  of  Peter ;  and  it 
has  been  remarked  by  some  who  listened  to  him,  as  far  as  he  went,  that 
though  these  lectures  exhibited  comparatively  little  of  the  fire  of  his  genius, 
and  of  that  overpowering  eloquence  which  had  marked  his  earlier  days,  yet 
they  breathed  a  spirit  of  more  earnest  piety  and  indicated  a  more  simple- 
hearted  devotedness  to  the  cause  of  his  Master,  than  most  of  the  discourses 
which  had  borne  a  deeper  impress  of  his  original  and  powerful  mind.  But 
here  again,  his  course  was  quickly  interrupted  by  continued  and  increasing 
infirmity,  and  on  the  25th  of  October,  1821,  he  finally  resigned  his  pastoral 
charge. 

Previous  to  this,  he  had  been  invited  by  the  Trustees  of  Dickinson  Col- 
lege, Carlisle,  to  the  Presidency  of  that  institution  ;  and  as  he  thought  the 
labour  incident  to  the  station  would  not  be  more  than  he  coald  perform,  and 
withal  hoped  that  the  change  of  climate  might  be  favourable  to  his  health, 
he  determined  to  accept  the  appointment.  Accordingly,  he  removed  to 
Carlisle  shortly  after,  and  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  new  ofl&ce ;  but 
even  those  duties  he  was  soon  convinced  required  an  amount  of  exertion  to 
which  his  shattered  constitution  was  quite  inadequate.  During  his  residence 
here,  it  pleased  Ood  to  try  him  with  severe  affliction^,  in  the  death,  first  of  a 
beloved  daughter,  and  then  of  a  promising  son, — on  both  which  occasions 
he  discovered  the  keenest  sensibility,  qualified,  however,  by  the  actings  of 
a  sublime  Christian  faith. 

Dr.  Mason  transferred  his  relation  from  the  Associate  Reformed  Church 
to  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and  became  a  member  of  the  Presbytery  of 
New  York,  in  1822, — being  one  of  a  considerable  number  that  seceded  from 
their  original  connection  at  that  time. 

In  the  autumn  of  1824,  Dr.  Mason,  having  resigned  his  office  as  Presi- 
dent of  the  College,  returned  to  the  city  of  New  York,  to  pass  the  remain- 
der of  his  days  among  the  fHends  who  had  enjoyed  the  best  opportunity  to 
appreciate  his  talents  and  virtues.  From  this  time  he  relinquished  the  idea 
of  attempting  any  thing  more  as  a  public  man  ;  and  determined  to  seek 
that  state  of  quietude  in  the  bosom  of  an  affectionate  family,  which  his 
circumstances  seemed  loudly  to  demand.  During  a  considerable  part  of  the 
time  until  near  the  close  of  his  life, — ^notwithstanding  it  was  manifest  that 
there  was  a  gradual  decline,  he  enjoyed  comfortable  bodily  health,  and  was 
capable  of  a  moderate  degree  of  intellectual  exertion.     It  was  painful  to  all 


JOHK  MITCHELL  UASON.  ^ 

who  saw  Um,  to  peroeWe  bow  Ihat  mii^tj  mind  W9A  vergipg  baoL  towards 
the  unbecilitj  of  childhood — nevertheless,  up  to  the  last  day  of  his  life, 
there  were  evideacos  of  strength  and  majesty  amidst  all  his  weakness.  There 
were  times,  even  after  his  mind  seemed  little  better  than  a  wreck, 
when  it  would  suddenly  wake  up  from  its  habitual  drowsiness,  like  a  giant 
from  his  slumbers,  and  soar  away  into  the  higher  regions  of  thought,  as  if 
it  had  been  borne  upward  on  the  wings  of  an  angel ;  and  then,  perhaps,  in 
a  single  half-hour,  there  could  scarcely  be  discerned  a  trace  of  intellectual 
existence.  I  have  heard  of  instances  in  which  clergymen  who  visited  him, 
after  the  decay  of  his  faculties,  have  started  some  query  in  respect  to  a  dif** 
ficult  point  in  Theology,  or  the  meaning  of  some  obscure  passage  of  Scrip- 
ture ;  and  his  mind  has  instantly  grasped  the  whole  subject,  and  disentan- 
gled it  from  all  difficulties,  and  thrown  around  it  a  flood  of  light,  which 
could  scarcely  have  emanated  from  any  other  intellect  than  his  own.  A 
striking  instance  of  this  momentary  kindling  of  mind  happened  to  fall  under 
my  own  observation.  Not  long  before  his  death,  I  had  the  melancholy  plea- 
sure to  call  upon  him,  charged  with  friendly  salutations  and  messages  from 
some  of  his  friends  in  England.  At  first,  he  seemed  to  hear  without  any 
interest,  and  said  not  a  word  to  indicate  that  he  had  any  recollection  of  the 
persons  whose  names  were  mentioned  to  him.  At  length,  when  an  allusion 
was  made  to  Kowland  Hill,  his  faculties  instantly  brightened  into  exercise, 
and  the  image  of  his  old  friend  seemed,  for  a  moment,  to  be  before  his  mind : 
he  then  related  a  characteristic  anecdote  concerning  him,  with  as  much  cor- 
rectness and  effect  as  he  could  have  done  at  any  period  of  his  life ;  and, 
after  remarking  that  he  was  afraid  to  go  to  England  again,  because  he 
should  be  obliged  to  look  for  most  of  his  friends  in  the  burying-ground,  he 
relapsed  into  the  same  state  of  mind  from  which  he  had  been  roused,  and 
apparently  took  no  longer  any  interest  in  the  conversation. 

During  this  melancholy  period  of  Dr.  Mason's  life,  he  habitually  attended 
church  when  his  health  would  permit,  and  would  sometimes  remark  upon 
the  services  with  much  taste  and  judgment,  though  always  with  kindness, 
and  often  with  high  approbation.  Though  his  residence  was  remote  from 
the  place  of  worship  in  which  he  had  formerly  officiated,  yet  that  was  the 
place  to  which  his  inclinations  carried  him  ;  as  he  was  surrounded  there  by 
his  own  people,  and  every  thing  was  fitted  to  keep  alive  the  most  interest- 
ing associations.  It  is  believed  that  he  always  declined  any  part  in  the 
public  services  of  the  sanctuary,  after  his  return  from  Carlisle,  with  the 
single  exception  of  administering  baptism  to  an  iufant  child  of  his  suc- 
cessor. He,  however,  uniformly  conducted  the  family  devotions  of  his  own 
house,  up  to  the  close  of  his  life ;  and.  his  prayers  on  these  occasions,  I 
have  been  informed,  were  scarcely  in  any  respect  different  from  what  they 
had  formerly  been,  except  that  they  were  characterized  by  more  of  the  ten- 
derness, and  spirituality,  and  depth,  of  devotion.  After  having  gradually 
sunk  for  several  years  under'  the  power  of  disease,  the  hand  of  death  was 
at  length  laid  upon  him,  and  he  passed  calmly  to  his  rest  on  the  26th  of « 
December,  1829,  in  the  sixtieth  year  of  his  age. 

The  ibllowing  is  a  list  of  Pr.  lyfason's  publications : — ^A  Sermon  preached 
in  the  city  of  New  York  on  a  day  set  apart  for  Fasting,  Humiliation,  and 
Prayer,  on  account  of  a  malignant  and  mortal  fever  prevailing  in  the  city 
of  Philadelphia,  1793.  Mercy  remembered  in  wrath ;  A  National  Thanks- 
giving Sermon,  1795.     The  Address  of  the  New  York  Missionary  Society, 


(^-f 


%  PRESBTTERIAK. 

1796.  Hope  for  the  Heathen :  A  Sermon  preached  before  tho  New  York 
Missionary  Society,  1797.  Letters  on  Frequent  Communion,  addressed 
particularly  to  the  members  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Church  in  North 
America,  1798.  A  Letter  to  the  members  of  the  Associate  Keformcd 
Synod,  illustrating  the  Act  of  Synod,  concerning  a  Synodical  fund,  1798. 
An  Oration  on  the  death  of  Washington,  1800.  The  Warning  Voice  to 
Christians  on  the  ensuing  election  of  a  President  of  the  United  States, 
1800.  Pardon  of  sin  by  the  blood  of  Jesus  :  A  Sermon  preached  in  Phila* 
delphia,  1801.  Living  Faith  :  A  Sermon  preached  before  the  Society  for 
the  relief  of  the  destitute  sick  in  Edinburgh,  1801.  Messiah's  Throne :  A 
Sermon  before  the  London  Missionary  Society,  1802.  An  Oration  com* 
memorative  of  the  late  Major-General  Alexander  Hamilton,  pronounced 
before  the  New  York  State  Society  of  Cincinnati,  1804.  k.  Letter  to  tho 
members  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Church  relative  to  a  Theological  Semi- 
nwjJBOb^  Report  relative  loTlre'eourBe  uf  iusirirciluu  and  discipline  in 
ilolumbia  College,  1810.  Speech  relative  to  the  Resignation  of  his  Pas- 
toral charge,  1810.  Christian  mourning :  A  Sermon  on  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Isabella  Graham,  1814.  The  Address  to  the  people  of  the  United  States, 
of  the  Convention  of  Delegates  to  form  the  American  Bible  Society,  1816. 
AJBlea  for  Sacramental  Communionjoii_OathqliQ  priiuuplea^  (au  octaviLXfil- 
ume,)  1816.  Speech  before  the  London  Bible  Society,  1817.  The  Evan- 
gelTcai  Ministry  exemplified  in  the  Apostle  Paul :  A  Sermon  preached  in 
Murray  Street  Church  on  occasion  of  resigning  the  charge  of  his  congrega- 
tion, 1821.  An  Address  delivered  at  the  organization  of  Dickinson  Col- 
lege, 1822.  A  Sermon  on  the  text — **  To  the  poor  the  Gospel  is  preached,'* — 
published  in  the  National  Preacher,  1826.  A  Sermon  on  '*  Christian  Assu- 
rance,*' published  in  the  National  Preacher,  1829. 

Besides  the  above.  Dr.  Mason  was  the  author  of  various  Reports  of  the 
Synod,  the  New  York  Missionary  Society,  &c.,  which,  though  not  always 
bearing  his  name,  bear  so  strongly  the  impress  of  his  mind  that  their  origin 
cannot  easily  be  mistaken.  In  1832,  a  collection  of  his  works,  consisting 
partly  of  those  that  had  been,  and  partly  of  those  that  had  not  been, 
printed  before,  was  published,  in  four  volumes,  under  the  superintendence 
of  his  son,  the  Rev.  EbencEcr  Mason.  In  1849,  a  second  and  more  com- 
plete edition  of  his  works  appeared,  which  contains  nearly  every  thing  of 
importance  that  is  known  to  have  conic  from  his  pen.  Most  of  his  contri- 
butions to  the  Christian's  Magazine,  particularly  his  Essays  on  Lots,  on 
Episcopacy,  and  on  the  Church  of  God,  are  contained  in  these  vohimetf.  In 
1856,  a  Memoir  of  Dr.  Mason's  Life,  with  portions  of  his  correspondence, 
was  published  by  his  son-in-law,  the  Rev.  Jacob  Van  Vechten,  D.  D. 

Dr.  Mason  was  the  father  of  seven  children, — ^five  sons  and  two  daugh- 
ters,— all  of  whom  lived  to  maturity,  and  became  members  of  the  Church. 
Four  of  his  sons  were  graduated  at  College.  One  entered  the  profession  of  the 
Law  ;  two  became  clergymen  ;  one  died  shortly  after  his  graduation ;  and 
•  the  one  who  was  not  graiduated  became  a  merchant.  Both  daughters  were 
married  to  ministers — the  elder,  to  the  Rev.  John  Knox,  D.  D.,  of  New 
York, — the  younger,  to  the  Rev.  Jacob  Van  Vechten,  D.  D.,  of  Schenec- 
tady. All  his  children  are  deceased  (1856)  except  the  eldest,  the  Hon. 
John  L.  Mason  of  New  York. 

Of  Erskirte  Masons  the  younger  of  the  two  sons  who  entered  the  minis- 
try, there  will  be  found  a  distinct  sketch  in  this  work. 


JOHN  MITCfiKLL  If  ASOK.  0 

EBSNB2SR  Hasoit,  ^6  elder  boo,  waa  born  in  the  eity  of  New  Tork, 
June  15,  1800.  Having  pursued  his  elementary  classical  studies  in  the 
New  York  grammar  school,  he  accompanied  his  father  to  Europe  in  1816, 
and  for  about  a  year  was  a  pupil  in  the  High  School  in  Edinburgh.  Return- 
ing to  the  United  States  in  1817,  he  entered  the  Junior  class,  soon  after,  in 
the  College  of  New  Jersey,  where  he  was  graduated  in  1820.  He  studied 
Theology  for  some  time  under  the  direction  of  his  father,  and,  in  1823, 
became  a  student  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  where  he  com- 
pleted bis  preparation  for  the  ministry. 

He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  York  in  1824,  and 
was  subsequently  ordained  by  the  same  Presbytery ;  and,  having  accepted  a 
eall  from  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I.,  was  installed 
Pastor,  of  that  Church  by  the  Classis  of  Long  Island.  In  1826,  he  was 
married  to  Sarah  Locke,  daughter  of  Silas  E.  Weir  of  Philadelphia. 

He  remained  in  Brooklyn  about  two  years,  and  resigned  his  charge  in 
1828,  on  account  of  a  difference  of  opinion  between  him  and  his  church  in 
regard  to  the  proper  subjects  of  Baptism, — he  adhering  to  the  strict  side. 
In  1829  or  1830,  he  was  engaged  in  establishing  a  Presbyterian  Church  in 
the  Sixth  Avenue,  New  York  ;  but,  though  he  succeeded  in  gathering  a 
respectable  and  somewhat  select  congregation,  the  labours  attendant  on  the 
enterprise,  especially  in  connection  with  a  revival  of  religion,  proved  too 
much  for  his  health,  and  he  was  obliged  to  resign  his  charge.  In  1836,  he 
went  with  his  family  to  Europe,  and  remained  there, — chiefly  among  Mrs. 
Mason*s  relatives  in  Ireland,  till  1840.  After  his  return  to  the  United 
States,  he  started  a  project  for  providing  a  place  of  worship  for  the  accom- 
modation of  the  Americans  in  Paris ;  and,  in  January,  1846,  he  crossed 
the  ocean  again,  in  the  hope  of  establishing  himself  as  a  minister  in  the 
French  metropolis.  But  this  enterprise  failed  for  want  of  the  necessary 
pecuniary  means,  and  after  about  two  years  he  returned  to  this  country.  In 
1848,  he  accepted  a  call  from  Blooming  Grove,  Orange  County,  N.  Y.,  and 
immediately  removed  to  that  place,  where  he  died  suddenly  in  March,  1849, 
leaving  a  widow  and  five  children. 

Mr.  Mason  was  uncommonly  prepossessing  in  his  personal  appearance, — > 
having  a  fine  form,  an  expressive  countenance,  and  uncommonly  bland  and 
graceful  manners.  His  intellect  was  vigorous,  discriminating  and  highly 
cultivated.  His  spirit  was  eminently  genial  and  friendly,  his  powers  of  con* 
versation  remarkably  good,  and  his  presence  was  always  felt  to  be  an  ele- 
ment of  pleasure  in  every  circle.  As  a  preacher  he  was  highly  acceptable, 
especially  to  the  more  cultivated  class  of  minds.  While  he  held  with  due 
tenacity  his  own  theological  views,  his  Christian  sympathies  embraced  all  in 
whom  he  recognised  the  Saviour's  image.  His  departure  from  the  world 
was  worthy  to  crown  a  truly  Christian  life. 

FfiOM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  KoGARTEE,  D.  D. 

V  EWBiTBOH,  March  10, 1856. 

Rev.  andjdear  Sir:  If  you  had  asked  me  twenty  years  ago  to  give  my  recollec- 
tions of  Dr.  Mason,  I  could  have  complied  with  your  request  in  a  manner  much 
more  satisfactory  to  you  and  to  myself,  than  I  can  now.  Dr.  Mason,  as  you 
know,  has  been  in  his  grave  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  for  years  before  his 
decease,  be  was  so  broken  in  mind  and  body,  as  to  he  almost  shut  out  fVom  inters 
course  with  any  except  the  members  of  his  own  family.    Many  incidents  that 

Vol.  IV.  2 


10 

oociirred  durmg  the  p«riod  vheni  enjoyed  dailjr  eoiiTerse  wifch  hiiiiy  btTepwsed 
from  my  meaorj,  or  are  so  imperfectly  remembered  that  I  should  scarcely  yea- 
tore  to  record  them.  But  Dr.  Masoa  was  a  man  endowed  with  such  rare  gifts 
that  all  who  knew  him  intimately  must  have  received  impressions,  which,  how- 
ever weakened  by  the  lapse  of  time,  can  never  be  wholly  lost.  And  yet,  when  I 
sit  down  to  review  my  own  impressions  and  to  reduce  them  to  order,  so  as  to 
give  to  others  something  like  a  picture  of  the  man  whose  memory  is  so  dear  to 
me,  I  am  troubled  with  the  fear  that  I  shall  quite  fitil  to  reproduce  the  noble 
image  which  rises  to  the  view  of  my  own  mind. 

Brought  up  in  the  congregation  of  which  he  was  pastor,  my  reminiscences,  I 
may  say,  go  back  to  the  days  of  my  chUdhood;  but  tliese  are  necessarily  some- 
what dim.  At  a  later  period  I  was  brought  into  close  relations  with  him  as  a 
commnnicant  in  his  church,  as  a  theological  pupil,  as  a  fellow  presbyter,  and  as 
a  friend  admitted  to  frequent  and  intimate  fellowship  with  him  in  those  private 
circles  where  he  shone  as  brilliantly  as  he  did  on  the  arena  of  public  life. 

No  mere  verbal  description  can  convey  to  those  who  never  saw  Dr.  Mason,  an 
adequate  idea  of  what  he  was  as  a  prtacher.  With  reference  to  his  manner  of 
speaking,  I  may  state  that  no  one  was  ever  less  indebted  to  the  tricks  of  oratory 
for  his  power  over  his  audience.  He  was  a  man  too  true  and  real  to  resort  to  such 
arts,  even  if  he  had  not  been  restrained  by  his  profound  sense  of  the  solemn 
nature  of  the  business  which  took  him  into  the  pulpit.  His  whole  demeanour 
in  the  sacred  desk  plainly  showed  that  he  was  himself  conscious  that  he  appeared 
there  as  an  ambassador  of  Christ, — a  steward  of  the  mysteries  of  God.  He  was 
a  man  of  a  «ingularly  noble  presence, — one,  to  whom  the  eyes  of  a  crowd  would 
spontaneously  be  turned,  if  he  had  chanced  to  be  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  the 
question  were  raised — *'  Who  shall  be  our4eader. "  During  his  first  visit  to  London, 
in  1802,  as  he  was  one  day  sauntering  through  St.  James  Park,  a  young  lad,  sup- 
posing from  his  air  and  manner  that  he  was  a  military  ofiBcer  in  undress,  came  up 
to  him,  and,  touching  his  cap,  said, — *'  Doesn't  your  honour  W4int  a  drummer  ?" 
The  mistake  was  a  natural  one.  Dr.  Mason  entering  at  once  into  the  humour  of 
the  thing,  replied, — "  No,  my  boy,  I  am  in  search  of  trumpeter 9 ;^*^-oxi^  object  of 
his  mission  to  Britain  at  that  time  being  to  obtain  a  supply  of  ministers  from 
Scotland  for  the  destitute  congregations  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Church. 

His  commanding  person,  and  the  first  few  utterances  of  his  majestic  voice, 
capable  as  it  was  of  the  most  varied  intonations,  could  not  &il,  I  think,  to  haye 
fixed  the  attention  and  raised  the  expectations  of  an  audience  totally  ignorant  of 
his  name  and  of  his  known  talents  as  a  preacher.  Yet  these  were  only  the  out- 
ward adomings  of  a  nature  susceptible  of  the  tenderest  and  strongest  emotions, 
and  which  had  received  the  finest  culture.  Occasionally  the  subjects  of  his 
sermons  were  suggested  by  the  events  of  the  day,  or  by  some  great  question  that 
engaged  the  public  mind;  yet  the  ordinary  strain  of  his  preaching  was  evangeli- 
cal, and  this  in  an  eminent  degree.  It  was  so  in  its  topics  and  in  their  treat- 
s' ment.  Christ  crucified,  in  the  manifold  aspects  and  bearings  of  that  central 
truth,  constituted  the  very  staple  of  his  sermons.  And  while  he  expounded  the 
principles  embodied  in  his  text,  and  defended  them  against  gninsayers,  like  a 
master  of  theological  science,  he  at  the  same  time  combined  with  his  exegetic 
analysis  and  his  close  logic  a  holy  unction  which  overspread  the  whole,  '^  like 
the  precious  ointment  that  ran  down  to  the  skirts  of  Aaron's  garments,"  and  by 
the  evident  influence  of  the  truth  upon  his  own  heart,  he  said  to  his  hearers 
'*  That  which  we  have  seen  and  heard  declare  we  unto  you."  When  in  the  full 
vigour  of  his  powers,  all  his  discourses  derived  a  certain  glow  from  his  owii 
ardent  jtemper;  but  there  was  a  class  of  subjects  pertaining  to  what  he  deemed 
the  very  marrow  of  the  Gospel,  on  which  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  preach 
without  exhibiting  the  deepest  feeling.  Such  themes  were  invariably  chosen  by 
him  on  Communion  occasions.    On  these  seasons,  I  have  often  seen  the  tears 


JOHN  miTBBXLL  MASON.  \l 

• 

Ikenlly  streaming  down  his  cfaeeks;  and  jet»  sueli  irag  ititf  wonderM  qdf-oom-' 
mand  under  oircnmstanoes  which  would  hare  quito  overpowered  most  m^  so  as 
completely  to  choke  their  uUeranoe,  that  his  TOioe  never  faltered  in  the  least. 

Some  preachers  are  great  only  on  great  occasions.    They  need  some  rousing 
qikestion  or  some  rare  event  to  excite  or  to  concentrate  their  energies.    What  Dr. 
Mason  could  do  under  excitements  of  this  sort,  his  Orations  on  the  death  of 
Washington  and  of  Hamilton,  and  his  Sermon  entitled  "  Messiah?8  Throne,*' 
sufficiently  discover;  hat  I  think  that  he  delivered  discourses  not  less  masterly 
and  eloquent  than  the  rery  best  of  his  published  ones,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  • 
his  ministry.    One  of  these  is  deeply  fixed  in  my  memory.    It  was  from  the 
text,  "  For  me  to  live  is  Chri8t,"^-the  sabject  of  it  being  *'  Jesus  the  Charpti  of     V 
Life."    At  this  distance  of  time  I  cannot  undertake  to  give  a  minute  analysis  of , 
the  sermon ;  but  I  well  remember  that  the  address  to  the  several  classes  of . 
hearers  was  quite  overpowering.   He  put  the  question—*'  Young  man,  what  is  to 
thee  the  Charm  of  life  ?"  following  it  up  with  an  appeal  to  the  young  in 
the    highest  degree   appropriate,    searching,    tender,  and  which  so  wrought 
upon  my  own  feelings  that  I  actually  experienced  Ibr  the  moment  a  physical  pain 
of  the  heart. 

There  was  another  sermon  of  which  I  retain  a  distinct  remembrance,  and  to 
which  I  advert  partly  because  I  regard  it  as  one  of  Dr.  Mason's  greatest  efforts, 
and  partly  because  it  serves  to  illustrate  a  feature  of  character  for  which  he  was 
distinguished  above  most  men — I  refer  to  his  fearless  disregard  of  consequences 
in  the  discharge  of  what  he  deemed  a  pttblio  duty.  The  Sermon  was  preached 
upon  a  Fast  day,  and  at  a  time  of  extreme  political  excitement..  Personal  vio* 
lonce  had  been  threatened  in  ease  he  denounced,  as  he  had  before  done,  the  pro- 
posed alliance  with  France.  I  myself  remember  to  have  heard  a  young  lawyer 
and  a  violent  partisan  declare  that  "  if  the  Doctor  dared  to  repeat  the  thing,  even 
the  horns  of  the  altar  should  not  protect  him,  for  he  would  himself  be  one  of  the 
first  to  pull  him  out  of  the  pulpit."  Wben  the  Fast  day  arrived,  a  large  audience 
assembled,  expecting  to  hear  a  sermon  '*  to  the  times."  The  Doctor ^chose  for 
his  text  Ezekiel  ii.  3,  and  the  whole  chapter  was  read  in  his  most  impressive* 
manner.  Near  the  close  of  the  discourse,  he  broke  forth  into  a  solemn  and 
impassioned  apostrophe  to  Deity  in  nearly  these  words — "Send  us,  if  thou 
wil^ murrain  upon  our  cattle,  a  femine  upon  our  land,  cleanness  of  teeth  in  our 
borders;  send  us  pestilence  to  waste  our  cities,  send  us,  if  it  please  thee,  the. 
sword  to  bathe  itself  in  the  Mood  of  our  sons;  but  spare  us.  Lord  Grod  Most 
Merciful,  spare  us  that  direst  and  most  dreadful  of  all  thy  curses, — an  alliance 
with  Napoleon  Buonaparte."  As  he  uttered  these  rousing  sentences,  the  blood 
gushed  from  his  nostrils;  he  nnoonsoiottsly  put  his  handkerchief  to  his  feoe,  and 
the  next  instant  made  a  gesture  which  looked  as  if  he  were  designedly  waving  it 
before  the  audience  like  a  bloody  and  symbolic  flag.  You  can  fancy  better  than 
I  can  describe  the  impression  which  this  incident,  coupled  with  the  awful  apostro- 
phe, made  upon  the  crowded  assembly.  Next  day  I  asked  the  young  lawyer 
why  he  did  not  proceed,  as  he  had  promised,  to  pull  the  Doctor  out  of  the  pul- 
pit. "Why,"  said  he,  "I  was  perfectly  horrorHBtruck  when  he  wound  up  that 
terrible  apostrophe  by  waving  his  bloody  handkerchief." 

The  reference  to  this  sermon  leads  me  to  say  that  Dr.  Mason  was  accustomed,  ^ 
during  the  first  half  of  his  ministry,  to  discuss  political  topics  both  more  fre- 
quently and  freely  than  most  of  his  contemporaries  in  the  city  of  New  York. 
His  own  political  opinions  wore  yqtj  decided  and  well  known,  and  his  animad- 
versions upon  public  men  or  their  measures  subjected  him  to  no  little  odium,  and 
perhaps  also  to  some  personal  danger.  By  some  of  his  brethren,  members  of  the 
same  Synod  with  himself,  his  conduct  on  this  head  was  deemed  open  to  censure. 
They  thought  that  he  soraetimes  unduly  mixed  up  things  secular  and  sacred.  It 
is,  however,  due  to  him  to  say,  that  when  he  handled  matters  which  other  men 


12  PRKSBYTERIAir. 

abstained  from  as  fonign  to  the  proper  bnsinefls  of  the  pulpit,  he  did  so  because 
he  believed  that  thej  were  closely  related  to  the  moral  and  religtoas  interests  of 
society.  He  deemed  it  to  be  his  duty  as  a  minister  of  Christ  to  expose  and 
denoance  sin  in  all  its  forms — ^whether  fonnd  in  the  skirts  of  the  State,  of  the 
statesman,  or  of  the  private  citizen;  and  in  doing  so,  he  was  only  imitating  the 
example  of  the  venerated  Others  of  liis  mother  Church  of  Scotland  in  her  best 
days. 

As  a  preacher,  Dr.  Mason  was  singularly  happy  in  what  used  to  be  styled 
"  the  opening  up  of  the  text,''  and  in  the  analysis  of  the  subject  contained  in  the 
passage.  One  illustration  of  this  statement  occurs  to  me.  It  is  from  a  sermon 
which  I  heard  him  preach  from  the  words,  "  I  have  no  greater  joy,'*  &c.,  III. 
John,  4. — "  The  Spirit  of  God,"  said  he,  **  by  the  pen  of  the  Apostle  presents 
OS  with  these  points,  viz: — 

1.  The  greatest  of  all  Interests,— The  Truth. 

2.  The  First  of  all  Duties,— Walking  in  Truth. 

3.  The  purest  of  all  Joys, — ^Hearing  that  our  Children  walk  in  Truth." 

He  told  me  that,  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  ministry,  his  habit  was  to  write  the 
introduction  and  the  application  of  his  sermons  with  great  care,  and  then  to  com- 
mit them  perfectly  to  memory.  The  body  of  the  discourse  consisted  of  a  very 
full  analysis  of  the  subject,  or  of  the  passage  on  which  the  sermon  was  founded, 
which  he  studied  as  thoroughly  as  he  could,  but  leaving  the  language  in  which 
his  thoughts  should  find  utterance  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment.  He  could 
do  this  with  entire  safety,  for  few  men  possessed  a  greater  copia  fandi.  Such 
was  his  method  of  sermonizing  at  the  time  of  his  first  visit  to  London  in  1802, 
and  hence  his  famous  Sermon  before  the  London  Missionary  Society,  as  well  as 
the  many  others  which  his  English  friends  were  so  urgent  to  have  published, 
required  to  be  written  out  in  full  after  delivery.  But  in  later  years  (except  the 
very  last  of  his  ministry)  his  numerous  duties  forbade  his  making  even  this  kind 
of  preparation  for  the  pulpit,  and  if  he  had  not  been  compelled  by  the  importunity 
of  friends  to  reduce  to  writing  what  he  had  already  preached,  some  of  his  most 
admired  sermons  would  have  been  lost  forever.  Towards  the  close  of  his  life  the 
failure  of  memory  consequent  upon  the  disease  which  paralyzed  mind  and  body, 
obliged  him  to  write  his  sermons,  and  even  to  read  them.  It  was  not  without  a 
severe  mental  struggle  that  he  consented  to  put  on  this  ignoble  yoke  as  he 
viewed  it,  for  he  had  all  the  old  Scottish  prejudices  against  **  readers  of  the 
Gospel,"  and  had  said  as  hard  things  about  them  as  any  one.  The  first  time 
he  preached  for  me  in  this  way  was  in  Spruce  Street,  Philadelphia,  where  he 
knew  the  people  had  an  especial  dislike  of  *'  the  paper."  He  laid  his  notes  on 
the  Bible,  and  then  said — '*  My  friends,  I  must  ask  your  indulgence  for  adopt- 
ing to-day  a  practice  which  through  life  I  have  condemned.  I  must  read  my 
sermon — ^the  hand  of  God  is  upon  me.  I  must  bow  to  his  will."  I  need  not 
say  that  the  bitterest  haters  of  ''notes"  in  the  audience  were  melted,  and  for  a 
time  the  church  was  truly  a  Bochim. 

The  mention  of  his  prejudices  against  reading  sermons  reminds  me  of  his  pre- 
judices against  funeral  services,  as  they  are  connected  with  a  very  tender,  and 
to  me  ever  memorable,  scene.  For  this  latter  feeling  he  was  mainly  indebted, 
I  imagine,  to  his  Scottish  training.  He  was  strongly  opposed  to  "  funeral  ser- 
%aces,"  under  the  plea  that  they  were  apt  to  become  mere  occasions  for  eulogi- 
zing the  dead.  When  his  son  James  died  at  Carlisle,  I  went  there  to  attend  his 
funeral,  and  was  requested  by  some  members  of  the  family  to  beg  the  Doctor  to 
allow  an  Address  to  be  made  at  the  grave,  for  the  sake  of  his  son's  young  com- 
panions in  College.  I  did  so.  He  at  once  replied,  *'  No,  no,  these  things  are 
so  often  abused."  Of  course  I  did  not  urge  the  matter.  As  the  young  men  who 
served  as  pall-bearers  lifted  the  ooiBn,  the  afBicted  father  exclaimed  in  tones 
which  those  who  were  present  can  never  forget — ^'^Toung  men!  tread  lightly; 


JOHy  MnoEXJUh  mason.  x3 


ye  be«r  *  Umpit  of  tha  Holj  (ihoat  '*--^Ma,  oreteosM  by  his  iMliiigai  he  dropped 
his  head  upon  my  shoulder  and  said — '*  Dear  M.^  say  some  thing  which  God 
may  bJess  to  his  young  friends."  An  Address  was  made,  and  very  soon  a  revi- 
val— ^powerful  and  precioas  in  its  fruits,  began  in  the  College  and  the  town,  with 
the  history  of  which  you  are  familiar. 

In  these  reminiscences  of  Dr.  Mason  as  a  preacher,  I  must  not  omit  to  notice 
his  manner  of  reading  the  Scriptures.  He  used  to  say  that  "  correct  emphasis 
is  sound  exposition,"  and  he  certainly  illustrated  the  truth  of  the  remark  in  his 
own  practice.  Often  have  I  thought  that  the  chapter  he  had  just  read  needed 
no  further  exposition.  He  attached  great  importance  to  this  part  of  a  minis- 
ter's public  duty,  and  once  complaining  of  the  little  attention  paid  to  it,  said  to 
me, — '^  there  are  twenty  good  speakers  to  one  good  reader."  A  friend  of  mine 
heard  him  preach  on  one  occasion  in  the  Crown  Street  Church,  Philadelpbia. 
The  large  house  was  thronged  in  every  part,  and  crowds  were  at  the  door  eager 
to  push  in,  and  necessarily  creating  sonie  confusion.  At  the  hour  appointed  for 
Divine  service,  the  Doctor  rose,  and  leaning  over  the  pulpit,  rapped  smartly  two 
or  three  times  against  it,  and  by  this  unusual  procedure  effected  instant  and 
perfect  silence.  He  then  read  those  noble  stanzas  in  Dr.  Watts'  version  of  the 
17th  Psalm,  beginning  with — '*  What  sinners  value,  I  resign," — ^in  a  style  that 
told  with  amazing  power  upon  the  audience.  My  friend  said  that  if  he  had 
heard  nothing  more,  he  would  have  felt  himself  richly  recompensed  for  his  long 
walk  to  church;  for  Dr.  Mason's  reading  invested  the  glorious  hymn  with  a 
fresh  majesty,  and  almost  gave  it  a  new  meaning. 

There  is  another  point  which  I  must  not  omit — hU  publie  proyera.  They 
were  scarcely  less  remarkable  than  bis  sermons; — ^remarkable  for  their  appro- 
priateness to  the  times,  and  to  the  circumstances  of  his  audience;  for  their  com- 
prehensiveness, for  their  holy,  scriptural  unction,  and  their  exquisite  tenderness. 
Unlike  the  prayers  of  some  good  men,  they  were  never  didactic;  there  was  no 
preaching  in  them.  They  consisted  wholly  of  supplications,  intercessions, 
thanksgiving,  and  were  evidently  the  utterance  of  a  soul  in  conscious,  confiden- 
tial, yet  reverent  and  earnest  converse  with  the  great  Qod  our  Saviour.  I  have 
heard  prayers  characterized  by  a  certain  sublimity  of  sentiment  and  language, 
fitted  to  beget  admiration  of  the  person  ofQciating,  for  his  eloquence,  rather  than 
to  awaken  true  devoUonal  feeling.  Such  a  performance  was  wholly  at  war  with 
all  Dr.  Mason's  ideas  of  the  nature  of  the  exercise.  And  yet,  if  by  eloquence 
in  prayer  be  meant  the  giving  in^nsity  to  the  devotions  of  a  worshipping  assem- 
bly, then  I  may  say  that  Dr.  Mason's  prayers  were  often  pre-eminently  elo- 
quent. I  have  repeatedly  seen  the  whole  congregation  drowned  in  tears,  some 
of  them  being  scarcely  able  to  restrain  convulsive  sobs,  during  the  prayer  before 
the  sermon.  This  profound  sensation  was  jyrodnced  by  nothing  that  even 
approached  a  theatric  trick — ^it  was  simply  the  result  of  the  sympathy  kindled 
by  the  warm  outpouring  of  the  preacher's  own  heart. 

During  the  earliest  years  of  Dr.  Mason's  ministry,  I  was  too  young  to  appre- 
ciate his  qualities  as  a  pastor;  but  I  remember  that  he  was  very  attentive  to  the 
children  and  youth  of  his  parish.  He  had  several  catechetical  classes  for  those 
of  tender  age,  and  for  young  men  and  women;  and  in  conducting  them,  he 
evinced  a  marvellotts  power  of  adapting  himself  to  the  capacity  of  the  youngest 
child  present,  and  of  enlisting  the  attention  of  all  by  striking  remarks  and  apt 
anecdotes.  I  could  name  many  warm  hearted  and  intdiligent  Christians,  moat 
of  whom  are  fallen  asleep,  though  a  few  remain  unto  this  present,  who  look 
back  with  fond  and  holy  affection  to  the  old  room  in  Pine  Street,  where  they 
used  to  recite  the  Catechism  to  Dr.  Mason,  and  listen  to  his  simple  and  forcible 
exposition  of  it.  So  fiir  as  my  recollections  of  his  pastoral  qualities  go,  they 
aocord  with  the  testimonies  on  this  point,  which  I  have  received  from  those  who 
were  older  than  myself.    From  what  I  have  heard  firom  them  as  well  as  from 


1i  ntBSBTnuuAir.    . 

wlutt  I  kaow  myieify  I  UtH  wftmnted  in  Bftyiag  of  kirn  what  wts  said  of  his 
venenbld  father,  by  a  moat  competent  judge,  and  one  very  chary  of  his  oompli- 
mentB— *'  he  was  the  oompletest  minister  I  ever  knew.*'  In  supervising  the 
YariouB  details  of  parochial  economy,  in  systematic  family  Tisitalion,  in  conduct- 
ing fellowship-meetings,  in  the  sick  room,  in  the  house  of  sorrow,  by  the  bedside 
of  the  dying,  in  dealing  with  troubled  consciences,  I  do  not  believe  that  Dr. 
Mason's  superior  could  any  where  be  found.  He  was  exceedingly  happy  in  his 
treatment  of  the  class  last  named.  He  put  them  at  once  at  their  ease,  so  that 
they  could  unburthen  their  hearts  to  him  with  entire  freedom.  1  once  called 
upon  him  in  much  distress  of  mind  produced  by  the  fear  that  I  had  not  expe- 
rienced in  a  sufficient  degree  what  the  old  divines  were  wont  to  call  '*  the  law- 
work."  He  listened  to  me  patiently,  while  I  described  my  mental  difficulties 
and  desires,  and  then  said, — *'  Dear  M.,  take  care  that  you  don't  become  rash 
in  your  prayers.  White  I  was  in  Scotland,  as  a  student  in  Divinity,  I  was 
myself  tempted  just  as  you  now  are.  I  called  upon  a  venerable  clergyman  with 
whom  I  was  upon  terms  of  intima<7,  and  told  him  my  trouble.  He  replied  to 
me, — *  My  son,  take  heed  what  you  ask  of  the  Lord.  I  was  once  thus  tried,  and 
I  prayed  the  Lord  very  earnestly  that  He  would  enable  me  to  realise  deeply  the 
terrors  of  the  law.  He  answered  my  request,  and  cured  me  of  my  folly.  His 
Spirit,  as  I  may  say,  took  me  up,  and  for  a  time  shook  me  over  hell.  It  was 
enough.  I  have  since  asked  the  Lord  to  lead  me  by  his  love,  and  to  save  me 
firom  the  terrors  of  his  law.'  And  such,"  added  Dr.  M.,  'Ms  my  advice  to 
you." 

In  the  progress  of  his  ministry,  the  duties  incident  to  his  manifold  relations 
as  Pastor,  Theological  Professor,  Provost  of  Columbia  College,  Editor,  and  con- 
fessedly the  master  spirit  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Church, — the  denomination 
with  which  he  was  connected  during  the  whole  of  his  active  life,  compelled  his 
congregation  to  be  content  with  seeing  and  hearing  him  on  the  Lord's  day.  Yet 
amid  these  muUiferious  engagements,  he  never  lost  the  pastoral  sympathies.  His 
heart  was  with  his  people  in  their  joys  and  sorrows,  and  when  distance  or  the 
press  of  other  duties  hindered  his  going  in  person  to  weep  with  a  stricken  houses 
hold,  his  pen  was  employed  to  convey  to  its  members  his  condolence  and  his 
counsels.  Many  of  these  letters  are  to  be  found  In  the  recent  Memoir  of  him 
by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Van  Vechten,  but  they  form  only  a  small  part  of  his  corres- 
pondence with  affiicted  friends;  and  if  they  were  all  collected  and  published,  I 
think  that  the  volume  would  take  rank  among  the  sacred  classics  of  our  lan- 
guage. 

For  three  years,  during  the  period  when  he  was  in  the  full  vigour  of  his  men- 
tal powers  it  was  my  privilege  to  attend  the  Seminary  of  which  he  was  the 
head  and  founder.  Of  his  pre-eminent  fitness  for  the  post  of  Thsohgical 
Inttruderi  no  one  who  knew  him  and  is  competent  to  judge,  can  have  a 
moment's  doubt.  He  frequently  introduced  his  course  of  lectures  with  one  on 
Modesty,  apparently  with  the  view  of  showing  those  of  us  who  had  just  come 
from  College,  witii  our  academic  laurels  quite  fresh,  how  very  little  we  knew. 
Starting  some  topic  in  Ethics  or  Theology,  he  would  ask--'*  What  is  it?  Why? 
How?"  He  used  to  say  to  us — **  Gentlemen,  don't  go  round  a  thing,  nor  above 
it,  but  driye  straight  into  it;" — **  if  you  are  asked,  what  is  the  text-book  in  the 
Seminary, — say,  your  Bible."  He  did  not  deliver  a  formal  and  regular  series  of 
lectures  either  in  Systematic  Theology  or  in  Biblical  Criticism.  But  when  we  were 
studying  the  argumentative  Epistles  of  the  New  Testament,  he  was  accustomed 
to  give  us,  in  connection  with  the  recitation,  a  critical  exposition  of  the  more 
difficult  chapters.  On  these  occasions,  while  he  was  the  expounder,  he  required 
us  to  come  to  the  lecture  as  fully  prepared  as  possible,  by  a  careful  examination 
of  the  words,  phrases,  and  grammatical  structure  of  the  passage,  and  also  of  its 
historical  and  geographical  allusions.    In  these  exercises,  perhaps  nM»re  than  in 


JOHN  MITCHELL  KASON.  25 

»ny  otlier,  iie  displayed  his  mMiseiiy  powers  of  analysis  and  afguaent,  has  deep 
insight  into  the  uieaning  of  Scripture,  his  exquisite  scholaiahip,  and  his  coio- 
niand  of  language.  This,  I  may  add,  was  his  favourite  department^  involvings 
as  it  did,  the  study  of  the  Bible  itself,  i.  e.  the  truth  of  God  exactly  as  it  lies 
embedded  in  the  written  Word  of  God.  Ue  by  no  means  undervalued  the 
importance  of  Systematic  Theology,  but  he  considered  it  a  oomparatiTely  easy 
task  for  those  who  bad  been  drilled  from  chUdhood  to  attain  a  respeotaUe 
acquaintance  with  this  branch  of  study;  while  the  ability  to  disoover  an4 
expound  the  real  uid  prodse  meaning  of  Scripture,  to  gather  the  various  pasaa^ 
ges  bearing  upon  any  article  of  faith,  and  to  show  how  they  establish  its  truth, 
could  be  acquired  mily  by  laborious  and  careful  culture.  Accordingly,  his  aim 
was  to  make  his  pupils  "  mighty  in  the  Scriptures,"  and  they  were,  in  &ct,  the 
grand  text-book  during  the  whole  theological  curriculum. 

In  his  method  of  tuition  he  combined  the  lecture  and  thecatedietie  exercise,-^ 
the  latter,  however,  being  the  predominant  element.  Every  answer  to  a  questioo, 
if  it  contained  an  averment  or  a  proposition  of  any  kind,  was  instantly  followed 
by  his  **  Prove  it,  Sir,"  or  "  Now  for  your  proof.**  And  you  may  be  sure  that 
each  proof  text  or  argument  was  subjected  to  the  most  rigid  scrutiny.  **  Think," 
he  was  wont  to  say;  and  in  these  exercises  he  at  once  compelled  and  taught  ua 
how  to  "  think"  to  purpose.  I^t  me  hero  remark  that  Dr.  Mason  has  been 
charged  with  encouraging  his  students  to  cultivate  that  sort  of ''  thinking"  which 
is  commonly  allied  to  inordinate  self-esteem,  and  which  looks  with  contempt 
upon  the  established  formulas  of  Theology.  Nothing  can  be  more  unfounded. 
Some  may  indeed  have  mistaken  or  perverted  his  advice  on  this  head,  but  he 
certainly  never  designed  to  beget  or  to  countenance  the  independent  thinking 
which  affects  new  views  and  original  speculations.  No  man  was  more  quick  to 
note  or  more  prompt  to  condemn  a  departure  from  the  '*old  paths."  ''New 
light,"  said  he,  "  is  in  most  cases  only  a  second  edition  of  old  darkness."  His 
object  plainly  was  to  guard  us  against  mere  traditional  beliefs,  against  the  accep- 
tance of  opinions  because  they  belonged  to  the  creed  of  this  or  that  sect,  or  were 
connected  with  the  name  of  this  or  that  eminent  man,  and  lead  us  to  examine  for 
ourselves  the  grounds  on  which  Christian  doctrine  rests,  so  that  we  could  give 
to  every  man  that  asks  for  it  a  sound  and  intelligent  reason  for  our  faith.  That 
this  was  his  sole  object  in  saying  to  us  **  think — ^think  for  yourselves,"  is  mani- 
fest from  the  fact  that,  with  only  two  or  three  exceptions,  the  entire  body  of 
those  trained  by  him  for  the  sacred  office  have  ever  been  remarkable  for  their 
tenacious  adherence  to  the  olden  Theology. 

Dr.  Mason  observed  himself  and  required  in  his  students  the  most  rigid  punc- 
tuality in  regard  to  the  Seminary  exercises  and  appointments.  He  stigmatized 
the  want  of  it  as  a  lack  of  virtue,  thoroughly  entering  into  the  sentiment  of 
Seneca  that  "time  is  almost  the  only  thing  of  which  to  be  covetous  is  a  virtue." 
He  used  to  say — **  You  may  steal  my  money,  I  may  be  able  to  make  more;  you 
may  steal  my  goods,  I  may  be  able  to  replace  them;  but  my  time^  neither  you 
nor  I  can  replace,  if  once  lost."  Indeed  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  him 
to  have  gotten  through  the  half  of  the  multifarious  duties  that  devolved  upon 
him  during  the  most  active  portion  of  his  life,  if  he  had  not  adopted  and  insisted 
upon  the  rule  of  punctuality.  At  our  Seminary  exercises,  five  minutes  were 
allowed  for  variation  of  watches,  and  for  unavoidable  detention.  If  in  that  time 
the  Professor  did  not  appear,  the  students  were  free  to  go  to  their  rooms.  I  can 
recall  only  one  instance  of  the  Doctor's  &ilure  in  promptness.  On  this  occasion 
we  watched  for  him  with  no  little  anxiety,  when  we  found  the  moments  of  grace 
were  nearly  gone.  The  five  minutes  having  expired,  we  at  once  left  the  house, 
but  when  we  reached  the  street  we  saw  the  Doctor  approaching  at  a  very  rapid 
pace.  As  he  joined  us,  noticing  our  time-pieces  In  our  hands,  he  exclaimed,  ''All 
right,  gentlemen,  alt  right,  but  hear  me  before  you  separate*    God  in  bis  proti- 


JLQ  rUSBXTSBUK. 

donee  caUed  me  to  Tuit  an  apd  pariahioiMr  and  friend  now  upon  his  death  bed 
I  have  come  from  that  scene  of  sorrow  as  rapidly  as  I  could.    I  will  be  bappj  to 
give  you  the  usual  lecture,  if  you  can  spare  the  time."    I  need  scarcely  say  that 
we  all  gladly  re-entered  the  recitation  room. 

I  know  not  how  I  can  better  describe  the  relation  in  whioh  Dr.  Mason  stood  to 
his  students,  than  in  those  words  of  Paul, — *^  Ye  know  how  we  exhorted  and 
charged  every  one  of  you  a$  a  father  hU  ehUdrtn;  we  were  gentle  among  you  as 
m  niur$e  ckBri$heth  her  children,"  No  one  oould  be  brought  into  daily  inter- 
course with  a  man  of  such  commanding  talent,  even  if  it  consisted  only  in  listen- 
ing to  an  exegetical  or  doctrinal  prelection,  without  feeling  for  him  the  highest 
admiration.  But  the  admiration  of  his  students  was  couihined  with  the  fondest 
affection.  He  was  not  only  our  teacher,  drilling  us  in  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  The- 
ology, but  our  counsellor,  our  guide,  our  familiar  friend,  ever  exhibiting  the  most 
lively  concern  for  our  health,  our  comfort,  our  spiritual  welfare,  as  well  as  for 
our  intellectual  progress.  £ven  in  the  lecture  room,  frigid  as  the  place  commonly 
is,  and  chilling  as  are  its  exercises,  we  discovered  the  amplitude  and  wealth  of 
his  heart,  as  well  as  of  his  head.  Often,  while  he  was  lecturing,  have  I  seen  the 
tears  coursing  down  his  cheeks,  and  the  whole  class  exhibiting  emotions  kindred 
to  his  own. 

How  much  is  it  to  be  regretted  that  a  man  of  such  rare  endowments,  and  one 
so  highly  fitted  to  enrich  the  theological  literature  of  our  country,  should  have 
left  behind  him  so  few  monuments  of  his  piety  and  learning.  His  efforts 
unquestionably  marked  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  theological  education 
in  the  United  States.  True  there  hod  been  Professors  of  Theology  before  his 
day;  but  the  Report  drawn  up  by  him  and  presented  to  the  Synod  of  the  Asso- 
ciate Reformed  Church,  in  1804,  and  the  accompanying  Constitution  of  the 
Seminary,  contains  a  scheme  of  theological  education  far  in  advance  of  any  thing 
ever  before  attempted  in  this  country.  He  was  himself  chosen  by  the  Synod  to 
carry  out,  as  Professor  of  Theology,  his  own  views,  and  he  at  once  engaged  in 
the  enterprise  with  characteristic  ardour.  Indeed  his  whole  soul  was  in  this 
work,  which  he  always  regarded  as  by  far  the  most  important  sphere  of  labour 
which  the  Head  of  the  Church  had  called  him  to  fill.  Unfortunately,  the  small- 
ness  of  the  denomination  with  which  he  was  connected,  and  the  consequent 
poverty  of  the  Seminary,  obliged  him  to  retain  the  pastoral  office,  and  thus  hin- 
dered the  concentration  of  his  energies  upon  the  task  with  which  were  entwined 
the  fondest  desires  and  hopes  of  his  life.  Occupied  as  he  was  with  such  diver- 
sified duties,  authorship,  except  to  a  limited  extent,  was  out  of  the  question. 

Before  I  bring  my  letter  to  a  close,  I  must  be  allowed  to  say  a  few  words 
respecting  Dr.  Mason,  as  he  appeared  in  the  more  private  relations  of  life. 
His  company  was  eagerly  sought  by  persons  of  the  most  various  characters  and 
pursuits,  and  no  wonder,  for  he  was  gifted  with  every  quality  needed  to  make 
him  shine  in  society.  His  gentlemanly  air  and  manners,  his  genial  humour,  his 
ready  wit,  his  quickness  at  retort,  his  various  knowledge  of  books  and  men,  his 
ample  fund  of  anecdote,  and  his  capital  tact  at  telling  a  story,  rendered  him  the 
life  and  attraction  of  every  circle  into  which  he  entered.  I  have  often  met  him 
in  company,  and  have  witnessed  the  deference  and  admiration  of  which  he  was 
the  object.  But  I  love  best  to  think  of  him  as  ho  appeared  among  those  whoso 
friendship  he  knew  he  could  trust, — the  brethren  with  whom  he  was  in  habits  of 
weekly  companionship.  Sweet  to  me  is  the  memory  of  those  reunions  of  other 
days,  in  which  the  heart  and  the  intellect  found  such  rich  refreshment.  I  wish  I 
could  recall  the  epea  pttreoenta  of  those  occasions,  but  I  cannot — let  me  only  say 
that  those  whose  wings  were  most  like  those  of  the  dove,  *'  covered  with  silver, 
and  their  feathers  with  yellow  gold  "  flew  thickest  from  the  lips  of  Dr.  Mason. 
The  subjects  of  our  talk  were  manifold,  though  mainly  of  religious  or  theological 
character.    One  discussion  is  fixed  in  my  memory,  and  I  refer  to  it  because  it 


JOHN  KiTCHBLL  MiV^^lfl 


serrefi  to  illustrate  a  trait  of  Dr*  Mason,  which  I  deem  IHttOcgo^nftipB^^ 
— his  singular  candour,  and  his  readiness  to  acknowledge  a  mistalce,  when  fairly 
oonyinced  that  he  was  mistaken.  The  meeting  was  at  roj  own  house,  and 
among  the  friends  present  were  Drs.  Mason,  MuLeod,  Romejn,  Rowan  of  New 
York,  Laurie  of  Washington,  and  Blatchford  of  Lansinghurg.  The  question 
was  one  upon  which  Dr.  Mason  had  committed  himself  by  writing  and  publish- 
ing an  article  which  had  attracted  great  attention,  as  probably  the  ablest  defence 
of  the  view  it  maintained  which  had  then  appeared.  After  a  little  general  talk 
upon  the  subject,  it  was  agreed  to  organize  the  meeting  for  a  more  formal  discus* 
sion.  Dr.  Laurie  and  myself  were  named  as  the  disputants,  and  Dr.  Mason,  by 
common  consent,  was  to  be  our  Moderator.  After  debating  the  question  at  some 
length.  Dr.  Laurie  assumed  a  position  in  relation  to  it,  founded  upon  an  alleged 
fact  which  I  ventured  to  deny;  and  Dr.  Mason  immediately  interposed  a  remark 
which  showed  that  his  views  of  the  subject  were  in  harmony  with  my  own. 
Whereupon  Dr.  Laurie,  expressing  his  surprise  at  Dr.  M.'s  remark,  said, — "  But 
did  you  not  write  the  article  on  this  very  subject,  that  appeared  a  few  years  ago 
in  the  Christian's  Magazine  ?"  "  I  did,"  said  Dr.  M.,  *'but  I  did  not  know-as 
much  when  I  wrote  it  as  I  ought  to  have  known."  On  another  occasion,  advert-, 
ing  to  the  pride  of  consistency  sometimes  exhibited  by  persons  otherwise  excel- 
lent, he  said  to  me, — '*  M. — he  is  a  po^  man  who  cannot  afford  to  give  away 
sixpence,  and  he  is  a  poor  soul,  a  very  poor  soul,  who  cannot  aiford  to  acknon^- 
ledge  an  error,  lest  perchance  some  one  should  charge  him  with  inconsistency.*' 

In  his  own  household  Dr.  Mason  was  all  that  might  be  anticipated  from  one 
whose  heart  was  so  full  of  warm  and  tender  affection,  and  all  who  had  access  to 
his  home  could  not  but  be  struck  by  the  beautiful  exhibition  which  he  was  wont 
to  make  at  once  of  filial,  conjugal  and  parental  love.  It  was  my  privilege  to  be 
present  when  he  bade  his  family  farewell,  on  the  occasion  of  his  last  voyage  to 
Europe;  Ue  had  requested  me  to  come  on  from  Philadelphia  and  preach  for  him 
on  the  Sabbath  before  his  departure.  My  text  was  the  words — *'  We  have  strong 
consolation,"  and  he  was  pleased  to  say  that  the  discourse  had  been  the  means 
of  ministering  '*  strong  consolation  "  to  his  own  heart  in  the  trying  circumstan- 
ces in  which  he  was  then  placed.  The  parting  scene  was  very  affecting — a  sore 
trial  to  himself  and  to  those  whom  he  left  behind;  for  a  voyage  to  Europe  was 
then  a  far  more  serious  undertaking  than  it  is  now,  and  his  shattered  constitu- 
tion rendered  it  quite  probable  that  we  should  see  his  face  no  more.  Having 
taken  leave  of  the  younger  members  of  his  family,  one  by  one,  he  came  down 
stairs,  and  sat  for  some  fime,  with  his  wife  on  one  side  of  him,  and  his  venerable 
mother  on  the  other.  At  his  suggestion,  we  all  joined  in  singing  the  hymn 
**  The  Lord  will  provide — "  he  then  rose,  dropped  his  head  upon  his  hands,  as  in 
silent  prayer,  for  some  moments,  and  at  length  said," — God,  my  own  God,  the 
God  of  my  fathers,  the  Angel  of  the  Covenant  that  led  me  and  led  me  all  my 
days,  bless  my  dear  family."  He  paused  for  an  instant,  and  said  to  me, — **  let  us 
go."  We  attended  him  to  the  boat  which  was  to  convey  him  to  the  ship,  and 
parted  with  faint  hopes  of  ever  again  meeting  him  this  side  of  Heaven. 

You  are  aware  that  there  was  a  warm  controversy  between  Dr.  Mason  and  tha 
late  eminent  and  excellent  Bishop  Hobart  on  the  subject  of  Church  government. 
Some  time  after  Dr.  Mason's  death,  I  was  attending  a  funeral  at  which  Bishop 
Ilobart  was  present.  While  in  the  carriage  on  our  way  to  the  place  of  interment,^ 
the  Bishop  said  to  me, — **  Mr.  McCartce,  you  were,  T  understand,  a  favourite  stu- 
dent of  Dr.  Mason,  and  I  should  be  much  pleased  to  learn  from  you  something  more 
respecting  him  than  has  been  published.  After  mentioning  some  things  illustra- 
tive of  the  Doctor's  character,  allusion  was  made  to  the  controversy  about  Epfsco- 
pacy,  and  I  said — ''I  can  tell  you  something  of  Dr.  Mason's  views  of  that 
discussion  which  I  think  will  not  be  disagreeable  to  you,  and  which  you  might 
never  be  apprized  of,  if  I  did  not  tell  you.    lie  once  observed  to  me  that  *  it 

YoL.  rv.  3 


Ig  PRESBTTSBIAH. 

was  yery  unpleasant  to  condact  a  debate  with  some  antagonists,  for  thej  neyer 
met  the  point  fairly  and  honourably;  but  it  was  pleasant  to  hold  a  discussion 
with  Bishop  Ho|>art,  for  he  met  the  question  fairly  and  like  a  man.'  '*  "  Thank 
you  Sir,'* — replied  the  Bishop  to  me — '^  thank  you  Sir,  I  shall  cherish  that  as  a 
compliment  indeed,  for  I  am  well  persuaded  that  Dr.  Hason  would  neyer  haye 
said  any  thing  like  that  unless  he  meant  it." 

But  I  must  bring  these  reminiscences  to  a  close,  with  the  expression  of  my 
earnest  desire  that  our  gracious  God  will  carry  you  comfortably  through  the 
laborious  and  important  work  in  which  you  are  engaged,  and  with  the  assurance 
that  I  remain, 

£yer  yours, 

R.  McGARTEE. 


FROM  BENJAMIN  SILLIMAK,  LL.  D. 

New  HAyiir,  February  14, 1866. 

My  dear  Sir:  On  reading  your  letter,  asking  for  my  reminiscences  of  Dr 
Mason,  my  first  impression  was  that  I  ought  decidedly  to  decline  any  attempt 
of  the  kind,  on  the  ground  that  my  acqi^intance  with  him  was  not  sufficiently 
intimate  to  justify  it.  Being,  however,  as  you  are  aware,  altogether  disposed  to 
aid  you  in  your  arduous,  though  gratifying,  researches,  I  began  to  recall  some 
early  impressions,  and  to  look  over  my  manuscript  journal,  introductory  to  my 
first  voyage  to  Europe,  and  of  my  residence  there,  in  1805  and  1806.  From  this 
source,  and  from  memory,  I  may  glean  a  few  things,  but  probably  of  too  little 
importance  to  serve  your  purpose. 

In  the  winter  of  1804-5,  I  accompanied  President  Dwight  to  New  York  for  the 
purpose  of  obtaining  letters  of  introduction,  and  of  making  other  arrangements 
preparatory  to  a  voyage  to  England  and  a  residence  in  Europe,  of  which  an 
account  was  published  in  my  first  Journal  of  Travels.  The  reputation  and 
social  position  of  Dr.  Dwight  made  my  way  easy  to  the  eminent  men  of  the  city, 
among  whom,  in  various  walks  of  life,  were  John  M.  Mason,  Rufus  King,  Oliver 
Wolcott,  John  Trumbull,  Archibald  Gracie,  Samuel  Miles  Hopkins,  John  B. 
Murray,  Benjamin  Douglass  Perkins,  Moses  Rogers,  William  W.  Woolsey, 
James  Watson,  and  others, — several  of  whom  were  enlisted  by  Dr.  Dwight  on 
my  behalf.  In  honour  of  him,  and  with  some  reference  to  my  expected  mission 
abroad,  a  large  number  of  gentlemen  were  invited  to  dine  by  the  brother-in-law 
of  Dr.  Dwight,  Mr.  Moses  Rogers,  an  eminent  merchant,  whose  elegant  mansion 
was  on  the  battery  facing  the  harbour.  The  guests,  to  me  an  imposing  group, 
were  assembled  in  the  drawing  room  of  Mrs.  Rogers,  and  last  of  all,  was 
announced  the  Rev.  Dr.  Mason,  whom  I  had  never  seen.  He  was  then  approach- 
ing the  meridian  of  life;  but  his  countenance  was  radiant  almost  as  in  youth. 
Never  before  or  since  has  the  presence  of  any  man  impressed  roe  as  his  did  on 
that  occasion.  Tall,  erect,  of  fine  symmetry  of  form,  with  a  perfect  muscular 
development,  a  noble,  intellectual  head,  and  strongly  marked  features,  on  every 
line  of  which  mind  was  stamped,  with  the  graceful  air  of  a  high-bred  gentleman 
of  the  old  school,  and  with  the  bearing  of  a  man  who  could  not  be  unconscious 
of  his  own  talents  and  fame — elegantly  dressed,  but  with  chaste  simplicity, — as 
he  entered  the  room,  all  rose  from  their  seats  to  greet  and  welcome  the  pride  of 
New  York. 

A  proud  man  he  would  doubtless  have  been,  had  not  his  heart  been  touched 
by*  higher  power  than  human;  and  indeed  such  was  the  majestic  mien  and 
commanding  dignity  of  the  man,  and  such  the  spontaneous  deference  yielded  to 
liim  by  all,  that  he  certainly  needed  a  large  share  of  Christian  humility  to  conn- 
ieract  the  natural  and  almost  pardonable  vaulting  op  of  self-esteem.  Had  he 
(•en  a  military  man,  every  one  would  have  said  that  he  was  born  to  command; 


JOHN  IHTCHBLL  MASON. 

I         and  his  svay,  if  not  imperions,  would  certainly  liftve  been  imperial.    Martial 
I  costume  could  not  have  added  to  his  native  dignity,  but  might  have  embellished 

i  his  majestic  form  in  a  manner  to  attract  and  dazzle  the  common  mind. 

!  His  extraordinary  powers  of  conversation  were  immediately  prompted  by  the' 

r  company,  and  he  entertained  and  instructed  them  during  the  protracted  sitting. 

It  was  not  my  good  fortune  to  sit  so  near  him  at  the  dinner  table  as  to  hear  his 
r  remarks  to  tlie  best  advantage;  but  I  had  afterwards  the  privilege  of  witnessing 

I  his  unrivalled  colloquial  powers  on  various  occasions. 

I  You  will  expect  me  to  say  something  of  Dr.  Mason's  appearance  in  the  pulpit. 

And  here  I  cannot  do  better  than  to  transcribe  verbatim  a  record  which  I  find  in 
my  manuscript  journal,  of  that  date : — 

**  March  31, 1805.  I  attended  Dr.  Mason's  church  in  the  morning,  and  heanl 
a  very  excellent  discourse.  In  the  afternoon  I  heard  him  again,  firom  the  words—* 
•  To-day,  if  ye  will  hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts.'  It  was  a  very  ani- 
mated, pathetic  and  forcible  sermon.  A  young  man  of  great  promise,  and  highly 
respected  in  the  congregation,  had  died  suddenly  that  morning.  Dr.  Masoit 
^  made  use  of  this  circumstance  yery  happily.    After  urging  on  all  ages  and  classes 

I  of  his  audience  the  importance  of  repenting  fo-<iay,  bcHsause  of  the  uncertainty  of 

,  life,  be  suddenly  threw  himself  towards  one  side  of  the  pulpit,  and  with  his  arm' 

\         outstretched,  and  his  hand  pointed  towards  the  pew  where  the  young  man- 
I  sat  only  the  Sabbath  before,  he  exclaimed,  in  thrilling  tones  and  with  a  look 

,  of  anguish, — '  There,  there,  my  friends,  in  that  pew,  only  a  few  days  ago/ 

^  sat  one  who  had  every  reason  to  expect  long  life,  which  the  most  perfect 

I  health  could  afford;  and  this  morning  his  spirit  fled  to  the  eternal  world!    Now 

go  home  and  calculate  on  long  li&!'    Here  he  abruptly  concluded,  himself  and 
his  audience  being  in  tears. 
I  *'  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  convey  any  adequate  idea  of  this  extraordinary. 

^  aian.     Besides  the  real  merit  of  his  discourses,  there  is  a  wonderful  effect  pro- 

duced by  his  countenance,  which  is  commanding  and  impressive  in  the  highest 
degree;  by  his  voice  which  is  unusually  deep-toned  and  powerful;  and  by  his 
attitudes  and  gestures  which  have  great  dignity  and  force.  He  has,  moreover, 
the  advantage  of  a  large  and  finely  proportioned  person,  with  remarkably  strong 
muscular  expression.  He  is  certainly  an  orator  aui  generia.** 
Thus  far  my  early  impressions. 

In  subsequent  years,  and  after  my  return  from  Europe  in  1806^  I  heard  Dr.' 
Mason  preach  on  many  occasions,  both  in  his  own  pulpit  in  New  iTork,  and 
in  New  Haven,  which  town  he  occasionally  visited,  and  more  than  once  at  the 
season  of  Commencement.  His  mind  appeared  to  be  growing  constantly  more 
powerful,  and  his  eloquence  more  stirring  and  vivid;  his  command  of  the  most 
impressive  and  appropriate  language  seemed  quite  absolute;  and  all  that  belonged 
to  his  masterly  powers,  both  physical  and  intellectual,  being  on  the  increase,  he 
commanded,  swayed,  convinced,  and  impelled  his  audiences,  as  if  only  a  voli-' 
tion  of  his,  for  that  purpose,  was  necessary.  I  was  not  so  happy  as  to  hear  that 
celebrated  Sermon  from  the  words — "  To  the  poor  the  Qospel  is  preached.''  It 
was  delivered  in  New  Haven  in  the  autumn  of  1810,  and  fW>m  the  accounts  which 
I  heard  of  its  wonderful  effect  upon  the  audience,  both  then  and  on  other  occa^ 
sions,  it  was  matter  of  deep  regret  with  me  that  I  had  accidentally  missed  my' 
opportunity. 

Dr.  Mason's  prayers  were  remarkably  elevated  and  pathetic.  He  seemed  spir- 
itoally  to  ascend  with  the  rich  flow  <tf  deroiit  language  and  thought,  which  rose, 
as  it  were,  like  a  cloud  of  incense,  flrom  a  consecrated  censer:  his  celestial  nBpU 
rations  appeared  like  what  David  in  his  happiest  firames,  and  Isaiah  always,  might 
have  breathed  forth.  There  was,  as  I  thought,  no  attempt  at  self-display,  but 
language  copious,  elevated  and  warm  ascended  to  the  Father  of  spirits,  adapted 
at  once  to  fill  the  mind  with  noble  thoughts,  and  the  heart  with  devMit  feeling' 


2fi  PRESBTTERIAH. 

BQs  noblo  form  and  glowing  isce  gaye  the  impression  that,  in  heart  and  mind,  h» 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  great  white  throne. 

In  addition  to  his  multiplied  labours  as  a  preacher  and  a  writer,  and  an  ora- 
cle for  sdvioe,  and  influence,  and  action,  not  only  on  religious  but  on  many  other 
sul^ects,  Dr.  Mason  was  induced  to  accept  the  appointment  of  Provost  of  Colum- 
bia College.  Whether  this  new  labour  added  the  weight  which,  with  all  that  he 
sustained  before,  could  no  longer  bo  borne,  I  cannot  say ;  but  the  time  was 
approaching  when  the  great  and  good  man,  in  the  yery  maturity  and  perfection 
of  his  knowledge,  power,  &me,  influence,  and  usefulness,  was  to  be  bowed  down. 
The  impending  catastrophe  was  perceiyed  by  the  skilful  and  sagacious.  The  late 
distinguished  Dr.  David  Hosack  related  to  me  that  he  met  Dr.  Mason  in  Park 
Place,  coming  from  the  College  buildings,  when  he  saw  from  the  livid  hue  and 
turgid  condition  of  the  blood-vessels  of  his  face  and  head,  that  he  was  in  irami* 
nent  danger.  His  first  impulse  was  to  draw  his  lancet,  and  beg  permission  to 
relieve  him  by  opening  a  vein.  But  not  being  professionally  in  his  confidence,  he 
was  restrained  by  his  sense  of  medical  etiquette,  and  fearing  to  be  thought  offi- 
cious and  an  alarmist  without  cause,  he  allowed  the  threatened  sage  to  pass  on 
his  way.  Alas,  how  much  was  it  to  be  regretted  that  professional  scruples  did 
not  yield  to  the  benevolent  impulses  of  the  great  and  discerning  physician,  and 
that  the  stroke  had  not  thus  been  averted! 

The  next  public  occasion  on  which  I  saw  Dr.  Mason  was  at  the  formation  of 
the  American  Bible  Society  in  New  York,  in  May,  1816.  He  was  one  of  the 
speakers  on  that  day;  butO  how  fallen! — not  indeed  into  imbecility;  but  the 
physical  man  was  prostrated,  and  the  giant  mind  struggled  through  an  enfeebled 
frame, — still,  however,  grand  in  its  approach  to  decay. 

Dr.  Mason's  succeeding  years  brought  hita  only  occasionally  under  my  obser- 
vation. There  was  a  revival,  but  never  a  full  recovery,  of  power;  and  it  was 
painful  to  realize  that  fifty  years  had  fixed  a  boundary  to  the  action  of  one  of  the 
noblest  intellects  of  the  age.  His  prostration  was  mourned  over  as  a  public 
calamity.  Thirty  years  more  of  efficient  service  in  the  cause  of  his  Master  might 
well  have  been  hoped  for,  and,  with  his  great  physical  and  intellectual  power, 
there  seemed  no  reason  why  he  should  not  have  remained  a  splendid  octogena- 
rian, like  him  who,  at  the  head  of  a  College  which  he  has  sustained  by  his  tal- 
ents, and  endowed  by  his  munificence,  still  lives  in  full  vigour — dartim  et  vener- 
abUenomtn. 

In  his  fkmily  circle,  the  presence  of  a  guest  at  his  table  prompted  his  high 
oonversatiiwal  powers.  So  copious  was  the  flow  from  his  gifted  and  richly  fur- 
nished mind,  and  so  vivid  and  energetic  was  his  diction,  that  the  guest  was  well 
contented  to  listen,  or  only  to  give,  by  a  question  or  suggestion,  a  new  impulse 
to  an  intellect  that  seemed  almost  equally  well  furnished  on  every  topic. 

I  had  much  experience  of  Dr.  Mason's  kindness  at  the  time  of  my  leaving  the 
country.  Among  other  favours  which  he  rendered  me,  he  furnished  me  with  a 
number  of  valuable  letters,  one  of  which  introduced  me  to  the  noble  society 
of  Clapham  Common,  near  London — the  Thorntons,  Wilberforce,  &c.;  another 
to  the  London  Missionary  Society,  and  its  phalanx  of  great  and  good  men — 
Ilardcastle  and  his  associates;  and  another  to  his  uncle  and  family  connections 
in  Edinburgh,  which  made  me  at  home  in  warm  hearted  Scotch  families,  creating 
friendships  that  have  been  perpetuated  even  to  this  day  and  this  country.  I 
must  not  omit  to  say  that  he  also  furnished  me  with  full  and  written  directions 
for  travelling  in  England.  As,  however,  the  whole  system  of  travelling  has  been 
long  since  radically  changed,  those  minutes,  although  then  important,  have 
become  obsolete — not  so,  however,  the  pious  thought  with  which  they  concluded — 
'^  Dr.  Mason  wishes  Mr.  Silliman  a  safe,  pleasant  and  prosperous  voyage,  with 
abundance- of  grace,  mercy,  and  peace,  from  the  God  of  salvation,  through  the 
dear  Redeemer." 


JOHN  UiromKLh  MASON.  21 

Dr.  Mason  a4X!ompaiued  me  to  the  ship — ^the  ill-&ted  Ontftrio,  which,  with  aU 
on  board,  was  lost  on  her  return  passage,  and  with  paternal  kindness  gave  me, 
at  the  moment  of  sailing,  his  parting  blessing. 

After  mj  retam  from  Europe,  in  the  following  year,  I  had,  as  I  have  already 
intimated,  repeated  opportunities  of  seeing  Dr.  Mason  in  private  societj.  He 
was  everj  where  the  admired  and  observed  of  all  observers.  His  coming  was 
fondly  anticipated;  his  arrival  cordially  greeted;  and  all  hung  upon  his  lips  for 
entertainment  and  instruction.  His  historical  reminiscences  and  his  fund  of  anec- 
dote were  inexhaustible ;  and  both  were  highly  instructive  and  interesting.  At  din- 
ners and  in  soirees  he  was  ever  in  the  ascendant — ^all  waited  for  his  communica- 
tions; and  they  were  often  embellished  by  brilliant  wit,  exquisite  humour,  and 
the  most  rersatile  action,  producing  intense  delight  and  admiration.  If  the  elo- 
quent preacher  would  have  made  a  great  commander,  he  might  also  have  been  a 
great  actor,  either  tragic  or  comic;  for  his  powers  in  both  ways  were  of  the  high- 
est order,  and,  as  already  remarked,  they  were  sometimes  indulged  to  the  great 
exhilaration  of  the  circles  of  which  he  was  always  the  master  spirit.  Particular 
scenes  of  the  kind  are  even  now  fresh  in  my  recollection,  and  not  a  few  of  his 
vivid  and  stirring  rehearsals  and  anecdotes  seem  as  of  yesterday;  but  they 
would  hardly  be  appropriate  decorations  of  the  monument  which  I  would  fain 
raise  to  the  memory  of  one  who,  in  his  grand,  though  too  brief,  career,  has  left 
in  this  land  no  superior  behind  him. 

I  have  alluded  to  Dr.  Mason's  conversational  powers — I  ought  to  add  that  I 
have  known  them  to  be  put  forth  in  grave  circles,  and  on  grave  themes,  in  the 
most  impressive  manner.  It  was  like  the  unceasing  flow  of  a  magnificent  river, 
both  copious  and  inexhaustible,  and  passing  with  a  rapidity  of  current  that 
created  life  by  motion,  and  bore  along  all  before  it. 

Believe  me  always,  with  affectionate  regard. 

Truly  your  friend  and  servant, 

B.  SILLIHAN,  SxiriOB. 

FROM  THE  REV.  GEORGE  W.  BETHUNE,  D.  D. 

Brooklyn,  March  13,  1867. 

My  dear  Dr.  Sprague:  You  ask  me  for  some  recol lections *of  Dr.  Mason — and 
what  I  can  give  you  I  will;  but  I  was  too  young  to  know  him  in  his  palmy  day 
of  strength  and  power.  Circumstances,  however,  made  me,  from  earliest  child- 
hood, familiar  with  his  name,  person,  and  history.  My  grandmother,  Mrs.  Isa- 
bella Graham,  and  my  mother,  were  members  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Church 
in  Cedar  Street,  New  York,  under  the  pastorship  of  the  elder  Dr.  Mason,  and 
for  many  years  under  that  of  his  son.  The  families  were  also  intimate,  though 
I  did  not  come  closely  under  Dr.  Mason's  influence  until  1822,  when  he  was 
President  of  Dickinson  College, — ^which  was  some  years  after  the  shock  which 
affected  irreparably  his  mighty  intellect. 

Dr.  Mason  had,  in  rare  combination,  all  the  qualities,  moral,  mental  and  phy&- 
ical,  requisite  for  a  pulpit  orator.  Nursed  in  the  school  of  Scotch  Theology,  his 
views  of  Divine  troth  were  characterized  by  that  depth,  richness,  and  unction, 
which  gave  such  evangelical  power  to  the  writings  of  Boston,  the  Erskines,  and 
other  great  teachers,  who  never  strayed  from  the  cross,  and  delighted  to  arrange 
their  thoughts  under  the  two  covenants  made  with  the  first  and  second  Adam, 
Never  did  he  glow  with  higher  energy,  or  melt  his  hearers  with  deeper  pathos, 
than  when  dwelling  upon  the  mystery  of  the  Incarnation,  or  the  union  of 
believers  with  Christ,  or  the  relation  of  the  Law  to  the  Gospel;  and  especially 
in  his  Action  Sermons  or  Sacramental  Addresses,  did  he  pour  out  burning  words 
of  pious  trust  and  affection,  such  as  those  who  have  enjoyed  the  privilege  of 
hearing  them,  have  known  none  since  to  equal.     Though  his  opinions  were  firmly 


m 


IWSBnBSIAII. 


mid  fully  tiM»#  of  the  old  ortbodox  school,  he  wm  enphftiicaUy  «  stedent  of  fiie 
Scriptures,  deriying  hie  doctrine,  not  from  iraditionftrj  creeds,  but  immediatelyv 
from  the  living  fountain  of  the  sacred  word;  yet  cordially  holding  the  faith  of 
bis  fathers,  because  he  found  in  their  Confessions  what  he  believed  the  Holy 
Ghost  had  revealed.  Hence,  while  regarding  with  indignation  near  akin  to 
scorn,  the  novelties  of  his  day,  which  he  considered  presumptuous  attempts  to 
improve  the  plan  of  salvation  by  ''philosophy  falsely  so  called,"  and  particu- 
larly the  puny  metaphysics  which  lose  sight  of  grand  truths,  in  affected  niceties 
and  questions  engendering  strife,  he  never  allowed  himself  to  be  trammelled  by 
scholastic  terms  or  technicalities,  but  retained  only  such  as  he  knew  to  be  of 
qse,  illuminating  them  by  clear  definitions.  Resembling  Paul  in  the  compK- 
hensiveness  of  his  grasp  and  fulness  of  his  thoughtsi  the  Epistles  of  that  Apos- 
tle were  his  favourite  subjects  of  consideration.  He  delighted  himself  and  his 
hearers  by  continuous  courses  of  lectures  upon  those  inspired  expositions  of  the. 
Svangelical  scheme.  In  this  he  excelled;  his  analysis  was  astonishingly  dear, 
his  display  of  the  Apostle's  reasoning  close  and  faithful,  his  criticism  ever  perti- 
nent, philologically  accurate  and  manly,  his  detail  concise,  and  his  practical 
inferences,  rich,  devotional  and  edifying.  The  profound  knowledge  he  had 
acquired  of  the  sacred  languages,  eminently  fitted  him  for  a  commentator.  As 
a  Professor  and  the  sole  Professor  in  the  Theological  School  he  established,  he 
taught  the  language  of  the  Old  Testament  so  successAilly,  that  it  may  be  safely 
said,  no  students  have  been«  on  an  average,  better  skilled  in  Hebrew  than  his. 
His  classical  erudition  was  both  profound  and  el^ant,  as  those  who  had  the 
advantage  of  listening  to  hisoomments  on  the  "  Art  of  Poetry,"  by  Horace,  and 
the  *'  Treatise  on  the  Sublime,"  by  Longinus,  well  knew.  It  is  remarkable  that 
even  when  his  mind  had  so  sunk  under  the  influence  of  disease  as  to  take  little - 
notice  of  the  most  familiar  things  around  him,  he  enjoyed  with  an  evidently 
keen  relish  the  edition  of  Homer  by  Heyne,  then  just  published. 

The  physical  qualities  of  Dr.  Mason  were  worthy  of  the  mind  and  heart  that 
animated  them.  He  stood,  at  least,  six  feet  high;  his  frame  was  large,  very 
muscular,  but  admirably  proportioned;  his  head  was  massive,  the  forehead  very 
broad  and  very  high,  shewing  what  the  phrenologist  calls  the  organs  of  ideality, 
causality,  benevolence,  and  veneration,  in  full  development.  His  features  were 
regular,  his  eye  full,  clear  and  remarkably  expressive,  the  nose  straight,  with 
the  nostrils  wide,  the  mouth  firm,  but  not  compressed,  and  the  chin  round  and 
finished.  In  a  word,  though  handgome  is  too  poor  a  term  with  which  to  describe 
a  union  of  intellectual,  benevolent  and  courageous  expression,  it  is  seldom  that 
such  a  man  walks  the  earth.  It  was  notorious  that  at  a  time  when  an  avowal 
of  his  political  sentiments,  with  characteristic  boldness,  had  roused  the  anger 
of  the  multitude  to  threaten  him  with  personal  violence,  such  was  the  majesty 
of  his  port  in  the  open  street,  as  to  compel  the  homage  of  all  who  met  him.  To 
these  advantages  was  added  a  voice  of  surprising  power,  compass,  and  modula- 
tion. Its  tones  were  round,  full  and  clear,  without  roughness  or  shrillness ;  at 
one  time,  sweeping  all  before  it  in  a  thundering  torrent,  at  another,  gentle  and 
sweet  as  a  mother's  hushing  her  infant,  yet  never  omitting  the  slightest  inflec- 
tion which  a  just  emphasis  required,  and  of  that  he  had  the  keenest  perception. 
His  utterance  was  deliberate,  though  at  times  impassioned;  never  frantic  nor 
maudling,  but  in  his  utmost  energy  or  subdued  pathos,  dignified  and  self-gov- 
erned. Every  consonant  was  heard,  and  the  nicest  orthoepist  could  rarely  detect 
an  error  from  the  best  usage.  Hence  his  reading  of  Scripture  constituted  a 
special  charm  of  his  pulpit  services,  and  many  tell  us  that  it  was  as  good  as  a 
commentary;  making  difficult  places  plain,  and  giving  new  beauty  to  what  was 
before  but  barely  understood.  Occasionally,  when  reading  the  Psalms  from  the 
version  in  use  among  the  Scotch  Churches,  he  allowed  himself  what  may  be 
called  a  tone  or  rhythmical  cadence,  which  displayed  the  great  compass  and  flexi- 


JOHN  HITOHELL  MASON.  28 

bllity  of  bk  Toice.  Few  who  ever  heard  him  read  on  CommaDion  days  the  103d 
Psalm,  can  forget  how  he  used  to  pitch  his  voice  high,  and  then,  hy  what  the 
musician  calls  a  cadenza,  bring  it  down  at  the  end  of  the  verse,  to  a  deep  sono- 
rous bass.  His  gesture  was  natural,  though  bold  and  sweeping;  yet,  with  the 
exception  of  a  thump  upon  his  cushion,  or  a  defying  impulse  of  his  clenched 
band  at  the  close  of  an  argument,  seldom  violent,  never  artificial,  but  always 
the  dictate,  and  therefore  the  accompaniment,  of  his  thoughts. 

For  obvious  reasons,  the  printed  sermons  of  Dr.  Mason,  eloquent  and  powerful 
as  some  of  them  are,  convey  but  a  poor  idea  of  his  actual  preaching.  He  was 
not  accustomed  to  write  his  sermons  before  delivery,  though  doubtless  many  of 
them  were  thoroughly  elaborated  when  he  brought  them  to  the  pulpit.  His 
usual  habit  was  to  premeditate  them  carefully,  and  then  trust  himself  boldly  to 
the  inspiration  of  his  thought.  Hence,  conscious  of  the  power  he  possessed  of 
gesture  and  emphasis,  his  sentences  were  constructed  for  his  own  delivery,  and 
realshed  the  hearer  with  a  directness  and  clearness,  no  reader's  mind  can  invest 
them  with.  What  a  true  orator  writes  to  speak  himself,  he  naturally  considers 
with  reference  to  his  proposed  manner  of  utterance  and  expression;  not  for  the 
cold  type,  and  the  inanimate  eye  as  it  traces  the  letters  on  the  page.  This  is  the 
secret  of  the  comparative  feebleness  discoverable  in  the  printed  discourses  of  not 
a  few  eminent  orators,  as  Whitefield,  Summerfield,  or  the  Dean  of  Killala.  Yet 
I  am  far  from  saying  that  the  written  sermons  of  Dr.  Mason  deserve  not,  in  an 
eminent  degree,  the  praise  of  eloquence.  His  Sermons  on  Living  Faith,  Pardon 
of  sin  by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  M^iah's  Throne,  and  the  Funeral  Sermon  tor 
Mrs,  Isabella  Graham,  are  master-pieoes  of  evangelical  rhetoric.  It  is  greatly 
to  be  r^retted  that  no  sketches  of  his  expository  lectures  remain,  or,  if  extant 
in  manuscript,  have  not  been  published,  as  they  could  not  fail  to  show,  in  a 
higher  degree  than  any  of  his  writings,  his  logical  acumen  and  theological 
strength. 

There  was  a  peculiarity  of  his  mind,  arising  from  his  intense  force  and  direct- 
.ness*  which  not  seldom  diminishes  his  power  over  an  ordinary  reader.  He  dis** 
dalned  the  minor  steps  by  which  common  minds  creep  to  their  conclusions,  as- 
unnecessary  and  trivial.  He  condensed  what  others  would  distribute  into  many 
propositions,  within  a  brief  sentence.  He  strode  by  giant  intervals  from  one 
great  truth  to  another,  forgetting,  like  Newton  in  his  Principia,  the  pigmy 
limbs  which  strive  in  vain  to  reach  after  him.  Instances  of  this  are  found 
throughout  the  sermons  I  have  named;  yet,  when  he  stooped  to  explain,  by  nice 
definition  and  discrimination,  light  beams  from  every  phrase. 

Dr.  Mason  scrupled  not  to  use  irony,  and  the  reductio  ad  abvurdum,  even  to 
an  unmerciful  degree;  but  his  wit  was  rather  crushing  than  keen; — ^not  the 
thrust  of  the  rapier,  but  the  sweep  of  the  battle-axe;  and,  in  his  controversies, 
he  allowed  his  opponent  to  chuckle  over  the  success  of  some  dialectic  stratagem, 
or  the  cunning  disposition  of  besieging  lines,  while  he  rushed  on  to  seise  the 
commanding  heights,  and  launch  his  thunderbolts  at  their  astonished  heads. 

The  force  of  his  mind  killed  him.  He  shrunk  from  nothing  that  needed  to  be 
done,  and  never  thought  that  he  could  attempt  too  much.  Thus  at  one  and  the 
same  time  we  find  him  the  eloquent  Pastor  of  an  immense  Congregation;  the 
Provost  and  actual  presiding  officer  of  a  literary  College,  to  the  Senior  class  of 
which  he  delivered  an  able  course  of  Lectures  on  the  Evidences  of  Christianity, 
with  other  Lectures  on  higher  rhetoric, — taking  for  his  text-book  the  Art  of 
Poetry,  and  the  Treatise  on  the  Sublime;  the  Professor  of  a  Theological  Semi- 
nary,  teaching  with  little  assistance  the  whole  range  of  Theology  and  Biblical 
learning;  and  the  conductor  of  a  religious  periodical,  which  he  enriched  with 
many  most  able  didactic  articles,  carrying  on  also  a  profound  controversy  with 
several  vigorous  and  distinguished  opponents.  In  the  midst  of  all  this,  hitf 
aocMty  and  hospitablo  home  were  sought  by  Intellectual  and  pious  men,  wha 


24  PRESBTTERIATT. 

gathered  eagerly  the  profuse  wisdom  that  fell  from  his  lips.  The  physical  endu- 
rance even  of  his  athletic  f^ame  was  tasked  to  an  extreme:  a  generous  diet  only 
stimulated  his  powers  to  a  more  excessive  zeal;  and  a  slow  hut  fatal  disease 
clouded  the  mighty  hrain,  long  hefore  he  ceased  to  breathe. 

As  I  read  over  this  poor  sketch  of  the  greatest  preacher  the  American  Church 
has  produced,  I  am  not  without  fears  that  many  wilt  think  it  an  exaggerated 
eulogy;  but  I  have  written  what  I  know  to  be  truth,  and  am  sure  of  corrobora- 
tion from  the  testimony  of  all  who  knew  and  heard  John  M.  Mason. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

G.  W.  BETHUNE. 


FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  D.  SNODGRASS,  D.  D. 

GosHBV,  Febraary  27, 1862. 

My  dear  Brother:  Tour  fiiTour  of  the  2l8t  inst.,  renewing  the  request  fbr  sucli 
recoUections  of  Dr.  Mason  as  I  may  be  able  to  furnish,  has  been  received;  and 
though  I  still  think  there  are  others  who  might  perve  your  object  better,  I  do 
not  feel  at  liberty,  under  all  the  circumstances,  again  to  decline. 

Though  so  many  years  have  elapsed  since  the  death  of  this  distinguished  ser- 
vant of  Christ,  his  image,  as  he  was  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  is  still  llresh  to 
my  mind;  nor  do  I  expect  ever  to  lose  the  vivid  remembrance  of  some  things 
which  occurred  during  the  period  of  my  intercourse  with  him. 

I  had  heard  him  preach  three  or  four  times  in  my  early  youth,  and  had  called 
upon  him  once  at  his  residence  in  Carlisle,  while  he  was  in  the  Presidency  of 
Dickinson  College.  With  these  exceptions,  I  had  never  seen  him,  until  his 
return  from  Carlisle  to  New  York,  in  impaired  health,  in  1824.  In  the  mean 
time,  he  had  received  an  injury  which  deprived  him  of  the  use  of  one  of  his 
limbs,  and  rendered  crutches  necessary  to  his  convenience  in  locomotion.  It 
was  also  understood  by  his  friends  that  he  had  been,  for  some  time,  gradually, 
declining  in  mental  vigour.  But,  notwithstanding  this,  as  I  was  then  his  suc- 
cessor, and  still  young  in  the  ministry,  it  need  not  seem  strange  if,  in  the  pros- 
pect of  his  return  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  among  his  friends  in  New 
York,  I  was  sensible  of  some  little  trepidation,  at  the  thought  of  his  becoming  one 
of  my  stated  hearers.  The  first  Sabbath  after  his  return,  however,  did  not  pass 
without  yielding  me  all  needful  assurance  that  I  was  to  find  in  him,  not  a 
critical  or  curious  hearer,  but  a  child-like  lover  of  the  truth  in  its  plainest  dress. 
He  entered  the  church,  supported  by  his  crutches,  and  took  his  seat  in  a  pew 
occupied  by  the  family  of  one  of  his  sons,  near  the  pulpit.  At  the  commencement 
of  the  discourse,  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  me  with  that  earnest  and  steady  gaze 
for  which  he  was  remarkable;  and,  during  its  progress,  while  his  attention  never 
flagged,  he  was  more  than  once  «o  affected  as  to  brush  the  tears  from  his  &ce. 
At  the  close  of  the  service,  taking  me  by  the  hand,  he  alluded  to  the  sermon  in 
such  a  way,  and  addressed  me  in  such  encouraging  terms  as  placed  me  ever 
afterwards  at  ease,  and  made  the  sight  of  his  face  welcome  to  me,  as  often  as  the 
Sabbath  came  round. 

Not  long  after  this,  I  invited  him  to  administer  the  ordinance  of  Baptism  in 
the  case  of  my  eldest  child;  and  this  was  the  last  public  service  in  which  he 
ever  engaged.  His  difficulty  of  utterance  caused  him  to  hesitate  a  little;  but  he 
made  the  service  short,  and  passed  through  it  without  any  serious  embarrass* 
ment.  It  was  an  affecting  scene  to  his  many  friends  before  him,  who  could  com- 
pare what  they  now  witnessed  with  the  fluency  and  force  of  manner  which  had 
once  distinguished  him .  The  contrast  was  too  striking  to  pass  unnoticed  or  unfelt. 
Even  those  who  loved  him  best,  were  contented  to  abandon  the  expectation  of 
haaring  his  voice  in  any  public  effort  again. 


JOHN  MITGH£LL  MASON.  26 

He  WM  ooeasionftlly  present  with  us  after  this,  at  our  meetings  of  Presbytery. 
Sometimes  be  would  sic  an  almost  silent  spectator  of  what  was  going  on,  while, 
at  other  times,  bis  mind  would  brighten,  and  he  would  take  part  in  the  business 
for  a  while  with  evident  relish.  I  remember,  on  one  occasion,  when  a  young 
man  was  before  us,  having  the  ministry  in  view,  he  took  up  the  line  of  exami- 
nation with  decided  spirit,  proposed  questions  in  rapid  succession,  and  so  pressed 
his  demand  for  proof  in  support  of  the  answers  given,  and  especially  proof  from 
Scripture,  that  the  candidate  became  not  a  little  embarrassed,  and  seemed  relieved 
when  the  examination  passed  into  other  hands. 

It  is  worthy  of  being  recorded,  in  memory  of  Dr.  Mason,  that  in  all  the  period 
of  his  decline  as  to  bodily  and  mental  strength,  there  was  no  abatement  of  his 
deep  and  lively  interest  in  the  worship  of  God  on  the  Sabbath.  He  seemed  to  have 
a  home  feeling  in  the  house  of  God,  which  continued  with  him  through  all  changes 
and  trials.  Conditions  of  the  weather,  which  kept  others  from  the  sanctuary,  were 
no  obstacles  to  him.  When  it  was  possible,  he  was  there,  and  always  in  his 
place  in  season.  And  no  one  could  regard  his  appearance  and  demeanour  atten- 
tively, without  being  satisfied  that  he  was  there,  not  as  a  matter  of  form,  or  as 
the  result  of  habit,  but  because  he  loved  the  place,  and  was  happy  when  sur- 
rounded by  the  associations  and  influences  connected  with  it.  His  tenderness 
of  feeling  under  the  preaching  of  the  word  was  remarkable.  The  big  tear  might 
often  be  seen  in  his  eye,  when  the  eyes  of  others  around  him  were  dry.  He 
seemed  indeed  to  '*  receive  with  meekness  the  engrafted  word."  And  in  referring 
afterwards  to  subjects  discussed  in  the  pulpit,  it  was  much  more  frequently  in  a 
practical  than  a  speculative  way;  and  never  in  such  language  as  involved  the 
idea  of  dissatisfaction  or  fault-finding  in  the  least  degree. 

You  may  naturally  suppose,  from  the  relation  I  sustained  to  him,  that  I  had 
frequent  opportunities  of  seeing  him  in  private  and  social  intercourse,  as  well  as 
in  public.    We  sometimes  met  at  the  houses  of  mutual  friends;  and,  for  a  con- 
siderable period,  on  my  invitation,  he  frequently  dined  and  spent  a  part  of  the 
day  with  me  on  Monday.    On  these  occasions,  he  appeared  difierently  at  different 
times.    Sometimes  all  efforts  to  engage  him  in  conversation  were  fruitless ;  and 
yet  this  did  not  seem  to  be  the  result  either  of  indifference  or  depression  of 
spirits.     He  would  appear  pleased  with  what  was  passing  around,  him,  and 
would  listen  attentively  to  what  was  said  by  others;  but  when  a  question  was 
directed  to  himself,  he  would  generally  answer  in  a  monosyllable,  and  then  be 
silent.     There  seemed  to  be  a  stagnation  of  the  mental  powers,  while  the  social 
feelings  were  still  in  play.    But  at  other  times,  there  was  a  wakefulness  of  mind 
about  him,  which  made  it  easy  to  entertain  him.     He  would  ask  as  well  as 
answer  questions;  inake  somewhat  extended  remarks  upon  such  topics  as  were 
introduced;  and  sometimes  enunciate  his  sentiments  with  something  like  the 
emphasis  which  characterized  his  manner  when  '*his  natural  force"  was  not 
"  abated."    In  conversation  with  myself,  during  these  visits,  he  would  often 
refer  to  some  part  of  one  of  the  discourses  of  the  preceding  Sabbath,  expressing 
his  approbation  of  the  sentiment,  and  adding  something  to  illustrate  its  impor- 
tance or  bearings  from  the  suggestions  of  his  own  mind. 

But  it  often  occurred  to  me,  in  these  interviews,  that  his  mental  operations 
were  rather  in  the  way  of  reproducing  old  ideas,  than  working  out  any  thing  for 
the  occasion.  His  memory  was  perhaps  as  little  enfeebled  in  proportion  as  any 
other  faculty;  and  the  results  to  which  trains  of  thought  in  other  days  had  con- 
ducted him,  seemed  to  return,  when  subjects  were  introduced  to  which  they 
stood  related.  For  all  investigations  or  discussions  that  required  the  breaking 
of  new  ground,  his  day  was  already  past.  His  great  mind,  in  adding  to  the 
stores  of  human  thought,  had  done  its  work.  It  was  the  purpose  of  the  Great 
Master  soon  to  take  him  to  Himself;  and  the  little  of  life  that  remained  was 


Vol.  IV. 


26  PB8SBTTSRIAN. 

granted  him,  not  so  much  as  a  sepwon  for  work,  as  a  poriod  dmag  whidi  he  ms 

to  wait  for  his  change. 

Very  affectionately  jours, 

W.  D.  SNODGRASS. 


-•♦- 


EDWARD  DORR  GRIFFIN,  D.  D  » 

1792—1837- 

Edwaed  Dobr  Geiffin  was  bora  at  East  Haddam,  Conn.,  January  6, 
1770.  His  father  was  George  Griffin,  a  wealthy  farmer,  a  man  of  vigorona 
intellect,  of  great  enterprise  and  of  a  soperior  education,  for  a  common  one 
at  that  day.  His  mother  was  Eve  Dorr  of  Lyme,  and  was  distingaished 
for  her  lovely  and  engaging  qualities.  He  was  named  after  his  uncle,  the 
liev.  Edward  Dorr  of  Hartford,  and  was,  in  the  intention  of  his  parents, 
devoted  to  the  ministry  from  his  birth — a  circumstance  which  was  cer- 
tainly somewhat  singular,  as  neither  of  his  parents  at  that  time  made  anj 
pretensions  to  piety. 

Being  thus  intended  for  the  ministry,  and  withal  incapacitated  by  bodilj 
indisposition  to  labour  much  on  the  farm,  he  was  kept  almost  constantly  at 
school,  up  to  the  time  of  his  entering  College.  His  preparatory  stodies 
were  chiefly  under  the  Bev.  Joseph  Vaillt  of  Hadlyme,  towards  whom  he 
continued  till  the  dose  of  life  to  cherish  the  most  grateful  and  filial  venera- 
tion. 

In  September,  1786,  he  became  a  member  of  Yale  College.  Here  he  dis- 
tinguished himself  in  every  department  of  study,  and  gave  decisive  indica- 
tions of  a  commanding  and  splendid  intellect.  He  graduated  with  one  of 
the  highest  honours  of  bb  class  in  1790. 

While  he  was  at  home  during  one  of  his  college  vacations,  a  circumstance 
occurred,  by  means  of  which  he  had  well  nigh  lost  his  life.  His  father  had 
a  fine  horse,  whose  spirit  no  one  had  been  able  to  subdue.  Edward  mounted 
him,  rode  him  for  several  hours,  and  returned  in  high  spirits,  declaring  that 
he  would  have  him  for  his  Bucephalus,     Shortly  after,  he  mounted  him  a 

*  Autobioffraphy. — MS.  from  his  d&nghter,  Mrs.  Smith. 

t  Joseph  VAILL  was  bom  of  pious  parents  in  Litchfield,  Conn.,  July  14,  1751.  At  the  ace 
of  twenty,  he  oonoeived  the  idea  of  obtaining  aoollegiate  education,  with  a  view  to  entering  the 
ministry;  but,  in  carrying  out  this  purpose,  ho  wa«  not  a  little  embarrassed  for  want  of  the 
necessary  pecuniary  means.  He  graduated  with  honour  at  Dartmouth  College,  in  1778,  and 
shortly  after  entered  on  the  study  of  Theology  under  the  Kev.  Andrew  Storrs  of  Northbnry,  now 
Plymouth,  Conn.,  with  whom  he  remained  till  May,  1770,  when  he  was  licensed  to  preach  bj 
what  is  now  known  as  the  <<  Litchfield  Association."  On  the  9th  of  February,  1780,  he  wb« 
ordained  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Hadlyme,  Conn.,  and  continued  in  that  relation  fiftj-nine 
years.  He  had  a  colleague  settled  in  the  spring  of  1832;  and  as  he  remained  but  a  short  time, 
he  had  another  settled  in  the  spring  of  1835,  who  continued  junior  pastor  until  Mr.  Yaill'a 
death.  During  the  last  two  years  of  his  life,  he  preached  forty  sermons.  He  died  in  Killing* 
worth,  at  the  house  of  his  son-in-law,  David  Erarts,  on  the  2l8t  of  November,  1838,  in  the  eighty- 
eighth  year  of  his  age.  He  possessed  a  vigorous  constitution,  was  a  good  scholar,  an  excellent 
preacher,  and  distinguished  for  conscientiousness,  transparency  of  character,  frewlom  ftom  all 
affectation,  and  untiring  devotedness  to  his  work.  Besides  frequent  contributions  to  periodicals 
be  published  a  Poem  entitled  **  Noah's  Flood,"  1796,  and  another  Poem  entitled  *<  An  Address 
to  a  Deist;"  also  a  Sermon  preached  at  the  ordination  of  his  son  at  Brimfield,  Mass.,  1814. 
Two  of  his  sons  have  been  graduated  at  Tale  College,  and  are  highly  respected  oleivymen.  The 
older,  iViUiam  Fowler,  has  long  been  a  missionary  among  the  Indians  of  the  Southwest  and 
the  jonnger,  Joseph,  (now  the  Rev.  Dr.*Yaill,)  is  (1857)  settled  at  Palmer,  Mass.  ' 


£DWAfi]>  DORR  GRIFFIN.  27 

aaeond  time,  upon  whioh  the  hone  instantly  stood  erect  u^a  his  hind  feet,, 
and  fell  backwards  upon  Edward  with  his  whole  weight.  When  he  was 
taken  up,  all  signs  of  animation  had  fled,  and  his  friends  for  some  time  sup*. 
posed  that  the  vital  principle  was  gone.  By  the  blessing  of  God,  however, 
upon  the  vigorous  applications  that  were  made  to  his  body,  he  gradually 
revived,  and,  at  no  distant  period,  was  able  to  return  to  College,  and. 
prosecute  his  studies  with  his  accustomed  alacrity. 

Notwithstanding  he  seems  to  have  been  the  subject  of  some  very  serious 
impressions  while  he  was  quite  a  child,  and  to  have  thought  more  or  less  of 
religion  at  different  periods  in  his  college  life,  yet  his  mind  was  never  earnestly 
directed  towards  it  as  a  practical  matter  till  some  months  after  he  was  gradua- 
ted* It  was  during  his  residence  at  Derby,  where  he  was  engaged  temporarily 
as  a  teacher  in  an  Academy.  For  several  months,  he  had  surrendered  himself 
without  reserve  .to  worldly  gaiety ;  but,  in  consequence  of  a  severe, illness, 
he  was  foreed  into  a  most  agonizing  communion  with  his  own  heart,  which 
was  the  beginning  of  a  series  of  exercises  that  resulted,  as  he  believed,  in  a. 
radical  change  of  character.  Previous  to  this  time,  he  had  formed  the  pur* 
pose  of  devoting  himself  to  the  profession  of  Law ;  but  this  purpose  he  now 
abandoned,  and  resolved,  as  soon  as  circumstances  should  permit,  to  enter 
on  a  course  of  study  preparatory  to  the  ministry. 

Shortly  after  this  he  commenced  his  theological  studies  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Eev.  Dr.  Jonathan  Edwards,  of  New  Haven, — afterwards  Presi- 
dent of  Union  College.  While  attending  to  his  duties  as  an  instructor,  he 
pursued  the  course  of  reading  which  Dr,  Edwards  marked  out,  and  wrote 
extensively  on  a  system  of  theological  questions. 

In  the  spring  of  1792,  he  joined  the  Congregational  Church  in  Derby,, 
and  soon  after  relinquished  his  place  as  teacher,  and  returned  to  East  Had- 
dam,  where  he  had  the  small-pox.  That  dborder  having  left  hb  eyes  weak, 
be  spent  part  of  the  summer  at  his  father's  house.  Here  he  found  himself 
in  peculiarly  trying  circumstances.  He  was  the  only  professor  of  religion 
in  a  family  of  ten ;  and  neither  his  regard  for  his  relatives,  nor  his  oonvio- 
tions  of  duty,  would  suffer  him  to  remain  silent  upon  what  was  with  him  the 
all-engrossing  subject.  He  conversed  with  them  earnestly  and  affectionately, 
beseeching  them  with  tears  to  attend  to  the  things  that  belonged  to  their 
peace ;  and  the  event  proved  that  his  labours  and  struggles  in  their  behalf 
were  not  in  vain.  Nor  was  his  influenee  confined  to  his  own  family ;  for  he 
statedly  attended  a  prayer-meeting  in  the  neighbourhood,  at  which  those 
who  were  much  older  in  the  Christian  life  than  himself,  found  themselves  at 
once  quickened  and  edified  by  his  fervent  prayers  and  thrilling  addresses. 

Having  spent  the  latter  part  of  the  summer  and  most  of  the  autumn  at 
New  Haven,  completing  his  theological  course,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  by 
the  West  Association  of  New  Haven  County,  on  the  last  day  of  October. 
His  first  Sermon  was  preached,  November  10,  1792,  at  Hadlyme,  in  the 
pulpit  of  his  venerable  friend,  under  whose  tuition  he  had  been  fitted  for  Col- 
lege. In  January  succeeding,  he  commenced  his  labours  at  New  Salem, — 
a  small  village  about  seven  miles  from  his  father's  house,  and  continued 
there  till  the  last  of  May.  His  preaching  was  attended  almost  immediately 
by  a  signal  blessing,  the  consequence  of  which  was,  that  a  church  was 
gathered  where  there  had  not  been  one  for  more  than  forty  years. 

In  June,  1793,  he  commenced  preaching  at  Farmington,  as  a  candidate 
for  settlement.     In  December  following,  his  labours  having  met  with  great 


4 


2g  PftESBTTERIAJr. 

aeeeptanoe,  tlie  Ohnroh  and  Society  united  in  giving  him  a  oall ;  bat,  not- 
withstanding he  had  signified  his  acceptance  of  it,  an  opposition  to  his  set* 
tlement  having  arisen,  chiefly  from  pre-existing  difficulties  among*  them- 
selves, he  ultimately  asked  to  be  released  from  his  obligation,  and  retired 
to  another  field  of  labour.  It  is  proper  to  state  that  nothing  occurred  in 
connection  with  the  controversy  that  reflected  the  least  dishonour  upon  his 
character. 

On  the  4th  of  June,  1795,  Mr.  Griffin  was  ordained  Pastor  of  the  Con* 
gregational  Church  at  New  Hartford,  having  supplied  them  for  some  months 
previous  in  the  capacity  of  a  candidate.  Almost  immediately  after  he  com- 
menced his  labours,  there  was  an  increased  attention  to  religion  among  hia 
people,  and  a  revival  of  considerable  power  succeeded,  which  resulted  in  the 
addition  of  about  fifty  persons  to  the  church. 

On  the  17th  of  JM^y,  1796,  he  was  married  to  Frances,  daughter  of  tlie 
Bev.  Dr.  Joseph  Huntington  of  Coventry,  Conn.,  and  niece  and  adopted 
daughter  of  G-ovemor  Samnel  Huntington  of  Norwich,  who  had  been  Pre- 
sident of  Congress,  and  one  of  the  Signers  of  the  Declaration  of  American 
Independence.  By  this  marriage  he  had  two  daughters,  both  of  whom  are 
heads  of  families,  and  arc  occupying  stations  of  respectability  and  useful- 
ness.* 

In  the  year  1797,  he  commenced  a  regular  journal  of  his  Christian  expe- 
rience, which  he  continued, — ^not,  however,  without  frequent  and  sometimes 
protracted  interruptions,  till  the  close  of  life.  In  this  journal  is  to  be  found 
the  record  of  very  extraordinary  inward  struggles  and  triumphs :  and  while 
it  exhibits  an  experience  modified  no  doubt  by  peculiar  constitutional  ten- 
dencies, no  one  can  fail  to  be  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  there  belong 
to  it  a  depth  and  a  power  which  are  never  found  in  the  walks  of  ordinary 
piety. 

In  1798,  his  congregation  were  again  very  generally  excited  in  regard  to 
their  spiritual  interests.  Though  the  deepest  earnestness  and  solemnity 
prevailed  throughout  almost  the  entire  community,  yet  the  animal  feelings 
were  kept  remarkably  in  check,  and,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  the  most 
rigid  decorum  was  everywhere  maintained.  A  very  large  number  were 
added  to  the  church  in  consequence  of  this  revival ;  and  among  them  about 
fifty  heads  of  families,  not  a  few  of  whom  were  among  the  most  influential 
inhabitants  of  the  town.  Sometime  in  the  year  1800,  Mr.  Griffin  published  a 
somewhat  minute  account  of  the  work  in  two  Numbers  of  the  Connecticut 
Evangelical  Magazine.  This  account  is  considered  of  great  value,  not  only 
as  a  record  of  the  wonderful  triumphs  of  Divine  grace,  but  as  exhibiting 
the  kind  of  human  instrumentality  which  was  then  employed  in  connection 
with  revivals. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1800,  Mrs.  Griffin's  health  became  so  much 
impaired  that  her  physicians  advised  that  she  should  be  removed  to  a  milder 
climate.  In  consequence  of  this,  Mr.  G.  presented  to  his  congregation  the 
alternative  of  either  withdrawing  from  his  labours  and  relinquishing  his 
salary  till  there  should  be  time  to  make  the  necessary  experiment  on  Mrs. 
O.'s  health,  or  of  immediately  resigning  his  pastoral  charge.     The  congre* 

*  Sinee  this  sketch  wm  written,  one  of  the  daughters,  who  wm  married  to  Dr.  L.  A.  SmiUt 
of  Newark,  has  deceased.  She  was  a  lady  of  the  finest  intellectual  and  moral  qualitiea,  and 
was  distiiwuished  alike  in  the  walks  of  female  anthonhip,  and  Christian  phiianthiopy.  The 
illness  whfoh  terminated  her  life  was  oloeely  connected  witn  her  benevolent  and  self-deoTizitf 
Iftboun.  ''    * 


EDWARD  DOBR  aSIFFIK.  ^9 

gatioQ  ohose  the  former  side  of  the  aiteraatiTe ;  and,  aooordingly,  in  %h% 
early  part  of  October,  he  left  New  Hartford  with  Mrs.  G-.,  and  travelled  as 
far  South  as  New  Jersey.  Having  been  invited  by  his  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
(afterwards  Dr.)  Hillyer,  who,  at  that  time,  resided  in  Morris  County,  to 
pass  as  much  time  with  him  as  he  might  find  convenient,  he  availed  himself 
of  the  obliging  invitation,  and  remained  with  Mr.  H.  several  weeks*  Dur* 
ing  this  period  he  preached  frequently  in  the  neighbouring  congregations, 
and  was  everywhere  listened  to  with  the  deepest  interest.  About  this  time, 
the  Church  in  Orange  became  vacant  by  the  removal  of  the  Rev.  Jedediah 
Chapman,  and  Mr.  Gt.  was  engaged  to  oeoupy  the  pulpit  for  the  winter.  His 
preaching  here  was  attended  by  manifest  tokens  of  the  Divine  fitvour,  and 
about  fifty  were  added  to  the  church  as  the  fruit  of  his  labours.  The  con- 
gregation were  desirous  of  giving  him  a  call,  but  he  discouraged  it  on  the 
ground  that  if  the  health  of  Mrs.  G.  would  permit  him  to  remain  at  New 
Hartford,  he  was  unwilling  to  leave  it  for  any  other  place.  The  people  of 
Newark,  however,  without  having  previously  apprized  him  of  their  inten- 
tion, actually  made  out  a  call  for  him  to  settle  as  a  colleague  with  the  ven- 
erable Dr.  MoWhorter.  In  June  they  returned  to  New  Hartford,  only 
however  to  make  arrangements  for  an  ^ultimate  removal ;  for  Mrs.  G.  had 
become  so  confirmed  in  the  opinion  that  a  more  Southern  climate  was  essen- 
tial to  her  health,  that  her  husband  could  not  doubt  that  the  providence  of 
God  pointed  him  to  another  field  of  labour.  Accordingly,  his  pastoral  rela- 
tion to  the  Church  in  New  Hartford  was  dissolved,  by  mutual  consent,  in 
August,  though  not  without  many  severe  struggles  on  his  part,  and  the 
deepest  regrets  on  the  part  of  his  people. 

Immediately  after  this,  Mr.  Griffin  returned  with  his  family  to  Newark, 
accepted  the  call  which  had  been  previously  made  out  for  him,  and,  on  the 
20th  of  October,  1801,  was  installed  as  Colleague  Pastor  with  the  Rev. 
Dr.  MoWhorter.  The  Congregation  over  which  he  was  placed,  was  one  of 
tho  largest  and  most  respectable  in  the  United  States ;  qualified  in  every 
respect  to  appreciate  the  labours  of  a  highly  gifted,  eloquent  and  devoted 
minister. 

In  February,  1805,  he  received  a  call  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the 
Beformcd  Dutch  Church  in  Albany.  He  seems  to  have  been  not  a  little 
embarrassed  in  respect  to  the  manner  in  which  he  should  dispose  of  it ;  and 
not  only  earnestly  sought  Divine  guidance,  but  asked  the  advice  of  several 
of  his  most  judicious  brethren  in  the  ministry.  The  result  was  that,  after  a 
short  time,  he  determined  to  decline  the  call, — a  circumstance  which  was 
most  gratefully  recognised  by  his  people,  and  which  entrenched  him  more 
strongly  than  ever  in  their  affections. 

During  the  sessions  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Churoh 
in  May  of  this  year,  Mr.  Griffin  preached  the  Annual  Missionary  Sermon. 
His  subject,  which  was  **the  Kingdom  of  Christ,'*  he  illustrated  and 
enforced  with  great  beauty  and  power.  The  DiscouiCe,  which  was  the  first 
that  he  ever  published,  has  passed  through  several  editions. 

On  the  20ih  of  July,  1807,  died  Dr.  MoWhorter,  the  Senior  Pastor  of 
the  Church  ;  and,  on  the  22d,  Mr.  Griffin  preached  his  Funeral  Sermon,  in 
which  he  rendered  a  faithful  and  beautiful  tribute  to  the  memory  of  his 
venerable  colleague.  The  Discourse  was  published,  and  is  valuable,  not  only 
as  a  fine  specimen  of  eloquence,  but  as  an  important  historical  document. 


^  PRBSBYTBBIAK. 

The  year  1807  was  signalized  by  one  of  tbe  most  remarkable  reyivals  that 
occttrred  during  his  ministry.  He  makes  only  the  following  brief  record 
of  it  in  his  joamal : — ••  September,  1807.  Began  a  great  revival  of  reli* 
gion  in  the  town.  Ninety*seven  joined  the  church  in  one  day,  and  about 
two  hundred  in  all."  A  more  full  account  of  this  reviyal,  however,  has 
j  been  preserved  in  a  letter  which  he  addressed  to  the  Rev.  I>r.  Oreen  of 
Philadelphia,  and  which  was  published  in  the  Panoplist  of  July,  1808. 

In  August,  1808,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity 
from  Union  College. 

The  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover  having  just  been  established,  Dr. 
Griffin  was  appointed,  in  the  course  of  this  year,  to  the  Bartlett  Professor- 
ship of  Pulpit  Eloquence  in  that  Institution  ;  and,  shortly  after  this  appoint- 
ment, he  was  elected  by  the  infant  Church  in  Park  Street,  Boston,  their 
stated  preacher.  For  both  these  places  he  was  considered  as  pre-eminently 
qualified ;  though  it  was  not  without  much  deliberation,  and  as  it  would 
seem,  many  severe  struggles,  that  he  finally  came  to  the  determination  of 
resigning  his  pastoral  charge.  Before  the  meeting  of  Presbytery  in  April, 
1809,  he  requested  the  congregation  to  consent  to  his  dismission ;  and,  hav- 
ing obtained  their  consent,  he  was  dismissed  at  that  meeting,  though  he 
continued  his  ministrations  among  them  till  the  last  of  May.  On  the  28th 
of  May,  he  preached  his  Farewell  Sermon,  tt  was  a  noble  effort,  full  of 
sublimity  and  pathos,  worthy  of  the  occasion  and  of  the  man.  It  has  had 
an  extensive  circulation,  and  been  admired  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic. 
The  following  paragraph  from  the  Sermon  exhibits  the  wonderful  success 
which  had  attended  his  ministry : — 

"  Eight  years  ago,  this  Church  consisted  of  202  members,  of  whom  146  still  remain. 
"We  have  since  admitted  434  to  our  Communion,  of  whom  876  still  remain.  Of  those 
[  whom  we  have  admitted,  62  were  received  from  other  churches,  and  872  from  tbe 
world.  Of  the  latter  we  admitted  113  in  one  year,  and  at  another  time  174  in  six 
months.  All  the  members  which  have  belonged  to  this  Church  within  that  period, 
amount  to  686;  of  whom  114  have  in  various  ways  been  removed,  and  522  still 
remain." 

On  the  morning  after  he  preached  his  Farewell  Sermon,  Dr.  Griffin  left 
Newark  with  his  family  for  Massachusetts,  and,  on  the  21st  of  June,  was 
inducted  with' appropriate  ceremonies  into  the  Professorship  at  Andover,  to 
which  he  had  been  appointed.  His  Inaugural  Oration,  which  was  one  of 
the  most  chaste  and  beautiful  of  his  productions,  Tally  justified  the  high 
opinion  that  had  been  formed  of  his  qualifications  for  that  important 
station. 

Dr.  Griffin  had  scarcely  reached  Andover,  and  entered  on  the  duties  of 
his  Professorship,  before  some  scandalous  reports  were  put  in  circulation 
respecting  him,  which,  from  the  confidence  with  which  they  were  repeated, 
temporarily  gave  no  small  anxiety  to  many  of  his  friends.  As  these 
reports  had  respect  |o  alleged  improprieties  in  Newark,  the  Trustees  and 
Session  of  his  former  Church  immediately  addressed  to  him  a  letter,  con- 
taining not  only  a  complete  vindication  of  his  character,  but  a  strong 
expression  of  their  affectionate  regard. 

The  clergyman  to  whom  the  Park  Street  Congregation  gave  their  first  call, 
was  the  Rev.  Dr.  Henry  Kollock  of  Savannah,  well  known  as  having  been 
one  of  the  most  eloquent  preachers  which  this  country  has  produced.  He, 
however,  after  having  had  it  for  a  considerable  time  under  consideration, 
declined  it  in  September  1809 ;  and,  immediately  after,  Dr.  Griffin  was  unani- 


EDWARD  DORR  GRIFFIN.  gj 

monsly  diosen  to  the  same  place,  ^th  the  assurance  of  as  large  a  salary  as 
^as  paid  to  any  Congregational  minister  in  Boston.  As  he  happened  to  be 
present  when  the  call  was  made  out,  he  stated  on  the  spot,  that  there  were 
many  reasons  why  his  acceptance  of  it  was  quite  ont  of  the  question ;  the 
most  important  of  which  no  doubt  was,  that  he  felt  himself  at  that  time 
bound  to  the  Theological  Seminary.  His  views  of '  duty  on  the  subject, 
however,  afterwards  gradually  underwent  a  change;  and,  after  he  had  tem- 
porarily intermitted  his  labours  at  the  Seminary,  that  he  might  devote 
himself  solely  to  the  interests  of  the  Congregation,  and  after  they  had 
extended  tiieir  call  to  several  distinguished  individuals,  and  in  each  case  had 
received  a  negative  answer,  they  unanimously  renewed  their  call  to  him 
(February  1,  1811)  under  circumstances  which  led  him  to  think  that  pos- 
sibly the  indications  of  Providence  were  in  favour  of  his  acceptance  of  it. 
Almost  immediately  after  this  became  known  to  the  students,  they  addressed 
him  a  letter  expressive  of  their  warm  attachment,  and  of  their  strong  desire 
that  he  might  retain  his  connection  with  the  Seminary.  To  this  letter  he 
returned  a  most  affectionate  answer,  from  which  he  appears  still  to  have 
been  in  doubt  in  respect  to  the  course  of  duty.  Shortly  after,  however,  he 
signified  his  acceptance  of  the  call,  and  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Church, 
July  31, 1811,  by  an  Ecclesiastical  Council  of  Congregational  ministers  and 
delegates  from  the  vicinity  of  Boston  ;  having  previously  received  a  dismis- 
sion from  the  Presbytery  to  which  he  belonged,  and  a  recommendation  to 
the  Union  Association  of  Boston  and  vicinity.  The  Sermon  on  the  occasion 
was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Worcester  of  Salem. 

In  the  winter  of  1812-18,  Dr.  Griffin  delivered  his  Park  Street  Lectures, 
on  successive  Sabbath  evenings,  to  a  crowded  audience,  collected  from  all 
classes  of  society.  These  Lectures  awakened  great  interest  on  the  part  of 
those  who  approved,  and  those  who  disapproved ;  and  it  is  hardly  necessary 
to  say  that  they  have  passed  through  several  editions,  and  are  regarded  as  a 
most  able  and  eloquent  exposition  of  that  form  of  Calvinism  which  they  are 
designed  to  illustrate. 

He  continued  at  Park  Street  until  the  spring  of  1815,  when,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  Congregation  having  become  embarrassed  by  means  of  the 
war,  and  withal  somewhat  divided  among  themselves,  he  accepted  an  invita- 
tion to  return  to  Newark  as  Pastor  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church, 
which  was  then  vacant.  He  seems  to  have  hesitated  for  some  time  as  to 
the  propriety  of  accepting  this  invitation,  particularly  from  an  apprehension 
that  his  return  to  Newark  might  be  the  occasion  of  some  embarrassment  to 
his  successor  in  his  former  charge.  Having,  however,  ultimately  decided  in 
favour  of  a  removal,  and  having  tendered  the  resignation  of  his  pastoral 
charge,  and  that  resignation  having  received  the  sanction  of  a  mutual 
council,  he  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Newark,  June  20,  1815. 

During  this  second  period  of  Dr.  Griffin's  residence  in  Newark,  besides 
attending  with  exemplary  fidelity  to  all  the  appropriate  duties  of  a  pastor, 
he  devoted  himself  with  characteristic  energy  to  the  establishment  and 
support  of  several  of  the  leading  benevolent  institutions  of  the  day.  He 
was  one  of  the  original  founders  of  the  American  Bible  Society,  and  had 
also  an  important  agency  in  establishing  the  United  Foreign  Mission 
Society,  and  in  promoting  the  interests  of  the  Sohool  established  by  the 
{Synod  of  New  Tork  and  New  Jersey  for  the  educatioB  of  Afrioans.    To 


32  PRSSBTTSBIAN. 

tluB  latter  institution  perhaps  lie  devoted  himself  with  more  seal  than  to 
any  other;  and  his  celebrated  '^Flea  for  Africa,"  distinguished  alike  for 
learning  and  eloquence,  shows  that  this  was  a  theme  to  wake  up  his  finest 
powers  and  strongest  sensibilities. 

It  was  also  during  this  period  of  his  ministry  (1817)  that  he  published  his 
work  on  the  extent  of  the  Atonement.  As  this  is  almost  throughout  a  work 
of  pure  metaphysics,  it  were  not  to  be  expected  that  it  should  have  gained 
so  extensive  a  circulation  as  the  more  practical  and  popular  of  his  produo- 
tions ;  but  it  was  evidently  the  result  of  great  intellectual  labour,  and  could 
never  have  been  produced  but  by  a  mind  trained  to  the  highest  e£Forto  of 
abstraction. 

In  the  spring  of  1821,  Dr.  Qriffin  was  invited  to  become  President  of 
the  College  at  Danville,  Ky.;  and,  as  his  health  at  the  time  was  somewhat 
enfeebled,  he  took  a  journey  inte  that  State,  but  ultimately  declined  the 
offer.  On  his  return,  he  visited  Cincinnati,  and  subsequently  received  a 
similar  invitation  from  the  College  in  that  city ;  but  this  also  he  felt  con- 
strained to  decline.  About  the  same  time,  he  was  chosen  President  of 
Williams  College;  and,  owing  chiefly  to  some  unpropitious  circumstances 
which  had  j^revented  the  growth  of  his  Congregation,  and  rendered  them 
nnable  to  continue  to  him  a  competent  support,  he  determined  to  accept, 
and'  did  accept,  this  appointment 

The  College,  at  the  time  he  became  connected  with  it,  was  in  an  exceed- 
ingly depressed  state ;  and  the  question  of  its  continued  existence,  at  least 
on  that  spot,  had,  for  some  time,  been  agitated  with  great  interest  and  ear- 
nestness. His  introduction  te  the  Presidency  was  regarded  by  its  friends, 
as  it  really  proved,  most  auspicious  to  its  interests ;  and  within  a  short 
period  he  had  so  far  enlisted  the  public  favour  and  patronsge  in  its  behalf, 
that  it  was  not  only  relieved  from  embarrassment,  but  took  its  place  among 
the  more  prosperous  institutions  of  the  land. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1831,  Dr.  Qriffin  became  deeply  interested  in 
reference  to  what  has  been  commonly  called  the  *'  New  Divinity."  He  was 
fully  of  the  opinion  that  the  views  which  were  supposed  to  be  held  by  the 
divines  of  that  school,  were  at  variance  alike  with  Scripture  and  sound  phi- 
losophy ;  and  hence  he  felt  himself  called  upon  to  take  up  his  pen  in  defence 
of  what  he  believed  to  be  important  truth.  The  result  was  that,  within  a 
little  more  than  a  year,  he  published,  in  connection  with  this  controversy,  a 
Sermon  entitled  **  Regeneration  not  effected  by  Light ;"  a  Letter  on  '*  the 
connection  between  the  New  Measures  and  the  New  Doctrines;**  and  a 
somewhat  extended  Treatbe  on  Divine  Efficiency.** 

Dr.  Griffin's  health,  which  had  been  gradually  declining  for  two  or  three 
years,  at  length  became  so  much  enfeebled,  that  he  found  himself  quite 
inadequate  te  the  duties  of  his  office ;  and,  accordingly,  at  the  meeting  of 
the  Board  of  Trustees  in  August,  1836,  he  tendered  his  resignation,  after 
having  occupied  the  Presidential  chnir  fifteen  years.  It  was  of  course 
accepted,  but  with  deep  regret  on  the  part  of  the  Board  that  the  occasion 
for  it  existed,  and  with  the  warmest  gratitude  for  the  important  services 
which  he  had  rendered  to  the  institution. 

On  leaving  Williamstown,  he  received  from  the  Faculty  and  studente  of 
the  College,  as  well  as  from  many  of  the  inhabitante  of  the  town,  every 
testimony  of  respect  and  kindness.  He  went  with  his  family  to  Newark, 
in  compliance  with  an  affectionate  and  earnest  request  from  his  daughter 


EDWARD  DOBR  GRIFFIN.  33 

and  her  husband,  Dr.  L.  A.  Smith,  with  a  view  to  pass  his  remaining  dajs 
wider  their  roof.  It  is  scarcely  neoessary  to  say  that,  on  reaching  his  des- 
tination, he  was  greeted  with  a  cordial  welcome,  not  only  by  his  own  imme- 
diate relatives,  but  by  a  large  circle  of  endeared  friends,  and  that  he  found 
hiiDself  in  the  midst  of  a  community  who  well  knew  how  to  appreciate  his 
residence  among  them,  and  many  of  whom  it  was  his  privilege  to  reckon 
among  the  seab  of  his  ministry. 

In  July,  1887,  Mrs.  Griffin  was  seized  with  a  violent  disease,  which 
proved  too  much  for  her  enfeebled  constitution,  and,  after  about  a  fortnight, 
terminated  in  death.  She  was  a  tady  of  uncommon  delicacy  and  excellence 
of  character ;  and  though  her  husband  was  most  deeply  sensible  of  the  loss 
which  he  sustained,  yet  he  endured  the  trial  with  an  unqualified,  serene, 
even  cheerful,  submission. 

From  the  period  of  his  arrival  in  Newark, — October  1,  1836,  to  the  time 
of  his  death, — November  8,  1837,  his  disease  (dropsy  in  the  chest)  was 
aiaking  constant  progress,  though  his  faculties  were  still  always  in  exercise, 
snd  he  was  able,  for  the  most  part,  not  only  to  enjoy  the  company  of  his 
friends,  bat  to  attend  church  on  the  Sabbath,  to  move  about  a  little  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  occasionally  to  preach  for  his  brethren  around  him.  At 
the  meeting  of  the  American  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  which  took  place 
in  Newark  a  few  weeks  before  his  death,  he  was  present,  in  great  feeble- 
ness, at  the  close  of  their  session,  and  offered  a  roost  touching  prayer  and 
address,  which,  as  it  proved,  were  the  last  public  services  which  he  ever 
performed.  From  that  time,  his  decline  became  more  marked,  and  thero 
was  every  thing  to  indicate,  both  to  himself  and  his  friends,  that  the  hour 
of  hb  release  was  rapidly  drawing  nigh.  His  exercises  in  the  immediate 
prospect  of  his  departure  were  characterized,  not  only  by  the  "peace  which 
passeth  understanding,"  but  by  '*the  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory." 
There  was  a  patriarchal  simplicity  and  sublimity  about  his  dying  scene ; 
and  those  who  were  present  to  witness  it,  have  treasured  it  among  their 
most  precious  recollections.  His  Funeral  was  attended,  two  days  after  his 
death,  in  the  First  Presbyterian  Church,  and  an  appropriate  Discourse  deliv- 
ered on  the  occasion,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Spring  of  New  York,  on  IL  Cor.  v. 
I,  which  was  afterwards  published.  When  the  news  of  his  death  was 
received  at  Williams  College,  the  Faculty  immediately  took  measures  to 
testify  their  respect  for  his  memory ;  and  the  Be  v.  Dr.  Hopkins,  his  sue- 
eenor  in  the  Presidential  chair,  shortly  after,  delivered  a  discourse  in  com- 
memoration of  him,  in  the  chapel  of  the  College,  which  was  also  subse- 
qnently  given  to  the  public  through  the  press. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Griffin's  publications : — The  Kingdom  of 
Christ :  A  Missionary  Sermon  preached  before  the  General  Assembly  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Philadelphia,  1805.  A  Sermon  preached  at 
the  Funeral  of  the  Rev.  Alexander  McWhorUr,  D.D.,  1807.  A  Farewell 
SermoD  at  Newark,  1809.  An  Oration  at  the  Author's  Induction  into  the 
oifiiee  of  Bartlett  Professor  of  Pulpit  Eloquence  in  the  Divinity  College  at 
Andover,  1 809.  A  Sermon  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Church  in  Park  Street, 
1810.  A  Sermon  preached  for  the  benefit  of  the  Portsmouth  Female  Asy- 
lum ;  aUo,  with  some  omissions,  for  the  Roxbury  C'haritable  Society,  1811. 
A  Series  of  Lectures  delivered  in  Park  Street  Church  on  Sunday  evening, 
(octavo  Tolamo,)  1813.  A  Sermon  preached  at  the  Dedication  of  the  meet- 
ing house  recently  erected  in  Sandwich,  Mass.,  for  the  use  of  the  Calvin- 

Vol.  IV.  5 


34  PRESBTTERIAK. 

istic  Gongregational  Society  in  that  town,  1818.  A  Sermon  in  which  ia 
attempted  ft  full  and  explicit  answer  to  the  common  and  highly  important 
question,  **  What  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do,"  1814.  Living  to  Ghod  :  A 
Sermon  preached  in  the  Brick  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  1816.  An  Address  to  the  public  on  the  subject  of  ihe  African 
School  lately  established  under  the  care  of  the  Synod  of  New  York  and 
New  Jersey,  1816.  A  Plea  for  Africa:  A  Sermon  delivered  before  the 
Synod  of  New  York  and  New  Jersey,  at  the  request  of  the  Board  of  Direc- 
tors of  the  African  School  established  by  the  Synod,  1817.  Foreign  Mis- 
sions :  A  Sermon  preached  at  the  Anniversary  of  the  United  Foreign  Mis- 
sionary Society,  1819.  The  Claims  of  Seamen :  A  Sermon  preached  for 
the  benefit  of  the  Marine  Missionary  Society  of  New  York,  1819.  An 
Humble  Attempt  to  reconcile  the  differences  of  Christians  in  respect  to  the 
extent  of  the  Atonement,  (duodecimo  volume,)  1819.  An  appeal  to  the 
Presbyterian  Church  on  the  subject  of  the  New  Test,  1820.  A  Speech 
delivered  before  the  American  Bible  Society  in  the  city  of  New  York, 
1820.  An  Address  delivered  to  the  class  of  Graduates  at  Williams  Col- 
lege, 1822.  An  Address  delivered  at  the  Anniversary  of  the  Presbyterian 
Education  Society,  1824.  An  Address  delivered  at  the  Anniversary  of  the 
American  Society  for  meliorating  the  condition  of  the  Jews,  1824.  An 
Address  delivered  before  the  American  Education  Society,  1825.  A  Ser- 
mon on  the  Art  of  Preaching,  delivered  before  the  Pastoral  Association  of 
Massachusetts,  1825.  A  Sermon  preached  before  the  American  Board  of 
Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  1826.  A  Sermon  preached  before 
the  candidates  for  the  Baccalaureate  in  Williams  College,  1827.  A  Ser- 
mon preached  before  the  Annual  Convention  of  the  Congregational  minis- 
ters of  Massachusetts,  1828.  A  Sermon  at  the  Dedication  of  the  new 
Chapel  connected  with  Williams  College,  1828.  An  Address  at  the  Fifth 
Anniversary  of  the  American  Sunday  School  Union,  1829.  An  Address  at 
the  Second  Anniversary  of  the  American  Bible  Class  Society,  1829.  Let- 
ter to  Beacon  Hurlbut  on  the  subject  of  Open  Communion,  1829.  Two 
Sermons  in  the  National  Preacher,  entitled  '*The  Prayer  of  Faith'*  and 
"The  Heavenly  mind,"  1830.  God  exalted  and  Creatures  humbled  by  the 
Gospel:  A  Sermon  preached  in  Murray  Street  Church,  New  York,  1830. 
A  Letter  to  the  Rev.  W.  B.  Sprague,  published  in  the  Appendix  to  his 
volume  of  Lectures  on  Revivals,  1832.  Regeneration  not  wrought  by 
light :  A  Sermon  in  the  National  Preacher,  1832.  A  Letter  to  the  Rev. 
Ansel  D.  Eddy  of  Canandaigua,  N.  Y.,  on  the  Narrative  of  the  late  Revi- 
vals of  Religion  in  the  Presbytery  of  Geneva,  1832.  A  Letter  to  a  friend 
on  the  connection  between  New  Doctrines  and  New  Measures,  1833.  The 
doctrine  of  the  Divine  Efficiency  defended  against  modem  speculations, 
(duodecimo  volume,)  1833.  The  Causal  Power  of  Regeneration  proper, 
direct  upon  the  mind,  and  not  exerted  through  the  medium  of  motives, 
1834. 

The  following  were  posthumous : — Two  Sermons  in  the  National  Preacher, 
entitled  "The  Worth  of  the  Soul**  and  "The  Knowledge  of  God,"  1838. 
Sermons  in  two  volumes,  (octavo,)  to  which  is  prefixed  a  Memoir  of  his  life, 
1838.     An  additional  volume  of  Sermons,  (octavo,)  1844. 

I  saw  Dr.  Griffin,  for  the  first  time,  in  May,  1811,  at  his  own  house  in 
'Boston.  I  had  been  familiar  with  his  name  and  his  fame  as  a  pulpit  orator, 
almost  from  the  time  that  I  oould  remember  any  thing; — shaving  been  bom 


J  ^1. 


^[j: 


1'", 


I,. I,. 


,i-' 


lil  EDWARD  DOBR  GBIFFIN.  35 

hll  I'mA  bfonght  up  within  two  or  three  miles  of  Mrs.  Griffin's  native  place, 
•;- cohere  some  of  her  near  relatives  still  lived.     I  was  then  but  fifteen  years 
.  ;>,  jld,  bat  had  a  passion  for  seeing  celebrated  men,  and  I  am  afraid  that 
2  ,^-  :hia  was  my  only  apology  for  obtruding  myself  upon  Dr.  Griffin.     I  believe, 
;  ^  .  Qowever,  I  did  not  call  upon  him  without  at  least  seeming  to  have  an 
3rrand ;  but  he  received  me  with  a  degree  of  kindness  that  immediately  put 
me  at  my  ease.     As  he  came  down  from  his  study  to  meet  me,  I  was  struck, 
as  I  think  every  body  must  have  been  on  seeing  him  for  the  first  time,  with 
his  singularly  commanding  and  impressive  appearance.     I  doubt  whether  I 
had  then  ever  seen  a  man  whose  physical  dimensions  were  equal  to  his — if 
u,  my  memory  serves  me,  he  was  six  feet  and  three  inches  high,  and  every  way 
y^  well  proportioned.      His  face,  and  particularly  his  eye,  was  exceedingly 
. ..,  bright;  though  the  symmetry  of  his  face  was  somewhat  affected  by  the 
,,^ "  smallness  of  his  nose  when  compared  with  his  other  features.    After  inquir* 
J  '  ing  about  his  relatives  whom  I  had  then  lately  left,  he  seemed  disposed  to 
.  know  something  about  the  boy  who  had  thus  abruptly  introduced  himself  to 
him ;  and,  on  my  telling  him  that  I  expected  to  enter  College  in  a  few 
months,  and  that  it  was  not  certain  wheUier  I  should  go  to  Yale  or  Har- 
vard, he  replied  that  if  I  were  his  son,  he  should  of  course  send  me  to  Yale. 
;^^r  When  I  told  him  that  I  was  staying  at  Mr.  Buekminster's,  he  spoke  very 
'^     respectfally  and  kindly  of  Mr.  B.,  though  I  believe  they  had  no  other 
intercourse  than  of  the  most  general  kind.     As  I  was  leaving  him,  he  went 
into  his  study  and  brought  out  a  copy  of  each  of  the  Sermons  which  he  had 
then  published,  including  his  Inaugural  Oration  at  Andover,  and  asked  me 
to  accept  of  them ;  and  his  whole  manner  was  so  kind  and  condescending 
that  I  came  away  quite  delighted  with  the  interview.      The  next  Sun* 
day  afternoon,   I  heard  him   preach,  for  the  first  time,  in  Park   Street 
Church.     He  wore  the  gown  and  bands,  (the  only  time  I  ever  knew  him  wear 
them,)  and  his  appearance  in  the  pulpit  was  not  only  imposing  but  really 
majestic.     His  voice  was  one  of  immense  compass  as  well  as  great  melody, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  then,  as  it  always  did  afterwards,  to  be  modulated  to  the 
best  effect.     He  had  a  good  deal  of  gesture,  but  it  was  direct  and  forcible,  and 
was  evidently  the  simple  prompting  of  nature.     The  subject  of  the  discourse 
was  Paul's  *' Thorn  in  the  flesh;'*  and  though  it  made  a  great  impressien 
upon  me,  it  is  due  to  candour  to  say  that  a  perusal  of  the  manuscript  in 
later  years  has  satisfied  me  that  the  impression  must  have  resulted  very 
much  from  the  novelty  and  power  of  the  manner. 

In  1817,  while  I  was  a  student  in  the  Princeton  Theological  Seminary, 
there  was  an  extensive  revival  of  religion  in  Newark,  which  drew  thither 
many  of  our  students,  partly  to  do  good  and  partly  to  get  good ;  and  I  was 
one  of  the  number.  Dr.  Griffin  was  then  Pastor  of  the  Second  Church ; 
and  as  I  was  not  altogether  a  stranger  to  him, — having  met  him  two  or 
three  times  before,  I  called  to  pay  my  respects  to  him,  and  spent  a  day  or 
two,  at  his  request,  visiting  among  his  people.  Here  I  saw  him  in  what  I 
suppose  was  his  favourite  element.  Though  his  mind  was  evidently  in  full 
sympathy  with  the  state  of  things  around  him,  he  was  perfectly  calm  and 
considerate  in  all  his  movements,  and  seemed  averse  to  any  thing  that 
should  have  a  tendency  to  produce  an  artificial  excitement.  I  heard  him 
deliver  an  extemporaneous  lecture  in  bis  church  one  evening,  which,  though 
as  familiar  as  an  ordinary  talk,  was  marked  by  the  most  awful  solemnity, 
and  the  most  subduing  tenderness.    His  eldest  daughter,  afterward  a  mest 


30  PRESBTTERIAK. 

devoted  OhrUtian,  was  not  at  that  time  particularly  interested  in  religion , 
and  I  remember,  as  she  came  into  the  room,  his  speaking  to  her,  or  rather 
of  her,  in  relation  to  what  he  supposed  to  be  her  spiritual  condition,  in  a 
tone  of  discouragement  and  sadness  bordering  almost  upon  severity.  I 
know  he  was  in  the  habit  of  dealing  with  those  who  were  indifferent  to 
religion,  especially  in  seasons  of  revival,  in  great  plainness  and  solemnity, 
and  I  can  easily  imagine  that  bis  strong  feelings  might  sometimes  have  dic- 
tated expressions  the  most  pungent  and  overwhelming. 

During  my  residence  at  West  Springfield,  and  after  Dr.  Griffin  had  become 
President  of  Williams  College,  he  came  and  passed  part  of  a  Sabbath  with 
me,  and  preached  for  me  in  the  evening  in  the  town  hall, — a  room  of  only 
moderate  dimensions.  Due  preparation  for  his  preaching  was  made  by 
gathering  not  a  small  number  of  the  large  Bibles  and  law  books  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  piling  them  up  to  such  a  height  as  to  bring  his  manu- 
script sufficiently  near  to  his  eyes  in  the  delivery.  He  preached  that 
evening  one  of  his  most  splendid  sermons,  and  delivered  it  in  his  most 
impassioned  and  impressive  manner.  His  audience,  I  believe  without  an 
exception,  regarded  it  as  one  of  the  grandest, — ^perhaps  the  very  grandest, 
of  all  the  specimens  of  pulpit  eloquence  to  which  they  had  ever  listened.  But 
there  wns  after  all  an  incongruity  between  the  Doctor's  gigantic  frame,  and 
splendid  diction,  and  exuberant  and  powerful  gesture,  and  voice  sometimes 
breaking  upon  us  like  a  thunderbolt,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  little  room 
in  which  he  spoke,  large  enough  perhaps  to  contain  two  hundred  people, 
and  fitted  up  with  plain  benches,  on  the  other ;  and  if  the  audience  to  a 
man  had  not  been  spell-bound,  I  should  not  have  wondered  to  hear  that 
some  wag  had  characterized  it  as  a  *'  tempest  in  a  tea-pot."  I  remember 
that  President  Day  of  Yale  College  was  present,  and  though  he  never 
speaks  extravagantly,  he  could  hardly  find  language  to  express  his  admira- 
tion of  the  whole  service. 

Dr.  Griffin's  powerful  imagination,  in  connection  with  his  quick  philan- 
thropic feelings,  sometimes  undoubtedly  magnified  objects  beyond  their  true 
proportions.  I  recollect  an  instance  of  this  in  connection  with  the  Com- 
mencement at  Williams  College,  in  1827.  After  the  Concio  ad  Clcrum  on 
Commencement  evening,  the  ministers  and  others  present  were  requested 
by  the  Doctor  to  stop  in  the  church,  to  consider  a  certain  object  of  charity 
that  was  to  be  proposed  to  them.  It  turned  out  to  be  the  taking  of  measures 
to  supply  a  small  place  not  very  far  from  Williamstown,  with  the  preaching 
of  the  Gospel.  He  made  a  most  earnest  appeal  to  the  audience  on  the 
subject,  and  stated  that  he  did  not  know  but  a  single  place,  large  or  small, 
on  the  whole  Atlantic  coast  in  thb  country,  that  seemed  to  him  so  impor- 
tant as  that  for  which  he  was  pleading !  I  suppose  that  whatever  errors  of 
judgment  he  may  have  been  chargeable  with,  (and  nobody  is  exempt  from 
them,)  were  generally  to  be  accounted  for  from  this  peculiarity  of  his  intel- 
lectual and  moral  constitution. 

He  had,  I  think,  more  than  a  common  share  of  delicacy  and  considera- 
tion for  the  feelings  of  others.  Some  little  time  after  I  came  to  live  in 
Albany,  I  ascertained  that  he  had  engaged  to  sit  to  an  artist  here  for  hia 
portrait ;  and  I  had  requested  him  to  be  my  guest  during  the  time.  He 
did  not,  however,  come  as  I  expected,  but  in  the  course  of  a  day  or  two  I 
heard  that  he  was. actually  here,  and  was  staying  at  a  hotel.  When  I  called 
upon  him,  and  expressed  my  surprise  that  he  did  not  come  directly  to  mj 


SDWABD  DOBB  GRIFFIIT.  37 

• 

hoase,  he  told  me  that  the  reason  was  that  he  was  unwilling  to  make  a 
conyenience  of  a  friend's  hospitality.  He  was  very  earnest  in  his  religious 
convictions,  and  as  bold  as  a  lion  in  the  defence  of  them ;  but  I  do  not 
remember  ever  to  have  heard  him  utter  an  unkind  word  in  respect  to  any 
of  those  from  whom  he  differed.  I  have  heard  that  he  sometimes,  under 
the  influence  of  strong  excitement,  would  utter  himself  in  great  seTerity, 
but  when  the  flash  of  anger  was  passed,  his  accustomed  gentleness  returned ; 
and  I  believe  he  was  never  slow  to  make  amends  where  he  had  needlessly 
caused  pain  or  given  offence. 

I  once  asked  him  to  criticise  a  sermon  for  me,  and  his  reply  was, — '*  Yes, 
I  will  do  it,  but  you  must  know  that  I  am  a  bloody  man  in  such  matters." 
He  did  it,  and  fully  substantiated  his  claim  to  that  character.  On  that 
occasion  or  some  other,  he  spoke  of  the  manner  in  which  he  was  accustomed 
to  prepare  himself  for  writing  a  sermon  on  which  he  intended  to  lay  out 
his  fall  strength.  He  said  that  he  sat  down  with  his  pen  in  hand,  and  suf- 
fered his  mind  to  range  without  restraint  over  the  general  field  embraced  in 
his  subject, — jotting  down  thoughts  as  they  occurred,  without  any  reference 
to  their  ultimate  arrangement.  When  his  mind  had  exhausted  itself  in  this 
way,  he  set  himself  to  the  business  of  reducing  the  materials  to  order, — 
first  forming  the  general  plan,  and  then  bringing  out  the  various  subdi- 
visions, until  the  skeleton  of  the  discourse  was  completed;  and  what 
remained  was  a  work  of  comparatively  little  labour.  He  criticised  his  own 
sennons  quite  as  severely  as  he  did  those  of  other  people ;  as  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  many  of  his  manuscripts  that  remain  have  been  rendered  nearly 
illegible  by  erasures  and  interlineations. 

The  most  interesting  interview  perhaps  that  I  ever  had  with  Dr.  Griffin 
was  the  last — it  was  two  or  three  months  before  his  death  ;  but  it  was  after 
he  had  become  bowed  by  infirmity,  and  when  the  disease  under  which  he 
had  been  long  labouring,  was  evidently  soon  to  reach  a  fatal  crisis.  His 
grand  and  well-proportioned  form  which  I  used  so  much  to  admire,  had 
become  emaciated  and  skeleton-like,  and  scarcely  the  strength  of  a  child 
remained  to  it.  But  I  never  saw  him,  after  all,  when  his  appearance  was 
more  majestic.  He  sat  in  that  great  old  arm-chair,  breathing  with  extreme 
difficulty,  and  looking  as  if  the  breath  might  leave  him  at  any  moment. 
But  he  gave  me  as  hearty  and  cheerful  a  welcome  as  he  had  been  nsed  to 
do,  and  bade  me  sit  down  by  his  side  and  talk  to  him,  even  though  he 
should  not  be  able  to  say  much  in  reply.  He  did,  however,  converge 
freely, — though  not  without  being  frequently  interrupted  by  his  difficulty  of 
respiration  ;  and  every  thing  that  he  said  showed  that  he  expected  soon  to  , 
die,  and  that  there  was  nothing  in  the  prospect  which  he  could  not  vbw 
with  tranquillity  and  even  delight.  He  dwelt  with  special  emphasis  on  the 
goodness  of  Qod  in  so  mercifully  arranging  his  circumstances  in  the  pros- 
pect of  his  departure, — saying  that  there  was  nothing  wanting  to  render 
his  situation  as  desirable  as  it  could  be.  As  he  had  previously  requested 
me  to  write  the  memoir  of  his  life,  he  referred  to  the  subject  then,  and  told 
me  where  and  how  I  should  find  all  the  requisite  material ;  and  I  found  it 
exactly  as  he  had  stated.  The  interview  was  tender  and  solemn,  but  by  no 
means  gloomy.  He  gave  me  his  blessing,  when  I  left  him  \  and  it  proved 
to  be  our  last  parting. 


33  PRSSBTmiAH. 


FROM  THE  BEV.  ASA  HILLYEB,  D.  D. 

Orahge,  N.  J.,  February  7, 1888. 

My  dear  Sir:  It  is  no  self-denial  to  me,  I  assure  you,  to  communicate  to  you 
my  recollections  of  Dr.  Qriffin;  for  scarcely  any  man  has  passed  away,  whose 
memory  I  hold  in  such  affectionate  yeneration.  I  had  the  priyilege  of  being  not 
only  acquainted,  but  in  intimate  relations,  with  him  for  more  than  thirty  years. 
My  first  introduction  to  him  was  at  a  meeting  of  the  General  Association  of  Con- 
necticut in  1800.  After  the  adjournment  of  the  Association,  I  spent  a  night  at 
his  house  in  Hew  Hartford,  in  company  with  Dr.  Backus  of  Somers.  Dr.  B,,  I 
remember,  was  greatly  impressed  by  his  appearance,  and  remarked  to  me,  when 
we  were  by  ourselves, — **  This  is  no  ordinary  young  man — I  greatly  mistake  if 
God  has  not  some  very  important  work  for  him  to  do  in  his  Church."  I  have 
often  since  thought  of  the  remark  as  having  had  in  it  the  force  of  prophecy. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  Mr.  (for  he  was  not  then  Dr.)  Griffin,  in 
consequence  of  the  impaired  health  of  Mrs.  G.,  came  to  New  Jersey  to  spend  a 
few  months,  in  the  hope  that  she  might  receive  benefit  from  a  milder  climate.  I 
was  then  living  in  Morris  County,  and  they  accepted  an  invitation  to  make  my 
house  for  a  while  their  home.  During  this  time,  he  preached  frequently  in  my 
pulpit,  as  well  as  in  that  of  Brother  Bichards  at  Morristown ;  and  his  preaching 
produced  an  impression,  which  had  perhaps  never  been  equalled  in  that  part  of 
the  country, — at  least  within  the  memory  of  that  generation.  There  was  a  splen- 
dour of  conception,  an  aptness  of  illustration,  an  overwhelming  force  of  appeal, 
which,  taken  in  connection  with  the  grace  and  power  of  his  oratory,  was,  with 
most  hearers,  quite  irresistible.  It  was  only  necessary  that  it  should  be  khown 
that  he  was  to  preach  in  any  church  in  the  region,  to  secure  a  full, — not  to 
say  a  crowded,  house.  Men  of  the  highest  and  the  humblest  intellects,  of  the 
largest  and  the  most  limited  attainments,  were  alike  attracted  by  the  vividness, 
the  pathos,  the  majesty,  of  his  pulpit  exhibitions. 

Shortly  after  his  removal  to  Newark,  I  accepted  a  call  to  this  place,  which  of 
course  brought  me  into  his  immediate  neighbourhood,  and  though  our  acquaint- 
ance had  been  comparatively  brief,  it  now  quickly  ripened  into  an  intimacy. 
We  were  often  visitors  at  each  others'  houses,  united  with  each  other  in  religious 
services,  and  in  various  ways  were  fellow  helpers  to  the  accomplishment  of  the 
great  ends  of  the  ministry.  We  frequently  travelled  together  for  two  or  three 
weeks  at  a  time — and  sometimes  Dr.  Finley,  Mr.  Condict,*  or  some  other  brother 
4  was  associated  with  us,  in  those  parts  of  the  State  which  were  comparatively 
destitute  of  the  means  of  grace,  preaching  once  or  twice  every  day.  On  one  of 
these  occasions,  the  following  interesting  circumstance  occurred  to  him : — One 
night  when  we  were  not  together,  he  lodged  at  a  house  near  a  hill  called  the 
Sugar-loaf.  In  the  morning  he  ascended  the  hill  to  take  a  view  of  the  surround- 
inj^  country.  While  he  was  enjoying  a  delightful  prosiiect,  a  maniac  at  the  foot 
of  tlie  hill  was  meditating  his  death.     With  a  loaded  gun  he  had  secreted  him- 

*A  ARON  CoxDiCT  was  bom  in  Orange,  K.  J.,  August  0,  1765.  He  wm  a  detoendant  of  John 
Condiel,  who  caiuo  to  thU  oountry  from  England  or  Wales  aa  early  as  1680.  Ilia  mother  wa<  of 
tioottiah  ancestry.  At  the  ago  of  about  fifteen,  he  was  plaeed  at  a  i^mmar  school  in  what  ia 
DOW  Madison,  ander  the  chaige  of  the  Key.  Ebenezcr  Bradford,  but  tausht  chiefly  by  Mr. 
Ashbcl  Urecn,  afterwards  the  Kev.  Dr.  Green,  President  of  the  College  of  >iew  Jersey.  After 
remaining  hero  a  few  months,  he  went  to  Newark,  and  became  a  pupil  of  the  Hev.  Dr. 
McWhortor.  His  intention*  at  this  time,  was  to  devote  himself  to  the  medical  profession ;  but, 
in  consequence  of  a  great  change  that  now  took  place  in  his  feelings  on  the  subject  of  religion, 
he  resolved  on  becoming  a  minister  of  the  Gospel.  After  surmounting  many  obstacles,  he  was 
mdaated  at  Princeton  in  1788.  His  theologioal  studies  he  pursued  under  the  direction  of  the 
Ker.  Jedediah  Chapman,  his  paator,  daring  which  time  he  also  taught  an  Academy  at  Orange. 
He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  York,  in  1790 ;  and  shortly  after  received 
a  call  to  the  Church  of  Stillwater,  N.  Y.,  where  be  laboured  upwards  of  three  years.  On  the 
13th  of  December,  1796,  he  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Chnroh  of  Hanorer,  N.  J.,  which  he 
■erred  for  thirty-five  years.    He  resigned  bis  pastoral  charge,  on  aooonnt  of  bodily  ufirmitieat 


£DWABX>  BOSCR  GBIFFIN.  39 

self  beiund  ft  fence  near  a  foot^path>  bj  which  Mr.  Griffin  was  expected  to 
descend.  Providentially,  a  neighbour,  passing  by,  discoyered  him,  and  asked 
him  what  he  was  going  to  do  with  his  gun.  The  maniac  replied — **Look  up 
yonder;  don't  you  see  that  man  ?  He  is  a  British  spy,  sent  over  by  the  King  of 
England  to  s^y  out  our  land,  and  as  he  comes  down,  I  intend  to  shoot  him." 
"  No,"  said  the  neighbour,  "  he  is  the  minister  who  preached  for  us  last  even- 
ing." Upon  this,  the  unhappy  man  gave  up  his  arms  and  retired;  but  it  was 
fuHy  believed  by  those  who  knew  the  state  of  his  mind,  that  he  would  have  shot 
our  friend  dead,  if  he  ha<l  not  been  thus  providentially  prevented.  The  Doctor 
often  mentioned  this  singular  escape  from  sudden  death  with  great  sensibility. 

In  no  situation  perhaps  was  Dr.  Griffin  more  entirely  at  home  than  in  a 
revival  of  religion.  It  was  my  privilege  often  to  be  with  him  in  such  circum- 
stances; and  I  knew  not  which  to  admire  most — the  skill  and  power  with  which 
he  wielded  the  Sword  of  the  Spirit,  or  the  childlike  dependancc  which  was 
evinced  by  his  tender  and  fervent  supplications.  Though  he  was  certainly  one  of 
the  most*accomplished  pulpit  orators  of  his  time, — on  these  occasions  especially, 
the  power  of  his  eloquence  was  lost  sight  of  in  the  mighty  effects  which  were 
produced.  A  quickening  influence  went  forth  through  the  church,  and  an  awak- 
ening and  converting  influence  spread  through  the  surrounding  world;  the  press- 
ing of  sinners  into  the  kingdom  was  such  as  seemed  almost  to  betoken  the  dawn 
of  the  millennial  day;  and  yet  the  instrumentality  by  which  all  this  was  brought 
about  was  little  talked  of.  This  result,  after  all,  I  suppose  to  be  the  highest  effect 
of  pulpit  eloquence.  He  wrought  so  mightily  on  the  religious  principles  and 
affections  of  his  audience,  that  they  had  not  the  time,  or  scarcely  the  ability,  to 
marvel  at  the  exalted  gifts  with  which  these  effects  were  associated. 

It  was  a  great  gratification  to  Br.  Griffin's  old  friends,  that  he  came  back  to 
spend  his  last  days,  and  finally  to  make  his  grave,  among  them.  It  was  my 
privilege  to  see  him  frequently  during  the  season  of  his  decline,  and  in  the  near 
prospect  of  death.  I  always  found  him  tranquil,  dignified,  and  breathing  forth 
a  hope  full  of  immortality.  The  grandest  display  of  pulpit  eloquence  that  I 
ever  witnessed  from  him,  was  far  less  effective  and  subduing  than  his  dying 
words  and  looks.  I  will  only  add  that  Dr.  Spring,  in  the  Sermon  preached  at 
his  Funeral,  seems  to  me  to  have  given  an  outline  of  his  character  as  faithful  as 
it  is  beautiful.    I  can  most  cordially  endorse  every  sentence  of  it. 

With  great  respect,  I  am  your  brother. 

In  the  best  of  bonds, 

ASA  HILLYER. 

FROM  THE  RET.  NICHOLAS  MURRAY,  D.  D. 

Elizabbthtown,  October  16,  1847. 
My  dear  Dr.  Sprague:    You  ask  me  for  my  recollections  of  my  venerated 
teacher  and  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Griffin.     As  he  was  President  of  Williams  Col- 
lege during  my  whole  four  years'  course  there,  and  was  ray  neighbour  during  the 

October  6,  1831,  and  died  in  April,  1852.  His  ministry,  especially  at  Hanover,  was  eminently 
successful,  as  was  indicated  by  the  fact  that  it  witnessed  to  nine  or  ten  distinct  revivals  of  reli- 
gion, and  to  the  admission  of  seven  hundred  and  twenty-five  individuals  to  the  Communion  of 
the  ChuT^b.  He  was  distinguished  for  his  wisdom,  humility,  benevolenoe,  hospitality,  and 
deep  interest  in  whatever  related  to  the  prosperity  of  the  Redeemer's  Kingdom.  He  was  mar- 
ried first  in  1796  to  Mary,  daughter  of  Daniel  Dayton,  of  Elizabethtown,— a  lady  of  rare 
excellence,  who  died  in  February,  1820.  In  1822,  he  was  married  a  second  time  to  Sarah 
Conkling,  of  Morristown,  who  survived  him.  He  had  four  sons  who  entered  the  ministry  and 
who  have  risen  to  high  respectability  and  usefulness,  three  of  whom  still  (1857)  survive.  One 
of  them,  Joteph  D.,  was  graduated  at  the  College  of  New  Jersey  in  1826;  was  settled  as  the 
sixth  Pastor  cf  the  Church  in  East  Hampton,  L.  I.,  September  1,  1830;  was  dismissed  on  tha 
22d  of  April  1835;  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in  South  Hadley,  Mass., 
July  8,  1836,  and  died  September  19, 1847.  He  possessed  much  more  than  ordinary  taleota, 
and  wa«  distinguished,  through  his  whole  ministry,  for  his  zealous  and  successful  labours.  Ha 
was  called  to  the  Khetorical  chair  of  Amherst  College,  but  declined  the  invitation. 


40  PRESBn^BIAK. 

Iftst  year  of  his  life,  which  he  spent  in  Newark,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  know- 
ing him  in  different  relations,  and  under  a  yariety  of  circamstances.  Yet,  instead 
of  attempting  a  general  portraiture  of  the  man,  I  shall  content  myself  with  nar- 
rating two  or  three  incidents  respecting  him,  which  deeply  impressed  my  mind  at 
the  time  of  their  occurrence,  and  which  may  serve  to  illustrate  some  of  his  pecu- 
liar characteristics. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1824,  if  my  memory  serves  me,  there  were  glowing 
appearances  of  a  most  extensive  revival  in  College.  Indeed,  not  only  the  College 
but  the  town  was  greatly  shaken.  Dr.  Griffin  was  all  fervour  and  zeal.  The 
excitement  continued  four  or  five  weeks.     A  few  individuals  seemed  converted. 

A  wicked  fellow,  by  the  name  of  R ,  began  to  exhort  us  with  great  power 

and  effect.  But  the  excitement  subsided  as  suddenly  as  it  sprang  up.  And,  after 
all  feeling  had  passed  over,  there  was  but  one  in  town  or  Coli^;e  that  gave  evi- 
dence of  true  conversion;  and  that  was  William  Hervey,*  whose  bones  repose  in 
India,  where  he  went  as  a  missionary  under  the  American  Board.     He  was  one 

of  the  best  men  I  ever  knew.     In  a  few  weeks,  R was  found  drunk.     In 

reference  to  all  this  matter,  I  heard  Dr.  Griffin  say  afterwards, — "  To  save  one 
immortal  soul  the  Lord  will  shake  a  whole  church,  a  whole  town,  and  if  nothing 
less  will  save  it,  he  will  shake  a  whole  continent.'*  And  to  illustrate  this  posi- 
tion, he  would  narrate,  with  melting  pathos,  the  story  of  Hervey *s  conversion. 

If  I  recollect  dates  aright,  in  the  spring  of  1825,  there  was  a  truly  powerful 
and  genuine  revival  in  town  and  College.  In  this  work  Dr.  Griffin  was  the  prime 
instrument.  Some  of  the  most  touching  moral  scenes  that  I  ever  saw  or  heard 
of,  occurred  during  its  progress.  Guilty  of  the  sin  of  David,  we  numbered  the 
converted  and  the  unconverted.  The  report  went  out  one  morning,  and  reached 
Dr.  G.,  that  all  College  was  converted  but  eighteen.  There  was  to  be  a  prayer- 
meeting  that  night,  and  he  sent  over  word  that  he  would  meet  with  us.  Although 
the  evening  was  dark  and  stormy,  and  the  ground  exceedingly  muddy,  there 
was  not  probably  a  student  of  College  absent  from  the  meeting.  He  came,  and 
the  lecture-room  was  so  crowded  that  he  stood  in  the  door,  whilst  giving  his  hat 
to  one,  and  his  cloak  and  lantern  to  others.  He  stood  for  a  moment  gazing 
through  his  tears  on  the  crowd  before  him.  Then  clasping  his  hands,  and  lifting 
up  his  face  to  Heaven,  he  uttered,  in  the  most  moving  accents,  these  words — 
"  Or  those  eighteen  upon  whom  the  tower  of  Siloam  fell,  think  ye  that  they  were 
sinners  above  all  men  that  dwelt  in  Jerusalem?  *'  The  effect  was  overpowering. 
For  minutes  he  could  not  utter  another  word,  and  the  room  was  filled  with  weep- 
ing. It  was  one  of  those  inimitable  touches  which  he  could  occasionally  give, 
beyond  all  men  that  I  have  ever  known.  I  narrated  the  incident  to  him  a  few 
weeks  previous  to  his  death.  He  wept  aloud  on  its  recital;  but  had  forgotten 
all  about  it. 

Another  of  these  touches  he  gave  at  the  last  service  but  one  that  I  heard  him 
perform.  It  was  at  the  Funeral  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  G.  of  this  town.  After  a 
solemn  service,  he  offered  the  concluding  prayer,  which  he  commenced  thus — 
*'  0  Lord  we  thank  thee  that  good  men  may  die."  Being  uttered  as  it  was,  in 
his  peculiar  manner,  it  deeply  impressed  and  affected  every  mind. 

*  WtLr^iAH  Hbrvet  waa  bom  at  Kingsbury,  Warren  Cotintj,  N.  Y.,  on  the  22d  of  Jennary, 
1799.  IIo  was  gradaated  at  Williams  College  in  1824.  After  leaving  College,  he  taught  school 
In  Bloomins:  Grove,  and  Albany,  N.  Y.,  for  one  year,  and  in  the  following  year  was  a  Tutor  in 
Williams  College.  The  three  years  suooeeding  he  spent  in  the  study  of  Theology  in  the  Theo- 
Ingioal  Seminary  at  Princeton.  In  September,  1829,  he  was  ordained  in  the  Park  Street  Chnrcb, 
Boston,  as  a  min«ionary  to  the  heathen.  On  the  .^Oth  of  Jnne,  1830.  he  was  married  to  EliKal)eth . 
danghter  of  Deaoon  Jaoob  Smith,  of  Hadley,  Mass.  O^the  2d  of  August,  1830,  he  embarked, 
with  several  other  missionaries,  for  Calcutta.  They  arrived  in  Bombay  on  the  7th  of  March, 
183 1 ;  where  Mrs.  Hervey  died  on  the  3d  of  May  following.  He 'removed  to  the  station  at 
Abmednnggur  on  the  2Ut  of  Aprils  1832,  and  died  of  spasmodic  cholera  on  the  13th  of  the  next 
month. 


EDWARD  DOSB  GRIFFIN.  42 

Dnrmg  revifftls,  his  sermons  were  nothing  in  comparison  with  his  talks  and 
lectures.  I  have  heard  him  preach  great  sermons,  but  the  most  eloquent  and 
glowing  thoughts  that  I  ever  heard  from  mortal  lips,  were  uttered  by  him  in  the 
school-houses  at  Williamstown. 

In  my  repeated  interviews  with  him  previous  to  his  death,  I  found  nothing  to 
interest  him  so  much  as  little  incidents  in  reference  to  revivals  in  College,  and 
intelligence  in  respect  to  the  usefulness  of  students  who  had  been  converted 
under  him.  He  seemed  to  feel  as  if  he  had  been  multiplying  himself  in  every 
student  converted  through  his  instrumentality.  In  my  last  interview  with  him, 
I  told  him  tlie  story  of  the  conversion  in  1825  of  a  Mr.  H., — ^now  a  highly  use- 
ful minister,  but  then  a  profane  and  worthless  profligate.  The  Doctor  was  in  the 
habit  of  frequently  closing  his  sermons  with  "Hallelujah,  Amen,"  and  always 
repeated  the  words  in  a  peculiarly  varied  and  musical  tone.  His  tones  were 
caught  and  repeated  with  laughable  accuracy  by  H .  Just  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  revival,  he  was  often  heard  repeating  these  words,  and  with  great 
force,  and  wit,  and  sarcasm,  exhorting  his  fellowHstudents  to  get  converted; 
swearing  that  he  himself  would  get  converted, — the  very  first  one.  And  as  God 
would  have  it,  he  was  converted, — ^the  very  first  one.  He  was  seen  on  a  Fast 
day  morning,  coming  into  the  prayer-meeting,  as  we  all  thought,  to  make  sport. 
Bat  before  the  meeting  ended,  he  arose,  and  such  an  appeal  to  the  students  as  he 
made,  and  such  an  effect  as  it  produced,  I  never  witnessed.  And  to  the  close  of 
the  revival,  he  was  as  useful  as  any  among  us.  The  story  affected  the  Doctor  to 
such  a  degree  that,  for  a  time,  he  was  entirely  overcome. 

Not  doubting  that  you  will  readily  command  whatever  may  be  necessary  to 
illustrate  the  character  of  this  eminent  man, 

I  am  ever  firaternally  yours, 

NICHOLAS  MURRAY. 

FROM  THE  REV,  J.  W.  TEOMANS,  D.  D. 

Danville,  Pa.,  July  8, 1867. 

My  dear  Sir:   I  comply  most  cheerfully  with  your  request  that  I  should  send 
you  my  reminiscences  of  Dr.  Griffin;  although,  of  the  many  things  indelibly    • 
impressed  on  my  memory  respecting  him,  I  may  fail  to  select  those  best  suited 
to  your  purpose. 

The  person,  manners,  and  many  thoughts  and  words,  of  that  remarkable  man 
rise  now  as  vividly  to  my  view,  as  though  it  were  but  yesterday  that  I  had  seen 
and  heard  him.  I  presume  the  same  can  be  said  by  every  person  who  knew  him. 
The  first  time  i  saw  him  was  at  the  College  Commencement  of  1822,  when  he 
graduated  his  first  class.  I  was  then  entering  the  College,  and  was  not  quali- 
fied to  appreciate  the  literary  character  of  his  performances  on  that  occasion; 
but  I  had  never  felt  before  such  reverence  at  the  sight  of  any  man,  as  when  I 
first  saw  Dr.  Griffin  in  his  high  chair  in  the  pulpit,  presiding  over  the  public 
exercises.  His  hair  was  as  white  then  as  it  ever  was  afterwards,  and  his  gigan- 
tic and  symmetrical  person,  his  rich,  full  and  penetrating  voice,  and  the  formal 
dignity  of  his  movements,  altogether  peculiar  to  himself,  gave  what  seemed  to 
me  a  wonderful  majesty  to  the  occasion. 

In  the  college  exercises  in  which  he  was  accustomed  to  be  present  and  officiate, 
bis  presence  commanded  the  reverence  of  all  the  members  of  the  institution  in  a 
marked  d^ree.  In  the  recitation  room,  his  manner  was  striking,  and  often  deeply 
impressive.  His  instructions  were  confined  to  the  Senior  class;  and  the  lively 
interest  maintained  in  that  class  by  his  teachings  and  his  personal  attentions, 
greatly  enlivened  the  anticipations  with  which  the  lower  classes  usually  looked  for- 
ward to  the  Senior  year.  He  felt  a  deep  interest  in  metaphysical  discussions;  parti- 
cularly in  those  most  nearly  related  to  the  leading  points  of  the  Calvinistic  Theo- 

Vol.  IV.  6 


42  FBSSBTTSRIAK. 

logy-  With  ftU  his  flnislMd  and  BplaacUd  rhetoric,  he  w»s  enuneat  Ibr  his  talnnt 
and  hftbit  of  accurate  philosophical  diBcrimination,  and  his  facility  and  strength 
in  metaphysical  disquisitions  enabled  him  to  engage  the  active  interest  of  hia 
classes  in  the  intricate  questions  of  mental  philosophy.  He  entered  with  spe- 
cial earnestness  into  the  philosophical  discussions  relating  to  the  will,  and  to  the 
ground  of  responsibility  for  religious  belief ;  and  some  of  the  class  exercises  on 
those  subjects  he  conducted  with  great  animation  and  power. 

A  favourite  branch  in  his  department  of  instruction  was  rhetoric.  He  always 
left  a  decided  impression  on  the  students  who  came  under  his  hand  in  rhetorical 
criticism.  His  practical  rules  for  writing  were  definite,  positive  and  rigid  in  the 
extreme.  The  effect  of  them  was  always  manifest  in  his  public  discoijrses,  and 
is  palpable  to  every  reader  of  his  pure,  concise  and  energetic  style,  fivery  stu- 
dent of  the  least  natural  power  of  discrimination  would  receive,  from  a  single 
critical  exercise  with  Dr.  Griffin,  an  impression  he  would  never  lose.  He  was 
very  susceptible  to  the  power  of  genuine  poetry;  being  moved  sometimes  to  tears 
by  the  touching  poetical  extracts  repeatedly  used  in  the  college  declamations. 
And  his  criticisms  on  the  manner  of  pronouncing  such  pieces  were  often  admira- 
ble. One  of  his  weekly  exercises  with  his  class  was  in  reading;  and  on  one 
occasion  a  member  of  the  class  read  from  the  beginning  of  one  of  the  books  of 
Paradise  lost:  ^*  Hail,  holy  light;  offspring  of  Heaven  first  born."  During  the 
reading  he  seemed  in  rapture  with  the  poetry;  and,  at  the  close,  after  some 
remarks  on  the  reader's  performance,  he  asked  for  the  book,  and  erecting  him- 
self in  his  chair,  with  his  countenance  suffused,  and  his  voice  raised,  mellow, 
and  tremulous  with  emotion,  he  read  the  passage  with  an  effect  which,  I  am 
sure,  no  member  of  the  class  can  ever  forget.  The  scene  often  recurs  to  me  as 
vividly  as  on  the  day  after  its  occurrence. 

His  interest  in  the  religious  welftire  of  the  students  was  lively,  and  presented 
some  striking  characteristics.  Especially  on  the  appearance  of  the  least  sign  of 
unusual  religious  interest  in  the  College,  he  frequently  evinced  a  remarkable  sus- 
ceptibility. His  conversation  with  individuals  at  such  times  was  direct  and 
pointed;  pressing  the  obligations  and  explaining  the  nature  of  religious  duty  in 
the  strongest  and  most  positive  terms.  In  social  and  public  meetings  he  was 
highly  excited  by  the  feeblest  intimations  ofan  approaching  revival.  And  it  was 
always  manifest  how  vastly  his  estimate  of  such  a  "  gracious  visitation  "  was 
raised  by  his  clear  and  unqualified  apprehension  of  the  sovereignty  of  God  in  dis- 
pensing grace,  and  the  aggravated  guilt  and  utter  helplessness  of  men.  He  looked 
upon  that  College  as  specially  destined  to  fulfil  its  mission  by  becoming  increas- 
ingly sacred  as  the  scene  of  *^  revivals  of  religion;  "  so  that,  besides  the  general 
religious  interest  of  his  pious  heart  in  the  spiritual  welfitre  of  the  young  men» 
and  their  future  usefulness  in  the  Church,  his  devotion  to  that  institution  in  par- 
ticular, and  his  interpretation  of  the  past  course  of  Providence  with  it,  increas^ 
the  intensity  of  his  feelings  during  those  seasons  of  awakened  religious  acti- 
vity. 

But  this  particular  interest  in  the  College  was  altogether  connected  in  his  mind 
with  the  general  cause  of  religion  in  our  country  and  the  world.  His  views  were 
far  from  being  local  or  limited.  He  was  accustomed  to  speak  of  the  remotest 
parts  of  the  world  in  the  same  terms  of  personal  and  familiar  regard  as  of  the 
scenes  in  which  he  was  immediately  occupied.  He  had  only  to  perceive  the  pro- 
mising connection  of  an  enterprise  with  the  general  cause  of  religion,  to  become 
heartily  enli.sted  in  its  support. 

The  peculiar  cast  of  Dr.  Griffin's  preaching  and  other  religious  instructions 
and  appeals  was  formed,  more  perhaps  than  that  of  many  other  great  minds,  by 
his  cherished  habit  of  precise  discrimination  on  the  leading  points  of  the  preva- 
lent Theology.  In  his  course  of  teaching  in  mental  philosophy  he  drew  the  cur- 
rent distinctions  with  great  accuracy  and  decision.     His  theological  writings  are 


•  ','■'"*.**  - ' 
by  iQcid  and  ea^ig^tio  atat^itieiitii.of  iiitii^jUIJiiiMlLongfDg  to 
the  theological  yiews  of  the  time;  and  in  such  statements  his  ability  was  not 
surpassed  by  any  mato  of  the  age.  His  taste  for  those  theological  distinctions, 
lus  high  sense  of  their  value,  and  his  facility  and  satisfaction  in  using  them,  gave 
his  most  rhetorical  pulpit  discourses  remarkable  internal  coherence  and  compact- 
ness,  and  enabled  him  to  command  the  judgments  of  his  hearers  by  the  force  of 
a  very  stringent  logic.  The  great  prominence  and  intense  light  in  which  he  placed 
some  leading  points  of  religious  truth  constitute  the  striking  feature  of  his  theo- 
logical discussions.  This  trait  is  conspicuous  in  his  Park  Street  Lectures,  his 
work  on  the  Atonement,  and  some  smaller  publications  on  particular  points  of 
Christian  doctrine.  On  the  whole,  the  position  and  influence  of  Dr.  Griffin  are 
widely  attested  by  the  profound  and  general  respect  for  his  memory,  and  by  the 
evident  fruits  of  his  labours.  His  power  of  clear,  penetrating,  and  at  the  same 
time,  of  lofty  and  comprehensive,  thought, — ^his  skill  and  force  in  argument,  his 
rhetorical  genius  and  culture,  his  eloquence,  his  majestic  person  and  manner,  all 
pervaded  and  controlled  by  his  enlightened  religious  devotion,  performed  efficient 
service  for  the  Church,  and  placed  him  among  the  greater  lights  of  his  age. 

Yours  with  sincere  respect, 

J.  W.  YEOMANS. 


-♦♦- 


GIDEON  BLACKBURN,  D.  D  * 

1792—1888. 

Gtdson  Blackburn  was  bom  in  Augusta  County,  Ya.,  then  one  of  the 
frontier  counties  of  the  State,  on  the  27th  of  August,  1772.  His  father  was 
Bobert  Blaokbnrn,  and  the  family  name  of  his  motber  was  Bichie.  Tbey  were 
of  Scotch  Irish  extraction,  and  were  devout  members  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  though  in  very  bumble  worldly  circumstances.  He  lived  most  of 
the  time  with  his  grandfather,  General  Blackburn,  until  he  was  about  twelve 
years  old ;  and,  after  his  grandfather's  death,  his  maternal  uncle,  Oideon 
Bichie, — a  pious  young  man  without  family,  observing  that  he  was  a  youth 
of  much  more  than  ordinary  promise,  so  far  adopted  him  as  to  undertake  to 
educate  him  at  his  own  expense.  He  became  hopefully  the  subject  of  renewing 
grace  at  the  age  of  about  fifteen.  In  the  current  of  Westward  emigration, 
both  his  parents  and  his  uncle,  shortly  after  this,  got  as  far  as  Washing- 
ton County,  Tenn.,  then  within  the  bounds  of  North  Carolina.  Here  his 
uncle  placed  him  under  the  care  and  instruction  of  the  venerable  Samuel 
Doak,  D.  D.,  distinguished  both  as  a  minister  and  an  instructor,  and  the 
Founder  and  Principal  of  Martin  Academy,  which  was  only  about  a  mile 
from  the  place  where  the  Blackburns  settled.  At  this  school  he  passed  the 
greater  part  of  his  literary  course.  But  when,  after  some  time,  his  uncle 
removed  some  seventy  miles  farther  West,  into  Jefferson  County,  Tenn.,  he 
accompanied  him ;  and  there  they  both  found  a  home  in  the  house  of  his 
father's  brother,  John  Blackburn,  a  man  of  rare  excellence.     There,  too,  he 

*  Letters  from  Dr.  BUuskbum  to  Doeton  Oreen,  Morse,  and  Richards. — MSS.  from  A.  M. 
Blackburn,  Esq.,  Kev.  Dr.  MoCampbell,  Rev.  Dr.  Cleland,  Rer.  Dr.  Anderson,  Rer.  A. 
Blackbam,  Rev.  J.  H.  Martin,  Rev.  J.  K.  Ljrle,  Dr.  J.  G.  M.  Ramsey,  Carran  Pope,  Esq.j 
and  J.  A.  Jacobs,  Esq. — ^New  York  Observer^  1838. 


44  PRE8BYTBBIAH. 

oompleted  his  literarj  eoarse,  aad  also  pursued  his  thMlogioal  stadies,  unden 

the  instraction  of  the  Rev.  (afterwards  Dr.)  Bobert  Henderson,  who  then 
resided  five  miles  distant,  near  the  town  of  Dandridge.  He  was  licensed  to 
preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Abingdon,  in  the  year  1792.*  It  is  worthy  of 
remark  that  his  uncle,  to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  his  education,  instead 
of  being  in  affluent  circumstances,  was  dependant  for  his  own  living  upon 
his   daily  labour. 

Here  is  the  young  preacher,  without  a  dollar,  on  the  very  outskirts  of 
civilisation,  ready  to  enter  upon  his  work ;  and  he  certainly  did  enter  upon 
it  under  very  peculiar  oircumBtances.  The  scattered  population  of  that 
region  was,  at  that  time,  constantly  liable  to  Indian  depredations.  A  oom« 
pany  of  soldiers  was  about  to  march  from  the  neighbourhood  in  which  he 
lived,  to  protect  a  fort  on  the  spot  on  which  Maryville  was  subsequently 
built.  Mr.  Blackburn  being  doubly  armed, — ^having  on  the  one  hand  his 
Bible  and  Hymn  Book,  and  on  the  other  his  hunting  shirt,  rifle,  shot-pouch, 
and  knapsack,  joined  this  company,  and  marched  with  them  to  the  fort;  and 
there  he  commenced  his  labours  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel.  Within  sight 
of  the  fort,  he  built  a  house  for  his  own  dwelling,  and  shortly  after  was 
erected  a  large  log  building  that  served  as  a  church.  He  very  soon  esta- 
blished the  New  Providence  Church,  Maryville,  and  also  took  charge  of 
another  Church  called  Eusebia,  about  ten  miles  distant.  But  besides  his 
stated  labours  in  these  congregations,  he  preached  much  in  the  region 
round  about,  and  was  instrumental  in  organizing  several  new  churches. 
During  the  early  part  of  his  ministry  here,  his  situation  was  one  of  imminent 
peril.  So  long  as  the  Cherokces  remained  hostile,  no  work  could  be  done 
except  by  companies, — some  being  obliged  to  stand  as  sentinels,  while  others 
would  work,  with  their  loaded  guns  so  near  that  they  could  seise  them  in  a 
moment.  As  there  were  many  forts  in  the  region,  the  young  preacher  would 
pass,  under  an  escort,  from  fort  to  fort,  and  within  a  moderate  period  would 
preach  in  them  all.  He  very  soon  became  a  general  favourite,  and  his 
preaching  commanded  universal  attention.  When  the  people  were  out  of 
their  forts,  the  place  of  preaching  was  generally  a  shady  grove;  the 
immediate  position  of  the  preacher  was  beneath  some  wide-spread  oak  ;  and 
he  usually  stood  with  his  gun  at  his  side,  and  all  the  men,  including  also 
boys  who  were  old  enough  to  use  a  rifle,  stood  around  him,  each  with  gun 
in  hand.  He  was  compelled  at  this  period  to  perform  not  a  little  labour 
with  his  own  hands ;  and  his  preparation  for  preaching  was  made  either 
while  he  was  actually  thus  engaged,  or  in  the  brief  intervals  of  leisure  which 
he  was  able  to  command.  He  kept  himself  not  only  on  familiar  terms,  but 
in  exceedingly  kind  relations,  with  all  his  people,  and  exerted  a  powerful 
and  most  benign  influence  in  forming  their  characters.  He  took  special 
puns,  both  in  private  and  in  public,  to  make  them  well  acquainted  with  the 
Bible;  and  by  accustoming  them  to  frequent  meetings  for  devotion,  he 
taught  them  to  cultivate  both  the  gift  and  the  epirit  of  prayer,  thus  ren- 
dering many  of  them  at  least,  at  once  intelligent  and  spiritually-minded 
Christians. 

Mr.  Blackburn  was  an  active  participant  in  the  scenes  of  the  great  revi- 
val which  took  place  at  the  South  and  West  during  the  early  part  of  this 
century.     I  have  in  my  possession  a  letter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Green  of  Phila- 

•  This  is  tho  dat«  fhrnished  by  Br.  B.'b  fjunily.     Bat  another  authority,  justly  entitled  to 
Munderation,  places  it  in  1795. 


GIDEON  BLAGEBXTRK.  4g 

delpbift,  written  in  1804,  in  which  he  not  only  expresses  the  ntmost  confix 
dence  in  the  genuineness  of  the  revival,  but  says  of  the  **  bodily  exercise,'* 
or  *' jerks,"  as  it  was  sometimes  called, — **I  have  not  only  heard  of  it, 
and  seen  it,  but  have  felt  it,  and  am  persuaded  that  it  is  only  to  be  effected 
by  the  immediate  finger  of  God.*' 

Not  long  after  Mr.  Blackburn's  settlement  at  Maryville,  his  attention 
was  earnestly  drawn  to  the  condition  of  the  neighbouring  Indians,  and  he 
soon  commenced  a  vigorous,  and,  so  far  as  possible,  systematic,  course  of 
effort  to  evangelize  them. 

In  1803,  he  was  a  member  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  from  the  Union  Presbytery,  and  was  appointed  the  same  year  to 
act,  during  a  part  of  the  time,  as  a  missionary  among  the  Cherokees.  As 
early  as  1806,  he  had  two  flourishing  schools  in  the  nation,  the  second  of 
which  was  eetablishod  in  August  of  that  year,  commencing  with  thirty 
scholars.  His  health  about  this  time  4as  much  impaired,  and  he  was 
induced  to  go  to  Georgia  to  seek  medical  aid;  and,  while  under  the  care  of 
a  physician, — not  being  closely  confined,  he  availed  himself  of  the  oppor- 
tunity thus  furnished,  to  do  something  toward  his  favourite  object  of  evan- 
gelizing the  Indians.  In  1807,  he  made  a  tour  through  the  Northern 
States,  to  collect  funds  in  aid  of  his  missionary  operations,  and,  after  an 
absence  of  seven  months,  returned  with  five  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  which  had  been  contributed  for  that  purpose,  besides  a  large 
quantity  of  books  and  clothing.  The  next  year,  (1808,)  he  made  a  tour  of 
six  weeks  through  the  Cherokee  nation,  and  was  much  encouraged  by  the 
visible  marks  of  progress  among  them,  though  he  was  prevented,  by  want 
of  the  necessary  means,  from  attempting  the  establishment  of  any  new 
schools.  At  that  time,  he  supposed  that  the  whole  number  who  had 
received  instruction  in  his  schools  was  about  three  hundred,  and  that  the 
credit  of  the  institutions  was  not  at  all  diminished.  In  the  latter  part  of 
1809,  he  made  another  similar  tour  among  the  Cherokees,  which  occupied 
bim  twelve  weeks ;  though,  during  four  of  them,  he  was  prostrated  by  a 
biUous  fever.  Among  other  services  which  he  performed  on  this  tour  was 
an  examination  of  a  wagon  road,  which  the  Indians,  without  the  assistance 
of  a  white  man,  had  built  through  a  part  of  their  country,  crossing  two  con« 
siderable  mountains.  This  he  regarded  as  an  evidence  of  civilisation  alto- 
gether unprecedented  in  the  history  of  the  tribe. 

Though  Mr.  Blackburn  had  lost  nothing  of  his  interest  in  the  Indian  mis- 
sion, and  would  gladly  have  continued  in  it  if  the  requisite  means  had  been 
provided,  yet,  in  view  of  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case, — particularly  of 
Ikis  own  pecuniary  embarrassments,  which  had  been  occasioned  chiefly  by  his 
personal  sacrifices  for  the  mission,  he  felt  constrained  to  retire  from  the 
field.  Accordingly,  having  disposed  of  as  much  of  his  property  as  he  could, 
he  removed  in  the  autumn  of  1810  to  Maury  County,  Middle  Tennessee ; 
but,  owing  to  some  cause  that  is  not  known,  he  remained  there  but  a  few 
months.  In  the  spring  of  the  next  year,  he  removed  again  to  West  Tennes- 
see, and  settled  at  Franklin,  the  capital  of  Williamson  County,  eighteen 
miles  South  of  Nashville.  Here  he  took  charge  of  Harpeth  Academy, — 
situated  one  mile  East  of  the  town, — for  the  support  of  his  family,  while  he 
preached  in  rotation  at  five  different  places,  within  a  range  of  fifty  miles. 
Though  he  found  the  religious  state  of  things  very  discouraging,  a  favourable 
change  seems  very  soon  to  have  occurred ;  for  within  a  few  months  after  h^ 


46  PBESBTTERIA1I. 

commeDced  his  labonrs,  he  had  organised  charches  at  the  aeToral  places  at 
which  he  preached,  and  at  the  first  Oommnnion  there*  were  present  three 
thousand  persons,  and  forty-five  new  members  were  added  to  the  church. 
After  his  removal  to  Franklin,  his  health  was  greatly  improved, — chiefly, 
as  he  supposed,  on  account  of  his  being  relieved  from  the  manifold  toils  and 
exposures  incident  to  hb  missionary  excursions. 

He  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Greenville 
College,  Tennessee,  in  1818. 

He  remained  at  Franklin  about  a  dozen  years,  during  which  time,  in  addi- 
tion to  his  other  duties,  he  superintended  the  studies  of  several  young  men 
in  preparation  for  the  ministry.  In  May,  1823,  he  visited,  by  request,  the 
Presbyterian  Congregation  in  Louisville,  Ky.,  and  preached  several  Sab- 
baths with  great  acceptance ;  the  result  of  which  was  that,  on  the  9th  of 
June  following,  the  Church  unanimously  called  him  to  be  their  Pastor.  He 
accepted  the  call,  and,  having  arrltnged  his  affairs  in  Tennessee,  returned  to 
Louisville,  where  he  entered  upon  his  duties  on  the  12th  of  November. 
His  labours  here  are  said  to  have  been  greatly  blessed  to  the  edification 
and  increase  of  the  Church. 

For  the  following  incident  which  occurred,  as  I  suppose,  in  connection 
with  his  ministry  at  Louisville,  I  am  indebted  to  Curran  Pope,  Esq.: — 
'*  There  is  or  was  in  this  vicinity  a  Church  called  *Beulah,'  erected  and 

donated  by  a  Mr.  H ,  the  deed  to  which  was  drawn  by  Dr.  Blackburn, 

and  the  gift  was  made  through  his  influence.  Mr.  H.  had  been  an  extensive 
negro  trader  to  the  South,  and  had  accumulated  a  large  estate.  He  was 
converted  by  the  preaching  of  Dr.  Blackburn,  and  in  his  last  moments  Dr. 
B.  was  with  him,  and  wrote  his  will,  by  which  he  emancipated  all  his 
negroes,  and  provided  for  their  support  and  removal  to  Africa,  and  con- 
veyed his  real  estate  for  benevolent  objects.  The  probate  of  this  will  was 
resisted  by  the  heirs  next  of  kin, — he  being  unmarried ;  and  the  will  was 
set  aside  by  the  Court  of  Appeals,  on  account  of  the  controlling  influence 
exercised  over  the  testator  by  Dr.  Blackburn." 

In  October,  1827,  he  accepted  the  Presidency  of  Centre  College,  Dan- 
ville, Ky.  Here  he  remained,  performing,  besides  the  duties  of  President, 
a  great  amount  of  ministerial  labour,  till  1830,  when  his  connection  with 
the  College  ceased.  He  then  removed  to  Versailles,  Ky.,  where  he  was 
occupied,  partly  in  ministering  to  the  Church  in  that  place,  and  partly  as 
an  Agent  of  the  Kentucky  State  Temperance  Society. 

In  October,  1833,  Dr.  Blackburn  removed  to  Illinois,  and  never  after- 
wards had  a  stated  charge.  In  1835,  he  was  employed  by  the  Trustees  of 
Illinois  College  to  raise  funds  for  that  institution  in  the  Eastern  States. 
While  thus  engaged,  he  conceived  the  idea  of  establishing  a  Theological 
Seminary  in  Illinois.  The  plan  which  he  proposed  was  this — that  individ- 
uals should  advance  money  at  the  rate  of  $2  per  acre  for  Government  lands 
in  Dlinois,  for  which  he  would  have  to  pay  but  $1 .  25  per  acre ;  that  of  the 
surplus,  25  cents  should  be  retained  by  him  for  his  services  and  expenses, 
and  the  remaining  50  cents  out  of  each  $2  advanced,  should  be  invested  in 
lands  for  founding  and  sustaining  the  proposed  Seminary.  The  plan  was 
embarrassed  by  serious  difficulties  in  its  practical  operation ;  and  he  did 
not  live  to  see  it  fully  carried  out ;  but  the  efforts  which  he  made  have 
resulted,  since  his  death,  in  the  establishment  of  a  Theological  Seminary 
at  Carlinville,  111.,  which  bears  his  own  name,  and  is  under  the  control  cf 


GIDEON  BLACKBURN.  47 

tbe*New  School  branch  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  This  result,  however, 
haa  not  been  reached  without  a  protracted  course  of  litigation. 

In  the  division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  Dr.  Blackburn  went,  heart 
and  hand,  with  the  New  School.  I  have  seen  letters  from  him  written 
ahoaC  that  time,  which  show  tliat  be  had  no  doubt  the  truth  and  right  were 
upon  that  side,  and  that  if  circumstances  had  favoured  it,  he  would  proba- 
bly have  been  one  of  the  leaders  in  the  controversy. 

As  early  as  1826,  Dr.  Blackburn  began  to  be  the  subject  of  a  cancerous 
affection,  of  which  he  writes  thus,  in  May  of  that  year,  to  the  Rev.  Dr. 
James  Kicbards : — *'  I  have  been  so  much  afflicted  with  a  cancer  on  my  lip, 
for  several  months  past,  that  it  has  paralyzed  my  exertions,  and  rendered 
me  very  uncomfortable.  The  is^ue  of  it  is  yet  rather  doubtful,  but  the 
ease  is  under  the  management  of  Infinite  Wisdom."  After  about  a  year  it 
was  removed;  but  in  1836, —  owing,  as  was  supposed,  to  excessive  bodily 
exertion,  it  reappeared  in  a  form  so  aggravated  as  to  threaten  a  fatal  and 
speedy  termination.  He  continued,  however,  to  preach  for  some  months 
after  this,  though  the  exertion  occasioned  him  great  pain.  In  the  early 
part  of  the  winter  of  1837-38,  he  fell  upon  the  ice,  and  so  severely  injured 
the  hip-joint,  that  he  was  never  able  to  walk  afterwards.  Thus  be  was  con- 
tned  to  his  bed  for  about  six  months, — suffering  intensely  at  times,  not 
only  from  the  injury,  but  especially  from  the  cancer,  which  became  daily 
mote  painful.  But,  amidst  all  his  suffering,  he  manifested  a  cheerful  sub- 
mission to  the  Divine  will,  and  remarked  to  one  of  his  friends,  in  his  own 
impressive  manner,  that  the  Saviour  was  at  his  side  directing  every  pang  he 
felt.  In  conversation  with  his  wife,  he  expressed  the  hope  that  the  Lord 
in  mercy  would  send  some  other  disease,  which  would  give  him  an  earlier 
and  an  easier  dismissal  from  his  sufferings.  For  this,  he  said,  he  often 
prayed.  And  his  prayer  was  signally  answered.  Two  weeks  before  his 
decease,  he  was  attacked  with  dysentery,  under  the  debilitating  influence  of 
which  he  gradually  declined,  until  he  actually  experienced  the  wished-for 
change.  Ue  died  at  Carlinville,  on  the  23d  of  August,  1838,  in  the  sixty- 
sixth  year  of  his  age. 

Dr.  Blackburn  published  a  Sermon  in  1825,  **  designed  to  excite  the 
attention  of  Congregations  to  the  selecting  and  educating  young  men  for 
the  Gospel  ministry ;"  and  one  or  two  other  occasional  Discourses. 

He  was  married  on  the  3d  of  October,  1793,  to  G-rizsel  Blackburn,  his 
second  or  third  consin.  They  had  eleven  children, — seven  sons  and  four 
daughters.  Two  of  his  sons  were  successful  preachers  of  the  G-ospel,  and 
one  died  while  fitting  for  the  ministry.  His  widow,  two  sons,  and  one 
daughter  still  (1857)  survive. 


FROM  THE  REV.  J.  W.  HALL,  D.  D. 

Datton,  O.,  December  20, 1848 
Dear  Sir:  According  to  your  request,  I  employ  my  first  leisure  moments  in 
communicating  to  you  some  of  my  '*  recollections  and  impressions ''  of  the  late 
Dr.  Blackbom.  I  do  so  with  a  melancholy  pleasure,  for  the  effort  brings  him 
before  me  with  all  the  freshness  and  distinctness  of  yesterday,  and  revives  my 
reverence  and  affection  for  the  man  and  his  memory. 

Regarding  him  through  the  medium  of  a  just  and  grateful  affection,  a»  well  a« 
through  the  mellow  light  of  my  bygone  and  earlier  years,  I  might  be  pardoned 


4g  FBESBTTEBIAK. 

if  my  portrait,  in  some  of  its  features,  should  seem  too  flattering,  or  its  toncf  too 
high,  or  its  colours  too  bright;  but  as  truth  is  always  preferable  to  fiction,  and 
indiscriminate  praise,  like  indiscriminate  censure,  of  little  value,  I  shall  endeav- 
our to  guard  against  all  extravagance,  and  instead  of  eulogy,  confine  myself  to 
facts.  With  these  before  my  mind,  I  will  try  to  give  you  a  sketch  of  him,  as  he 
appeared  to  me,  in  his  person;  in  his  manners;  in  his  social  and  domestic  rela- 
tions; anxl  in  his  character  as  a  teacher,  as  a  preacher,  and  a  Christian.  My 
means  of  information  in  respect  to  all  these  points  may  be  regarded  as  ample  and 
accurate,  having  been  a  student  with  him  for  three  years,  two  of  which  were 
spent  in  his  family;  and  having  lived  the  greater  part  of  my  life  in  that  portion 
of  the  State  of  Tennessee,  which  was  the  principal  theatre  of  his  public  life  and 
labours. 

1.  In  his  person.  Dr.  Blackburn  was  much  above  the  ordinary  8tatu!re,  being 
about  six  feet  one  or  two  inches  high.  He  was  not  fleshy,  but  ordinarily  of  a 
habit  rather  full  than  lean.  He  had  a  slight  stoop  of  the  shoulders;  and  when  in 
motion  you  might  perceive  that  he  was  somewhat  lame.  His  lameness  was 
occasioned  by  a  twofold  cause — by  a  fracture  of  the  thigh  bone  in  early  life, 
which  was  badly  set,  and  by  a  white  swelling  afterwards  on  the  same  limb,  from 
which  he  suffered  dreadful  pain  for  many  months.  Owing  to  these  causes,  the 
right  leg  became  shortened  about  an  inch,  and  its  muscles  contracted  considera- 
bly. But  although  he  was  lame,  yet  his  movement  in  walking  created  no  pain- 
ful sympathy,  for  he  moved  with  ease,  elasticity,  grace,  and  dignity.  Indeed,  it 
was  often  remarked  that  his  gait,  as  well  as  his  whole  bearing,  was  military, — 
resembling  rather  a  man  who  had  been  trained  in  a  camp  than  one  who  had  been 
educated  in  a  cloister  or  a  college.  The  features  of  Dr.  Blackburn  were  strongly 
marked.  He  had  a  high  and  somewhat  receding  forehead— eyebrows  prominent 
but  smooth — eyes  large,  full,  light  blue  or  rather  greyish.  His  nose  was  large, 
but  not  heavy,  and  slightly  aquiline.  His  lips  were  thin,  finely  chiselled,  and 
gently  compressed,  and  the  corners  of  his  mouth  being  slightly  elevated,  he 
usually  looked  as  one  wearing  a  benignant  smile.  His  chin  was  broad  and  pro- 
minent, giving  the  aspect  of  solidity  and  firmness  to  the  whole  countenance. 
His  complexion  was  ruddy  and  healthful.  His  head  was  large,  and  when  he 
was  a  young  man,  was  clothed  with  a  heavy  suit  of  glossy  black  hair — ^in  his 
latter  years  his  hair  became  perfectly  white,  and  being  parted  on  the  crown  of 
his  head,  it  hung  in  large  and  graceful  curls  over  the  back  part  of  his  neck,  and 
down  almost  to  his  shoulders,  which,  added  to  his  fair  complexion  and  fine  face, 
gave  him  a  most  venerable  and  even  majestic  appearance,  ft  was  his  eye,  how- 
ever, that  was  the  most  striking  feature  in  his  whole  countenance.  Calm,  mild, 
benevolent,  and  even  somewhat  languid  in  its  ordinary  expression,  it  was  capa- 
ble of  outshadowing  every  thought,  feeling,  and  emotion  or  passion  of  his  80ul» 
without  effort.    It  was  the 

"  Throne  of  expression !  whence  his  spirit's  ray 

"  Poured  forth  so  oft  the  light  of  mental  day, 

**  Where  fancy's  fire,  affection's  melting  beam, 

"  Thought,  genius,  passion,  reigned  in  turn  supreme." 

Such  is  my  recollection  of  the  person  of  Dr.  Blackburn;  and  if  I  have  suc- 
ceeded in  conveying  my  own  impression  of  his  personal  appearance  to  your  mind, 
you  will  perceive  at  once  that  he  was  a  man,  both  in  form  and  feature,  nobly 
endowed  by  his  Maker.  But,  although  one  of  the  finest  looking  men  of  the  age, 
he  was  not  vain  of  his  person,  although  to  one  unacquainted  with  him,  he  might 
have  perhaps  seemed  somewhat  proud.  He  never  sat  for  his  portrait,  although 
often  solicited, — yea,  entreated  to  do  so.  The  only  portrait  there  is  of  him  was 
obtained  by  stealth  in  Boston  many  years  ago.  The  story  of  this  portrait,  as  I 
had  it  from  himself,  is  as  follows: — Looking  over  the  books  in  his  library  one 
day,  I  found  an  old  periodical — the  Panoplist,  if  I  remember  rightly,  and  in  one 


GIDEON  BLAGKBUBN.  ^9 

of  the  numbers  an  admirable  en^^ying  of  the  Doctor.  Knowing  his  aversion 
to  having  his  portrait  taken,  I  brought  it  down  stairs  with  a  view  of  making 
some  inquiries  concerning  its  history.  "  Doctor,  this  is  an  admirable  likeness." 
lie  glanced  at  it  coldly,  and  remarked, — **  It  is  said  to  be,** — but,  looking  very 
serious,  added, — "  I  am  very  sorry  it  ever  got  there.  It  is  one,  and  the  only, 
unpleasant  association  I  have,  connected  with  Boston.  It  was  obtained,  not 
wich  my  consent,  but  by  stratagem.  Some  ladies  wished  me  to  sit  for  my  por- 
trait— I  would  not  consent,  for  I  was  then,  as  I  still  am,  opposed  to  all  such 
ministrations  to  human  vanity.  Besides,  I  think  it  expressly  contrary  to  the 
second  commandment.  But  my  friends  determined  to  have  my  likeness  at  all 
events.  An  artist  was  procured,  and  secrecy  enjoined  upon  him.  1  was  invited 
several  afternoons  in  succession  to  meet  with  friends  at  the  house  of  one  of  the 
ladies.  The  artist  was  concealed  in  a  favourable  position  in  an  adjoining  room, 
and  laboured  at  the  portrait,  while  my  friends  kept  me  engaged  in  earnest  con- 
versation about  my  favourite  hobby, — the  wants  of  the  Southwest.  Thus  the 
portrait  was  obtained  and  engraven,  and,  before  I  was  aware,  the  engraving  was 
in  the  hands  of  many,  and  soon  after  appeared  in  this  work.  It  has  alway.s 
grieved  me,  although  I  had  to  forgive  my  friends  the  unintentional  pain,  which 
they  gave  me  on  this  occasion,  and  which  they  sincerely  regretted.**  The  Doctor's 
horror  of  portraits  he  probably  inherited  from  his  old  Preceptor,  Dr.  Doak,  Presi- 
dent of  Washington  College,  East  Tennessee; — who  is  said  to  have  been  quite 
overwhelmed  when  he  learned  that  one  of  the  Literary  Societies  had  obtained  his 
portrait  in  a  similar  manner,  and  that  it  was  hanging  up  in  their  Hall.  I  may 
as  well  add  that  the  engraving  in  the  Panoplist  I  never  afterwards  saw. 

2.  In  his  manners,  Dr.  Blackburn  was  of  the  old  school — easy,  gentle,  mild, 
courteous,  affable,  but  always  dignified.  There  was  even  something  of  reserve, 
if  not  distance,  in  his  manners,  and  that  too  in  his  own  family,  and  among  his 
roost  intimate  friends.  No  one  could  treat  him  with  familiarity.  The  sentiment 
inspired  by  his  presence  was  reverence  rather  than  love,  or  perhaps  I  should  say 
it  was  reverence  and  love.  His  dignity  was  not  assumed  or  laid  aside  at  plea- 
sure. He  could  not  have  parted  with  it,  if  he  had  tried.  He  could  not 
have  diminished  it  any  more  than  he  could  have  diminished  his  stature,  or 
altered  his  complexion.  It  was  a  gift  of  his  Maker,  conjoined  inseparably  with 
his  nature,  and  it  sat  upon  him  easily  and  gracefully  every  where, — afoot  and 
on  horseback,  in  the  family  and  in  the  pulpit — ^in  the  exchange  of  the  ordinary 
civilities  of  life,  listening  to  the  recitations  of  his  pupils  in  the  class-room  or  lee* 
turing  from  the  President's  chair  in  College,  something  of  it  uniformly  appeared. 

Dignified,  however,  as  he  always  was,  there  was  nothing  austere  or  repulsive 
about  him— on  the  contrary,  he  was  kind  to  all,  especially  to  the  sick,  the  unfor 
tunate,  the  aged  or  infirm.  I  shall  always  remember  the  condescending  and 
touching  manner  in  which  he  used  to  speak  to  one  of  his  old  and  infirm  dome.s- 
tics, — a  coloured  woman, — "Aunt  Judy*',  (as  we  all  called  her,)  and  inquire 
after  her  health,  and  converse  with  her  about  her  spiritual  welfare,  and  also 
his  soothing  and  parental  manner  in  the  sick  room  of  his  students.  "  Be  cour^ 
teous,  be  pitiful,"— appeared  in  his  intercourse  with  all  classes. 

By  some  he  was  accused  of  severity  and  even  haughtiness  on  some  occasions. 
And  the  charge  is  true,  if  it  be  confined  to  occasions  when  he  met  with  those  who 
bad  assailed  his  character,  or  impugned  his  motives,  or  attempted  an  overbearing- 
manner  with  him.     At  such  times,  while  he  never  lost  his  self-control  or  pveaenoe 
of  mind,  his  friends  could  have  wished  that  there  had  been  more  meekness>  more 
gentleness,  more  humility.     On  one  occasion,  he  had  a  difficulty  with  6enerar 
Jackson  in  the  presence  of  the  General's  Staff  and  the  Army,  concerniiig  the  dis- 
position which  should  be  madeof  a  company  of  soldiers  which  he  bitoself  had 
raised  as  volunteers,  and  brought  to  General  J.'s  camp.    The  General*  wished 
to  consign  them  to  the  command  of  an  officer  under  whom  the  D^aton  had  given. 

Vol.  IV.  7 


50  PRESBTTERIAIf. 

his  pledge  to  the  young  men  that  they  should  not  he  placed.  Thereupon  the 
difficulty  arose.  General  Jackson  was  imperious — the  Doctor  was  firm.  It  came 
to  words, — high  words — many  feared  it  would  end  in  blows.  A  gentleman 
present  remarked  that  it  was  the  most  exciting  and  eloquent  duel  of  words  he 
ever  witnessed.  The  Doctor  was  as  haughty  in  his  bearing  as  the  General  was 
imperious  and  threatening;  but  then  he  was  calm,  collected  and  firm,  and  he 
carried  his  point ;  and  then,  with  a  bow  of  great  dignity,  ho  ended  by  saying, — 
"  General,  that  is  all  that  I  ever  asked;  and  now,  with  the  greatest  confidence, 
I  commit  these  noble  young  men  to  your  care,  whose  parents  have  committed 
them  to  me."  They  parted  with  mutual  civilities.  Years  afterwards  I  called 
upon  General  Jackson,  when  he  was  President  of  the  United  States.  I  came 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Hermitage.  The  first  person  after  whom  he 
inquired  was  *'my  much  respected  friend.  Dr.  Blackburn."  It  so  happened 
that  I  had  a  letter  from  the  Doctor,  and  I  immediately  handed  it  to  him.  He 
apologized  to  me,  saying — ''£xcuse  me  a  moment  while  I  run  over  this  letter."  He 
broke  the  seal  eagerly,  and  as  he  read,  his  countenance  betrayed  deep  and  serioos 
emotion.  The  substance  of  the  letter,  as  I  learned  afterwards,  was  to  urge  upon 
him  the  fulfilment  of  a  promise  to  confess  Christ  before  the  world.  After  the 
letter  was  read,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  Doctor,  and  the  President 
spoke  of  him  with  the  greatest  respect,  and  paid  an  eloquent  tribute  to  his  piety, 
usefulness,  and  eloquence.  If  this  anecdote  shows  the  Doctor's  self-control 
under  contradiction,  and  the  highest  pitch  of  excitement,  it  also  illustrates  the 
pride  of  his  manner  under  provocation,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that,  on  such 
occasions,  there  was  rather  more  of  the  haughty  bearing  and  defiant  manner  of 
the  Norman  Knight  than  was  pleasant  to  behold  in  a  Christian  minister,  and 
especially  in  one  who  was  ordinarily  so  kind  and  gentle.  And  if  General  Jack- 
son could  respect  and  even  love  him  after  that  famous  passage  at  arms,  it  was 
rare  that  the  like  happened  with  others.  His  blows  were  too  heavy,  and  his 
manner  of  dealing  them  too  haughty,  for  that.    It  was  one  of  his  infirmities. 

*I  have  already  said  that  in  his  gait  and  bearing  the  Doctor's  manner  was  mili- 
tary. All  his  manners  partook  somewhat  of  this  style.  The  truth  is,  he  had, 
in  early  life  at  least,  a  strong  penchant  for  the  profession  of  arms,  and  even  after 
he  was  a  preacher,  he  led  or  accompanied  several  expeditions  against  the  Indians 
in  East  Tennessee;  and  in  one  of  these  he  is  said  to  have  distinguished  himself 
as  a  skilful  commander,  and  an  intrepid  soldier.  That  this  statement,  if  intended 
as'eulogy  by  me,  would  sound  somewhat  strangely  at  the  present  day,  I  admit; 
but  it  is  not  so  intended; — ^for,  sure  I  am  that  I  am  no  advocate  of  war,  and, 
especially  under  the  cassock,  no  eulogist  of  heroes;  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  the 
Doctor's  known  love  of  adventure,  and  his  undoubted  reputation  for  courage, 
and  his  high  military  bearing  in  his  manners,  contributed  largely  to  his  influence 
over  the  hardy  and  adventurous  pioneers  of  the  West  and  Southwest,  when  he 
appeared  before  them  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel;  for  such  qualities  among  such 
a  people,  especially  when  associated  in  their  oiinds  with  high  tnoral  worth,  always 
command  their  admiration  and  respect. 

^  In  the  family,  and  in  social  life,  the  Doctor  was,  according  to  the  direction 
of  Paul,  **  blameless,  sober,  of  good  behaviour,  given  to  hospitality,  one  that 
ruled  well  his  own  house,  having  his  children  in  subjection  with  all  grayity." 
The  memory  of  the  two  years  in  which  I  was  a  member  of  his  family  as  a  theo- 
logical student  is  the  most  pleasant  of  my  life.  Order,  uniformity,  characterized 
.the  management  of  his  household  affairs.  Family  worship,  twice  every  day, 
morning  and  evening — in  the  morning  just  before  breakfast,  in  the  evening  imme- 
diately after  tea.  He  had  prayers  in  the  evening  at  this  early  hour,  before  the 
children  or  servants  became  sleepy,  because,  as  he  said,  he  did  not  like  "  to  bring 
the  lame  for  sacrifice  to  the  altar."  A  chapter  was  read,  a  hymn  sung, 
and  then  prajer  either  by  himself,  or  one  of  his  theological  students.    The  whole 


GIDEOK  BLACKBUKN.  5X 

■eryice  was  conducted  vith  the  utmost  deliberation,  gravity,  and  solemnity. 
Often  in  family  prayer,  the  Doctor  was  quite  as  fenrent  as  he  was  in  t\ie  pulpit. 
The  Sabbath  was  ''an  high  day"  in  his  family.  Besides  the  usual  devotional 
exercises  of  the  week,  the  children  were  all  required  to  read  the  Scriptures,  and 
study  some  portion  of  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  with  the  aid  of  Fisher's  or  Wil- 
liston's  Expositions.  In  the  afternoon  we  were  all  assembled  in  the  parlouc, 
And  from  one  to  two  hours  he  examined  us  on  what  we  had  read  in  the  morning, 
accompanying  this  exercise  with  familiar  expositions,  illustrations,  and  exhorta- 
tions to  Christian  duty.  This  service  was  always  conducted  in  the  most  plea^ 
sant  and  familiar  manner,  interspersed  with  touching  and  instructive  anecdote. 
The  result  of  such  discipline  in  his  family  was  most  gratifying.  Order,  quietness, 
peace,  constantly  prevailed  in  the  house;  and  his  wife,  children,  and  domestics, 
looked  up  to  him  with  reverence  and  affection.  Never  have  I  seen  a  husband, 
&ther,  master,  so  beloved  as  he  was.  *'  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  that  he 
should  go,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it."  Dr.  Blackburn  per- 
formed the  duty  here  enjoined,  and  the  promise  was  fulfilled.  All  his  child- 
ren who  reached  maturity  became  pious  at  an  early  period  in  life,  and  united 
with  the  church.  Two  of  his  sons  became  preachers  of  the  Gospel,  and  another 
died  just  as  he  was  about  to  enter  on  the  duties  of  the  sacred  ofEice. 

In  regard  to  the  temporal  and  spiritual  welfare  of  his  domestics,  he  always 
manifested  a  deep  concern.  One  of  them  who  had  served  him  very  faithfully 
for  several  years,  he  emancipated,  when  he  was  about  thirty-five  years  of  age, 
giving  him  a  handsome  outfit  towards  housekeeping.  The  others,  some  seven 
or  eight  in  number,  he  emancipated  one  after  another,  until  all  were  freed  with 
two  exceptions.  These  were  very  wicked,  and  were  judged  by  him  unfit  or 
unworthy  to  enjoy  their  freedom,  and  being  an  annoyance  in  his  family  he  sold 
them.  The  sale  of  these  slaves,  it  is  believed,  he  ever  regretted,  notwithstand- 
ing their  viciousness  and  un worthiness;  for  he  was  always  opposed  to  sla- 
very, and  ever  gave  his  countenance  and  example,  with  these  two  exceptions,  to 
the  cause  of  emancipation.  Those  whom  he  liberated  from  bondage,  with  the 
exception  of  the  first,  were  all  sent  to  Liberia  in  Africa — the  only  place,  as  he 
judged,  where  the  coloured  man  can  enjoy  true  and  substantial  freedom. 

4.  Dr.  Blackburn  was  engaged  as  a  teacher  for  many  years — first,  as  Princi- 
pal of  Harpeth  Academy  in  Williamson  County,  Tenn.;  afterwards  of  the  Inde- 
pendent Academy  in  the  same  county;  and  still  later  as  President  of  Centre 
College  in  Kentucky.  A  finished  scholar  he  was  not.  Latin  he  read  with  facil- 
ity; Greek  indifferently;  of  Hebrew  he  knew  nothing  or  next  to  nothing.  His 
knowledge  of  the  physical  sdenoes  was  general  rather  than  minute.  Of  Mathe- 
matics, beyond  the  simplest  elements  of  Algebra  and  Geometry,  it  is  believed 
that  he  knew  nothing.  History,  Geography,  Chronology,  Logic,  Rhetoric,  Men- 
tal and  Moral  Science,  he  had  studied  with  great  care,  and  his  instruction  in 
these  branches  was  admirable,  especially  in  Logic,  Rhetoric,  Mental  and  Moral 
Philosophy — in  these  he  excelled,  and  his  Lectures  on  Rhetoric  and  his  illustra- 
tions in  the  art  of  speaking,  his  pupils  will  never  forget.  One  day,  I  remember, 
after  having  commented  on  the  usual  rules  laid  down  in  the  text-books  for  the 
composition  of  a  discourse,  the  management  of  the  v<noe,  gestures,  Ac.,  he  sud* 
denly  stopped  and  said,  —  *' There  is  one  rule  not  laid  down  in  the  books, 
more  important  than  all  these — ^it  is  to  get  your  head,  heart,  soul,  full  of  your 
subject,  and  then  let  nature  have  its  own  way,  despising  all  rule."  This  canon 
he  himself  observed,  and  to  its  observance,  I  have  no  doubt,  he  owed  much  of 
his  celebrity  as  a  public  speaker. 

As  a  disciplinarian  and  gOTomor  of  youth,  he  was  eminently  sucoessful.  He 
goremed  by  authority,  by  eondesoension,  by  Ioto,  by  a  thousand  little  acts  of 
attention  and  kindnes8,--chiefly,  however,  by  the  power  of  perraasion  and  reli- 
gious motives.    In  the  exerdse  of  discipline,  he  usually  won  the  affections  of  the 


52  PRESBYTERIAN. 

truant,  and  I  do  not  rcmembor  a  singlo  instance  in  which  he  alienated  them.  A 
striking  illustration  of  his  manner  and  its  success  in  this  department  I  will 
relate.  Two  of  his  students,  S.  and  C,  had  a  personal  difficulty — a  quarrel 
ensued,  which  ended  in  a  fight.  6.  was  much  the  older  and  stouter  of  the  two, 
and  he  beat  G.  most  unmercifully.  C,  although  only  in  his  sixteenth  year,  chal- 
lenged S.  to  fight  a  duel.  S.  knew  not  what  to  do.  To  accept  or  send  a  chal- 
lenge, according  to  the  law  of  the  institution,  was  expulsion,  if  the  student  was 
o^er  sixteen, — if  under,  chastisement  with  the  rod.  In  his  perplexity,  S.  called 
a  Board  of  Honour.  Fortunately,  the  Board  of  Honour  came  to  the  decision 
that  he  ought  not  to  accept  G.'s  challenge,  but  hand  it  over  to  the  Principal.  8. 
did  so.  Assembled  for  worship  in  the  chapel  at  the  close  of  the  day,  the  Doc- 
tor took  the  challenge  from  his  pocket,  read  it  aloud  in  the  hearing  of  all,  and 
asked  G.  if  he  was  the  author  of  it.  G.  admitted  that  he  was.  The  Doctor  took 
occasion  to  speak  at  length  on  the  subject  of  duelling,  and  perhaps  never  did 
this  fashionable  crime  receive  a  more  searching  examination,  or  its  folly  and 
wickedness  a  more  severe  exposure.  Before  he  was  through,  its  false  lustre 
was  all  gone,  and  it  stood  before  us  condemned  in  the  eye  of  reason  as  folly,  in 
the  eye  of  God  as  murder  and  murder  only. 

Having  finished  his  address,  he  turned  to  S.,  and,  in  a  manner  severe  hut  kind, 
addressed  him  upon  the  subject  of  his  conduct  towards  G.,  which  had  provoked 
the  challenge,  and  received  from  him  an  ample  apology  and  confession  for  his 
ill  treatment  of  his  unfortunate  fellow-student.  Then  calling  G.  forward, 
with  a  few  kind  and  sorrowful  words,  he  reminded  him  of  the  punishment  which 
it  was  his  duty  to  inflict  upon  him.  He  held  the  rod  in  his  hand,  hut  said, 
'*  before  I  proceed,  let  us  pray  for  God's  blessing."  He  then  led  in  a  most  fer- 
vent prayer,  the  burden  of  which  was  that  God  would  deliver  us  all  from  the 
temptations  of  evil  customs,  and  for  the  two  culprits, — that  he  would  grant 
them  repentance  and  forgiveness,  aUd  restore  them  to  each  others'  friendship, 
and  cause  them  to  live  together  as  brothers.  So  far  all  had  been  solemn; 
but,  during  the  prayer,  G.  very  quietly  and  gradually  fell  back  towards  the 
door,  and  when  the  Doctor  looked  for  him,  he  had  disappeared.  An  ill-sup- 
pressed titter  went  round  the  room  at  the  slip  that  had  heen  played  upon 
the  Doctor.  It  lasted  but  for  a  moment.  He  sternly  commanded  order  and 
silence;  and,  waiting  a  moment,  said  calmly — "  Mr.  G.  is  suspended  until  he 
acknowledges  his  fault,  and  submits  to  his  punishment."  G.  and  S.  met  and 
made  friends.  Two  weeks  passed  away.  G.  still  lingered  in  the  neighbourhood, 
often  sending  messages  to  the  Doctor  through  his  friends  and  fellow-students, 
asking  a  release  from  his  punishment  and  restoration  to  his  standing.  He  always 
answered  these  messages  kindly,  usually  accompanying  bis  answer  with  some 
expression  of  pity  or  affection  for  G.,  dropping,  carelessly,  as  it  were,  some  word 
about  his  talents,  promise,  &c.;  but  still  would  end  by  sending  him  word  that 
he  must  submit  to  his  whole  sentence,  or  he  could  not  be  restored.  G.  finding 
no  sympathy  from  home,  and  but  little  countenance  in  his  course  by  his  friends 
or  fellow-students,  at  length  made  his  appearance  in  the  chapel,  in  his  best  trim, 
and  consented,  in  a  very  humble  and  sulmiissive  tone,  to  receive  his  sentence,  but 
asked  its  remission^<<  That  will  do!  that  will  do!  that  will  do!  John,"  said 
the  Doctor,  evidMitly  moved  by  the  boy's  manner — "  You  are  forgiven — ^you  are 
restored— -you  shall  not  be  chastised — you  will  be  a  better  boy  than  you  ever 
were— you  will  make  a  wiser  man  than  if  this  had  never  happened.  Take  your 
place."  0.  burst  into  tears.  Prayer  followed  and  we  were  dismissed.  G. 
exclaimed,  as  he  left  the  chapel  door, — "  That  is  the  greatest  and  best  man  that 
Ood  ever  made  !"  The  language  was  extravagant,  but  I  doubt  whether  there 
was  a  single  one  among  all  the  eighty  students  there,  that  did  not  echo  the  sonti- 
s&ent  f^em  the  very  depths  of  his  heart.     I  hardly  need  add  that  John  G. 


GIDEON  BLACKBURN.  53 

one  of  the  best  and  moet  orderly  stadents  in  the  institution  ever  after- 
vsrds. 

5.  As  a  Preacher  and  Pulpit  Orator,  Dr.  Blackburn  is  most  generally  remem- 
bered. He  seldom  wrote  his  sermons.  He  never  read  them  from  the  pulpit,  even 
if  he  had  written  them.  The  matter  of  his  discourses,  however,  he  thoroughly 
digested,  and  even  premeditated  much  of  the  language,  it  is  believed,  in  his  best 
sermons,  after  the  fashion  of  Robert  Hall.  In  his  ^studies  and  preparation  for 
the  pulpit,  his  plan  was  to  fold  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  lay  it  on  his  writing  desk, 
and  then  commence  walking  backwards  and  forwards  across  the  room,  every  now 
and  then  stopping  to  note  down  a  head,  or  leading  subdivision,  of  his  thoughts, 
leaving  considerable  space  under  each  note.  Having  thus  arranged  the  plan  of 
his  discourse,  which  he  called  *'  blazing  his  path,"  borrowing  a  figure  ttom  back- 
woods' life,  he  then  proceeded  to  take  up  each  head  separately,  until  he  had 
thought  his  whole  discourse  through  and  through,  stopping  occasionally,  as 
before,  to  dot  down  a  word  or  thought,  sometimes  a  sentence  or  an  illustration, 
mder  each  division,  until  he  had  finished.  Then  taking  up  the  paper,  he  would 
usually  con  it  all  over  again  and  again,  now  blotting  out,  now  adding,  something. 
Thus  be  continued  until  every  part  of  the  discourse  was  satisfactorily  arranged 
in  his  mind.  The  notes  thus  prepared,  he  usually  took  with  him  into  the  pulpit, 
but  he  rarely  had  occasion  even  to  glance  at  them.  He  used  to  remark, — **  I  try 
to  get  the  thoughts  fully  into  my  mind,  and  leave  the  language  generally  to  the 
occasion." 

Necessity  at  first  led  him  to  this  method  of  preparation  for  the  pulpit  which  I 
have  described.  When  he  entered  the  ministry,  he  was  poor,  and  his  congrega- 
tion were  poor,  and  he  was  obliged  to  cultivate  the  soil  for  a  living  in  part.  Com- 
pelled to  labour,  he  was  accustomed  to  take  a  sheet  of  paper  and  his  inkhorn 
with  him  to  the  field,  and  laying  them  on  a  stump  or  some  other  convenient 
place,  he  would  follow  his  plough  or  his  work, — at  the  same  time  meditating 
upon  his  subject,  and  when  he  had  arranged  any  part  of  it,  or  wished  to  retain 
some  thought,  he  would  stop  a  moment,  note  it  down,  and  then  go  on  with  his 
work.  Thus  he  would  proceed  from  day  to  day,  until  Saturday  evening,  when 
be  would  review,  arrange,  and  fix  in  his  mind,  the  mental  labours  of  the  week. 
His  other  evenings  he  devoted  to  reading,  often  until  a  late  hour  of  the  night. 
His  favoarite  authors  at  this  time,  as  I  have  heard  him  say,  were  John  Newton, 
Uervey,  and  Doddridge.  Hopkins,  Bellamy,  Strong,  Emmons,  and  Edwards, 
were  his  favourites  when  I  knew  him.  His  three  oldest  sons  were  named  New- 
ton, Hervcy,  and  Emmons.  Thus,  by  constant  reading,  he  cultivated  his 
mind,  and  enlarged  the  sphere  of  his  theological  science,  and  by  thinking  on  foot, 
and  in  motion,  he  acquired  the  habit  of  doing  so,  and  from  habit,  he  continued  it 
ever  afterwards,  as  for  him  the  most  effective  manner  and  posture  of  study. 

The  style  of  his  sermons  resembled  that  of  President  Davies  in  many  respects. 
Like  him  he  was  generally  didactic  and  analogical  in  the  beginning — ^but  highly 
descriptive,  and  abounding  in  appeals  to  the  imagination,  the  conscience,  and  the 
hearts  of  his  hearers  towards  the  close.  His  sermons,  like  those  of  Davies  also, 
were  usually  very  long, — occupying  frequently  from  an  hour  and  a  half  to  two 
hours  in  their  delivery.  In  one  particular,  however,  I  imagine  he  must  have 
excelled  Davies — I  am  sure  he  far  excelled  all  the  preachers  I  ever  heard — I  mean 
in  the  power  of  painting  scriptural  scenes  before  the  eye  of  the  mind,  so  as  to 
make  them  appear  as  realities  for  the  time  being.  If  he  spoke  of  the  children 
of  Israel  hemmed  in  at  the  Red  Sea,  or  crossing  it,  or  chanting  their  triumph 
on  its  shores;  or  Mount  Sinai  with  its  brown  barren  rocks;  or  the  serpent  lifted 
op  in  the  wilderness;  or  the  terror-stricken  camp;  the  fall  of  Jericho;  Christ  in 
the  garden  or  on  the  cross,  you  saw  it  all  before  you.  He  seemed  to  see  it  him- 
self, and  his  eye,  his  countenance,  the  tones  of  his  voice,  the  motions  of  his 
body,  every  gesture,  and  word  seemed  to  express  the  vividness  of  his  mental 


54  PRESBTTEBIAK. 

▼ision;  and  the  effect  was  often  thrilling,  electrical.  An  illustration  may  be 
given — ^preaching  one  day,  (it  was  a  Communion  Sabbath,)  on  the  crucifixion  of 
Ohrist,  he  proceeded  in  his  usual  way  to  describe  the  whole  scene  somewhat  in 
the  following  manner  :— 

"  Being  condemned,  the  Saviour  was  led  away  to  a  place  called  Calvary  to  be 
crucified.  See  Him  bearing  his  own  cross — ^multitudes  follow  Him — they  have 
arrived  at  Calvary — there  is  a  pause — ^three  crosses  may  be  seen  there— one  of 
these  is  for  Christ.  The  executioners  approach  Him  with  ropes,  nails,  and  ham- 
mer, in  hand-trough  but  sad  looking  men  they  are — they  hesitate— He  opens  not 
his  mouth — ^meek  as  a  lamb.  He  makes  no  resistance — ^there  is  deep  silence — 
every  eye  is  on  that  spot — they  fasten  Him  to  the  cross,  drawing  the  cords  tightly 
about  his  body — ^they  drive  a  large  spike  through  his  feet — a  nail  through  each 
hand  " — (here,  as  he  pronounced  these  words,  he  struck  the  pulpit  with  his  fist 
aa  if  actually  driving  the  nails,  his  countenance  betraying,  meanwhile,  all  the 
emotions  of  agonizing  sympathy,)  ''  having  fastened  Him  to  the  cross,"  he  pro- 
ooeded, — "they  raise  it,  and  its  foot  drops  heavily  into  the  deep  socket  prepared 
to  receive  it — the  shock  makes  the  whole  body  of  the  Saviour  quiver  with  pain." 
Just  as  he  was  pronouncing  this  last  sentence,  the  profound  silence,  hitherto  only 
interrupted  by  sobs  here  and  there,  was  broken  by  wild  shrieks  of  agony,  from 
various  parts  of  the  large  church,  many  seeming  to  feel  as  if  they  were  mingling 
with  the  multitudes  around  the  hill  of  death,  and  actually  looking  on  the  terrible 
scene.  Here  was  a  perilous  position  for  the  orator — ^his  audience  wound  up  to 
the  highest  pitch — how  will  he  sustain  them?  how  let  them  down.^  To  him  it 
was  easy  enough.  "Oh!"  said  he,  "you  shriek  with  agony,  looking  on  the 
scene— well  you  may.  It  was  a  spectacle  of  woe,  such  as  God,  angels,  devils 
nor  men  never  saw  before — ^never  will  see  again.  The  sun  refused  to  look  upon 
it — the  earth  trembled — the  centurion  cried  out, — *  Truly  this  was  the  Son  of 
Qod! '  That  cross  was  the  centre  of  a  universal  sympathy — around  that  awful 
hill  of  death  every  passion  and  feeling.  Divine,  human,  devilish,  mingled  in  a 
fearful  conflict  for  three  dreadful  hours.  Look  on!  Look  on!  Gaze  with  the 
awe-stricken  crowd !  Weep  with  the  daughters  of  Salem !  Linger  until  you 
hear  that  loud  lament — until  you  hear  him  say  'It  is  finished!'  and  see  Him 
bow  his  meek,  pale  face,  all  bloody,  and  bearing  upon  it  the  mysterious  shadow 
of  death — but  it  will  do  you  little  good  to  see  Christ  crucified  before  you,  as  you 
do  this  day,  unless  Christ  crucified  becomes  your  hope  and  your  salvation."  The 
sermon  then  ended  with  a  brief  exposition  of  the  objects  of  Christ's  death,  and 
a  pathetic  exhortation  to  sinners  to  accept  of  salvation  through  Him,  and  to 
Christians  to  come  forward  and  commemorate  his  death. 

I  have  given  you  this  specimen  of  his  preaching  to  illustrate  as  well  al  I  could 
that  particular  point  in  which,  as  a  preacher,  he  most  excelled.  I  doubt  whether 
Whitefield  himself,  in  this  particular,  surpassed  him.  One  specimen  I  have 
given — I  could  give  many  more.  A  gentleman  told  me  that  he  heard  him  preach- 
ing one  day  from  John  iii.  14  — "  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the  wilder- 
ness," &c.;  and  that,  after  he  had  spoken  of  one  and  another  being  stung  by  the 
serpents,  and  of  the  trror  of  the  camp,  and  when  every  one  was  in  a  state  of 
intense  excitement,  occasioned  by  the  picture  which  he  had  drawn,  and  which 
they  seemed  to  see,  suddenly  starting  back,  "  There,"  said  he,  pointing  in  a 
given  direction,  **  see  that  woman!  one  of  the  serpents  has  just  struck  her,  and 
she  is  fainting."  In  a  moment  every  eye  was  actually  turned  in  the  direction 
toward  which  he  pointed.  On  another  occasion,  the  late  Rev.  Mr.  C,  formerly 
of  Bowling  Green,  Ky.,  told  me  that  he  heard  him  speak  one  evening  of  the  tor- 
ments of  the  lost,  for  half  an  hour,  and  so  entirely  was  his  imagination  occupied 
with  the  Doctor's  pictures  of  the  place  of  torment,  that  he  could  only  remember 
.the  words  of  a  single  sentence^in  the  whole  address.  **  It  did  not  appear  to  me," 
laid  he,  "  that  I  had  been  hearing  but  that  I  had  been  seeing."    It  was  in  this 


GIDEON  BLACKBUBN. 


65 


power  of  painting  chiefly  that  he  excelled  even  the  most  eminent  of  his  cotem-i- 
poraries  as  a  preacher.  In  other  respectSi  many  of  them  were  on  an  equaHtr 
with  him.  In  argument  and  logic  he  was  surpassed  by  Dr.  Anderson*  of  Mary- 
Tiile,  Tenn.;  in  pathos  by  Dr.  Nelson,  the  author  of  ''the  Cause  and  Cure  of 
Infidelity;"  and  in  fire  and  occasional  flights  of  terrible  grandeur,  by  his  theo- 
logical preceptori  Dr.  Henderson,  of  Murfreesborough;  but  in  person,  voice,  ges- 
ture, and  in  the  peculiar  power  of  which  I  hayo  spoken,  he  had  no  compeer  in 
his  day.  The  truth  is,  such  was  his  commanding  presence,  the  elegance  of  his 
figure,  the  sweetness  of  his  silvery  voice,  the  gracefulness  of  his  gestures,  his 
powers  of  description,  the  total  abandon  and  unction  of  his  manner,  in  his  finest 
moods,  that  his  hearers  forgot  every  thing  else — forgot  to  criticise  as  they 
listened,  and  surrendered  themselves  to  the  mastery, — I  might  say  witchery, 
of  his  sermons,  as  the  lovers  of  music  delight  to  surrender  themselves  to  the  spell 

of  a  master.     Mr.  M.  of  C ville,  himself  no  mean  orator,  told  me  that  he  came 

to  Columbia  one  day  on  business;  and  though  he  was  in  haste,  yet,  hearing  that 
Blackburn  was  preaching  at  the  Court-House,  he  thought  he  would  step  in  a 
moment  and  hear  him.  The  house  was  crowded.  He  took  his  position  in  the 
door,  leaning  against  the  door-check — ^there,  as  if  enchanted,  he  stood  an  hour 
and  more  without  altering  his  position,  and  when  he  attempted  to  move,  he  was 
80  cramped  that  he  could  scarcely  walk.  Time,  his  errand,. his  fatiguing  pos- 
ture, had  all  been  forgotten  in  the  spell  the  orator  had  thrown  over  him. 

Mr.  B.  of  Rutherford,  Tenn.,  used  to  tell  a  good  anecdote  of  an  attempt  which 
he  made  to  criticise'  Blackburn  the  first  time  that  he  heard  him.  Mr.  B.  was  a 
fine  classical  scholar,  a  finished  orthoepist  and  grammarian,  and  withal  of  a 
very  fastidious  taste, — being  as  sensitive  to  a  false  quantity,  or  a  blunder  in 
grammar,  as  the  most  delicate  spirit  thermometer  to  the  temperature  of  the 
atmosphere.  Mr.  B.  was  returned  to  the  Legislature.  It  met  at  Knoxville,  and 
Blackburn  was  to  preach  a  sermon  to  the  members  at  the  opening  of  its  sessions. 
B.  had  never  heard  him,  but  had  formed  his  idea  of  him  from  scattering 
reports.  He  had  heard  it  said  that  he  pronounced  many  words  contrary 
to  all  analogy,  polite  usage,  or  authority; — that,  for  instance,  he  said  poohe 
for  pulse,  impoolsB  for  impulse — ^some  times  decreptitude  for  decrepitude — 
that  occasionally  he  used  the  participle  for  the  preterit  tense  in  the  irregular 
verbs, — saying  for  instance,  **he  done**  for  "he  did,"  besides  many  other 
like  blunders  of  grammar  and  pronunciation;  and,  in  addition  to  all  this,  that, 
at  times,  he  was  very  extravagant  in  the  pitch  of  his  voice,  and  in  the  number  of 
his  gestures.  Still  he  wa^  very  popular.  B's  theory  was  that  he  owed  his 
popularity  to  his  person,  his  musical  voice, — and  yet  more,  to  the  want  of  jadg- 
roent  and  taste  in  the  ignorant  and  uncultivated  masses  that  flocked  to  hear  him. 
Still  there  was  a  great  stir— expectation  was  on  tiptoe — and  every  body  was 

Isaac  Avdersoit  was  bom  in  Rockbridge  County,  Ta.,  on  the  26th  of  Marob,  1780.  He  was 
of  Scotch  Irish  descent,  his  ancestors  having  migrated  to  this  eonntiy  from  Ireland  at  as  early 
period.  At  the  age  of  twenty,  he  united  with  the  Presbyterian  Chnrch,  near  Lexington,  then 
under  the  care  of  the  Rcr.  Samuel  Brown.  Having  prepared  himself  for  the  ministry,  he  was 
licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel,  by  Union  Presbytery^  m  May,  1802;  and  in  the  autumn  follow- 
ing>  ^Afl  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  Washington  Church,  Knox  County,  Tenn.  Here  ho 
laboured  for  about  nine  years,  during  which  time  he  also  performed  much  missionary  service, 
whic^  was  attended  with  signal  success.  In  the  spring  of  1811,  he  was  called  to  the  New  Pro- 
vidence Church,  Maryville,  then  vacant  by  the  resignation  of  the  Kev.  Gideon  Blackburn. 
This  call  he  accepted,  and  removed  thither  with  his  family  the  next  autumn,  whore  he  per- 
formed the  principal  part  of  the  labours  of  his  life.  The  Southwest  Theological  Semisaiy  at 
MaryviJie  was  establiwed  chiefly  through  his  instrumentality,  and  for  many  years  enjoyed  the 
benefit  of  his  labours  as  a  teacher.  In  the  division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  1838,  his 
judpnent  and  influence  were  strongly  on  the  side  of  the  New  School.  The  last  five  or  six  yean 
of  hts  life  were  marked  by  gradual  decay  of  both  body  and  mind.  On  the  17th  of  Marob,  1850, 
his  dwelling,  with  all  it  contained,  except  himself  and  family,  was  burnt  to  ashes.    He  was 

Jinite  overwhelmed  by  the  shock,  and  it  may  have  hastened  his  departure  from  the  world.  A 
ew  months  before  his  death,  he  removed  with  his  son-in-law,  Rev.  John  M.  Caldwell,  to  Rook- 
foid,  Tenn.,  where  he  died  on  the  28th  of  January,  1857.  He  was  a  man  of  oommandiog  pow- 
•iBy  of  glowing  seal,  and  nntirisg  and  snccessltil  industry. 


55  PRESBYTERIAN. 

going  to  hear.  Mr.  B.  would  go  too, — would  hear  for  himself, — hear  without  preju- 
dice, but  would  hear  as  a  critic,  and  ascertain  where  his  great  strength  as  a  speaker 
with  the  people  lay.  Pencil  and  note-book  in  hand,  he  would  set  down  his  blun- 
ders, and  make  memoranda  of  the  discourse.  Taking  his  seat  in  an  obscure  corner, 
he  prepared  for  his  task,  expecting  to  make  a  rare  collection  of  gross  mistake^  for 
his  own  amusement,  and  for  the  confusion  of  the  Doctor's  foolish  and  extravagant 
admirers.  The  Doctor  commenced  in  his  usual  dignified,  but  entirely  unassum- 
ing and  unpretending,  manner,  hesitating  occasionally,  now  as  if  waiting  for  a 
thought  to  become  clear  to  his  own  mind,  now  as  if  for  a  fit  expression  in  which 
to  embody  it — presently  as  an  illustration,  he  drops  into  the  classical  story  so 
admirably  told  by  Xenophon  concerning  the  generosity  of  Cyrus  towards  a  cap- 
tive prince;  the  admiration  and  gratitude  of  the  prince  towards  the  Medo- 
Persian  General;  and  the  devotion  of  the  princess  to  her  husband,  who  had 
offered  his  life  to  rescue  her  from  captivity  and  slavery.  Having  cleared  his  way 
by  this  illustration,  he  quickly  gets  into  the  heart  of  his  subject — ^his  countenance 
is  lit  up — words  follow  not  in  sentences,  but  in  chains — whole  paragraphs  with- 
out a  pause.  On,,  on,  he  dashes,  now  like  a  courser  towards  the  goal, — now 
beautifully  like  a  ship  with  all  its  sails  set  to  the  breeze,  careering  over  the  curling 
waves  ;  now  like  an  eagle  soaring  away  towards  the  sun  over  lofty  mountains; 
now  presenting  picture  after  picture  as  in  some  magnificent  dioraniic  exhibition. 
The  spell  had  come  down  upon  our  critical  friend,  as  over  all  others — that  fine 
allusion  to  Xenophon  had  something  to  do  in  disarming  him  perhaps — at  all 
events,  when  it  is  over,  he  finds  he  has  only  one  criticism  on  his  paper  which  he 
remembers  to  have  made  somewhere  about  the  beginning  of  the  discourse,  and 
that  is  '*  brung  for  brought."  '*  Why,"  said  Mr.  B.,  in  telling  me  this  anecdote 
himself,  **  I  could  not  criticise  him:  not  that  he  was  not  vulnerable  enough,  but 
a  man  must  be  a  cold-hearted,  mean,  contemptible  creature,  even  in  his  own  e^^es, 
to  criticise  such  a  man  and  such  preaching.  He  that  would  or  could  do  it, 
would  criticise  any  thing — the  falls  of  Niagara — the  bend  of  the  rainbow — the 
manner  of  the  sun's  rising  in  the  morning,  or  his  glorious  setting  in  the  West — 
or— even  Homer* s  Iliad."  My  classical  friend  told  me  that  he  never  failed  to 
hear  the  Doctor  after  that  when  he  could,  but  that  be  never  carried  his  inkhorn 
or  pencil  to  church  afterwards. 

Blackburn  was  not  only  an  eloquent,  but  laborious  and  successful,  preacher. 
Like  Whiteficld,  he  loved  ''to  range,"  and  besides  many  extensive  tours  of 
preaching  through  various  portions  of  the  United  States,  his  vacations  in  the 
Academy  and  College  were  uniformly  spent  in  travelling  from  place  to  place, 
often  preaching  night  and  day,  and  uniformly  followed  by  weeping,  wondering, 
admiring  audiences  wherever  he  went;"  and  even  during  the  sessions  of  the 
Academy  and  College,  oflen  have  I  known  him,  mounted  on  horseback  on 
Friday  afternoon,  to  dash  oft'  ten,  twenty,  and  even  thirty,  miles;  preach  four 
or  five  times,  administer  the  Communion  on  Sabbath;  and  return  on  Monday 
morning  in  time  to  be  in  his  chair  in  the  lecture  room  at  nine  o'clock.  And 
notwithstanding  such  labour,  he  never  seemed  fatigued,  but  fresh  and  vigorous 
as  ever; — for  he  had  an  iron  constitution,  indomitable  energy,  and  an  inexhaust- 
ible flow  of  animal  spirits.  Laborious  and  zealous,  he  was  a  successful  preacher. 
Many,  very  many  were  converted  under  his  ministry,  and  many  churches  planted 
and  watered  by  his  indefatigable  labours. 

6.  As  a  Christian,  Dr.  B.'s  piety  waa  of  the  active  rather  than  the  contempla- 
tive type.  In  religious  experience,  in  the  peculiar  joys  and  sorrows  of  a  Chris- 
tian, he  fully  believed,  and  often  spoke  of  them  as  one  who  knew  whereof  ho 
spoke;  but  he  put  more  confidence  in  obedience  to  the  commandments  as  a  test 
of  Christian  character  than  in  **  frames  and  feelings."  In  the  reality  of  God's 
providential  government,  as  well  as  moral,  he  was  a  firm  believer,  and  to  it  he 
was  ever  ready  to  resign  himself  without  a  murmur.     Indeed,  this  cheerful  and 


GIDEON  BLAOKBURK.  57 

habitaal  resignation,  as  well  as  his  reference  of  every  thing  to  the  will  of  Provi- 
dence, was  one  of  the  marked  traits  of  his  Christian  character.  Perhaps  the 
many  sufferings,  as  well  as  perils,  through  which  he  was  called  to  pass,  gave  this 
cast  and  colour  to  his  piety.  For  like  Joh,  he  might  have  said,  **  I  am  the  man 
who  hath  seen  affliction."  In  his  family,  he  suffered  repeated  bereavements, — 
one  of  which  deserves  to  be  particularly  noticed, — as  the  manner  in  which  he  bore 
it,  will  serve  to  throw  light  upon  his  character  as  a  Christian. 

Ilis  second  son,  Janus  IJerveyy  was  a  young  man  of  remarkable  promise.  He 
was  distinguished  for  his  fine  genius,  varied  and  extensive  acquirements,  and 
elegant  and  fascinating  manners,  lie  possessed  many  of  the  most  striking 
characteristics  of  his  father:  indeed  it  was  Dr.  Anderson's  opinion  that  of  the 
two,  nature  had  cast  the  son  in  the  finer  mould.  This  son  had  been  a  sceptic 
until  he  was  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  of  age;  but,  through  his  father's  influence 
and  prayers,  had  become  a  Christian, — a  zealous,  earnest  Christian,  and  had 
determined  to  prepare  for  the  Christian  ministry.  Having  concluded  his  classical 
and  scientific  studies,  he  wished  to  obtain  a  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew.  His 
father  sent  him  to  Maryville  in  £ast  Tennessee  to  study  the  language  with  his 
old  friend.  Dr.  Anderson.  He  had  been  there  about  six  months,  endearing  him- 
self to  every  body,  when  he  was  attacked  with  erysipelas,  and  in  a  few  days 
died.  The  sad  intelligence  of  his  death.  Dr.  A.  communicated  to  his  father  by 
letter,  with  a  request  on  the  back  of  the  letter  that  the  Post  Master  would  hand 
it  to  him  immediately.  The  letter  arrived  on  Sunday  morning.  The  Post  Mas- 
ter went  to  church,  and  when  the  Doctor  arrived,  handed  it  to  him.  He  stepped 
aside,  and  read  it,  folded  it  up,  put  it  into  his  pocket,  went  into  the  pulpit^ 
preached  as  usual,  did  not  make  the  remotest  allusion  to  his  bereavement,  and  not 
until  he  went  home,  and  attempted  to  communicate  the  intelligence  to  his  family, 
did  the  ''great  deep"  of  his  grief  break  up.  Then  came,  as  I  have  heard  him 
say,  the  most  dreadful  conflict  of  his  life.  For  God,  as  he  said,  had  laid  the  pride, 
the  idol,  the  honour,  and  glory,  of  his  house  in  the  dust.  *'  I  did  not  know  how 
to  reconcile  it  either  with  his  wisdom  or  goodness,  nor  do  I  yet  know;  but  I 
believe,  yes,  I  believe  it  is  all  right — all  wise — all  good — and  that  is  enough  to 
satisfy  reason  and  piety;  and  passion  and  selfishness  ought  to  submit,  must  sub- 
mit,— yea  and  I  do  submit,  rejoicing  that  the  Lord  God  Omnipotent  reigneth." 

He  himself  had  several  violent  attacks  of  fever  at  different  times,  from  which 
he  hardly  recovered.  I  assisted  to  nurse  him  in  one  of  these,  when  it  was  not 
expected  that  he  would  live.  He  was  lying  near  a  window  that  looked  to  the 
West.  It  was  autumn,  and  the  sun  was  nearly  setting.  Ho  asked  me  to 
remove  the  curtains  and  open  the  window,  that  he  might,  as  he  said,  look  out 
upon  God's  glorious  world  once  more  before  he  died.  I  opened  the  window,  as 
he  had  requested.  He  was  in  a  burning  fever.  As  the  cooling  breeze  reached 
his  fevered  cheek,  he  said, ''  How  refreshing  is  this!  What  a  fine  emblem  is  this 
wind  of  the  precious  and  refreshing  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit!  Oh!  that  sun! 
how  grand  it  looks!  Its  setting  is  like  the  dying  of  Christ — it  sheds  a  glory 
over  all  created  things.  Darkness  will  soon  be  here,  and  I  shall  not  probably 
see  this  world  any  more;  but  if  I  do  not,  I  shall  open  my  eyes  on  a  world  won- 
derfully different  from  this.  Oh!  what  a  world!  what  a  world  that  must  be 
where  Christ  is,  and  God  and  the  Lamb  the  light  thereof !  Oh,  to  depart, 
and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better!"  Then  turning  to  me,  and  seiz- 
ing me  by  the  hand,  he  added, — ''Hall,  get  ready  to  preach  as  soon  as  you 
can,  and  then  preach  Christ!  preach  Christ  and  Him  crucified!  preach  with  all 
your  power,  and  preach  nothing  else!"  Seeing  him  overooroe  with  weakness 
and  emotion,  I  prevailed  upon  him  to  cease,  and  to  take  his  rest.  The  crisis  of 
the  disease  took  place  that  night,  and  he  rapidly  convalesced. 

He  lived  fifteen  years  afterwards  to  preach  Christ  himself,  and  then  died,  as  I 
have  been  told,  rejoicing  to  be  with  Christ  which  is  far  better. 

Vol.  IV.  8 


n 


gg  PBS8BYTIRIAV. 

I  »dd  no  more — ^I  hftre  already  transcended  the  limit  which  I  had  prescribed 

to  myself. 

Yours  truly,  in  Christian  Ioto 

J.  W.  HALL. 


■♦#*■ 


ROBERT  M-  CUNNINGHAM,  D.  D  * 

1792—1839. 

BoBERT  M.  Cunningham,  a  son  of  Roger  and  Mary  Cunningham,  was 
born  in  York  County,  Pa.,  September  10,  1760.  When  he  was  in  his 
fifteenth  year,  his  father  removed  his  family  to  North  Carolina,  and  pur- 
chased a  plantation  on  which  he  settled  and  reared  his  children.  From  a 
very  early  period  his  mind  seems  to  have  been  religiously  impressed,  and  he 
ardently  desired  a  classical  education  with  a  view  to  entering  the  Gospel 
ministry.  His  father  discouraged  the  idea,  chiefly  from  pecuniary  conside- 
rations ;  but  the  wish  on  the  part  of  the  son  was  gradually  matured  into  a 
purpose ;  and  when  he  was  in  his  twenty-second  year  he  set  himself  to  the 
accomplishment  of  it.  In  1782,  he  entered  a  Latin  school  taught  by  the 
Bev.  Ilobert  Finleyt  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Rocky  River,  N.  G.  At  this 
school  he  continued  somewhat  more  than  a  year,  until  Mr.  Finley  resigned 
his  charge  of  it.  He  then  went  to  Bethel  settlement,  York  County,  in  the 
same  State,  where  a  school  was  opening  under  the  tuition  of  a  Mr.  Robert 
McCulloch,  where  he  remained  two  years.  He  then  removed  to  an  Acad- 
emy at  Bullock's  Creek,  taught  by  the  Rev.  Joseph  Alexander ;  and  there 
he  completed  his  preparation  for  entering  College. 

In  the  year  1787,  he  entered  Dickinson  College,  Carlisle,  at  an  advanced 
standing,  and  graduated  in  1789.  On  leaving  College,  he  returned  to  his 
parents,  and  soon  joined  the  First  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina.  He  was 
at  this  time  somewhat  «traitened  for  pecuniary  means,  and  it  is  believed 
that  he  was  engaged  for  some  time  in  teaching  a  school,  and  in  connection 
with  this  employment  pursued  a  course  of  theological  study.  He  was 
licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina,  in  1792 ;  and  in 
the  autumn  of  that  year  he  went  to  Georgia,  and  organized  a  Church  in  that 
part  of  Greene  County  now  called  Hancock,  and  ordained  elders  to  a  Church 
called  Ebenezer.  He  settled  in  that  neighbourhood,  and  opened  a  school 
which  he  continued  for  some  time,  preaching  alternately  at  Ebenezer,  and 
at  a  Church  about  twenty  miles  distant  in  the  same  county,  called  Bethany. 
He  subsequently  removed  to  Bethany,  and  remained  there  until  he  left  the 
State.  In  1796,  he,  and  four  other  ministers,  were  set  off  from  the  Pres- 
bytery of  South  Carolina,  to  form  a  Presbytery  by  the  name  of  Hopewell, 
which  was  accordingly  duly  constituted  in  March  following. 

*  MSS.  from  his  daughter,  Rer.  J.  D.  Shane,  Rev.  Dr.  Beman,  and  Samnel  MoCoUonsh. 
Eaq.— Foote'B  Sketches  of  N.  C. 

t  RoBEBT  FiKLBY  xftLS  lioeDged  to  preach  hj  the  Presbytenr  of  Oraoffe,  between  the  meet- 
ings of  Sjnod  in  1783  and  1784;  was  received  as  a  member  of  the  PresDvtery  of  South  Caro- 
lina on  the  12th  of  April,  1785;  and  in  June  following  was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of 
the  Waxhaw  Church. 


ROBERT  M.  GiniNDrGHAlL  59 

In  1807,  Mr.  CanDingham  removed  to  Lexington,  Kj.,  and  was  Boon 
after  installed  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  that  place,  as  Colleague 
vith  the  ReT.  Dr.  Bljthe.  Here  he  remained  till  the  autumn  of  1822, 
when,  in  consequence  of  some  pecuniary  embarrassments,  in  connection  with 
other  untoward  circumstances,  he  resigned  his  charge.  Ho  now  removed 
to  Moulton,  a  small  town  in  Alabama,  where  he  engaged  in  farming  on  a 
smaU  scale, — ^at  the  same  time  preaching  constantly  there,  and  in  the  sur- 
rounding villages.  But  being  disappointed  in  the  quality  of  the  land,  he 
removed,  after  two  years,  to  the  Black  Warrior  River,  in  the  vicinity  of 
Tuscaloosa.  He  was  instrumental  in  raising  up  a  Church  at  Tuscaloosa, 
and  another  in  the  neighbouring  town  of  Carthage,  where  he  had  his  plan- 
tation. Here  he  alternated,  sometimes  preaching  in  Tuscaloosa,  at  others 
at  Concord  Church,  in  Greene  County,  of  which  his  son  Joseph  was  Pastor. 
He  oeoupied  the  pulpit  in  Tuscaloosa  about  eight  years,  during  which  time 
he  neither  asked  nor  received  any  pecuniary  compensation;  and  then 
resigned  in  favour  of  the  Rev.  William  Williams.  For  several  years  after 
this,  he  supplied  the  pulpit  at  Carthage ;  and  preached  his  last  sermon  in 
the  summer  of  1838.  From  this  time,  both  his  bodily  and 'mental  powers 
were  perceptibly  on  the  decline. 

He  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Franklin 
College,  Georgia,  in  1827. 

In  1836,  he  removed  to  Tuscaloosa,  partly  to  avail  himself  of  the  schools 
there  for  the  benefit  of  his  youngest  daughter,  and  several  orphan  grand- 
children, and  partly  to  provide  a  comfortable  home  for  his  family,  in  view 
of  his  own  approaching  departure ;  but  he  still  passed  the  greater  part  of 
his  time  alone,  at  his  country  retreat, — which  was  about  two  miles  from  his 
plantation.  Here,  surrounded  by  his  books,  and  occasionally  visited  by  his 
ehOdren  and  friends,  he  seems  to  have  found  the  richest  enjoyment.  His 
fnvonrite  authors  were  Milton,  President  Edwards,  and  Dr.  Thomas  Dick; 
which  shows  at  least  that  he  could  relish  productions  of  very  different 


In  1838,  his  health  had  become  so  much  enfeebled  that  it  was  deemed 
unsoitable  that  he  should  remain  in  his  retirement  any  longer,  and  he  accord- 
ingly took  up  hb  abode  in  Tuscaloosa  altogether,  that  he  might  enjoy  con- 
stantly the  affectionate  attentions  of  his  family.  He  attended  the  meeting 
of  the  Presbytery  in  Tuscaloosa  in  the  spring  of  1839,  and  was  enabled  on 
one  oecasion  to  address  the  meeting, — which  was  his  last  effort  in  public. 
Early  in  July,  he  expressed  a  strong  desire  once  more  to  visit  his  Retreat 
with  his  children,  and  enjoy  the  stillness  and  quiet  of  that  spot  where  ho 
had  spent  so  many  solitary  but  delightful  hours.  But  this  privilege  was 
denied  him.  He  was  attacked  suddenly  with  a  disorder  of  the  bowels, 
which  it  was  found  impossible  to  arrest.  After  an  illness  of  a  week,  during 
which  he  suffered  little,  he  died  on  the  11th  of  July,  1839,  in  the  eightieth 
year  of  his  age. 

I  am  indebted  to  his  daughter  for  the  two  following  anecdotes,  both  of 
which  may  be  considered  as  illustrative  of  some  of  his  characteristics : — 

'*  On  addressing  the  meeting  at  the  Communion  table  on  one  occasion  in 
Tuscaloosa,  a  pious  lady  was  so  excited  by  the  discourse,  that,  after  shout- 
ing some  moments,  she  dropped  her  head  and  expired. 

'*  At  a  camp-meeting,  on  a  very  interesting  oecasion,  while  converts  were 
being  called  up,  ho  fell  on  the  ground  insensible.     When  he  came  to  him* 


QO  PRfiSBTTERIAK. 

self,  lie  said  that  he  felt  that  he  had  died,  and  departed  to  Heaven,  and  felt 
perfectly  happy,  as  he  looked  down  upon  his  old  dead  body  on  the  ground, 
like  a  coat  that  he  had  thrown  off  and  had  done  with ;  but  when  he  felt 
that  he  had  to  return,  and  put  it  on  again,  he  was  perfectly  miserable.'* 

Dr.  Cunningham,  about  the  time  that  he  entered  the  ministry,  was  mar- 
ried to  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Charles  and  Mary  I^loore,  of  Spartanburg 
District,  S.  C.  She  died  on  the  3d  of  November,  1794,  in  her  nineteenth 
year.  She  had  been  attacked  by  a  bilious  fever  about  a  fortnight  before, 
and  only  two  days  before,  had  become  the  mother  of  a  daughter,  who  sur- 
vived her  birth  but  a  short  time.  On  the  15th  of  October,  1795,  he  was 
married  to  Betsey  Ann,  eldest  daughter  of  Joseph  Parks,  of  Prince 
Edward  County,  Ya.  By  this  marriage  he  had  five  sons.  His  second  wife 
died  on  the  14th  of  October,  1805.  He  was  married  a  third  time  to  a 
daughter  of  Colonel  Bird  of  Georgia,  who  survived  him. 

Dr.  Cunningham's  second  son,  Joseph  Parks,  was  born  in  Greene  County, 
Ga.,  January,  21,  1799.  In  his  eighth  year,  he  received  the  rudiments  of 
his  classical  education  under  the  Rev.  Francis  Cummins,  D.  D.,  of  Georgia. 
In  his  ninth  year,  he  removed  with  his  father's  family  to  Lexington,  Ky., 
where  he  continued  his  studies  in  the  Transylvania  University  until  he  was 
about  thirteen  or  fourteen,  when,  in  consequence  of  the  failure  of  his  health, 
it  was  thought  desirable  that  he  should  be  removed  to  a  milder  climate. 
He  was  accordingly  sent  to  North  Carolina,  and  placed  under  the  care  of 
the  Rev.  James  Wallis,*  who  taught  a  classical  school  at  New  Providence, 
where  he  remained  eighteen  months.  Having  by  this  time  recovered  his 
health,  he  returned  to  Kentucky,  and  prosecuted  his  studies  with  great  zeal 
and  success.  In  1816,  he  connected  himself  with  the  Presbyterian  Church 
in  Lexington,  and  from  that  time  directed  his  thoughts  and  efforts  towards 
the  Gospel  ministry.  After  having  completed  his  collegiate  course,  he 
became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  and  remained 
there  during  the  prescribed  period  of  three  years.  He  was  licensed  to 
preach,  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick,  on  the  26th  of  April,  1822. 
After  performing  a  missionary  tour  of  a  few  weeks  in  one  of  the  counties 
of  Pennsylvania,  he  returned  to  the  Seminary,  and  continued  his  studies  till 
the  ensuing  autumn.  In  the  winter  of  1822-23,  he  was  occupied  in  visit- 
ing the  feeble  churches  in  Alabama,  and  in  the  spring  of  1824,  was  ordained 
and  installed  by  the  Presbytery  of  South  Alabama,  Pastor  of  the  Church 
of  Concord,  Greene  County.  Here  he  laboured  with  untiring  assiduity, 
not  only  among  the  people  of  his  own  immediate  charge,  but  throughout 
the  whole  surrounding  region,  until  the  autumn  of  1822,  when  he  accepted 
a  call  from  the  Pisgah  Church  in  Lexington,  Ky.,  then  vacant  by  the  remo- 
val of  Dr.  Blythe  to  the  Presidency  of  South  Hanover  College.  But, 
after  labouring  here  for  a  few  months,  his  health  began  seriously  to  decline, 
and  on  the  25th  of  August,  1888,  he  resigned  his  pastoral  charge.  He 
died  shortly  after  in  perfect  peace.  I  knew  him  while  he  was  a  student  at 
Princeton,  and  regarded  him  as  possessing  highly  respectable  talents,  and 
giving  promise  of  more  than  ordinary  devotion  to  his  work.     His  frame  was 

*  jAUEi  Wallib  was  born  at  Sng&r  Creek  in  1762.  He  received  his  early  education  at  Lib- 
erty Hall  in  Charlotte ;  and  took  his  colleeiate  coarse  at  Winnsborougfa,  S.  C.  He  was  ordained 
Pastor  of  the  Church  in  New  Providence  ia  1792,  and  remained  in  charge  of  tho  same  Congre- 

gktion  till  his  death,  which  occurred  in  the  year  1810.    Besides  performing  his  duties  as  a  min« 
ter,  he  was  for  several  years  at  the  head  of  a  classical  school.     He  wba  a  Trustee  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  North  Carolina  from  1810  till  his  death. 


ROBEBT  M.  GimNIKGHAM.  ^l 

sknder,  his  countenance  expressive  of  great  ben^nity,  hb  manners  retiring 
and  agreeable,  and  his  whole  appearance  deoidedlj  prepossessing.  He 
proved  to  be  a  highly  acceptable  and  useful  minister. 

FROM  TUE  REV.  NATHAN  S.  S.  BEMAN,  D.  D. 

Tbot,  N.  Y.,  February  2,  1867. 

My  very  dear  Sir:  I  have  promised  you  some  brief  notices  of  the  Rev.  Robert 
M.  Cunningham,  D.  D.,  now  gone  to  his  final  rest,  and  ''whose  praise  is  in  the 
Gospel  throughout  all  the  "  Southern  *'  Churches."  The  task  you  have  assigned 
me  can  best  be  performed  by  the  simple  process  of  placing  the  man  before  you, 
as  be  stands  sketched  in  distinct  lines,  in  my  own  recollections. 

The  ministerial  labours  of  Dr.  Cunningham,  of  which  I  have  known  most, 
were  performed  in  the  State  of  Georgia.  He  had  removed  from  that  State  to 
Kentucky  before  I  became  a  resident  of  the  South  myself,  but  as  my  lot  was 
cast  amid  the  scenes  of  his  former  ministerial  efforts  and  success,  I  became  well 
acquainted  with  him  from  the  report  of  others,  long  before  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  him,  and  speaking  face  to  face.  Many  to  whom  I  ministered,  for  some 
ten  years  or  more,  had  formed  a  portion  of  his  ministerial  charge  while  he 
laboured  in  Georgia,  and  from  the  many  free  and  unstudied  descriptions  I  have 
received  of  him  from  his  intimate  friends,  I  think  I  should  have  known  him  with- 
out any  formal  introduction.  He  had  many  strong  personal  characteristics. 
Ilis  identity  was  marked  and  prominent.     He  was  truly  a  man. 

He  visited  the  place  of  my  residence.  Mount  Zion,  in  the  County  of  Hancock, 
near  the  geographical  centre  of  the  State  of  Georgia,  I  think  in  the  year  1818  or 
1814.  lie  was  then  the  Pastor  of  one  of  the  Presbyterian  Churches  in  Lexing- 
ton, Ky.  He  had  been  there  but  a  few  years,  and  he  returned  to  his  former 
residence  quite  in  my  neighbourhood,  as  we  computed  distances,  and  especially 
ecclesiastical  distances,  there,  and  to  familiar  faces  and  warm  filial  hearts,  with 
all  the  freshness  and  all  the  elasticity  of  feeling,  which  fills  a  father's  bosom  on 
coming  bome  from  a  protracted  journey  in  some  far  off*  land.  Indeed,  he  was  a 
lather  at  home, — for  his  presence  lighted  up  a  filial  smile  on  every  face,  while  it 
touched  a  filial  chord  in  every  heart;  and  that  chord  responded  to  the  touch. 
Every  body  knew  him,  and  was  glad  to  see  him.  But  I  must  not  enlarge  in 
tins  strain,  as  I  might  anticipate  what  I  can  say  in  better  form,  and  in  more 
appropriate  connections,  hereafter. 

The  exterior  man  of  Br.  Cunningham  was  impressive.  His  stature— judging 
from  the  eye — ^was  more  than  six  feet,  and  his  form  at  fifty-three  or  four  years 
of  age,  when  I  first  met  him,  was  full  and  well  developed.  His  face  was  good, 
though  not  handsome;  his  eye  mild,  but  expressive;  and  in  his  utterances, 
whether  in  private  conversation,  or  in  the  pulpit,  or  the  social  meeting,  all  his 
features  were  eloquent.  His  reasoning  powers  were  far  from  being  defective,  but 
his  marked  peculiarities  belonged  to  the  moral  man.  He  was  endowed  by  nature 
with  strong  social  feelings — deep  sensibilities  of  heart.  As  a  Christian,  and  a 
ninister  of  God,  these  were  cultivated  and  directed  in  proper  channels.  These, 
more  than  any  thing  else — far  beyond  his  talents  and  learning,  both  of  which 
were  respectable — made  him  at  once  an  acceptable  and  successful  preacher  of  the 
Gospel.  Christians  always  relished  his  discourses,  and  his  earnestness  and  unc- 
tion often  won  their  way  to  the  heart  of  the  careless  sinner  and  the  infidel.  Ho 
bad  many  crowns  of  rejoicing  in  the  vicinity  of  where  I  lived. 

In  his  doctrines,  Dr.  Cunningham  was  a  Calvinist — rather  of  the  Old  School — 
and  in  his  ecclesiastical  sympathies,  as  well  as  in  his  education,  a  thorough  Pres- 
byterian. But  in  his  preaching  he  was  less  doctrinal  than  experimental — ever 
aiming  to  bring  sinners  to  Christ,  and  to  lead  Christians  to  higher  and  still 
higher  attainments  in  grace.    He  was  on  the  best  terms  with  all  evangelical  min* 


g2  PBESBYTERIAK. 

isters  and  Christians,  and  had  rery  littlo  to  do  with  controversies  of  any 
kind,  except  with  those  which  respected  the  Ejngdom  of  Christ  and  the  Glory 
of  God. 

Dr.  Cunningham  was  deeply  interested  in  the  great  revivals,  which  originated 
some  years  ago  among  the  Presbyterians  in  the  State  of  Kentucky,  and  whidi 
moved  on  still  farther  South,  with  different  degrees  of  power,  and  no  doubt  of 
purity,  till  their  influence  was  felt  in  some  parts  of  Georgia.  Accompanied  by 
a  devoted  elder  in  his  church— one  who  filled  the  same  office  for  ten  years  in  con- 
nection  with  my  ministry,  and  who  still,  on  the  borders  of  ninety  years  of  age, 
fills  the  same  office  with  great  zeal  and  energy,  he  travelled  to  the  upper  part  of 
the  State  of  North  Carolina,  that  he  might  be  an  eye  and  ear  witness  of  those 
things  of  which  so  much  had  been  said.  From  this  elder  I  learned  many  inter- 
esting particulars  of  which  I  cannot  speak  in  this  place.  It  is  perhaps  enough 
for  me  to  say  here,  that  they  were  deeply  impressed  with  the  things  they  wit- 
nessed, remained  several  days  where  thousands  were  assembled  for  religious 
purposes,  and  returned  with  a  strong  desire  to  do  more  for  the  revival  of  religion 
in  the  feeble  churches  in  their  own  State.  * 

It  is  believed  that  the  entire  future  ministry  of  Dr.  Cunningham  received  a 
complexion  and  cast  of  character  from  this  visit.  He  became  a  kind  of  White- 
field  in  his  zeal,  and  pathos,  and  untiring  appeals  to  dying  men,  in  his  public 
discourses.  And  the  effect  was  manifest.  I  have  met  with  many  who  often 
looked  back  to  those  days  with  a  grateful  and  melancholy  religious  interest,  and 
wept  as  they  called  them  to  mind. 

Dr.  Cunningham  was  not,  in  the  highest  sense,  a  great  preacher.  He  might 
not  be  regarded  by  every  body  as  eloquent;  but  his  person  was  commanding, 
his  utterance  dLstinct,  his  thoughts  clear,  his  earnestness  attractive,  and  his 
goodness  of  heart  manifest  to  all.  It  was  this  latter  quality,  goodness  of  heart, — 
love  to  Ood  and  man,  which  opened  an  avenue  to  many  a  mind  for  the  truth 
which  he  ever  uttered  with  a  tenderness  that  I  have  rarely  seen  equalled,  and  I 
may  say  never  seen  surpassed,  as  a  general  fact,  in  the  pulpit.  If  these  things, 
and  especially  the  last  named,  constitute  eloquence,  then  Dr.  Cunningham  was 
an  eloquent  preacher.  Sometimes  he  was  truly  eloquent;  for  men  listened  for 
their  lives,  and  the  Spirit  of  God  spoke  by  him  effectually  to  the  salvation  of 
the  soul. 

My  dear  Sir,  if  this  hasty  sketch  will  do  you  any  good,  you  are  much  more 
than  welcome  to  it. 

Tours  very  truly, 

N.  S«  S.  BEMAN. 


MOSES  WADDEL.  Q3 


MOSES  WADDEL,  D.  D. 

1792—1840. 
FROM  A.  B.  LONGSTREET,  LL.  D 

JrDGB  or  THE  8UPBXKK  COURT  OF  GEORGIA.  ARO  FRE8IDBRT  OF  EXORT  OOLLXOE. 

Jackson,  La.,  May  1, 1849. 

Dear  Sir :  I  most  cheerfuUv  comply  with  your  request  in  furnishing  you 
with  some  notices  of  the  life  and  character  of  the  late  Dr.  Moses  Waddel.  I 
had  the  best  opportunity  of  knowing  him,  and  it  is  only  a  labour  of  love  for 
me  to  offer  this  tribute  to  his  memory. 

On  the  25th  of  January,  1767,  a  vessel  destined  for  Oeorgia,  but  baffled 
by  adverse  winds  and  weather,  put  into  the  port  of  Charleston,  having  on 
board  William  Waddel,  his  wife,  and  five  female  children.  He  had  emi* 
grated  from  the  vicinity  of  Belfast  in  Ireland,  where  he  left  interred  a 
daughter  and  an  only  son.  He  remained  but  a  short  time  in  Charleston, 
before  be  removed  to  Rowan  (now  Iredell)  County,  in  North  Carolina,  and 
settled  on  the  waters  of  the  South  Yadkin  River.  Here,  on  the  29th  of 
July,  1770,  Moses  Waddel  was  born.  He  was  the  last  of  three  sons 
bom  on  the  same  spot ;  and  so  confident  were  his  parents  that  he  would 
not  survive  his  birth  a  single  day,  that  when  they  found  themselves  mis- 
taken, they  gave  him  the  name  of  the  Patriarch  who  was  providentially 
preserved  in  his  infancy. 

In  May,  1777,  he  entered  as  a  half  scholar  in  a  school  about  three  miles 
from  his  father's  residence.  At  his  tender  age,  it  was  believed  that  he 
would  not  be  able  to  attend  school  more  than  half  the  year ;  and  this  proved 
true.  In  May  following,  he  left  this  school,  having  received  at  it,  in 
all,  about  six  months'  instruction.  In  this  time  he  learned  to  read  accu- 
rately, and  to  write  a  fair  hand.  His  proficiency  here,  which  was  unequalled 
by  any  child  of  his  age  in  the  school,  opened  the  way  to  all  his  subsequent 
usefulness. 

In  1773,  by  the  instrumentality  of  the  Rev.  James  Hall,  a  Presbyterian 
clergyman,  a  grammar  school  was  established  in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
Mr.  Waddel 's  friends  besought  him  to  enter  his  son  Moses  in  the  Latin 
department.  The  old  man  objected  upon  the  very  reasonable  ground  that 
he  was  not  able  to  purchase  the  books,  much  less  to  endure  the  more 
heavy  expenses  of  such  a  course  of  study.  He,  at  length,  however,  yielded 
to  the  importunities  of  his  friends,  casting  himself  on  Providence  for  the 
means.  In  October  of  this  year,  the  school  was  opened  under  the  name  of 
Clio's  Nursery ;  and  Moses  Waddel,  in  a  class  of  five,  commenced  the  study 
of  the  Latin  grammar.  In  rather  more  than  a  year  afterwards,  Mr.  James 
McEwen,  the  Preceptor,  died,  and  in  November,  1779,  the  school  was  com- 
mitted to  the  care  of  Mr.  Francis  Cummins,  then  a  student  of  Theology, 
an4  afterwards  a  distinguished  divine,  well  known  throughout  the  two  Caro- 
linas  and  Georgia.  The  favours  which  Mr.  Waddel  received  at  his  hands, 
he  afterwards  returned  with  interest  to  many  of  his  grandchildren.  By 
reason  of  an  incursion  of  the  British  forces  into  the  neighbourhood,  and  the 
subsequent  events  of  the  Revolutionary  war,  the  school  suspended  its  opera- 
tions from  May,  1780,  to  April,  1782,  when  it  was  recommenced  under 


04  PBESBYTERIAK. 

tbe  direction  of  Mr.  John  Newton,  who  was  suoceeded  by  Mr.  Samuel 
Young.  With  these  two,  Moses  Waddel  prosecuted  his  studies  about  two 
years ;  and  in  the  spring  of  1784,  having  finished  the  study  of  the  Latin 
and  Greek  languages,  £ucUd's  Elements,  Geography.  Moral  Philosophy, 
and  Criticism,  he  bade  adieu  to  Glio*s  Nursery.  And  here,  except  for  a 
few  months  employed  in  learning  Arithmetic,  closed  his  academic  education. 
About  this  time,  application  was  made  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hall  for  the  best 
linguist  that  had  been  taught  at  Clio's  Nursery,  to  supply  a  vacant  tutor- 
ship in  the  Camden  Academy,  and  Moses  Waddel,  who  had  just  completed 
his  fourteenth  year,  was.  by  this  grave  divine,  recommended  as  a  suitable 
person  to  fill  the  place ;  but  his  father,  in  consideration  of  his  youth,  and 
the  temptations  to  which  a  city  life  would  expose  him,  positively  refused 
to  let  him  accept  the  appointment.  Considering  the  necessitous  circum- 
stances of  both  the  father  and  the  son,  and  the  strong  appeal  that  was  here 
made  to  the  father's  pride,  he  exhibited  a  triumph  of  parental  affection  over 
personal  interest,  which  reflects  the  highest  credit  upon  his  heart  and  under- 
standing.    His  son  never  ceased  to  feel  grateful  for  it  as  long  he  lived. 

In  October,  1784,  when  just  entering  upon  his  fifteenth  year,  he  took 
charge  of  a  school, — his  first,  about  fifteen  miles  from  his  father's  residence. 
It  consisted  of  about  twenty  pupils  in  English,  and  six  or  seven  in  Latin, 
and  was  kept  at  a  stated  salary  of  seventy  dollars  per  annum.  Here  was 
the  beginning  of  his  labours  in  that  field  from  which  he  reaped  so  much 
renown,  and  for  his  services  in  which  he  afterwards  received  a  most  liberal 
recompense. 

At  this  place,  near  the  waters  of  Hunting  Creek,  in  what  is  now  Iredell 
County,  and  in  its  Vicinity,  he  continued  to  teach,  giving  general  satisfac- 
tion to  his  employers,  until  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1786;  when  be 
removed  to  Greene  County  in  the  State  of  Georgia.  In  January  following, 
he  established  a  school,  composed  mostly  of  English  scholars,  with  one  or 
two  in  Latin.  This,  his  first  establishment  in  Georgia,  was  near  the  North 
Ogeechee  River.  In  the  summer  of  1787,  a  threatened  invasion  of  the 
Creeks  forced  him  to  break  up  his  school,  and  being  now  out  of  employ- 
ment, he  visited  his  parents  in  North  Carolina,  who  determined  to  accom- 
pany him  to  Georgia.  He  preceded  them,  however,  about  a  month ;  and 
on  his  return  found  that  the  Indian  alarms  had  been  but  too  well  founded. 
The  Creeks  had  invaded  the  white  settlements,  burnt  Greensboro',  and 
committed  several  murders  still  farther  to  the  Eastward.  Mr.  Waddel  found 
his  old  patrons  and  friends  had  abandoned  their  houses  and  taken  refuge  in 
forts.  He  now  went  to  Augusta,  and,  after  having  spent  nearly  a  month  in 
an  ineffectual  attempt  to  procure  a  place  in  the  llichmond  Academy,  he 
returned  to  Greene  where  he  found  quiet  restored,  and  his  parents  just 
arrived  from  North  Carolina.  In  1788,  he  opened  another  school  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  his  first  in  Georgia;  and  while  engaged  in  its  duties 
this  year,  he  (at  Bethany,  then  a  missionary  station  under  the  North  Caro- 
lina Presbytery)  received  his  first  permanent  religious  impressions.  It  is  a 
curious  fact  that  to  find  an  experienced  religious  friend  with  whom  he  might 
commune  upon  the  state  of  his  feelings,  he  had  to  travel  several  miles  beyond 
Washington  in  Wilkes  County,  At  this  time,  he  determined  to  enter  the 
ministry,  and  preparatory  thereto,  to  obtain  a  collegiate  education.  In  the 
fall  of  the  year  1790,  he  set  out  for  Hampden  Sidney  College.  He  arrived 
there  in  September,  and,  after  employing  himself  for  some  time  in  prepara* 


MOSES  WADDEL.  05 

tOTj  studies,  entered  the  Senior  class  in  that  institution  in  January  follow- 
ing. Id  September,  1791,  he  /graduated ;  after  remaining  in  College  but 
eight  months  and  twenty-six  days.  Meanwhile,  having  presented  him- 
self to  the  Hanover  Presbytery,  of  Virginia,  as  a  candidate  for  the  ministry, 
and  having  undergone  the  usual  examinations  and  trials,  he  was  licensed  to 
preach  on  the  12th  of  May,  1792.  After  remaining  a  while  in  Virginia,  he 
returned  to  the  South,  and  resided  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Thomas  Legare,  of 
South  Carolina. 

In  1793  or  1794,  he  opened  a  school  in  Columbia  County,  Ga.,  about  two 
miles  to  the  Eastward  of  the  village  of  Appling.  After  teaching  here  for 
several  years,  he  removed  to  the  village,  where  he  continued  his  usual 
labours  for  a  short  time,  prior  to  his  removal  to  South  Carolina. 

In  1795,  he  married  Miss  Catherine  Calhoun,  daughter  of  Patrick  Cal- 
houn of  South  Carolina,  and  sister  of  the  Hon.  John  C.  Calhoun.  She 
survived  the  marriage  but  about  a  year. 

la  1800,  he  married  Miss  Elizabeth  Woodson  Pleasants,  a  native  of 
Powhattan,  but  then  a  resident  of  Halifax  County,  Va.  Four  sons  and  two 
daughters  were  the  offspring  of  this  marriage.  All  his  sons  have  been 
liberally  educated,  and  two  of  them  have  entered  the  ministry. 

In  1801,  he  left  Columbia,  and  opened  a  school  in  Vienna,  Abbeville  Dis- 
trict, S.  C.  Here  he  remained  until  1804,  when  he  removed  to  Willing  ton, 
a  country  seat  of  his  own  establishment,  about  six  miles  South  of  Vienna. 
The  degi-ee  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Columbia 
College,  S.  C,  in  1807. 

In  1819,  Dr.  Waddel  published  a  small  volume  of  **  Memoirs  of  Miss 
Catharine  Elizabeth  Smelt,'^  daughter  of  D.  Smelt,  M.  D.,  a  physician  of 
Augusta.  It  was  a  highly  interesting  and  popular  work,  as  was  iudicatod 
by  the  fact  that  it  passed  to  a  third  edition  in  this  country,  and  was  pub- 
lished at  lea^t  twice  in  Great  Britain. 

He  remained  at  Willington  until  May,  1819,  when,  having  in  the 
previous  year  been  elected  President  of  the  University  of  Georgia,  ho 
entered  upon  the  duties  of  this  office.  The  effect  of  his  coming  to  thb 
institution  was  almost  magical:  it  very  soon  attained  a  measure  of  pros* 
{Verity  altogether  unequalled  in  its  previous  history.  Here  he  remained 
until  August,  1829,  when  he  resigned  his  place  ;  and  in  February  following 
he  returned  to  Willington.  This  was  the  close  of  a  course  of  preceptorial 
labours  that  had  continued  forty -five  years.  His  labours  in  the  ministry  he 
continued  six  or  seven  years  longer.  In  September,  1886,  he  was  visited 
with  a  stroke  of  the  palsy,  which  he  survived  nearly  four  years  ;  but  his 
mind  went  rapidly  to  ruin  under  the  blow.  In  January,  1839,  he  was 
removed  to  the  residence  of  his  son,  Professor  Waddel,  at  Athens,  where 
he  closed  his  pre-eminently  useful  life,  on  the  2l8t  of  July,  1840. 

The  reputation  of  Dr.  Waddel  never  suffered  from  change^  of  times, 
place,  or  society,  but  bright  at  his  rising,  it  grew  brighter  and  Ibroader  at 
every  move  in  his  orbit  This  certainly  is  a  remarkable  fact ;  for  if  there 
be  any  occupation  in  which  merit  is  no  guaranty  of  popularity,  it  is  that  of 
an  instructer  of  youth  :  if  there  be  any  thing  in  which  age  never  confirms 
the  views  of  youth,  it  is  in  the  direction  and  government  of  a  school. 
For  many  years  previous  to  his  death,  it  would  have  been  a  self  reproach  in 
any  one  to  question  his  merits  as  a  teacher.  The  fruits  of  his  vineyard  are 
scattered  far  and  wide  through  most  of  the  Sputhem  States,  and  long  have 

Vol.  IV.  9 


gg  FRESBTTERIAK. 

they  been  seen  in  rich  Inxurlance  in  the  Capitol  of  the  Union.    Indeed  it 
would  be   bard   to   name   the  place  of  rank  which  his   pupils  have    not 
occupied.     I  do  not  say  that  they  derived  the  largest  share  of  their  mental 
endowments  from  him ;  but  I  do  fully  believe  that,  without  the  impulse 
which  he  gave  to  their  talents,  many  of  them  who  rose  to  high  rank,  would 
never  have  been  heard  of.     The  remarkable  distinction  which  hb  pupils 
acquired,  cannot  fairly  be  ascribed  to  chance.     The  immense  number  whom 
he  taught,  amounting  to  nearly  four  thousand,  accounts  in  part  for   the 
number  who  attained  to  eminence  ;  but  upon  what  principle  are  we  to 
account  for  the  number  whom  he  taught  ?    The  question  naturally  presents 
itself  here,^ — Where  lay  the  secret  of  his  success  over  others  of  equal  abili- 
ties ?     I  should  say,  in  his  sleepless  vigilance  over  the  conduct  and  morals 
of  his  scholars;  the  equity  and  impartiality  of  his  discipline,  and  his  firm* 
nesB  in  enforcing  it ;  his  ready  insight  into  the  character  of  youth,  and  his 
skill  in  improving  it,  either  by  prompt  correction  or  speedy  commendation, 
as  seemed  to  him  best ;  and  in  his  well  regulated  familiarity  with  them,  ' 
which  made  him  at  all  times  accessible  to  them,  without  lessening  their 
respect  for  him.     To  all  which  it  may  be  added  that,  when  left  to  choose, 
he  almost  invariably  established  his  school  in  some  retired  spot,  which, 
while  it  brought  his  pupils,  night  and  day,  under  his  immediate  supervision, 
removed  them  almost  entirely  from  the  temptations  of  vice.     Certain  it  is 
that  he  had  the  faculty,  in  a  wonderful  degree,  of  developing  the  native 
powers  of  the  youthful  mind.  '  It  is  remarkable  that  he  rarely,  if  ever, 
corrected  a  student  for  deficiency  in  recitation.     While  I  was  with  him, — 
and  I  was  with  him  longer  than  most  of  his  pupils, — I  do  not  remember  a 
single  instance  in  which  he  did  so.     To  be  '^  turned  o£f,"  as  it  was  called, — 
that  is,  to  be  required  to  recommit  a  lesson,  was  considered  such  a  disgrace 
by  all  the  students,  that  he  never  found  it  necessary  to  apply  any  other 
corrective  to  this  delinquency. 

He  was  himself  a  very  severe  student,  and  a  very  industrious  man.  He 
rose  with  the  dawn  in  summer,  and  before  it  in  the  winter. 

As  a  Christian,  Dr.  Waddcl's  character  was  unexceptionable.  He  was 
not  without  the  Christian's  trials ;  and  these,  for  some  years  after  h^ 
embraced  the  cross,  were  uncommonly  severe  ;  but,  as  the  surges  that  break 
over  the  coral  reef,  only  add  brilliancy  to  its  native  beauty,  so  these  trials 
but  added  lustre  to  the  '' beauty  of  his  holiness."  His  piety  burned  with  a 
steady  flame.  It  was  subject  to  ho  violent  transitions,  but  it  brightened  by 
a  steady  process,  as  is  manifest  from  a  brief  record  which  he  made  in  his 
latter  years  of  his  daily  transactions.  It  was  obviously  kept  as  a  mere 
private  remembrancer  of  his  secular  matters,  and  yet  its  monthly  entries 
often  close  with  earnest  aspirations  for  a  deeper  work  of  grace  upon  his 
heart.  He  was  active  and  constant  in  the  discharge  of  his  ministerial 
duties,  and  he  shrunk  from  no  labour  which  his  ecclesiastical  relations 
imposed  upon  him.  His  discourses  were  always  grave,  solemn,  and  practi- 
cal, possessing  few  of  the  ornaments  of  style,  but  occasionally  enlivened 
with  flashes  of  true  eloquence.  He  was  generous,  hospitable  and  kind,  and 
while  he  dispensed  many  charities  which  the  world  must  needs  know,  I 
doubt  not  but  that  he  dispensed  many  which  will  not  be  known  till  the 
revelations  of  the  final  day. 

As  a  citizen,  he  was  ever  blessing  and  ever  blessed.  He  kept  aloof  from 
the  political  storms  which  so  often  raged  around  him.    I  believe  they  gave 


MOSES  WADDEL.  Q7 

him  tfie  greatest  anxieties  of  his  life ;  for  he  generally  recognised  in  the 
spirits  of  the  storm,  the  lineaments  of  his  pupils,  and  however  he  may  havd 
regarded  the  blasts,  he  regarded  them  with  a  father's  love.  And  he  did 
them  but  justice;  for  in  their  bitterest  strifes,  they  always  guided  the 
tempest  above  his  lowly  dwelling,  or  hushed  it  into  a  fitful  silence  until  it 
passed. 

Very  respectfully, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

A.  B.  LOl^GSTREET. 

FROM  THE  HON.  ^TOHN  C*  CALHOUN,  LL.  D. 

TICK  PftKSISBHT  OF  TUB  VVOSD  STATES^  8B0BSTABT  OT  STATBj  &C. 

FoET  Hiu,  May  19, 1849. 

Dear  Sir:  I  comply  with  pleasure  with  your  request  to  give  you  a  brief  state- 
ment containing  a  summary  of  the  character  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Moses  Waddet. 
I  knew  him  well.    Under  his  tuition  I  prepared  myself  for  College. 

His  character  as  a  man  was  good.  He  discharged  punctually  and  &ithfully 
the  various  duties  attached  to  all  his  private  relations.  He  was  sociable  and 
amiable;  but  not  without  a  due  mixture  of  sternness  and  firmness.  As  a  minis- 
ter of  the  Gospel,  he  was  pious,  zealots,  and  well  versed  in  Theology  generally. 
His  style  of  preaching  was  plain,  simple  and  earnest.  He  addressed  himself 
much  more  to  the  understanding  than  to  the  imagination  or  passions. 

It  was  as  a  teacher  that  he  was  the  most  distinguished.  In  that  character,  be 
stands  almost  unrivalled.  Indeed,  he  may  be  justly  considered  as  the  father 
of  classical  education,  in  the  upper  country  of  South  Carolina  and  Qeorgia.  Hiti 
excellence  in  that  character  depended  not  so  much  on  extensive  or  profound 
learning,  as  a  felicitous  combination  of  qualities  fbr  the  government  of  boys,  and 
communicating  to  them  what  he  knew.  He  was  particularly  successful  in  excit- 
ing emulation  among  them,  and  in  obtaining  the  good  will  of  all  but  the 
worthless.  The  best  evidence  of  his  high  qualities  as  a  teacher  is  his  success. 
Among  his  pupils  are  to  be  found  a  large  portion  of  the  eminent  men  of  the 
State  of  Georgia.  In  this  State  it  is  sufficient  to  name  McDuffie,  Legare, 
Pettigru,  and  my  colleague  in  the  Senate,  Butler.  To  these  many  others  of  dis^ 
tinction  might  be  added.  His  pupils  in  Georgia  who  have  distinguished  them- 
selves are  numerous.  In  the  list  are  to  be  found  the  names  of  W.  H.  Crawford, 
Longs  tree  t,  Ac.  It  is  in  the  character  of  a  teacher  especially  that  he  will  lonff 
be  remembered  as  a  benefactor  of  the  country. 

With  great  respect, 

I  am  your  obedient  servant, 

JOHN  C.  CALHOUN. 

FROM  THE  BEY.  ALONZO  CHURCH,  D.  D., 

FBSSIBXXT  or  VBAXKLUr  OOXUIOB. 

AthbhS;  Ga.,  April  Id,  1850. 
Bev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  am  pleased  to  learn  that  you  are  engaged  in  writing 
biographical  notices  of  distinguished  deceased  clergymen  of  our  country.  I  am 
viore  than  pleased  to  hear  that  among  these  will  be  found  the  name  of  the  vener- 
able Dr.  Waddel, — ^a  man,  who,  as  a  teacher,  and  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel, 
acquired  a  reputation  in  the  Southern  States,  which  few  teachers  or  ministers 
have  acquired  in  our  country  The  friends  of  Dr.  Waddel  do  not  claim  for 
him  talents  the  most  brilliant,  or  acquirements  the  most  varied  and  profound. 
The  sphere  of  action  to  which  he  was,  in  the  providence  of  God,  called,  required 


gg  PRESBTTERIAK. 

Uleots  of  a  peculiar  kind.  It  was  a  sphere  where  prudence,  and  patience,  and 
perseverance,  and  self-denial,  were  far  more  important  than  the  utmost  refine- 
ment of  taste,  or  the  profoundest  researches  in  science,  or  even  the  most  power* 
ful  and  commanding  eloquence.  Ilis  friends,  however,  do  claim  for  him, — and 
this  part  of  our  country  almost  unanimously  accords  to  him, — an  energy  of 
character,  and  an  honesty  of  purpose,  and  an  ardent  desire  for  the  advancement 
of  religious  education  and  the  spread  of  the  Gospel,  which  enabled  him  to 
accomplish  far  more  for  the  best  interests  of  his  fellow  men,  than  many  who  pos- 
sessed talents  of  a  more  striking  character. 

My  first  personal  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Waddel  was  in  September,  1819, — 
a  few  months  after  he  had  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  office  as  President  of 
the  University  of  Georgia.  In  December  of  the  same  year,  I  became  associated 
with  him  as  a  Professor  in  the  institution;  and  we  continued  thus  associated  for 
ten  years,  when  he.  retired  from  the  University,  in  consequence  of  advancing  ago 
and  declining  health.  The  circumstances  of  the  University  were,  when  Dr. 
Waddel  was  called  to  preside  over  it,  peculiarly  embarrassing.  They  were  such 
as  no  one  can  fully  comprehend,  who  was  not  connected  with  it.  They  were 
such,  I  am  fully  persuaded,  as  few  men  would  have  been  able  to  meet,  without 
ultimately  abandoning  the  object  in  despair.  And  to  the  wisdom,  and  prudence, 
and  reputation,  of  that  good  man,  is  Georgia  very  largely  indebted  for  the  respect- 
ability and  usefulness  of  her  State  College.  The  success  which  attended  his 
efforts  in  raising  the  institution  so  rapidly  as  he  did  to  respectability,  has  been 
to  many  inexplicable.  But  to  those  who  well  understood  his  character,  that 
success  is  by  no  means  surprising.  He  accepted  the  office  after  repeated  solicita- 
tions, and  only  upon  the  fullest  conviction  that  God  had  called  him  to  this  field 
of  labour.  Perhaps  few  men,  in  all  the  business  of  life,  more  prayerfully 
inquired  as  to  the  path  of  duty,  than  Dr.  Waddel.  And  by  the  path  of  duty,  I 
mean,  the  glory  of  God  in  the  advancement  of  the  Redeemer's  Kingdom.  Though 
a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  he  spent  most  of  his  life  in  the  occupation  of  a  teacher 
Qf  youth.  This  he  did,  not  because  he  found  it  more  to  his  pecuniary  interest, 
but  because,  from  a  careful  survey  of  the  condition  of  this  part  of  our  country, 
he  believed  he  could  in  this  way  more  effectually  promote  the  cause  of  evangeli- 
cal religion,  than  by  devoting  his  whole  time  to  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel. 
And  I  cannot  doubt  that  in  this  his  judgment  was  in  accordance  with  the  intima- 
tions of  the  Divine  Spirit,  whose  enlightening  influences,  I  believe,  he  ever  sought 
to  indicate  to  him  the  path  of  duty.  The  grand  object  which  he  had  in  view, 
while  engaged  in  the  business  of  instruction,  was  the  inculcation  of  truth,  wliich 
directly  or  indirectly  would  have  an  influence  upon  the  great  cause  of  the  Gospel. 
The  country  was  new,  the  population  was  rapidly  increasing,  and  the  few  schools 
which  existed  were  almost  universally  under  the  control  of  men  who  were  igno- 
rant and  vicious,  and  often  infidel.  Dr.  Waddel  saw  the  necessity  for  different 
schools,  and  resolved  that,  by  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his  labours,  he  would 
endeavour  to  show  the  practical  benefits  resulting  from  those  conducted  by  well* 
educated  and  pious  men.  To  accomplish  this  reformation,  he  saw  the  necessity 
for  teachers  educated  at  home, — educated  in  the  fear  of  God, — teachers  who 
would  carry  into  the  school-room  something  of  the  Bible.  And  he  accordingly- 
encouraged  those  who  were  under  his  instruction,  and  especially  those  who  wero 
pious,  to  prepare  themselves  for  teachers.  To  those  who  were  unable  to  bear  the 
expenses  of  their  education  he  opened  the  doors  of  his  school,  and  often  his  house, 
leaving  them,  iu  after  life,  to  make  such  return  as  they  might  be  able  and  might 
think  proper  to  make.  The  heart  of  this  good  man  also  yearned  over  the  multi- 
tudes through  this  part  of  the  country,  who  were  '*  as  sheep  having  no  shep- 
herd." He  ardently  desired  to  see  intelligent  and  pious  young  men  consecrating 
i^heir  talents  to  the  service  of  God  in  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel.  His  school 
was,  therefore,  always  a  School  of  the  Prophets — every  encouragement  >i'as 


HOSKS  WABDEL.  g^ 

given  by  him  to  those  whose  minds  were  turned  to  this  sabject,  and,  by  direct- 
ing his  pupils  to  the  great  want  of  ministers,  he  was  instrumental  in  diverting 
many  from  mere  secular  pursuits  to  the  sacred  office.  In  this  respect  few  men 
have,  I  apprehend,  been  more  useful  to  the  Church — like  his  Divine  Master,  he 
was  continually  saying  to  many,  and  apparently  with  effect, — "  Go  preach  the 
Gospel."  Looking  at  the  condition  of  the  country,  and  especially  of  the 
Church,  he  believed  that  it  was  the  duty  of  many  who  were  called  to  the  minis- 
try, to  engage  also  in  the  business  of  instruction;  and  he  accordingly  encou- 
raged many  of  the  young  men  who  studied  with  him,  to  pursue  a  course  similar 
to  that  which  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  pursue.  By  this  means,  in  a  short  time^ 
many  feeble  churches  were  partially  supplied  with  Christian  ministrations,  and 
a  striking  change  was  wrought  in  the  moral  aspect  of  society. 

It  should  not  be  inferred  that  Dr.  Waddel  did  not  preach,  and  preach  con- 
stantly* Perhaps  few  ministers  ever  felt  more  intensely  the  obligation  resting 
upon  them  to  preach  the  Gospel.  Few  Sabbaths  ever  found  him  out  of  the  pul- 
pit. The  great  destitution  of  ministers  of  the  Gospel  had  more  influence,  I 
doubt  not,  in  inducing  him  to  accept  the  office  of  President  of  the  University  of 
Georgia,  than  any  other  cause.  The  urgency  of  the  friends  of  the  institution, 
and  especially  of  its  Trustees,  whose  grand  object  was  to  raise  it  to  literary  emi- 
nence, led  him  to  inquire  most  prayerfully  what  were  the  designs  of  Providence; 
and,  upon  a  careful  survey  of  the  whole  case,  he  came  deliberately  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  a  new  field  was  opening,  in  which  he  might  probably  labour  successfully 
for  the  cause  which  was  nearest  his  heart.  The  result  was  as  he  anticipated. 
The  College  rose  in  the  estimation  of  the  community.  Young  men  flocked  to 
its  halls — ^poor  and  pious  young  men  were  invited  by  him  to  partake  of  its  advan- 
tages. The  Trustees  made  provision  for  the  free  education  of  a  number  who 
were  preparing  for  the  ministry.  Dr.  Waddel  induced  several  families  in  the 
town  and  adjoining  country,  each  to  board  one  poor  young  man  who  was  prepar- 
ing for  the  ministry.  God  poured  out  his  Spirit  upon  the  institution,  and  many, 
in  a  few  years,  were  hopefUlly  converted,  and  went  forth  as  teachers  of  Acade^ 
mies  and  preachers  of  the  Gospel.  At  the  end  of  ten  years,  the  good  man  waA 
permitted  to  see  a  change  in  the  institution, — a  change  in  the  moral  and  religious 
aspect  of  the  State, — a  change  in  the  prospects  of  the  Church,  and  especially  the 
feeble  branch  of  it,  to  which  he  belonged,  which  more  than  realized  his  most  san* 
guine  expectations.  I  mention  these  things  concerning  the  College  and  his 
labours  as  a  teacYier,  to  show  that  he  did  not  err  in  his  interpretation  of  the  indi- 
cations of  Providence  in  respect  to  his  duty. 

Dr.  Waddel  was  scrupulously  conscientious  in  the  fulfilment  of  every  knowii 
obligation.  He  never  allowed  himself  to  excite  expectations  which  he  did  not 
intend,  and  which  he  did  not  make  every  possible  exertion,  to  fHilfil.  Punctu- 
ality in  meeting  his  appointments  was  with  him  a  cardinal  virtue.  He  often, 
while  President  of  the  University,  preached  in  the  country  from  ten  to  twenty 
miles  distant  from  this  place.  I  never  knew  him  deterred  from  going  to  his 
place  of  preaching,  in  consequence  of  unpleasant  weather,  or  business  relating  to 
his  private  interests,  or  even  to  the  institution,  unless  of  a  most  important  nature. 
I  have  often  seen  him  start  A-om  his  house  to  meet  his  clerical  engagements 
when  few  men  would  have  left  home  for  any  important  business  of  life.  If 
reminded  that  he  could  expect  few,  if  any,  to  hear  him,  his  reply  was,  that  two 
or  three  with  the  Master's  presence  would  be  a  profitable  meeting;  and  that  St 
was  all-important  to  a  church  to  know  that  their  minister  would  not  disappoint 
his  people.  The  same  punctuality  was  observed  as  to  all  the  duties  of  life;  and 
such  were  his  feelings  upon  this  subject,  that  men  associated  with  him  soon 
found  it  necessary  to  practise  most  carefully  this  virtue,  so  far  as  business  with 
him  was  concerned.  The  members  of  the  Faculty  were  soon  punctiliously 
observant  of  their  meetings  for  business, — were  scrupulously  careful  to  be  at 


70  FBBSBTTSBIAH. 

their  posts,  m  requiced  bj  the  lavg  of  the  inetitotian.  Students  Ibiind  it  impor- 
tant to  be  ready,  at  the  first  sound  of  the  bell,  to  retire  to  their  studies,  or  repair 
to  their  recitations;  and  even  servants  seldom  &iled  in  the  discharge  of  their 
duties.  And  what  to  many  appeared  unnecessarily  and  vexatiously  exacting, 
was  soon  disoorered  to  produce  that  order  and  regularity  so  useful  in  their 
results. 

Dr.  Waddel  was,  in  the  estimation  of  some,  a  stem  disciplinarian;  and  yet  no 
man  was  more  mild  or  4x>nciliating  towards  those  who  were  disposed  to  do 
their  duty;  and  no  one  was  ever  more  ready  to  aid  his  pu]»ls  in  their  efforts  to 
acquire  knowledge.  His  study  was  open  itt  all  times  to  those  seeking  assistance, 
and  he  would  lay  aside  the  most  interesting  or  important  business  to  answer  the 
inquiries  of  a  student.  He  was  supposed  by  some  to  be  a  timid  man,  when 
called  to  meet  difficulties  and  dangers — ^perhaps  he  had  not  what  the  world  calls 
the  strongest  nerves;  but  he  had  that  which  was  far  more  important, — an  hum- 
ble but  firm  reliance  upon  the  direction  and  the  protection  of  his  Master.  Of 
this  I  saw  a  remarkable  illustration  in  one  of  those  emergencies  which  sometimes 
occur  in  the  government  of  a  College.  It  became  necessary,  as  the  Faculty 
believed,  to  pursue  a  course  which  a  large  portion  of  the  students  considered  an 
unjustifiable  interference  with  a  Society.  A  Committee  of  the  Society  notified 
the  Faculty  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  attempt  to  carry  out  the  resolution. 
This  was  considered  a  threat,  and  at  once  the  Faculty  determined  to  act  with 
energy.  The  action  was  to  be  that  evening  immediately  after  prayers  in  the 
ohapel.  Dr.  Waddel  was  as  decided  in  his  opinion  as  any  member  of  the  Body. 
But,  as  he  entered  the  chapel,  a  doubt  came  into  his  mind  as  to  the  prudence  of 
the  course  adopted.  He  prayed  most  earnestly  for  both  students  and  Faculty, 
and  especially  that  the  latter  might  be  endowed  with  wisdom,  and  prudence,  and 
grace.  I  felt  assured,  at  the  time,  that  peculiar  emotions  were  i^tating  his 
bosom;  but  when  he  cloeed  the  exercises,  instead  of  leading  the  Faculty  to  carry 
out  their  resolution,  (as  he  had  expected  to  do,)  he  left  the  chapel,  and  retired 
without  an  intimation  to  any  one  concerning  the  reason  of  his  conduct.  He 
afterwards  informed  me  that  he  became  fully  convinced  that  the  course  which 
the  Faculty  had  determined  to  pursue^  was  not  prudent,  and  he  had  not  a  doubt 
that  his  mind  had  undergone  this  change  in  consequence  of  an  intimation  from 
the  Spirit  of  God.  Subsequent  developments  clearly  proved  that,  had  he  persisted 
in  endeavouring  to  effect  the  object  of  the  Faculty,  most  serious  and  probably 
melancholy  consequences  would  have  ensued.  A  young  man  of  desperate  char- 
acter, excited  by  intoxication,  was  pledged  to  defeat,  at  any  expense,  the  attempts 
of  tbe  Faculty,  and  this  he  could  have  done,  under  the  peculiar  circumstances, 
without  the  probability  of  detection.  The  course  of  Dr.  Waddel  on  this  occasion 
was  at  the  time  attributed  by  some  to  weakness;  but  it  was  generally  acknow- 
ledged afterwards  that,  whatever  influences  controlled  his  mind,  the  result  was 
most  propitious.  His  attachments  to  friends  were  strong  and  enduring, — espe- 
cially to  early  religious  friends.  A  striking  illustration  of  this  occurred  a  short 
time  previous  to  his  decease.  Under  the  influence  of  that  disease  which  termi- 
nated his  life,  he  seemed  to  lose  gradually  the  use  of  all  his  faculties,  till  he  was 
no  longer  conscious  of  any  thing.  I  visited  him  on  one  occasion,  and  found  him 
apparently  insensilHe  to  all  that  was  passing.  We  could  not  ascertain  that  he 
knew  any  one;  and  yet,  during  a  conversation  between  myself  and  others  in  his 
room, — the  name  of  an  early  clerical  friend  being  mentioned,  he  immediately 
exclaimed  in  broken  and  yet  perfectly  intelligible  accents,  '*  I  knew  him  well, — 
one  of  tbe  best  men  I  ever  knew;"  and  then  sank  immediately  into  his  uncon- 
scious state,  from  which  it  was  impossible  to  arouse  him.  His  memory  was 
extraordinary,  especially  as  to  times  and  places.  He  was  remarkable  for  his 
minuteness  in  keeping  a  diary,  in  which  he  preserved  notices  of  almost  every 
transaction  of  life;  and  he  was  able  to  recollect  especially  whatever  related  to 


HOSBS  WADDEL.  71 

his  clerical,  duties  with  a  particularity  that  was  truly  astooisbing.  He  coidd 
recall  the  texts  from  which  he  had  preached,  and  the  places  where  he  had 
preached  from  them,,  and  the  mode  of  treatment  and  the  persons  present,  and 
the  effect  produced,  with  an  accuracy  that  seemed  almost  incredible.  He  was 
perhaps  more  opposed  to  reading  sermons  than  almost  any  minister  of  any 
denomination  during  the  period  of  his  ministry.  He  believed  the  sulject  of 
every  sermon  so  important,  that  the  man  who  feels  a  proper  interest  in  it,  and 
has  the  requisite  furniture  for  the  sacred  office,  will  make  sueh  preparation,  and 
will  go  into  the  desk  with  such  emotions,  as  will  enable  him  to  speak,  and  speak 
with  freedom  and  power,  extempore.  He  was  not  opposed  to  writing  sermons, 
but  utterly  opposed  to  their  being  read.  On  one  occasion,  when  a  distinguished 
Doctor  of  Divinity  was  preaching,  and  the  house  became  so  dark  that  he  could 
not  rend  his  sermon  without  much  difficulty,  and  was  finally  obliged  to  cut  it 
short  and  show  an  abrupt  conclusion,  Dr.  Waddel,  who  was  sitting  by  me  in  the 
church,  unconsciously  exclaimed  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  myself  and  others 
in  the  same  pew, — '^  he  is  served  right."  He  believed  every  minister  was  under 
obligations  to  preach  where  an  opportunity  was  offered; — that  he  should  not 
refuse  to  preach  because  he  might  not  have  expected  to  be  called  upon,  or  because 
others  were  present  who  ought  to  preach  and  would  not.  "  If  no  one  else  will 
preach,  I  will  try  to,"  was  his  motto*  « He  loved  his  duty  as  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel — he  was  ready,  at  all  times,  as  far  as  in  his  power,  to  discharge  that 
duty.  He  rejoiced  to  see  the  work  of  the  Lord  prosper, — no  matter  by  whose 
instrumentality  it  might  be  carried  forward.  He  was  greatly  beloved  by  the 
common  people  of  the  country,  who  visited  him  with  freedom,  and  were  ever 
received  with  the  welcome  which  so  much  endears  a  minister  to  his  flock.  In 
the  Southern  States,  he  needs  no  monument  but  the  recollection  of  those  who 
knew  him ;  and  so  long  as  they  shall  survive,  his  praise  will  be  in  all  the  Churches 
where  they  survive* 

Very  truly,  I  am  yours  in  the  Gospel, 

A.  OfiURGH. 


-•♦- 


GEORGE.  BUIST,  D.  D  * 

1793—1808. 

Geoege  Buist,  a  son  of  Arthur  and  Catharine  Buist,  was  bom  in 
Fifeshire,  Scotland,  in  the  year  1770.  His  father  was  a  respectable  far- 
mer. Having  gone  through  his  preparatory  course,  he  entered  the  College 
of  Edinburgh  in  1787,  where  he  enjoyed  the  instruction  of  some  of  the  most 
distinguished  men  of  the  age,  and  gained  a  high  reputation  both  as  a  scholar 
and  a  man  of  original  genius.  He  was  remarkable  for  his  proficiency  in 
classical  learning,  and  especially  for  his  minute  and  thorough  acquaintanoe 
vith  the  Greek  language ;  and  Professor  Dalzell  is  said  to  have  shown  his 
high  estimate  of  his  attainments  in  this  department,  by  employing  him  as 
his  assistant  in  preparing  for  the  press  a  part  of  his  Collectanea,  He  was 
thoroughly  versed  also  in  the  Hebrew,  French,  and  Italian  languages. 
Indeed,  there  was  no  branch  of  knowledge  included  in  a  thorough  Scotpk 
ednoation  in  which  he  was  not  a  proficient. 

•  Memoir  prefixed  to  hi«  SermonB.—'MS.  from  Hon.  Mitchell  King. 


72  FRESBYtEEIiJr. 

In  the  year  1792,  he  was  admitted  an  honorary  member  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Philological  Society,  and  about  the  Bame  time  published  an  Abridg- 
ment of  Hume*8  History  of  England,  which  was  favourably  received,  as  was 
indicated  by  its  passing  to  a  second  edition.  He  contributed  also  some 
important  articles  to  the  Encyclopedia  Brittanica. 

The  Presbyterian  Church  in  Charleston,  S.  C,  being  vacant,  and  wish- 
ing to  obtain  a  pastor,  addressed  a  letter  to  Principal  Bobertson,  Dr. 
Blair,  and  the  Rev.  Alexander  Hewat,  their  former  Pastor,  who  had 
returned  to  Scotland,  requesting  that  they  would  *'send"  them  a  '*  gentle- 
man bred  in  the  communion  and  principles  of  the  Established  Church  of 
Scotland  to  be"  their  **  minister."  They  add — **We  hope  we  may  be 
allowed  to  say,  without  the  imputation  of  vanity,  that  he  will  preach  to  a 
polite,  well  informed  congregation,  and  that  he  will  appear  at  the  head  of 
the  Presbyterian  interest  in  this  State."  Mr.  Hewat  being  absent.  Doctors 
llobertson  and  Blair  complied  with  the  request  of  the  Church,  and  offered 
the  vacant  place  to  Mr.  Buist.  He  consented  to  their  proposal;  and  the 
following  is  an  extract  from  the  letter  of  Doctors  Robertson  and  Blair, 
by  which  he  was  introduced  to  the  Church : — "After  much  inquiry  and  sev- 
eral consultations,  we  have  pitched  upon  Mr.  George  Buist,  preacher  of  the 
Gospel.  We  are  both  acquainted  with  him,  and  know  him  to  be  a  good 
scholar,  an  instructive  preacher,  well  bred,  and  of  a  good  natural  temper. 
We  have  no  doubt  but  he  will  prove  an  acceptable  minister  to  the  Congre- 
gation, as  well  as  an  agreeable  member  of  society.'* 

Mr.  Buist  arrived  in  Charleston  in  June,  1793,  having  received  ordina- 
tion previous  to  his  leaving  Scotland.  He  was  received  with  great  cor- 
diality by  the  Church  which  had  called  him,  and  was  regarded,  from  the 
first,  both  as  a  minister  and  a  man,  with  very  general  favour. 

In  March,  1794,  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon 
him  by  the  University  of  Edinburgh, — he  being  at  that  time  less  than 
twenty-four  years  of  age.  It  was  procured  at  the  suggestion  of  some  pro- 
minent individuals  in  his  Congregation,  and  through  the  instrumentality  of 
Doctor  Blair. 

In  the  year  1805,  Dr.  Buist  was  appointed  Principal  of  the  Charleston 
College.  He  accepted  the  appointment,  and  continued  to  hold  the  office  as 
long  as  he  lived,  though  he  still  retained  hb  pastoral  charge.  His  liberal 
acquirements,  as  well  as  his  sound  and  well  matured  views  of  college  disci- 
pline, eminently  qualified  him  to  be  the  head  of  a  literary  institution. 

Dr.  Buist  was  cut  off  in  the  full  vigour  of  life,  and  in  the  midst  of  his 
usefulness.  He  died  suddenly  on  the  81st  of  August,  1808,  after  an  ill- 
ness of  three  or  four  days,  in  the  thirty-ninth  year  of  his  age.  His  Funeral 
was  attended  by  an  immense  throng, — the  service  on  the  occasion  being  per- 
formed by  his  intimate  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Furman,  of  the  Baptist 
Church. 

Dr.  Buist  was  married  in  1797  to  Mary,  daughter  of  Capt.  John  Som- 
mers.  She  was  a  native  of  South  Carolina,  though  her  father  was  from 
Devonshire,  England.  Mrs.  Buist  died  in  1845.  They  had  six  children, — 
four  sons  and  two  daughters.  Of  the  sons,  two  became  ministers  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  one  a  lawyer,  and  one  a  physician. 

In  1809,  a  selection  from  Dr.  Buist's  Sermons  was  published  in  two  vol- 
umes, together  with  a  brief  sketch  of  his  life. 


6E0B6E  BUIST.  73 


FROy  THE  ROV.  MITCHELL  KING. 

Charlxstoh,  S.  C,  17th  Jaly,  1862. 

Mjdear  Sir:  I  do  not  feel  myself  at  liberty  to  decline  a  compliance  with  your 
request  that  I  would  furnish  you  with  my  recollections  of  the  late  Dr.  Buist; 
for  there  is  probably  not  now  alive  in  South  Carolina  another  individual  whose 
relations  with  hira  were  so  intimate  as  mine,  especially  during  the  latter  years 
of  his  life.  Before  he  was  called  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  very  distin- 
guished gentlemen,  then  forming  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  the  College  of  Charles- 
ton, to  take  charge  of  that  institution,  I,  then  a  very  young  man,  had  made  his 
acquaintance,  and  sat  under  his  ministry.  I  was  then  keeping  a  school  on  my 
own  account.  He  soon  invited  me  to  accept  a  situation  in  the  College.  That 
inTitation  I  accepted,  and  remained  in  the  institution  for  a  considerable  time 
after  his  death.  Indeed  I  did  not  finally  leave  it  until  I  had  been  admitted  to 
the  Bar,  and  was  about  to  enter  on  the  practice  of  my  profession.  Our  inter- 
course was  intimate  and  confidential.  In  his  very  short  absences  from  the  Col- 
lege, his  communications  in  respect  to  its  government  were  generally  made  to 
me.  He  owned  a  farm  about  four  or  five  miles  from  town,  at  which  he  fre- 
quently spent  his  Saturday  holiday.  Thither  I  sometimes  accompanied  him  as 
bis  sole  companion,  and  almost  every  Sunday  I  dined  with  him.  No  one  could 
hare  fuller  or  better  opportunities  of  knowing  his  opinions,  his  character,  his 
lore  of  letters,  his  intense  desire  of  improvement,  his  devotion  to  the  principles 
of  the  Church  to  which  he  had  dedicated  himself — no  one,  out  of  his  own  family, 
I  believe,  more  sincerely  lamented  his  loss. 

Dr.  Buist  was  a  large  man,  about  six  feet  high,  with  strongly  marked  features, 
ezpressire  of  what  he  actually  possessed, — much  determination  and  strength 
of  character.  His  shoulders  were  very  broad,  and  his  whole  frame  muscular 
and  active.  His  appearance  was  well  calculated  to  command  respect.  His  man- 
ners were  kind  and  conciliating,  and,  without  being  in  the  slightest  degree  obtru- 
sive or  dogmatical,  he  had  none  of  the  bashfulness  or  awkwardness  of  the  mere 
sdmlar.  Indeed,  he  was  eminently  a  man  for  society, — fond  of  conversation, 
and  able  and  willing  to  take  his  full  share  in  it  without  engrossing  it. 

His  style  of  preaching  was  very  impressive.  By  great  diligence  and  atten- 
tion he  had  almost  wholly  overcome  the  Scottish  peculiarities  of  pronunciation,- 
and  only  a  practised  and  acute  ear  could  have  discovered  that  he  was  a  native 
of  Scotland.  He  read  admirably.  He  very  rarely  ventured  on  an  extempo- 
raneooA  discourse;  and  the  graces  of  his  delivery  won  the  attention  and  con- 
ciliated the  favour  of  his  hearers.  He  was  much  respected  and  beloved  by  his 
Congr^iation,  and  had  great  influence  with  them.  His  church  was  well  filled, — 
generally  crowded;  and  for  a  number  of  years  before  his  death,  there  were 
always  many  more  applicants  for  pews  in  it  than  could  be  accommodated.  In 
his  sermons,  he  belonged  more  to  the  school  of  Blair  than  to  that  of  Wither- 
spoon  or  Chalmers;  more  to  what,  for  want  of  a  more  appropriate  appellation, 
has  been  called  the  "  Moderate,"  than  to  the  '*  Evangelical "  portion  of  the 
Church.  He  lored  to  explain  and  enforce  the  morality,  and  to  strengthen,  and 
animate,  and  extend  the  charity  and  love,  of  the  Gospel,  more  than  to  preach 
its  profound  and  sublime  mysteries,  or  to  awaken  and  awe  by  the  terrors  of  the 
Law. 

From  early  life  he  was  a  great  student;  and  his  love  of  learning  and  know- 
ledge seemed  to  increase  with  his  increasing  years.  When  he  was  first  called  to 
the  ministry,  he  composed  a  great  number  of  sermons,  which,  after  his  mar- 
riage, and  with  the  cares  of  an  increasing  family,  and  the  labour  of  conducting 
an  important  literary  institution,  he  was  in  a  great  measure  obliged  to  continue 
to  use.    His  excellent  delivery  still  recommended  them  to  his  hearers.     Had  he 

Yd.  IV.  10 


74  P|tS3B7T£BUJC« 

been  spared,  and  enabled  to  gire  himself  to  the  composition  of  new  sennonSy  it 
is  confidently  believed  that,  with  his  increased  learning,  and  experience,  and 
knowledge,  he  would  have  left  works  behind  him,  w^ich  the  world  would  not 
willingly  let  die.  The  sermons  which  were  published  after  his  death,  were 
among  his  early  productions,  and  are  by  no  means  to  be  regarded  as  adequate 
specimens  of  his  attainments  and  abilities  in  the  later  periods  of  his  life. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  Dr.  Buist,  with  his  xery  decided  literary 
tastes  and  great  diligence  in  study,  was  a  proficient  in  various  departments  of 
learning.  While  he  was  a  student  at  the  University,  as  well  as  afterwards,  be 
was  passionately  fond  of  the  study  of  Greek.  I  have  heard  him  say  that,  dur- 
ing his  college  course,  he  was  accustomed  frequently  to  start  from  his  sleep,  and 
find  himself  repeating  some  favourite  Greek  author.  He  was  also  a  thorough 
Hebrew  scholar,  insomuch  that  when  he  was  examined  by  the  Presbytery  for 
licensure,  the  fluency  with  which  he  read  the  Hebrew  Bible  was  a  subject  of 
remark  with  the  venerable  clergymen  who  heard  his  examination.  With  the 
French  and  Italian  languages  he  was  also  at  that  time  critically  acquainted. 
Indeed  there  was  no  language  or  science  which  he  did  not  seem  ambitious  to 
master.  With  such  extensive  acquirements,  in  connection  with  high  natural 
qualifications,  he  was,  as  might  naturally  be  expected,  an  eminently  successful 
instructer.  Many  have  passed  away,  and  some  still  survive,  who  were  much 
indebted  for  their  early  intellectual  discipline  to  his  &ithful  and  well  directed 
efforts. 

I  am,  with  great  respect,  Rev.  and  dear  Sir, 

Very  sincerely  joorsj 

M.  KING. 


-«»- 


SAMUEL  BROWN  * 

1793—1818. 

Samuxl  Browk  was,  on  the  father^s  side,  of  English  extraction ;  on  the 
mother's  side,  of  Scotch.  His  paternal  grandfather  migrated  to  this  coun- 
try before  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  settled  first  in  Penn- 
sylvania, where  he  remained  for  a  few  years,  and  then  removed  to  Virginia, 
to  the  neighbourhood  of  Big  Lick,  in  what  is  now  Roanoke  County.  His 
father,  Henry  Brown,  settled  on  a  stream  called  Otter,  at  a  place  about 
seven  miles  from  New  London,  in  Bedford  County,  where  this  son  was  born, 
November  18,  1766.  His  mother's  name  was  Alcy  Beard — she  was  bom 
in  Scotland,  and  her  relatives  in  this  country  are  understood  to  have  resided 
in  Delaware.  His  father  was,  for  many  years,  a  member  of  the  Presbyte- 
rian Church  ;  but  a  few  years  before  his  death,  joined  the  Baptists,  while 
his  mother  still  continued  a  Presbyterian. 

The  subject  of  this  sketch,  at  a  very  early  period,  discovered  a  decidedly 
intellectual  taste,  and  easily  mastered,  in  the  way  of  study,  wliatever  he 
undertook.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  the  mathematics,  and  indeed  of 
every  branch  of  learning  that  kept  his  mind  in  the  attitude  of  close  and 
vigorous  investigation.     But  so  straitened  were  his  father's  circumstances, 

*  MSB,  ft-om  Rev.  Br^  Arohibald  Alexander  and  fhun  Mr.  Broirn*B  famUy .    Footo'a  Sketches 
of  Yiu,  3d  Seriei. 


ihU  when  tbe  sod  exprasged  to  him  his  desire  fox  a  liheral  education,  he 
felt  coostrained  to  discourage  him  from  making  the  attempt.  He,  however, 
by  some  means  or  other,  succeeded  in  acquiring  a  tolerable  knowledge  of 
the  English  branches,  insomuch  that  he  was  competent  to  teach  a  common 
English  school;  and  he  was  actually  employed  in  this  way  in  Kentucky,*  for 
one  year.  This  was  about  the  year  1786,  when  he  was  twenty  years  of  age. 
On  leaving  his  school,  he  returned  to  his  father's  in  Yirginia,  where  he 
remained  for  some  time.  At  this  period,  he  obtained  a  magnetic  needle,  which 
he  fitted  to  a  wooden  compass  of  his  own  construction,  and  by  this  means 
pzmetised  surveying,  with  a  view  to  both  his  amusement  and  improvement. 

Soon  after  his  return  from  Kentucky  in  1788,  he  put  himself,  under. the 
iostmction  of  the  Eev.  James  Mitchel,  an  excellent  Presbyterian  minister 
of  Bedford  County,  who  had  a  small  grammar  school  in  his  own  house ; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  became  a  member  of  Mr.  Mitchel's  family.  Here  a 
great  ehange  occurred  in  his  feelings  on  the  subject  of  religion,  which 
extended  to  all  the  purposes*  and  ultimately  to  the  whole  conduct,  of  lus 
life.  An  unusual  seriousness  at  that  time  pervaded  the  surrounding  com- 
monity ;  and  young  Brown,  who,  though  somewhat  inclined  to  gaiety,  had 
always  sustained  a  fair  moral  character,  was  early  brought  under  its  infiu- 
enee.  When  his  excellent  instructer  first  ventured  to  address  him  in  respect 
to  his  immortal  well-being,  not  knowing  whether  his  mind  was  at  all  directed 
to  it,  he  was  equally  surprised  and  gratified  to  find  that  this  had  become 
the  aU-engrossing  object  of  his  thoughts.  He  ascertained,  by  conversing 
with  him,  that  he  had  previously  been  the  subject  of  strong  religious  impres- 
sions, bat  that  they  had  passed  away  as  the  morning  dew ;  and  now,  such 
were  his  views  of  the  sinfulness  of  his  own  heart,  that  he  was  inclined  to 
regard  his  case  as  well  nigh  hopeless.  After  striving  for  some  time  in  the 
spirit  of  the  law,  he  oommenoed  striving  in  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel ;  and 
then  the  way  of  life  seemed  clear  to  him,  and  he  found  the  peace  which  he 
had  so  mnch  desired.  When  he  began  to  think  of  making  a  profession  of 
religion,  he  was  for  a  time  somewhat  perplexed  by  the  Calvinistic  and 
Armioian  controversy ;  but,  after  considerable  examination,  his  views  became 
fixed  in  fkvour  of  Calvinism,  and  they  never  niaterially  changed  during  the 
rest  of  his  life. 

In  1790,  he  resided  at  Liberty,  the  seat  of  justice  in  Bedford  County, 
with  his  brother-in-law,  where  he  prosecuted  his  studies,  more  or  less,  for 
two  years.  After  this,  he  was  a  pupil  at  the  New  London  Academy,  and 
finally  completed  his  studies  at  Washington  College,  Lexington,  known  at 
that  time  by  the  name  of  Liberty  Hall. 

*  Hk  expedition  to  Kentaelcj  \m  thofl  desoribed,  u  illastrative  of  his  great  energy  of  pnr- 
pQie,  in  a  letter  ttem  his  son-in-law,  the  Rev.  James  Morrison : — 

"  When  he  was  a  joath,  only  about  nineteen  or  twenty,  he,  in  oompany  with  two  or  three 
etben,  took  their  axes,  knapsacks,  and  rifles,  and  went  through  the  Western  part  of  this  State 
(Tirginia,)  then  almcet  entirely  a  wilderness,  until  they  reached  the  Great  Kanawha,  where 
thc^  encamped  until  they  had  formed  a  eanoe  out  of  a  largo  poplar  tree.  They  then  launched 
their  canoe,  and  sailed  down  the  Kanawha  to  its  mouth,  and  then  down  the  Ohio,  until  they 
reached  Limestone,  now  Maysville,  in  Kentucky.  There  they  landed,  spent  a  year,  and  then 
returned  U>  Virginia  by  the  Southwestern  route,  a  large  portion  of  which  was  then  a  wilderness, 
and  greatly  infested  by  the  robberies  and  murders  of  the  Cherokee  Indians.  They  made  this 
whcde  Journey  on  foot,  with  the  exception  of  the  distanoe  that  they  trarelled  in  their  eanoe, 
aad  were  exposed,  through  mueh  tbe  larger  part  of  their  way,  to  the  hostile  attacks  of  the  say- 
■g«a.  A  gentleman  now  liHns  told  me  that  in  the  year  1817,  as  he  was  going  down  the  Kan- 
awha Rirer  in  company  with  Mr.  Brown,  Mr.  B.  showed  him  the  stump  of  the  tree  which  he 
aad  his  coBpanions  had  cut  down  to  make  their  canoe.  The^r  kept  a  guard  against  tho 
Indians,  during  the  whole  time  they  were  making  it,  and,  in  sailing  down  the  river,  would 
efUn  go  on  one  side,  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  the  guns  <tf  the  Indians,  on  the  other." 


76  PEBSBTTERIAK. 

He  wae  lioensed  to  preaok  bj  the  West  Hanover  Presbytery,  on  the  6th 
of.  April,  1798;  snd,  after  being  employed  under  the  direction  of  a  Com- 
mission of  Synod  as  a  missionary  in  Eastern  Virginia,  until  April,  1796,  ho 
received  a  cidl  from  the  Presbyterian  Congregation  of  New  Providence  to 
become  their  Pastor.  This  call  was  put  into  his  hands  on  the  5th  of  June, 
shortly  after  which  his  installation  took  place.  Here  he  remained  a  faithful 
and  sealous  minister  during  the  residue  of  his  life. 

When  that  strange  phenomenon,  the  jerks,  as  it  wai»  commonly  called, 
appeared  in  connection  with  the  great  revival  at  the  South  and  Southwest 
soon  after  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  Mr.  Brown  immediately 
commenced  an  investigation  in  regard  to  it ;  and  the  result  was  that  he 
became  fully  satisfied  that  it  was  in  no  sense  a  part  of  the  work  of  the 
Spirit,  but  was  at  best  nothing  more  than  a  spurious  admixture  with  a  real 
Divine  operation.  Under  this  conviction  he  opposed  it  vigorously,  and  sue* 
oeeded  in  keeping  it  out  of  his  own  congregation  almost  entirely,  while  it 
was  prevailing  in  most  or  all  of  the  congregations  around.  Many  persons 
prayed  very  earnestly  that  his  wife  might  be  a  subject,  thinking  that  that 
would  be  the  most  effectual  way  of  overcoming  his  opposition.  Amongst 
those  who  were  most  deeply  grieved  at  his  course,  was  a  venerable  elder  in 
a  neighbouring  congregation, — a  man  of  eminent  piety,  and  withal  one  of 
Mr.  Brown's  most  attached  friends.  The  elder  made  him  a  visit,  with  a  view 
to  remonstrate  with  him,  and  convince  him  of  what  he  believed  to  be  his 
mistake.  After  not  a  long  dbcussion,  he  found  his  arguments  all  disposed 
of,  and  went  away  silenced,  but  not  satisfied.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days, 
he  repeated  his  visit,  confident  that  he  should  then  be  able  to  accomplish 
what  he  had  failed  to  do  before ;  but  he  met  now  with  a  discomfiture  more 
signal  than  the  first.  The  gray-headed  old  man,  as  he  rose  to  start  for 
home,  in  the  warmth  of  his  feelings,  grasped  Mr.  Brown's  hand,  and  said 
with  great  earnestness, — **  Mr.  Brown,  I  cannot  reason  with  you  ;  but  I  am 
right  and  you  are  wrong ;  and  I  solemnly  warn  you  that,  if  you  do  not 
cease  your  opposition  to  this  work  of  God,  you  will  cease  to  be  useful,  will 
lose  your  Christian  comfort,  and  at  last  die  under  a  cloud.**  Mr.  Brown 
simply  replied — '*  I  am  willing  to  leave  it  all  in  God's  hands."  Many 
months  after,  the  good  old  man  came  back  to  visit  him,  and  acknowledge 
that  he  was  himself  in  the  mistake,  and  ask  forgiveness  for  what  then 
seemed  to  him  his  unreasonable  and  ungracious  remarks. 

The  11th  of  October,  1818,  was  a  Communion  Sabbath  in  the  Church  to 
which  Mr.  Brown  minist^ed.  On  Saturday  morning  preceding,  he  lectured 
on  the  last  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Revelation, — thus  closing  a  series  of 
lectures  which  had  commenced  with  Genesis.  The  discourse  was  delivered 
with  great  freedom  and  power.  He  spoke  with  deep  feeling  of  the  account 
he  must  finally  render  of  the  manner  in  which  he  had  explained  and 
enforced  the  truths  of  the  Bible ;  and  most  solemnly  appealed  to  the 
Searcher  of  hearts  that  he  had  endeavoured  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of 
God.  In  administering  the  Lord's  Supper  the  next  day,  he  was  so  much 
carried  away  by  his  feelings  in  his  address  in  serving  the  last  table,  that  he 
forgot  to  distribute  the  cup,  and  was  on  the  point  of  closing  the  exercises, 
when  one  of  the  elders  reminded  him  of  the  omission.  On  Sabbath  after- 
noon, and  on  Monday,  he  delivered  two  sermons,  which  were  regarded  by 
his  congregation  as  among  the  most  powerful  they  had  ever  heard  from  him. 
For  two  or  three  months,  he  had  been  troubled  with  an  affection  of  the 


SAMUEL  BROWN.  77 

heart,  and,  a  few  days  before  bis  deatb,  bad  expressed  tbe  belief  tbat  a 
hardening  and  contracting  of  tbe  large  artery  bad  taken  place.  He  bad  a 
painful  attack  on  Saturday  morning,  previous  to  bis  going  to  tbe  cburob. 
On  Tuesday  be  appeared  as  well  as  usual,  and  after  dinner  went  to  a  new 
dwelling-bouse  that  be  was  building,  wbere  be  engaged  in  some  active 
exercise,  and  was  observed  to  stop  suddenly,  and  lay  bimself  down  upon  a 
bencb.  After  remaining  tbere  a  few  minutes,  be  walked  to  bis  dwelling, 
told  Mrs.  Brown  tbat  be  bad  anotber  attack  of  pain  in  bis  beart,  and  called 
for  some  warm  water  to  batbe  bis  feet.  Wbile  bis  feet  were  in  tbe  water, 
his  wife  saw  bis  bead  fall  back,  and  witbout  a  gasp  or  a  struggle  be  ceased 
to  breatbe,  sitting  in  bis  cbair.  It  was  less  tban  balf  an  bour  from  tbe 
time  tbat  be  lay  down  upon  tbe  bencb  in  tbe  new  bouse  till  be  was  dead. 

Tbe  following  grapbic  account  of  bis  Funeral,  from  tbe  pen  of  tbe  late 
Kev.  Dr.  J.  H.  Kice,  and  originally  published  in  tbe  Evangelical  and 
Literary  Magazine,  is  a  striking  testimony  to  tbe  marked  excellence  of  bis 
character : — 

'*  The  record  of  the  incidents  of  the  day  (October  14, 1818)  presents  something  like 
a  map  of  human  life.  In  the  morning  we  were  gay  and  cheerful,  amusing  ourselves 
with  remarks  on  the  country,  on  the  comparative  genius  and  habits  of  our  country- 
men, and  a  thousand  things,  just  as  the  thoughts  of  them  occurred,  anticipating  a 
joyful  meeting  in  the  evening  with  some  well  tried,  beloved  and  faithful  friends;  when, 
suddenly  as  the  flash  of  lightning  breaks  f^om  tbe  cloud,  we  were  informed  of  thu 
almost  instantaneous  deatli  of  one  of  the  choicest  of  these  friends,  and  one  of  the  most 
valuable  of  men — the  Rev.  Sauuel  Bbown.  Tlie  road  which  we  should  travel  led  by 
the  house  in  which  he  was  accustomed  to  preach;  and,  on  enquiring  for  it,  we  were 
asked  if  we  were  going  to  the  funeral !  Thus,  as  in  a  moment,  was  hope  turned  into 
deep  despondency,  and  gladness  of  heart  exchanged  for  the  bitterness  of  sorrow.  We 
journeyed  on  in  moumfnl  silence  interrupted  by  occasional  remarks,  which  showed 
our  unwillingness  to  believe  the  truth  of  what  had  been  announced,  and  how  reluc- 
tantly hope  takes  her  flight  from  the  human  bosom.  It  might  have  been  a  fainting 
fit, — an  apoplectic  stroke,  mistaken  for  the  invasion  of  death;  and  still  he  might  be 
alive.  The  roads,  trampled  by  multitudes  of  horses,  all  directed  to  the  dwelling  of 
our  friend,  dissipated  these  illusions  of  the  deceiver,  and  convinced  us  of  the  sad 
reality.  Still,  however,  when  we  arrived  at  the  church,  aud  saw  the  people  assem- 
bling, and  the  pile  of  red  clay  (the  sure  indication  of  a  newly  opened  grave)  thrown 
up  in  the  church  yard,  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  then,  for  the  first  time,  assured  that 
Samuel  Brown  was  dead.  Only  a  few  people  had  come  together  on  our  arrival. 
Some  in  small  groups  were  conversing  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  interrupted  by  frequent 
and  bitter  sighs,  and  showing  in  strong  terms  how  deeply  they  felt  their  loss.  Others, 
whose  emotions  were  too  powerful  for  conversation,  stood  apart,  and  leaning  on  the 
tombstones,  looked  like  pictures  of  wo.  Presently,  the  sound  of  the  multitude  was 
l^eard — ^they  came  on  in  great  crowds.  The  ciders  of  the  church  assisted  in  commit- 
ting the  body  to  the  grave.  After  which  a  solemn  silence,  interrupted  only  by 
smothered  sobs,  issued  for  several  minutes.  The  widow  stood  at  the  head  of  the 
grave,  surrounded  by  her  children,  exhibiting  signs  of  unutterable  anguish,  yet  seem- 
ing to  say,  *  It  is  the  Lord,  let  Him  do  with  us  what  seemeth  Him  good.'  After  a  little 
time,  on  a  signal  being  given,  some  young  men  began  to  fill  the  grave.  The  first  clods 
that  fell  on  the  cofiin,  gave  forth  the  most  mournful  sound  I  ever  heard.  At  that 
moment  of  agony,  the  chorister  of  the  congregation  was  asked  to  sing  a  specified 
hymn,  to  a  tune  known  to  be  a  favourite  of  the  deceased  minister.  The  voice  of  the 
chorister  faltered,  so  that  it  required  several  efforts  to  raise  the  tunc.  The  whole  con- 
gregation attempted  to  join  him ;  but  at  first  the  sound  was  rather  a  scream  of  angnirii 
than  music.  As  they  advanced,  however,  the  precious  truths  expressed  in  the  hymn 
seemed  to  enter  into  their  souls.  Their  voices  became  more  firm,  and  while  their  eyes 
streamed  with  tears,  their  countenances  were  radiant  with  Christian  hope,  and  the 
singing  of  the  last  stanza  was  like  a  shout  of  triumph.  The  words  of  the  hymn  are 
well  known  to  many,  but  we  think  it  not  amiss  to  record  them  hero : 

*  When  I  can  read  my  title  dear,'  Sec. 

*'  By  the  time  that  these  words  were  finished,  the  grave  was  closed,  and  the  congre- 
gation, in  solemn  silence,  retired  to  their  homes. 

''  We  lodged  that  night  with  one  of  the  members  of  tbe  church.  Tbe  family  seemed 
bereaved,  as  though  the  head  of  the  honsehold  had  just  been  buried     Every  allusio9> 


7g  PRESBT7ERIAV. 

to  lh€  event,  too,  brought  ibrtb  a  flood  of  tears.  I  ooald  not  help  exdaimlng 
'  Behold  how  they  loved  him  !'  And  I  thought  the  lamentations  of  fathers  and 
mothers,  of  young  men  and  maidens,  over  their  departed  pastor,  a  more  eloquent  and 
affecting  eulogium,  than  oratory  with  all  its  pomp  and  pretensions  oould  pronounce. 
After  this,  I  shall  not  attempt  a  pan^Qrric.  Let  those  who  wish  to  know  the  character 
of  Samuel  Brown,  go  and  see  the  sod  that  covers  his  body,  wet  with  the  tears  of  his 
congregation.^' 

The  only  acknowledged  publication  of  Mr.  Brown  is  a  Sermon  preached 
in  Harrisonburg,  Ya.,  at  the  ordination  of  A.  B.  Davidson. 

On  the  9th  of  October,  1798,  about  two  years  after  his  settlement  in  the 
minbtry,  l^Ir.  Brown  was  married  to  Mary  Moore,  who  was  distinguished 
not  only  for  her  intelligence,  energy,  and  general  excellence  of  character, 
but  for  having  spent  several  years  of  her  life  in  captivity,  and  for  belonging  to  a 
family,  most  of  whom,  shortly  after  the  Kevolution,  fell  victims  to  Indian 
barbarity.  The  sufferings  which  she  underwent,  and  the  spirit  in  which 
she  endured  them,  marked  her  as  a  heroine,  and  well  nigh  as  a  martyr ;  and 
the  history  of  that  part  of  her  life  is  invested  with  a  sort  of  tragical  romance, 
which  fills  the  mind  of  the  reader  with  alternate  horror  and  admiration. 
She  was  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  celebrated  Butherford,  who  was  a  mem* 
ber  from  Scotland  of  the  Westminster  Assembly  of  Divines,  and  of  the 
scarcely  less  celebrated  Joseph  AUeine,  the  author  of  the  **  Alarm  to  the 
Unconverted.'^  Butherford's  pocket  Bible  is  still  in  possession  of  one  of 
the  family  who  resides  in  Kentucky. 

The  following  account  of  the  captivity  of  Mary  Moore,  afterwards  Mrs. 
Brown,  has  been  kindly  furnished  me  by  one  of  her  sons,  the  Rev.  James 
M.  Brown,  D.  D.,  of  Kanawha  Court-House,  Ya. 

**  James  Moore,  a  native  of  *  the  Valley'  in  Virginia,  was  an  adyentu- 
rous  pioneer.  He  removed  from  the  more  thickly  settled  part  of  the  coun- 
try to  Abb's  Valley,  in  what  is  now  Tazewell  County,  accompanied  by  the 
small  families  of  Robert  Poage,  his  brother-in-law,  and  Absalom  Looney, 
who  was  the  first  white  man  that  visited  this  valley.  These,  after  living 
there  two  or  three  years,  left  on  account  of  the  frequent  incursions  of  the 
Indians.  Mr.  Moore,  more  adventurous,  remained,  and  was  actively 
engaged  in  raising  horses  and  cattle,  and  gathering  ginseng,  which  was  very 
abundant  on  the  rich  mountain  sides.  Scarce  a  summer  passed  without 
one  or  more  interruptions  from  the  savages.  In  September,  1784,  his  son 
James,  a  lad  of  fourteen  years  of  age,  was  surprised  a  mile  or  two  from  the 
house,  taken  prisoner,  and  carried  to  the  Shawnee  towns  in  Ohio. 

*'  On  the  14th  of  July,  1786,  about  thirty  Indians  made  an  attack  on 
Mr.  Moore's  family ;  killed  him  near  his  house,  and  three  children  in  the 
yard.  When  the  alarm  was  given,  Mrs.  Moore  had  closed  and  barred  the 
door  of  the  house  in  which  were  herself,  four  of  her  children,  a  young 
woman  named  Martha  Evans,  and  an  Englishman  who  lived  in  the  family. 
In  peeping  through  one  of  the  cracks  between  the  logs,  he  was  discovered 
and  shot  by  the  Indians,  who  then  commenced  to  cut  down  the  door.  At 
this  moment  Mrs.  Moore  kneeled  down,  and  having  commended  herself  and 
those  with  her  to  God,  rose  and  opened  the  door.  All  that  the  Indians 
oould  carry  with  them  was  selected  ;  the  rest  of  the  household  goods  was 
collected  into  a  pile  in  the  yard  and  burned.  After  the  pile  was  set  on  fire, 
Mary,  then  in  her  tenth  year,  went  to  it,  and  picked  up  two  New  Testaments 
which  she  placed  under  her  arm  and  carried  with  her. 

**The  oldest  son  of  the  family  was  a  sickly  lad,  and,  being  unable  to  bear 
the  fatigue  of  travelling,  was  killed  on  the  second  day  after  leaving  the 


SAMUEL  BROWN.  79 

Ytllej.  The  youngest,  an  infant,  was  fretfnl  ft*om  a  sore  ann,  and  was 
also  killed. 

**  The  Indians  took  their  captives  to  the  Cbilicothe  towns,  near  to  the 
place  of  that  name  in  Ohio.  After  being  there  a  short  time,  Mrs.  Moore 
and  a  daughter  older  than  Mary  were  put  to  torture  and  burned,  while 
Maij  and  Martha  Evans  were  saved  from  this  fate  by  being  kept  away  from 
the  village  for  several  days  by  the  Indian  women.  When  they  came  back, 
Mary  missed  her  mother  and  sister ;  and  their  bones  amidst  the  ashes  and 
brands  told  her  what  their  &te  had  been.  She  procured  a  hoe,  dug  a  hole 
as  deep  as  she  could  with  it,  gathered  the  bones  and  placed  them  in  it, 
eovered  them  up,  and  placed  a  stone  Ovev  them. 

"  In  the  autumn  of  that  year,  the  villages  of  these  Indians  were  burned ; 
their  entire  stock  of  provision  for  the  winter  destroyed,  and  they  were  coin- 
pelled  '  to  set  out  for  Canada  about  the  commeDcement  of  winter.  This 
journey  and  the  winter  that  followed  it  were  periods  of  great  privation  and 
suffering  to  the  captives;  but  before  the  spring  both  were  sold  to  the 
whites. 

*'  Mary  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  Befugee  Tory,  an  unprincipled  and  wicked 
man,  by  whom  she  was  much  more  cruelly  treated  than  by  the  Indians. 
Whilst  living  with  him,  she  met  with  her  brother  James,  who,  by  a  train 
of  singular  providences,  had  been  brought  to  that  region. 

*' Thomas  Evans,  the  brother  of  Martha,  after  a  series  of  romantic  and 
dangerous  adventures,  had  succeeded  in  finding  out  where  his  sister  was, 
and  had  gone  for  her.  "With  him,  James  and  Mary  Moore  returned  to  their 
relatives  iii  Virginia. 

**  Mary  carried  her  Testament  through  all  her  trials  and  changes,  until 
she  wafl  passing  through  the  Western  part  of  Pennsylvania,  on  her  way  to 
her  friends. 

**  There  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  she  had  given  her  heart  to  her 
Saviour  before  she  was  ten  years  old.  In  her  fifteenth  year,  she  was  received 
into  the  Communion  of  the  Church  on  profession  of  faith. 

•'  She  became  the  wife  of  Mr.  Brown ;  and  closed  her  eventful  life  on  the 
23d  of  April,  1824,  in  the  triumphs  of  faith.  She  was  the  mother  of  eleven 
children,  ten  of  whom  survived  her.  They  all  gave  evidence  of  piety.  Five 
of  her  sons  entered  the  ministry  in  the  Presbyterian  Church ;  two  of  her 
grandsons  are  now  (1857)  preaching  the  Gospel,  and  a  third  is  pursuing 
hu  theological  studies. 

*' An  extended  account  of  her  life  is  found  in  *The  Captives  of  Abb's 
Valley,' — ^a  volume  from  the  press  of  the  Presbyterian  Board  of  Publica- 
tkm. 

FROM  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  B.  WILSON,  D.  D., 

PaOFESSOB  IV  TUB  UHION  THEOLOGICAL  8BMINART,  TA. 

Union  TheoloAioal  Seminary,  July  6, 1848. 
Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  I  am  happy  to  comply  with  your  request  in  furnishing  you 
with  some  brief  reminiscences  of  the  late  Rev.  Samuel  Brown.  Forty-four  years 
hmvt  now  elapsed  since  I  was  an  inmate  of  his  family;  and  I  have  doubtless 
foigotten  many  things  which  then  passed  under  my  observation,  that  might 
serve  to  illustrate  his  character.  But,  though  I  have  not  the  aid  of  any  written 
memoranda,  and  write  entirely  from  recollection,  I  think  you  may  rely  on  the 
substantial  correctness  of  my  statements. 


90  FRESBYTERIAX. 

It  is  understood  thftt  thu  ezcellent  man  had  to  contend  with  manj  diiBealties 
in  obtaining  his  education,  and  never  enjoyed  the  highest  adyantoges  of  earl/ 
and  thorough  mental  training.  But  the  native  vigour  of  his  mind  and  the  fer- 
vour of  his  piety  surmounted  every  obstacle;  and  he  rose  to  an  eminence  as  a 
preacher,  little,  if  at  all,  inferior  to  the  best  educated  ministers  of  Virginia,  who 
were  contemporary  with  him, — though  among  them  were  Hoge,  Alexander, 
Rice,  Speece,  and  Baxter.  While  each  of  these  possessed  peculiar  excellencies, 
and  some  of  them  were  distinguished  for  more  extensive  acquisitions,  and  a 
higher  degree  of  pathos,  no  one  excelled  him  in  native  strength  of  mind,  power 
of  reasoning,  or  soundness  of  judgment.  All  his  brethren  acknowledged  his 
pre-eminent  native  talents,  and  loved  him  for  his  exalted  character  as  a  Chris- 
tian and  a  minister.  I  well  remember  that,  at  the  meeting  of  the  Synod  of  Yir- 
gtnia,  in  October,  1818,  a  few  days  after  his  death,  when  it  was  proposed  that 
Dr.  Speece  should  be  appointed  to  preach  his  Funeral  Sermon,  he  rose,  and,  in 
his  brief  and  decisive  manner,  said, — "  I  am  not  worthy  to  preach  the  Funeral 
Sermon  of  such  a  man  as  Samuel  Brown." 

My  personal  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Brown  commenced  about  the  year  1802. 
On  Sacramental  and  other  public  occasions,  he  often  visited  Lexington,  and 
preached  for  Dr.  Baxter.  I  was  at  that  time  a  student  in  Washington  Collie. 
His  preaching  was  attractive  and  deeply  interesting  to  me  and  my  fellow-stu- 
dents. Ilis  sermons  were  eminently  instructive  and  impressive.  His  appre- 
hension of  Divine  things  was  uncommonly  clear,  and  consequently  his  discourses 
were  well  understood  by  his  hearers.  His  deep  toned  piety,  his  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  plan  of  salvation,  his  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  tempta- 
tions and  trials  of  God's  people,  and  the  influence  of  truth  under  the  operation 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  rendered  his  preaching  deeply  interesting  to  Christians,  and 
all  whose  minds  were  in  any  degree  directed  to  the  concerns  of  religion.  His 
sermons  displayed  a  happy  medium  between  cold  speculation  on  the  one  hand, 
that  leaves  the  heart  unmoved,  and  exciting  declamation  on  the  other,  that  lashes 
the  feelings  into  a  storm,  while  the  understanding  is  left  in  darkness.  Believ- 
ing that  truth  is  the  means  God  employs  to  quicken,  to  sanctify,  and  comfort,  he 
used  it  as  a  wise  workman  that  had  no  cause  to  be  ashamed. 

There  was  nothing  in  Mr.  Brown's  personal  appearance,  in  his  gestures  or  his 
style,  to  attract  his  audience.  Tet  he  was  heard  with  fixed  attention,  and  often 
with  delight.  The  source  of  his  great  influence  over  his  hearers  was  the  power 
of  truth  exhibited  with  unusual  clearness,  manifest  sincerity,  and  a  spotless  repu- 
tation. Many  men  who  had  no  regard  for  religion,  admired  his  ability  and  skill 
in  selecting  his  positions,  and  so  disposing  his  arguments  in  their  defence,  as  to 
reach  his  distant  conclusion,  with  a  force  of  evidence  that  could  not  be  resisted. 
At  the  close  of  one  of  his  argumentative  sermons,  a  gentleman  observed  to  me — 
''Mr.  Brown  reminds  me  of  an  ingenious  mechanic,  in  making  a  complicated 
machine.  He  flrst  finishes  in  a  perfect  manner  all  the  several  parts;  and  then 
so  combines  them,  that  each  conspires  to  produce  the  precise  effect  that  he 
designed.  So,"  said  he,  ''  did  Mr.  Brown  state  his  several  positions  and  prove 
them  conclusively;  but  I  did  not  fully  discover  their  use  until  he  arranged  them, 
and  finally  led  his  hearers  on  to  the  important  conclusion  at  which  he  arrived, 
in  a  manner  that  seemed  to  me  like  absolute  demonstration. 

In  1804, 1  accepted  an  invitfition  to  reside  in  his  family,  and  pursue  my  theo- 
logical studies  under  his  care.  The  situation  afforded  me  the  best  opportunity 
to  sec  him  at  home,  to  witness  his  habits  of  study,  and  his  mode  of  discharging 
pastoral  duties. 

Mr.  Brown  had  a  young  and  large  family,  a  small  salary,  and  but  little  pro- 
perty. To  provide  for  his  family,  it  was  necessary  either  to  teach  a  school  or 
cultivate  the  soil.  But,  under  all  these  disadvantages,  he  would  not  serve  God 
in  the  church  with  that  which  cost  him  nothing.     He  redeemed  time  for  reading 


SAMUEL  BROWX.  gX 

small  but  well  selected  library,  and  for  deep  meditation,  which  rendered 
his  Sabbath  day  services  highly  acceptable  and  useful  to  his  flock ;  so  that,  at 
his  death,  he  left  his  church  among  the  largest  at  that  time  in  Virginia.  From 
the  necessity  of  the  case,  his  sermons  were  not  written;  but  they  were  not  loose 
harangues  delivered  without  previous  preparation,  but  generally  well  digested 
discourses. 

It  was  during  my  residence  in  his  family  that  those  strange  excitements  and 
bodily  agitations  called  the  jerk9,  commenced  in  his  congr^ation.  Time  Iia.s 
enabled  ministers  and  others  to  form  a  judgment  about  those  peculiar  bodily 
affections  now,  which  then  was  no  easy  matter.  The  scene  was  novel.  The 
exercises  were  involmitary.  The  subjects  were  sometimes  brought  to  a  saving 
knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ,  sometimes  left  under  the  dominion  of  sin.  Some 
Christians,  eminent  for  piety,  were  subjects  of  the  work.  Wise  and  good  men 
were  perplexed,  and  arrived  at  different  conclusions. 

Mr.  Brown,  after  a  period  of  close  and  careful  investigation,  concluded  that 
all  bodily  exercises  and  agitations  which  tended  to  mar  the  gravity  and  decency 
of  religious  worship,  and  hinder  the  orderly  preaching  and  hearing  of  the  Gos- 
pel, ought  to  be  discountenanced.  I  well  remember  his  declaration  on  this  sub- 
ject. Applying  the  matter  to  his  own  case,  he  said — *'  If  the  Holy  Spirit  has 
sent  me  to  preach  the  Gospel,  it  surely  cannot  be  the  same  Spirit  that  prevents 
me  from  delivering  my  message,  or  the  congregation  from  giving  to  it  a  serious 
attention."  There  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  the  decided  opposition  of  Sam- 
uel Brown  to  these  bodily  exercises  did  much  to  suppress  them,  not  only  in  his 
own  congregation  but  elsewhere;  for  all  who  knew  him  confided  greatly  in  tlie 
soundness  of  his  judgment. 

Unless  some  providential  event  prevented,  Mr.  Brown  was  a  punctual  attend- 
ant on  the  judicatories  of  the  Church;  and  being  a  conspicuous  member,  his 
preparations  for  preaching  on  those  occasions  were  usually  made  with  great  care. 
This  was  done,  not  to  display  his  talents  or  acquirements,  but  for  the  purpose 
of  exposing  or  rebuking  dangerous  errors  with  which  the  Church  was  threat- 
ened, or  of  exciting  to  some  effort  which  the  exigencies  of  the  Church,  or  the 
wants  of  a  world  lying  in  wickedness,  demanded.  The  custom  of  the  Virginia 
Churches,  in  having  large  collections  of  people  at  meetings  of  Presbytery  and 
Synod,  and  much  preaching  also,  furnished  a  suitable  opportunity  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  purpose. 

In  his  family,  Mr.  Brown  was  an  example  of  intelligent  and  consistent  piety. 
Of  him  and  his  excellent  wife  it  might  truly  be  said,  that,  like  the  parents  of 
John  the  Baptist,  they  ''  walked  in  all  the  commandments  and  ordinances  of  the 
Lord  blameless."  Their  house  was  a  place  of  love,  peace,  and  prayer.  He  com- 
manded his  household  with  authority,  yet  with  affection ;  and  required  all  his 
children  and  servants  to  be  present  at  the  family  devotions.  How  prudently 
and  successfully  he  brought  up  his  household  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of 
the  L4>rd,  their  subsequent  history  attests.  Nearly  all  his  servants  became  pro- 
fessors of  religion.  Five  of  his  sons  are  ordained  ministers  of  the  Gospel.  One 
of  these,  a  youth  not  grown,  said  to  his  surviving  parent  on  the  evening  after  his 
lather  was  buried,  when  the  hour  of  family  worship  had  arrived: — ^*' Mother, 
my  fiither  never  omitted  the  worship  of  God  with  us  morning  and  evening — we 
most  not  omit  it,  now  that  he  is  taken  away  from  us."  The  books  were  brought, 
and  that  youth  took  his  father's  place  at  the  family  altar. 

Thus,  in  the  midst  of  numerous  and  pressing  engagements,  I  have  very  hastily 
complied  with  your  request.  If  what  I  have  written  shall  be  of  any  use  to  you>. 
It  wfll  gratify 

Your  friend  and  brother, 

SAMUEL  B.  WILSON. 


YoL.  IV.  11 


32  PRESBTTERIAN. 

FROM  THE  REV.  HENRY  RUFFNER,  D.  D., 

PRESIDENT  OF  WASHINGTON  COLLEGE. 

Lexington,  Va.;  April  10, 1848. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  After  a  delay  of  two  months,  which  has  been  the  result 
of  circumstances  of  which  I  had  no  control,  I  now  undertake  to  comply  with 
your  request  in  furnishing  you  with  a  brief  sketch  of  the  character  of  the  late 
Rev.  Samuel  Brown, — a  man  of  eminent  worth,  whose  merits,  however,  are  less 
generally  known  than  they  ought  to  be. 

Mr.  Brown  was  like  Mr.  Turner,  his  contemporary  and  friend,  in  this, — that 
his  ordinary  pulpit  exercises  manifested  no  remarkable  power.  But,  on  extra- 
ordinary occasions,  they  both  could  rivet  the  attention  and  master  the  souls  of 
their  hearers.  Turner  awakened  the  sympathies  of  the  heart,  and  made  his 
auditors  laugh  and  weep,  without  their  knowing  the  cause.  Brown's  was  the 
luminous  eloquence  of  the  understanding, — not  dry  nor  cold,  but  the  warm  radi- 
ance of  truth  that  charmed  the  intellect. 

His  mind  was  rather  slow  in  its  operations,  but  sure.  He  had  not  the  intui- 
tive power  of  looking  through  a  subject  at  a  glance;  but  he  had  what  was  bet- 
ter,— the  faculty  of  concentrating  his  attention  on  a  particular  theme  until  he 
had  investigated  it  thoroughly,  and  had  arranged  his  thoughts  in  lucid  order. 
He  was  not  an  extensive  reader,  but  what  he  read  he  digested  well,  and  wrought 
into  the  body  of  his  own  ideas.  He  thought  deeply,  and  sometimes  pondered 
long,  before  he  felt  prepared  to  bring  the  finished  composition  into  the  pulpit. 
The  more  he  studied  a  train  of  thought,  the  more  it  warmed  and  interested 
him.  When  he  came  forth  with  one  of  his  matured  discourses,  and  had  a  suit- 
able audience,  he  preached  to  the  understanding  with  a  power  seldom  equalled. 
"Without  having  written  a  word,  or  perhaps  given  to  a  single  passage  of  the  dis- 
course a  fixed  verbal  form,  he  spoke  in  a  style  simple  and  unadorned — ^he  made 
the  path  of  his  thoughts,  original  and  profound  as  they  were,  quite  as  luminous 
as  common  preachers  can  make  the  course  of  their  commonplace  ideas.  He 
exhibited  old  things  in  new  points  of  view  and  new  relations;  so  that  the  trite 
topics  of  preaching  came  forth  fresh  and  bright  from  the  workshop  of  his 
intellect. 

His  mind  was  of  a  metaphysical  cast.  He  loved  to  trace  the  obscurer  rela- 
tions of  things,  and  the  mysterious  workings  of  the  human  heart.  Of  all  the 
preachers  that  I  have  heard,  he  could  best  unravel  the  intricacies  and  solve  the 
difBculties  of  experimental  religion.  He  often  preached  on  texts  in  the  seventh 
and  eighth  chapters  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  and  always  with  the  skill  of 
a  master  workman.  Deep  as  the  subjects  were,  and  profoundly  as  he  treated 
them,  he  was  so  lucid  in  his  expositions,  that  he  seemed  not  to  common  minds 
to  be  very  profound,  because  they  saw  every  thing  so  clearly, — just  as  a  moun- 
tain lake  will  seem  not  to  be  deep,  because  its  limpid  waters  enable  one  to  see  the 
bottom  distinctly. 

Philosophical  minds  are  often  cold  in  their  conceptions,  and  dry  in  their  teach- 
ings. Not  so  Mr.  Brown's  mind.  When  he  was  full  of  his  long  meditated  sub- 
ject, his  elocution,  no  less  than  his  matter,  enchained  the  attention:  his  small 
dark  blue  eyes,  deeply  set  under  the  projecting  brows,  glowed.  His  mellow  but 
rather  feeble  voice  gathered  strength,  as  the  mental  effervescence  increased.  His 
hands,  unused  to  describe  oratorical  curves,  sometimes  grasped,  sometimes  fum- 
hled,  the  open  volume  before  him.  Then  his  right  hand  would  rise  to  his  face, 
and  the  half-bent  forefinger  would  slightly  scratch  the  side  of  his  nose, — ^then 
the  top  of  his  head,  as  if  the  working  of  the  intellectual  machinery  within  had 
produced  a  tingling  at  the  surface;  then  the  fingers  would  stroke  down  a  lock  of 
the  hair;  and  finally,  the  hand  would  return  to  the  desk.     These  motions  were 


SAMUEL  BRO^\  ,^  -83 

combined  in  him  with  all  the  signs  of  solemn  ea^fesfne^A;  iii|v  vid^o  inter- 
preted hy  those  who  knew  his  ways,  rather  aided  than  otwliiuiUtRF  the  effect  of 
his  delivery. 

Mr.  Brown,  though  a  pleasant  companion,  was  never  jocose  nor  witty,  like 
Dr.  Speece.  He  never  sparkled  nor  flashed,  either  in  the  pulpit  or  out  of  it.  He 
WM  eminently  a  man  of  serious  thought. 

Such  are  roy  recollections  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Brown.  Though  I  was  yet 
young  when  he  died,  he  made  an  impression  on  my  mind  which  is  vivid  to  this 
day. 

Yours  fraternally, 

HENRY  RUFFKER. 


THOMAS  MARQUES. 

1798—1827. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN   M.  STEVENSON,  D.  D. 

New  Albany,  Ind.,  May  1,  1860. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request  in  famishing  you  a 
slretch  of  my  Tenerated  grandfather,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Mabqxjes  ;  and 
yet  so  new  and  wild  were  the  scenes  in  which  he  was  an  actor,  and  so  far  on 
the  frontier  was  ranch  of  his  life  spent,  that  I  find  his  history  chiefly  legen- 
dary and  nnwrittcn.  My  own  reminiscences  of  him  during  my  hoyhood,  my 
fa(her*s  notes  and  recollections,  the  fugitive  puhlications  of  the  day,  some 
memoranda  of  Dr.  John  Stockton, — his  successor  in  the  Cross  Greek  Church, 
and  his  manuitcript  sermons  which  still  exist,  constitute  my  authority  for  4iie 
following  account. 

Bom  near  Winchester,  Va.,  in  1753,  of  Irish  parentage,  he  was  the 
fourth  son  of  a  large  family.  His  father,  Thomas  Marques,  was  a  large 
landholder,  and  had  he  lived,  would  have  been  amply  able  to  educate  his 
£imilj  ;  but  dying  when  his  children  were  small,  the  property,  according  to 
the  laws  then  existing  in  Virginia,  fell  to  the  oldest  son.  Hence  the  younger 
children  were  lefl;  destitute.  Tkomas,  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  was  com- 
mitted to  the  guarcUanship  of  his  uncle,  Joseph  Colvill,  an  elder  in  the 
Presbyterian  Church. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years,  he  went  to  learn  the  weavet's 
trade,  at  which  he  laboured  more  or  less,  in  after  life,  as  a  means  of  sup- 
port. During  his  apprenticeship,  he  received  an  ordinary  common-school 
education,  under  the  instruction  of  a  Mr.  Ireland,  who  was  brought  as  a 
**  transport"  to  this  country,  and  sold  to  pay  for  his  transportation.  The 
term  of  service  required  was  seven  years ;  and  as  young  Ireland  was  a 
scholar  and  unacquainted  with  manual  labour,  Mr.  Colvill  and  a  few  others 
purchased  him  expressly  as  a  teacher.  He  was  highly  successful  and  popn- 
lar  in  this  capacity,  and  at  the  end  of  the  seven  years  went  South,  became 
piovs,  and  was  soon  an  acceptable  preacher  in  the  Baptist  Church.  Under 
this  man's  instruction  were  the  first  marked  developments  of  mind  and  heart 
in  Mr.  Harqnes;  and  the  first  decided  religious  impressions  which  he 
received,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  were  under  the  impassioned  preaching  of  the 


94  PBESBTTERIAK. 

same  man,  in  tbe  very  sohool-bonse  where  he  had  formerlj  exercised  hu 
vocation  as  a  teacher.  It  was  not,  however,  till  several  years  afterwards 
that  he  supposed  himself  to  be  the  subject  of  a  spiritual  renovation. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-two,  he  married  Jane  Park,  sister  of  Lieutenant 
James  Park,  of  the  Virginia  line,  who  was  afterwards  killed  by  the  Indians 
in  frontier  warfare.  Her  firmness,  self-deuial,  industry,  and  economy,  were 
of  great  service  to  her  husband,  in  subsequent  years,  in  his  preparation  for, 
and  exercbe  of,  the  Gospel  ministry. 

Shortly  after  their  marriage,  they  removed  from  Virginia  across  the 
Mountains,  and  settled  in  what  is  now  Washington  County,  Pa.,  then  (1775) 
an  almost  unbroken  wilderness.  Here  he  built  a  cabin  in  the  woods,  near 
the  spot  where  the  village  of  Cross  Creek  now  stands,  and  within  a  mile  of 
which  place  he  continued  his  home  to  the  close  of  life. 

During  the  first  years  of  his  residence  on  Cross  Creek,  frontier  warfare 
was  frequent  and  bloody.  The  few  settlers  were  often  compelled  to  take 
refuge  in  rudely  constructed  forts,  where  the  females  and  children  might  be 
secure,  while  the  men  went  forth  to  repel  the  savages.  Sometimes  the 
assailants  became  so  numerous  as  to  drive  all  into  their  fastness.  And  when 
thus  *'  forted,"  (as  the  phrase  was,)  time  dragged  heavily  without  employ* 
ment  or  amusement.  There  was  one  pious  man  in  **  Vance's  fort,"  where 
Mr.  Marques  with  his  fiimily  often  took  shelter :  the  rest  were  neglectful 
of  religion,  and  not  a  few  utterly  reckless  and  fast  assimilating  to  the  sav* 
ages  with  whom  they  often  met  in  deadly  conflict ;  and  no  Christian  minister 
within  seventy  miles — a  most  improbable  place,  one  would  suppose,  to  look 
for  a  revival  of  religion.  But  that  one  godly  man,  then  a  member  of  the 
Associate  Reformed  Church,  afterwards  the  well  known  Rev.  Joseph  Pat- 
terson, who  died  within  a  few  years  in  Pittsburg,  was  made  the  instrument 
of  bringing  about  this  most  desirable  result.  Being  an  earnest  and  devoted 
Christian,  his  piety  was  not  found  to  wane  even  amidst  the  storm  and  ter- 
rors  of  war  ;  but,  during  the  long  days  and  nights  of  their  besiegements,  he 
talked  with  his  careless  associates  in  confinement  of  an  enemy  more  formi- 
dable than  the  Indian,  and  of  a  death  more  terrible  than  by  the  scalping 
knife.  As  they  were  all  shut  up  within  very  narrow  limits,  Mr.  Patterson's 
voice,  though  'directed  to  one  or  two,  could  easily  be  heard  by  the  whole 
company  ;  and  thus  his  personal  exhortations  soon  became  public  addresses. 
The  effect  of  this  almost  immediately  became  visible  in  a  general  state  of 
seriousness  throughout  the  fort ;  and  among  the  eight  or  ten  who  now  gave 
themselves  to  the  service  of  Christ,  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marques.  The  report 
of  this  strange  work,  occurring  in  the  wilderness,  and  under  apparently  most 
nnpropitious  circumstances,  was  soon  carried  back  to  the  settlements ;  and 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Power,  who  lived  at  what  is  now  called  Mount  Pleasant,  West- 
moreland County,  Pa.,  hearing  of  what  had  taken  place,  came  some  seventy 
miles  to  test  the  genuineness  of  the  work,  and  actually  preached  in  the  fort 
which  stood  near  the  present  site  of  Cross  Creek  Church.  This  was  in 
1778  ;  at  which  time  Mr.  Marques  and  his  wife  made  a  profession  of  their 
faith  in  Christ,  and  presented  their  first  child  to  God  in  Baptism.  This  was 
the  first  sermon  preached,  and  thb  the  first  child  baptized,  in  that  region. 
The  next  year  (1779)  a  church  was  organised,  and  Mr.  Marques  was  elected 
a  ruling  elder. 

During  the  next  ten  years  of  his  life,  he  was  subjected  to  many  inconve- 
niences, deprivations,  and  painful  vicissitudes,  which  would  have  seemed 


THOMAS  MARQUES.  3g 

moBt  adverse  io  ihe  prospeet  of  his  entering  the  mmistry.  Ministers  were 
SQsree  and  preaehing  rare,  and  he  was  compelled  to  labour  at  his  loom  and 
on  his  farm  to  support  his  family.  And  yet  snoh  was  his  growth  in  Chris- 
tian knowledge  and  the  Christian  graees,  and  so  remarkable  were  his  pious 
conTers&tions  and  exhortations,  that  the  attention  of  ministers  who  visited 
i^  region  was  earnestly  directed  towards  him,  as  destined  to  take  part 
with  them  in  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  their  high  vooation.  But 
though  he  was  often  urged  to  devote  himself  to  this  work,  such  was  his 
timidity  and  his  age  that,  for  several  years,  he  resisted  all  such  solioitations. 
At  length,  however,  he  yielded ;  and  at  the  age  of  thirty-six,  with  a  family 
of  seTerml  children  around  him,  he  left  his  home  and  devoted  himself  to  a 
careful  aad  thorough  preparation  for  the  ministry.  While  his  excellent  wife 
toiled  on,  in  faith  and  patience,  and  was  compelled  sometimes  to  laboar  in 
the  field  to  keep  their  children  supplied  with  food,  he  was,  by  almost  unceas- 
ing study,  preparing  for  extensive  usefulness  in  the  sacred  office. 

Hia  classical  course  was  commenced  at  Buffalo,  under  the  Bev.  Joseph 
Smith,  an  excellent  scholar  and  able  teacher,  with  whom  he  made  rapid 
improTement ;  and  when  Mr.  Smith  became  unable  to  teach,  from  ill  health 
and  advanced  age,  he  prosecuted  his  studies  at  Cannonsburg  under  the  Be  v. 
Dr.  MeMillan,  widely  known  as  the  first  pastor  West  of  the  AUeghsDy 
Mountains.  With  this  venerable  man  he  was  ever  after  on  terms  of  the 
most  intimate  friendship  ;  and,  during  many  years,  they  were  co-labourers 
in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord.  James  Boss,  afterwards  a  distinguished  jurist 
and  adTOcate  in  Pennsylvania,  was  at  that  time  Tutor  in  the  Academy  ;  and 
to  hia  mascnline  mind  and  elevated  character  Mr.  Marques  was  no  doubt 
muidi  indebted  for  his  subsequent  usefulness. 

During  the  period  that  he  was  thus  employed  in  study,  his  family  were 
often  driven  to  great  straits  in  procuring  means  of  support ;  and,  upon  his 
infrequent  and  brief  visits  at  home,  he  was  on  the  alert  in  providing  for 
their  wants.  He  often  related  the  following  incident,  not  as  miraculous,  but 
as  an  instance  of  God^s  special  providence  in  his  behalf.  On  reaching  home 
one  evening,  he  found  his  family  destitute  of  food,  except  some  small  vege- 
tables of  which  they  made  a  light  and  unsatisfactory  meal.  Earnest  were 
their  prayers  around  the  evening  altar,  that  Jacob's  God  would  provide  for 
their  wants.  But  no  light  came  to  their  minds,  and  they  lay  down  to 
unquiet  rest.  In  his  broken  sleep,  Mr.  Marques  dreamed  of  a  hunting 
ezeuraion,  and  saw  in  a  ravine  near  his  farm,  where  he  had  often  procured 
game  before,  three  deer,  all  of  which,  by  a  hunter's  stratagem,  he  secured. 
So  strong  was  the  impression  on  his  mind,  that  he  arose,  and  at  early  dawn 
was  on  his  way  to  the  ravine,  equipped  as  an  hunter.  As  was  the  dream, 
ao  was  the  fact.  The  three  deer  were  there  in  sice  and  position,  just  as  he 
aaw  them  in  sleep ;  and  by  his  skill  he  secured  them  all  as  food  for  his 
family,  and  returned  to  school,  joyful  in  the  good  providence  of  God,  by 
which  he  had  been  thus  signally  assisted  in  his  work. 

But  these  struggles  and  his  manly  endurance  of  them  had  their  legitimate 
efiect.  He  was  thus  prepared  to  bring  great  energy,  humility,  and  perseverance 
io  his  Master's  work.  At  length,  by  close  study,  and  with  unusual  powers  of 
Boquisition,  be  was  prepared  for  licensure  ;  and,  on  the  19th  of  April,  1793, 
was  actually  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Bedstone.  He  preached 
one  year  as  a  licentiate,  and  in  every  place  with  uncommon  acceptance.  In 
ibe  spring  of  1794,  calls  were  put  into  hb  hands  from  the  Congregations  of 


^  PBE8BTTBRIAK. 

Blaok  Liok  and  Gfoss  Creek,  tke  latter  of  whidi  he  soeepted ;  and,  on  th« 
13Uk  of  June  following,  he  was  ordained  and  iostalled  Pastor  of  that  Churoh, 
which  had  its  place  of  worship  heside  the  fort  in  which  he  was  hopefully 
converted,  and  in  which,  from  its  organisation,  he  had  been  a  ruling  elder. 

Mr.  Marques,  now  set  apart  to  the  full  work  of  the  ministry,  and  placed 
over  the  church  in  which  his  family  resided,  gave  himself  up  to  the  inter« 
ests  of  Christ's  cause  with  an  unreserved  devotion,  not  only  in  his  own 
church,  but  in  missionary  efforts  then  in  their  incipiency  in  the  West.  He 
preached  half  of  the  time  at  Upper  Buffalo,  ten  miles  distant.  The  Spirit 
of  God  seems  to  have  been  present  from  the  commencement  of  his  labours ; 
for,  during  the  first  four  years  of  his  pastorate,  a  hundred  and  twenty-three 
were  added  to  the  Communion  of  the  churches  under  his  care.  In  1796,  he 
was  appointed  a  member  of  the  first  Missionary  Board,  West  of  the  Moun* 
tains.  This  appointment  was  made  by  the  Synod  of  Virginia,  and  was 
renewed  as  long  as  that  Board  existed.  And  while  he  assisted  in  managing 
the  operations  of  the  Board,  and  overseeing  the  work  of  others,  he  was 
actively  engaged  in  abundant  missionary  labours  himself, — frequently  going 
out  on  brief  tours,  until,  relinquishing  the  Buffalo  Church  in  1798,  he  found 
more  time  for  extended  journeys.  In  1800,  he  visited  the  Seneca  Indiana 
at  Complanters*  town  on  the  Alleghany  River,  met  with  a  kind  reception, 
and  made  an  encouraging  report.  In  the  spring  of  the  next  year,  1^01,  he 
spent  six  weeks  travelling  in  the  Southeastern  part  of  what  is  now  the 
State  of  Ohio,  on  the  lower  waters  of  the  Muskingum  and  Sciota  Rivers. 
In  this  tour,  he  visited  many  small  villages  and  isolated  settlements,  breaking 
the  bread  of  life  to  many  who  had  wandered  beyond  the  reach  of  Christian 
ordinances.  His  return  home  was  soon  followed  by  a  call  from  the  Church 
of  Chilicothe,  which,  however,  by  advice  of  his  Presbytery,  he  declined.  In 
the  fall  of  the  same  year,  he  spent  six  weeks  in  a  tour  Northwest  of  the 
Ohio  and  Alleghany  Rivers,  seeking  the  wandering  sheep,  and  gathering 
them  into  little  companies  for  mutual  encouragement,  and  as  nuclei  of  other 
churches. 

.  In  1802,  the  Synod  of  Pittsburg  assumed  the  management  of  missionary 
operations  in  the  West,  and  chose  Mr.  Marques  a  member  of  its  Executive 
Board.  Daring  this  year,  an  extensive  revival  was  experienced  in  the  Church 
of  Cross  Creek,  which  may  be  considered  as  the  commencement  of  that 
wonderful  **  falling  work,"  which  continued  for  several  years,  and  which, 
even  to  this  day,  has  not  ceased  to  be  the  subject  of  curious  speculation 
and  inquiry.  Mr.  Marques  has  left  a  somewhat  particular  account  of  this 
work,  bearing  his  own  signature  and  countersigned  by  his  session,  from  which 
it  appears  that,  though  at  first  he  looked  upon  the  strange  movements  attend- 
ing it  as  indicating  a  fanatical  tendency,  and  took  special  care  to  discrimi* 
nate  between  a  true  and  false  religious  experience,  yet  he  had  no  doubt  that 
in  the  main  it  was  a  genuine  work,  whatever  view  might  be  taken  of  the 
peculiar  phenomena  which  distinguished  it. 

In  1808,  Mr.  Marques  went  as  Chairman  of  a  Committee  from  the  Mb- 
sionary  Board  to  Sandusky,  to  inquire  into  a  serious  difficulty  that  had 
arisen  between  the  Indians  and  Mr.  Badger,  their  missionary  at  that  point. 
This  difficulty  had  its  origin  in  the  extravagant  expectations  formed  by  the 
Indians  of  what  the  Society  would  do  for  them  in  the  way  of  temporal  sup- 
port.  Mr.  Marques  managed  the  matter  with  great  kindness,  and  yet  with 
consummate  address,  and  succeeded  in  overcoming  the  hostility  which  had 


THOMAS  MARQUES.  g^ 

been  exetl«d  against  the  mUaionary,  so  that  the  station,  instead  of  being 
abandoned,  as  had  seemed  inevitable,  continued  in  increasing  prosperity. 
The  Address  which  he  made  to  the  Indians  on  this  occasion  is  preserved, 
and  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  simplicity,  sagacity,  and  benevolence. 

The  remaining  twenty  years  of  his  ministry,  filled  up,  as  they  were,  with 
multiplied  labours  and  varied  but  unusual  success,  the  prescribed  limits  of 
this  communication  do  not  allow  me  to  notice  in  detail.  Towards  the  close 
of  this  period,  he  found  old  age  approaching,  and  bodily  infirmities  increas- 
ing, and  he  was  often  inclined  to  resign  his  charge.  But  this  was  resisted 
by  his  Session  and  Congregation  for  several  years.  At  length,  however, 
they  yielded;  and  in  1826,  the  pastoral  relation  was  dissolved,  and  he 
retired  to  prepare,  in  quiet  meditation,  for  his  approaching  change,  with  the 
8alis£ftCtion  of  seeing  a  man  of  his  own  selection,  Dr.  John  Stockton,  installed 
as  his  successor.  In  the  autumn  of  1827,  he  travelled  West  to  visit  his  son- 
in-law,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Stevenson,  then  and  now,  residing  near  Bellefon- 
taine,  Logan  County,  0.  He  reached  his  destination  about  the  middle  of 
September,  and  within  a  few  days  was  confined  to  his  bed  by  a  bilious  fever, 
of  a  malignant  type,  from  which  he  never  arose.  Such  was  the  nature  of 
the  disease  that  he  conversed  but  little,  lying  most  of  his  time  in  a  comatose 
state,  from  which  it  was  difficult  to  arouse  him.  But  when  he  did  speak,  it  was 
with  perfect  calmness  of  mind,  and  a  sure  trust  upon  the  faithfulness  of  Him 
in  whom  he  had  believed.  He  departed  in  peace,  September  29, 1827,  and 
his  remains  were  laid  in  the  cemetery  in  the  vicinity  of  Belief ontaine. 
Nurtured  in  the  wilderness,  he  lived  to  see  that  wilderness  turned  into  a 
garden  of  the  Lord,  and  temples  to  God  go  up  all  over  it.  In  old  age  he 
journeyed  West  into  the  depths  of  another  wilderness ;  and  there  that  spirit, 
bom  from  above  in  a  fort,  and  cradled  amid  the  tumult  and  horrors  of  war, 
freed  from  its  earthly  tenement,  went  up  to  the  bosom  of  its  Redeemer. 

It  only  remains  that  I  advert  briefly  to  some  of  the  leading  features  of 
his  character.  That  he  was  without  his  faults  I  do  not  pretend.  It  is  no 
cause  of  wonder  that  that  quickness  of  intellect  and  strength  of  emotion 
Uiat  made  him  so  irresistible  in  the  pulpit,  when  dealing  with  Heavenly 
themes,  should  sometimes  have  given  to  his  conduct  on  other  subjects  the 
appearance  of  undue  warmth  or  unyielding  pertinacity.  Yet  his  errors  of 
judgment  or  conduct  were  so  few  as  scarcely  to  appear  at  all  in  the  cluster 
of  exeellencies  by  which  his  character  was  marked. 

Below  the  middle  stature,  although  inclined  to  corpulency,  his  features 
w«re  small,  but  finely  formed,  and  in  mature  age,  when  I  first  saw  him,  the 
lines  of  thought  were  deeply  traced  upon  his  forehead.  Even  at  that  age, — 
sixty-five, — he  was  personally  active,  and  his  step  unusually  elastic.  Ever 
accustomed  to  active  habits,  he  retained  much  vigour  of  constitution  to  old 


In  his  common  intercourse  with  men  he  was  mild  but  frank.  Kindness, 
courtesy,  and  dignity,  were  happily  blended  in  his  demeanour.  He  was  con- 
ciliatory where  differences  of  opinion  existed,  but  firm  in  maintaining  what 
he  regarded  as  truth.  With  an  acute  metaphysical  mind,  and  highly  edu- 
cated in  the  true  senile  of  that  terra,  he  excelled  in  the  discussion  of  abstruse 
questions  in  casuistry,  and  was  considered  formidable  as  an  ecclesiastical 
i^ponent. 

He  was  a  laborious  and  faithful  pastor.  His  congregation  was  large  dnr- 
iDg  the  greater  part  of  his  ministry,  extending  over  an  area  of  twelve  miles 


gg  PRESBTTEBIAK.    " 

Bqnare.  And  yet  it  was  »  rule  to  wbich  he  rigidly  adhered,  to  visit  all  thb 
people  annually.  Daring  one  year,  he  yisited  cyery  &mily  and  conversed 
with  each  memher  apart  from  the  other  members.  The  next  year,  he  col- 
lected the  families  in  groups,  and  catechised  them  thoroughly  upon  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Bible,  as  contained  in  the  formula  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 
And  thus  alternating  for  a  long  series  of  years,  he  succeeded  in  imparting 
to  his  people  an  accurate  knowledge  of  Didactic  Theology,  and  in  becoming 
acquainted  with  their  spiritual  state.  Great  aptness  in  introducing  and 
enforcing  religious  duty  characterized  him.  Beligion  was  so  much  the  sub- 
ject of  his  thoughts,  and  the  interests  of  the  Church  so  ever  present  and 
absorbing  to  his  mind,  that  it  seemed  appropriate  for  him  always  to  speak 
on  that  subject,  and  almost  out  of  place  for  him  to  turn  to  other  themes. 
And  although  he  did  not  often  venture  upon  unusual  methods  of  arresting 
the  attention  of  the  careless,  one  case  is  remembered  worthy  of  recital. 
A  shrewd  and  highly  gifted  physician,  who  was  careless  and  sceptical  even, 
was  suddenly  awakened  from  his  apathy,  and  rescued  from  his  delusion  in 
the  following  way — Mr.  Marques,  coming  into  the  Doctor *s  office,  on  a  cold 
day,  where  a  large  coal  fire  was  burning,  was  heartily  greeted,  and  urged  to 
sit  near  the  £re  and  warm  himself.  '*  Thank  you.  Doctor,"  said  the  good 
minister;  and  looking  intently  upon  the  fire,  and  then  in  the  eye  of  his 
careless  friend,  remarked  with  tearful  solemnity, — "But  who  could  dwell 
in  eternal  burnings  ?"  That  question  was  a  barbed  arrow  to  the  heart  of 
the  physician,  from  the  ranklings  of  which  he  found  no  escape,  until  he 
applied  to  the  Great  Physician  of  souls.  He  soon  obtained  peace,  and  was 
afterwards  an  ornament  to  the  Church.  Mr.  Marques  was  eminently  wise 
in  counsel.  In  Presbytery,  Synod,  and  General  Assembly,  as  a  Director 
in  the  Western  Missionary  Society,  as  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Jefferson 
College,  as  a  Committee  man  to  settle  difficulties  in  various  parts  of  the 
Church,  his  judgment  always  had  great  weight.  And  as  a  referee  in  neigh- 
bourhood and  congregational  difficulties,  his  decision  had  all  the  force  of 
law. 

But  as  a  preacher  he  was  more  remarkable  than  in  any  other  view. 
Hence  he  used  to  be  called  "  the  silver  tongued."  The  first  impression  he 
made  on  rising  in  the  pulpit,  was  that  of  a  man  burdened  with  a  sense  of 
the  solemnity  of  his  office,  and  yet  there  was  something  strangely  winning 
in  his  countenance.  Calm,  composed,  and  yet  earnest,  there  was  a  sweet 
benignity  in  his  tones  that  waked  every  ear  and  fixed  every  eye ;  and  as  he 
warmed  with  his  subject,  his  audience  sympathized  with  him,  and  even  went 
beyond  him  ;  so  that  not  unfrequently  they  seemed  wrought  up  to  the  most 
intense  feeling,  while  he  was  calmly  proceeding  in  his  discourse.  He  was 
extremely  logical  in  the  arrangement  of  his  subject,  and  entirely  perspicu- 
ous in  the  expression  of  his  thoughts.  A  running  brook  upon  a  silvery  bed 
could  not  show  more  clearly  the  pebbles  in  its  path,  than  do  his  sentences 
the  exact  shade  of  idea  in  his  mind.  I  speak  with  the  more  confidence  here, 
as  I  have  read  a  considerable  number  of  his  manuscript  sermons.  But  his 
chief  power  lay  in  the  persuasive.  With  a  voice  uncommonly  musical  and 
entirely  under  his  control,  and  a  remarkable  power  and  delicacy  of  emotion, 
ever  exhibited  in  the  tearful  eye  and  speaking  features,  his  appeals  were 
quite  irresistible.  On  some  occasions  in  the  course  of  his  ministry,  hun- 
dreds of  strong  men  were  seen  weeping  like  children  under  his  preaching. 
I  have  more  than  once  heard  Dr.  Matthew  Brown,  while  President  of  Jef- 


THOMAS  HARQ0ES.  89 

fersoii  College,  pronoance  bim  the  most  effective  orator  to  whom  he  had 
ever  listened.  And  such  perfect  mastery  did  he  have  of  his  subject  and  his 
audience,  that  a  failure  in  any  given  case  became  at  once  a  matter  of  public 
remark.  One  remarkable  instance  of  this  occurred,  which  it  may  not  be 
improper  to  mention.  He  was  invited  to  preach  at  Wellsburg,  Ya.,  long 
before  a  Presbyterian  Church  was  organized  there.  He  made  more  than 
usual  preparation,  and  when  he  reached  the  place  found  an  immense  congre« 
gation  in  waiting.  After  a  brief  introduction,  his  well  matured  course  of 
thought  entirely  left  him,  and  no  effort  enabled  him  to  proceed.  After 
a  little  hesitation,  he  stated  to  the  people  that  God  had  closed  his  lips, 
either  because  he  was  too  great  a  sinner  to  be  allowed  to  preach,  or  becauso 
there  were  some  persons  in  that  audience  to  whom  the  Gospel  was  no  more 
to  be  offered.  He  made  another  appointment  to  be  fiilfilled  in  a  fortnight, 
and  dismissed  the  astonished  congregation.  At  the  appointed  time,  he  came 
and  found  a  still  larger  concourse  of  people.  He  took  the  same  text,  and  in  the 
introduction  of  his  discourse  announced  the  startling  fact  that  three  persons,* 
who  had  been  present  at  the  last  meeting,  had  since  passed  into  eternity. 
On  this  occasion,  he  preached  with  more  than  usual  power  and  effect.  One 
of  his  grandsons  is  now  Pastor  of  a  Church  gathered  in  that  place. 

Mr.  Marques  carefully  wrote  his  sermons, — not  a  common  practice  with 
Western  ministers  in  his  day ;  and  though  they  certainly  bear  the  type  of  a 
saperior  mind,  yet,  according  to  the  testimony  of  competent  judges  who 
have  heard  him,  they  convey  but  a  faint  idea  of  his  peculiar  power.  Were 
I  asked  to  express  in  a  single  sentence  the  most  striking  feature  of  his  pul- 
pit address,  as  drawn  from  my  youthful  recollections  and  the  impressions 
of  others  who  sat  under  his  preaching  for  many  years,  I  would  say  that  it 
combined,  in  a  wonderful  degree,  solemnity  with  vivacity,  mildness  with 
earnestness,  affection  with  authority,  and  a  Christ-like  pungency  in  its  per- 
sonal applications  with  a  holy  unction  which  it  belongs  to  the  Spirit  alone 
to  impart. 

Of  Mr.  Marques'  personal  habits  I  know  but  little.  Strictly  economical 
in  his  expenditures,  he  nevertheless  cultivated  a  large-hearted  benevolence, 
uniformly  giving  according  to  his  ability,  and  much  above  the  then  acknow- 
ledged standard.  Having  suffered  such  trials  in  procuring  his  own  minis- 
terial education,  he  sympathised  deeply  with  those  preparing  for  the  Gospel 
ministry :  hence  it  was  found,  when  his  will  was  opened,  that  the  largest 
amount  of  property  he  had  to  give,  was  vested  for  this  purpose.  Several 
who  have  been  assisted  by  this  fund  are  now  in  the  ministry,  and  others,  by 
means  of  the  same  generous  provision,  are  following  in  their  footsteps.  He 
left  no  printed  works,  except  a  few  fugitive  publications ;  yet  **  his  works 
do  follow  him."  Very  many  of  the  Presbyterian  Congregations  in  Ohio 
had  their  foundation  laid  by  colonies  from  his  Church.  Four  of  his  grand- 
sons are  now  preaching  the  Gospel,  and  several  others  are  preparing  for  it : 
and  not  a  few  of  the  best  and  most  faithful  pastors  in  Ohio  and  Western 
Pennsylvania  were  nurtured  in  the  piety  of  the  Cross  Creek  Church. 

Mr.  Marques  had  eight  children — three  sons  and  five  daughters.  One 
daughter  married  the  Kev.  Joseph  Stevenson,  formerly  Pastor  of  the  Church 
in  Three  Bidges,  Pa.,  but  now,  and  for  many  years  past,  minister  of  Belle- 
fontaine,  0.  Mrs.  Marques  died  on  the  19tb  of  January,  1841,  at  the  age 
of  ninety-one.  I  am  very  truly  yours, 

JOHN  McMILLAK  STETENSOK. 

Vol.  IV.  13 


90  PRESBTTEHUN. 


FROM  THE  REY.  WILLIAM  NEILL,  D.  D. 

Pbilaj^klshia,  October  1,  1856. 

Mj  dear  Sir:  It  giyes  me  pleasure  to  commanicate  to  you  my  recollections  of 
the  Rev  Thomas  Marques,  especially  as  I  have  do  recollections  of  him  that  are 
not  of  the  most  grateful  and  pleasant  kind.  I  knew  him  first,  while  I  was  a 
student  in  the  Gannonsburg  Academy,  though  he  had  been  licensed  to  preach 
before  I  entered  it.  He  was  rather  small  in  stature,  but  was  compactly  and 
firmly  built,  and  had  an  air  of  completeness  and  symmetry  about  him,  and  a  fine 
genial  expression  of  countenance,  that  gave  to  him  a  more  than  commonly  pre- 
possessing appearance.  He  had  an  uncommonly  amiable  disposition,  which  dis- 
covered itself  as  well  in  his  public  acts  as  in  his  private  intercourse.  His  man- 
ners were  easy  and  graceful,  and  as  far  as  possible  from  any  thing  like  display. 
There  was  the  utmost  propriety  in  every  thing  that  he  said  and  did ;  and  it  was 
the  natural  impulse  of  his  spirit  to  render  every  body  around  him  happy.  It 
was  impossible  to  be  in  his  society,  and  not  to  gain  a  deep  impression  of  the 
purity  and  elevation  of  his  whole  character. 

As  a  preacher,  I  think  I  may  safely  say  that  he  was  esteemed  among  the  most 
attractive,  as  well  as  most  edifying,  of  his  day.  He  had  a  fine  silvery  voice, 
which  charmed  you  the  moment  it  fell  upon  your  ear;  and  he  modulated  it  to 
excellent  purpose.  His  gesture  was  simple,  natural  and  graceful,  and  never 
betrayed  the  least  effort,  while  it  always  rendered  his  utterance  more  impres- 
sive. He  was  more  inclined  to  dwell  upon  those  truths  which  are  peculiarly 
evangelical  than  upon  the  terrors  of  the  law;  though  he  did  not  omit  any  part 
of  the  whole  counsel  of  God.  I  used  to  look  upon  him,  both  in  and  out  of  the 
pulpit,  as  a  little  Apostle;  and  to  this  day  I  cannot  think  of  a  minister  whom  I 
have  ever  known,  whose  character  and  labours  seem  to  me  to  have  exhibited 
more  of  evangelical  fervour,  and  ot  the  very  life  and  beauty  of  the  Gospel,  than 
did  those  of  Thomas  Marques. 

Very  truly  your  brother  in  Christ, 

WILLIAM  NEILL. 


-♦•- 


JOHN  MAKEMIE  WILSON,  D.  D  * 

1793— 1831, 

John  Makemik  Wilson  was  born  in  IMccklcnburg  County,  N.  C, 
within  the  bounds  of  the  Sugar  Creek  Congregation,  in  the  year  1769. 
His  father  had  emigrated  in  early  life  from  England,  and  was  subsequently 
engaged  for  some  time  in  mercantile  business  in  Philadelphia;  but  he  ulti- 
mately removed  to  North  Carolina,  married,  and  settled  in  Mecklenburg 
County,  and  was  actively  engaged  in  our  great  national  struggle  for  inde- 
pendence. The  son  was,  in  his  boyhood,  the  intimate  friend  and  playmate 
of  Andrew  Jackson ;  and  young  as  they  were,  they  are  said  to  have  shared 
largely  in  the  patriotic  spirit  of  the  times. 

An  incident  occurred  in  the  very  early  childhood  of  the  subject  of  this 
sketch,  which  was  at  once  fearfully  startling,  and  illustrative  of  the  watchful 
care  of  Providence.     When  he  was  just  beginning  to  walk,  he  strayed  away 

*  H8.  from  Rev.  Dr.  R.  H.  Morri3on.~Foote*8  Sketobea  of  K.  0. 


JOHN  KAKBMJE  WILSON.  9}* 

by  himself  into  a  distant  part  fit  the  yard  enclosing  the  hoose ;  and,  after  a 
little  time,  his  mother  observed  him  sitting  on  the  ground,  apparently  much 
I  pleased  with  some  object  that  was  lying  by  his  side.  She  went  out  to  see 
I  what  it  was  that  amused  him,  and  to  her  utter  consternation  found  him 
^  passing  his  hand  over  the  folds  of  a  large  rattlesnake.  His  preservation 
^  was  regarded  as  specially  providential ;  and,  while  it  had  a  great  effect  upon 
(  the  mind  of  the  mother  at  the  time,  it  is  said  to  have  been  the  subject  of 
much  serious  reflection  on  the  part  of  the  son  in  after  life. 

At  the  age  of  twelve,  he  was  sent  to  a  school  in  Charlotte  County,  of 
which  Dr.  Henderson,  an  eminent  physician,  was  Principal.     Here  he  con-   ' 
tinued  till  he  was  fitted  for  College,  and  then  became  a  member  of  Hampden 
Sidney,  where  he  graduated  with  the  highest  honour  in  1791. 
^  Having  embraced  Christianity  in   its  life  and  power,  he  resolved  on 

becoming  a  minister  of  the  Gospel ;  and,  with  a  view  to  qualify  himself  for 
this,  entered  on  the  study  of  Theology  under  the  direction  of  the  Be  v.  t)r. 
James  Hall.  In  the  summer  of  1798,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the 
Presbytery  of  Orange,  which,  at  that  time,  embraced  the  whole  of  North 
^  Carolina ;  and,  immediately  after,  he  was  sent  by  the  Commission  of  Synod 

on  a  missionary  tour  through  the  counties  in  the  lower  part  of  the  State. 
He  now,  for  several  years,  had  his  residence  in  Burke  County,  in  the  midst 
of  a  shrewd,  intelligent  population  of  Scotch  Irish  origin,  from  among  whom 
but  few  churches  had,  at  that  time,  been  gathered ;  and  he  was  ordained 
here  about  the  year  1795.  He  continued  in  this  charge  until  1801,  when 
he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Congregations  of  Rocky  River  and  Philadelphia. 
His  labours  in  Burke  County  were  eminently  successful,  both  in  planting 
new  churches,  and  in  minbtering  to  the  growth  of  those  already  in  existence ; 
and  when  he  left  the  county,  he  carried  with  him,  in  a  high  degree,  the 
grateful  respect  and  good  will  of  those  who  had  enjoyed  his  ministrations. 

After  labouring  in  the  congregation  to  which  he  was  now  transferred,  for 
about  eleven  years,  he  yielded  to  the  solicitations  of  many  of  them  to  open 
a  school,  especially  for  the  accommodation  of  some  of  the  young  men  of  his 
charge,  who  wished  to  devote  themselves  to  the  ministry.  This  school, 
which  he  commenced  in  1812,  he  continued  for  about  twelve  years;  and 
twenty-five  of  his  pupils  became  ministers  of  the  Gospel.  Fifteen  young 
men  from  the  Rocky  River  Congregation  entered  the  ministry  in  about  as 
many  years ;  many  of  whom  could  not  have  received  a  classical  education, 
but  for  the  opportunity  furnished  by  Mr.  Wilson's  school.  As  a  teacher, 
he  was  at  once  eminently  popular  and  successful. 

He  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  Univer- 
sity of  North  Carolina  in  the  year  1829. 

Dr.  Wilson  attended  a  meeting  of  his  Presbytery,  at  Morgantown,  in  the 
autumn  of  1830,  and  of  the  Synod,  at  Hopewell,  shortly  after.  From 
peculiar  excitement,  he  slept  little  during  these  meetings,  and  returned 
home,  labouring  under  a  degree  of  exhaustion  from  which  he  never  recovered. 
In  the  prospect  of  his  departure,  he  evinced  no  extraordinary  raptures,  but 
a  calm,  humble  and  trusting  spirit.  The  last  evening  of  his  life  he  spent 
in  cheerful  conversation  with  his  family,  and  without  any  thing  to  indicate 
bis  immediate  dissolution.  About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  called 
to  one  of  his  sons,  complaining  of  being  cold,  and,  after  uttering  a  few 
broken  incoherent  expressions,  became  speechless.  About  nine  o'clock  the 
next  morning, — Saturday,  July  BO,  1831,  his  spirit  gently  made  the  transit 


92  FRKSBTTBRIAV. 

flon  from  earth  to  Heaven.  Dr.  Kobinson,  of  Poplar  Tent,  who  had  been  the 
intimate  friend  of  almost  his  whole  life,  reached  his  house  on  Saturday  after* 
noon,  according  to  a  preyions  appointment,  to  spend  the  night,  and  preach  at 
Rocky  Riyer  on  the  following  Sabbath.  Bat  it  turned  out  that  he  had  come 
to  conduct  the  funeral  solemnities  of  his  venerable  friend.  A  large  part  of  the 
Philadelphia  Congregation  assembled  with  the  Congregation  of  Rocky  River, 
and  as  the  church,  though  very  capacious,  was  too  small  to  accommodate 
the  multitude  which  the  occasion  had  brought  together,  the  funeral  service 
was  held  in  a  beautiful  grove  usually  occupied  by  the  congregation  for  Sacra- 
mental meetings.  Here  Dr.  Robinson  delivered  a  most  appropriate  and 
pathetic  discourse,  after  which  the  body  was  reverently  carried  to  its  final 
resting  place. 

During  his  residence  in  Burke  County,  Mr.  Wilson  was  married  to  Maiy, 
daughter  of  Alexander  Erwin,  of  that  county,  who  died  about  the  year 
1826.  They  had  nine  children, — five  sons  and  four  daughters.  Two  of 
his  sons  entered  the  ministry.  Alexander  Ervnn  first  became  a  physician, 
under  the  impression  that  an  impediment  in  his  speech  would  hinder  his 
nsefulnesB  as  a  speaker.  His  ardent  desire  to  preach  the  Gospel  led  him 
afterwards  to  overcome  all  difficulties,  and  to  devote  himself  to  the  ministry. 
About  the  year  1832,  he  went  as  a  missionary  to  Eastern  Africa,  where  he 
encountered  great  trials  and  dangers  among  the  Zulu  tribe.  His  mission 
was  broken  up  by  savage  war ;  he  buried  a  beloved  wife  with  his  own  hands ; 
and  then  returned  to  this  country  with  an  infant  daughter.  After  remain- 
ing a  short  time,  he  returned  to  Western  Africa,  and  commenced  the  mis- 
sionary work  there  with  untiring  zeal ;  but  was  soon  called  from  his  labour 
to  hb  reward.  He  died  at  Cape  Palmas  in  the  year  1842.  The  other  son 
who  entered  the  ministry  was  John  Maktmie^  who  was  for  some  years 
settled  over  the  Bethany  and  Tabor  Churches,  in  Iredell  County,  N.  C; 
was  afterwards  called  to  Morgantown,  the  first  field  of  his  father's  labours; 
and  is  now  (1857)  the  Pastor  of  a  Church  in  Fulton.  Mo. 

Dr.  Wilson  published  a  Sermon  on  the  death  of  the  Rev.  L.  F.  Wilson, 
1804 ;  a  Sermon  on  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  McCorkle,  1811 ;  and  an 
Appendix  to  a  work  on  Psalmody  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ruffner,  of  Virginia. 


FROM  THE  REV.  R.  H.  MORRISON,  D.  D., 

Cottage  Home,  N.  C,  July  18, 1848. 

Bev.  and  dear  Sir :  I  cannot  refuse  your  request  for  my  impressions  of  the 
character  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  John  Makemio  Wilson.  My  knowledge  of  him,  I 
am  happy  to  say,  was  such,  as  to  enable  me  to  give  you  the  outline  of  his  char- 
acter  without  any  doubt  as  to  its  correctness. 

Dr.  Wilson  was  of  about  the  medium  size;  of  a  vigorous  constitution,  and 
capable  of  enduring  great  labour,  which,  during  his  whole  life,  was  devoted  to 
the  most  worthy  objects.  A  clear  blue  eye,  and  countenance  beaming  with 
intelligence  and  kindness,  were  only  the  faithful  index  to  his  character.  He  was 
so  sincere  and  unreserved  in  manifesting  his  good  will  to  others,  and  so  sensitive 
to  the  proprieties  of  social  life,  that  he  was  justly  regarded  as  a  most  interesting 
companion  in  every  circle  of  society.  The  pervading  charm  of  his  manners  con- 
sisted in  candour,  modesty,  humility,  and  good  sense. 

Dr.  Wilson  possessed  a  strong,  penetrating  and  well  cultivated  mind.  Sound- 
ness of  judgment,  energy  of  purpose,  and  great  pradenoe,  were  striking  features 


JOHK  MAKEMI£  WILSON.  QiS 

of  his  character.  He  was  a  bright  example  of  activity  in  doing  good,  and  of 
visdom  in  selecting  the  best  means  for  accomplishing  his  ends.  His  character 
vms  Dot  marked  hj  a  fev  striking  virtues,  and  many  glaring  defects;  but  there 
iras  blended  in  his  life  a  well  proportioned  and  beautiful  illustration  of  Christian 
graces.  His  enlarged  and  scriptural  views  of  Divine  truth  were  rendered  prac- 
tical by  much  spirituality  of  mind,  and  the  most  cheerful  consecration  of  himself 
to  the  service  of  God. 

His  piety  was  manifested,  not  by  impulses,  but  by  works  of  righteousness.  A 
iaitbful  and  continual  discharge  of  the  private,  relative  and  social,  duties  of  reli- 
gion, proclaimed  the  conformity  of  his  heart  and  life  to  the  will  of  God.  A  life 
so  pure,  and  so  controlled  by  a  meek  and  benevolent  spirit,  gained  for  him  the 
most  unlimited  confidence  and  sincere  affection,  wherever  he  was  known.  A  life 
in  which  were  so*  beautifully  reflected  the  truths  which  he  preached  to  others^ 
gave  evident  power  to  his  ministrations  in  the  pulpit. 

His  humility  appeared  in  his  actions,  as  a  bright  ornament  of  his  character. 
No  man  could  be  more  willing  on  proper  occasions  to  confess  his  un  worthiness, 
and  to  ascribe  all  his  gifts  and  graces  to  the  proper  Source. 

He  had  a  peculiar  talent  at  ministering  to  the  happiness  of  others.  His  kind- 
ness of  heart  diffused  a  charm  around  him,  and  made  his  presence  felt  as  that  of 
a  sincere  and  beloved  friend.     *'  In  his  tongue  was  the  law  of  kindness." 

While  he  was  faithful  to  his  own  convictions  of  truth,  his  mild  and  concilia- 
tory demeanour  rendered  him  acceptable  to  those  whose  views  were  not  in 
accordance  with  his  own.  He  was  eminently  a  peacemaker.  His  gentle  and 
benign  spirit  prompted  him  to  active  efforts  to  remove  discord  from  among  Chris- 
tians, and  to  preserve  the  order  and  tranquillity  of  the  Church.  In  such  delicate 
and  noble  efforts  he  was  remairkably  successful.  Few  men  perhaps  ever  did 
more  to  prevent  contention,  to  heal  divisions,  and  to  counteract  the  baneful 
effects  of  envy  and  evil  speaking.  So  judicious  and  affectionate  were  his  coun- 
sels, and  such  the  weight  of  his  influence,  that  it  was  comparatively  rare  for 
suits  to  be  taken  by  the  members  of  his  churches  to  the  civil  courts. 

Dr.  Wilson  met  with  opposition,  as  all  men  may  expect,  who  seek  to  do  good. 
But  in  nothing  did  his  greatness  more  strikingly  appear,  than  in  overcoming 
evil  with  good.  Some  remarkable  instances  might  be  stated,  were  it  expedient, 
in  which  he  bore  the  hostility  of  those  whose  reformation  he  sought,  with  so 
much  magnanimity  and  forbearance  as  to  disarm,  if  not  to  extinguish,  their 
maleyolence. 

As  a  member  of  the  judicatories  of  the  Church,  no  man  of  his  day  was  held 
in  higher  repute.  In  this  department  of  ministerial  duty,  it  was  universally 
conceded  that  he  possessed  almost  unrivalled  power.  His  brethren  had  such 
perfect  confidence  in  the  purity  of  his  motives  and  the  soundness  of  his  judgment, 
that  he  vas  often  led  to  act  more  prominently  than  his  modest  and  unobtrusive 
spirit  would  have  prompted  him  to  do.  His  treatment  of  his  brethren  was 
worthy  of  all  praise  and  imitation.  Never  was  he  known  to  descend  to  any 
thing  like  rudeness  or  petulance  towards  others.  He  treated  the  sentiments 
of  the  weakest,  or  of  those  most  opposed  to  him,  with  the  utmost  respect, 
and  manifested  a  sacred  regard  for  their  feelings.  Often  have  I  witnessed 
with  admiration  how  speedily  his  clear  mind  and  affectionate  manner  could 
allay  the  excitement  of  debate  into  a  calm  and  fraternal  unanimity  of  sentiment 
ftnd  feeling.  He  was  &r  from  being  elated  by  success  in  carrying  his  own 
ncasiires,  and  equally  for  from  irritation  under  disappointment.  Ho  seemed 
never  to  forget  that  the  Courts  of  the  Church  are  assemblies  of  brethren  met  to 
do  good,  and  not  to  accomplish  ambitions  designs,  or  indulge  envious  feelings. 

His  manner  of  preaching  was  marked  by  a  faithful  and  judicious  exhibition 
of  the  truth.  His  fidelity  in  expounding  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  was  char* 
aeteriiod  by  the  tenderness  which  reaches  the  hearts  of  those  for  whom  it  is  felt. 


^4  PRESBTTERIAK. 

His  language  and  deportment  left  no  doubt  of  his  love  for  the  souls  of  those  who 
heard  him. 

He  never  pretended  to  a  fervencj  which  he  did  not  ibel.  His  zeal,  though 
deep  and  earnest,  was  always  regulated  by  knowledge.  In  denouncing  the  ter- 
rors of  the  Lord  against  the  guilty,  his  genuine  compassion  and  honesty  of  pur- 
pose gave  a  penetrating  force  to  the  threatenings  he  uttered. 

Dr.  Wilson  evidently  preached  the  Gospel  with  strong  fidth  in  the  Spirit  of 
God  to  give  it  effect.  His  heart  was  too  ardently  fixed  on  the  great  end  of  his 
ministry,  to  become  indifferent  to  the  result  of  his  labours.  Uis  zeal  did  not 
rise  and  sink,  as  the  outward  appearances  of  his  usefulness  were  bright  or  for- 
bidding. His  life  presented  a  uniformity  of  untiring  effort,  which  seemed  to 
flow  from  an  unshaken  confidence  in  the  presence  and  blessing  of  God.  It  was 
no  uncommon  thing  to  witness  from  twenty  to  thirty  persons  received  by  him 
into  the  church  at  one  time.  At  the  period  of  his  death,  if  I  mistake  not,  his 
churches  numbered  between  six  and  seven  hundred  members.  Such  a  man 
could  not  live  thirty  years  among  an  honest  people,  admired  and  loved  as  their 
brightest  pattern  in  every  virtue,  without  swaying  their  minds  and  moulding 
their  habits  for  good  to  a  remarkable  extent.  I  have  never  witnessed  a  more 
forcible  illustration  of  the  power  of  the  Gospel,  when  its  truths  are  properly 
exhibited,  not  only  in  promoting  the  spiritual  welfare,  but  in  advancing  the  tern* 
poral  interests,  of  men,  than  that  presented  in  the  life  of  Dr.  Wilson. 

His  views  and  feelings  in  the  prospect  of  death  were  what  might  be 
expected  to  mark  the  departure  of  such  a  man.  It  was  my  privilege  to  visit  him 
not  long  before  his  death.  Apparently  impressed  with  a  belief  that  the  inter- 
view might  be  the  last,  he  freely  and  tenderly  spoke  of  his  own  prospects.  He 
stated  distinctly  that  in  meeting  death  he  had  no  rapturous  views, — no  feelings 
of  transport,  but  a  firm  and  sustaining  hope  of  Heaven,  founded  solely  upon  the 
merits  of  Christ.  He  alluded  to  the  labours  of  his  life  only  to  praise  God  for 
the  tokens  of  his  grace.  He  expressed  an  entire  submission  to  the  Divine  will 
in  reference  to  his  dissolution,  and  a  joyful  expectation  of  spending  eternity  in 
the  presence  and  work  of  his  Redeemer.  Nothing  could  be  more  serene,  animat- 
ing, delightful,  than  the  confidence  which  he  expressed  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. 

Thus  lived  and  died  one  of  the  purest  and  brightest  ornaments  of  the  Church, 
of  whom  our  State  can  boast.  The  memorials  of  his  usefulness  will  be  long 
visible  below;  and  I  doubt  not  there  will  be  found  an  imperishable  record  of  it 
in  Heaven. 

Truly  yours  in  the  bonds  of  the  Gospel, 

R.  n.  MORRISON. 


ROBERT  HETT  CHAPMAN.  gg 


ROBERT  HETT  CHAPMAN,  D.  D  * 

1793—1833. 

t 
Robert  Hett  Chapman  was  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Jedediah  Chapman, 

well  known  as  a  pioneer  minister  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Western 
New  York.  He  (the  father)  was  born  in  East  Haddam,  Conn.,  September 
27,  1741,  and  was  graduated  at  Yale  College  in  1762.  After  studying 
Theology  aboiit  a  year  and  a  half,  he  was  licensed  to  preach,  and  in  1766 
was  ordained  and  installed  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  York,  as  Pastor  of 
the  Church  in  Orange,  N.  J.  He  was  a  zealous  adherent  to  the  American 
eanse  during  the  Revolutionary  war  ;  and  so  confident  was  he  that  it  was  a 
righteous  CAuse  that  he  counted  no  sacrifice  too  dear  to  be  made  for  its  pro- 
motion. His  course  was  so  open  and  decided  as  to  render  him  particularly 
offensiTe  to  the  loyalists,  and  not  only  was  he  obliged  frequently  to  retire 
from  his  &mi1y  and  flock,  but  even  his  life  was  sometimes  in  imminent  peril. 
In  the  year  1800,  he  received  an  appointment  from  the  General  Asscm* 
bly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  as  **  a  stated  missionary  for  four  years  on 
tko  Northwestern  frontiers ;"  by  which  was  intended  Western  New  York. 
In  obedience  to  these  instructions,  he  removed  his  family  from  New  Jersey 
to  Geneva,  where  he  continued  during  the  remainder  of  his  life.  For  a 
number  of  years  he  was  engaged  in  missionary  service  one  half  of  the  time, 
and  the  other  half,  ministered  to  the  Congregation  of  Geneva.  On  the  8th 
of  July,  1812,  he  was  installed  Senior  Pastor  of  that  Congregation, —  the 
Rev.  Henry  Axtell  being  associated  with  him  as  Colleague.  This  relation 
was  dissolved  by  his  death,  which  occurred  on  the  22d  of  May,  1813.  He 
possessed  a  vigorous  mind,  and  great  energy  of  character,  and  was  a 
laborious  and  successful  minister.  He  published  a  Sermon  delivered  before 
the  Synod  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia  in  1788, — having  been  Moderator 
of  that  Body  the  year  before ;  and  Five  Sermons  on  Baptism. 

Robert  Hett,  the  second  son  of  Jedediah  Chapman,  was  born  at  Orange, 
N.  J.,  March  2,  1771.  Having  spent  his  early  years  chiefly  under  the 
paternal  roof,  he  became  in  due  time  a  member  of  the  College  of  New 
Jersey,  where  he  maintained  a  high  standing  as  a  scholar,  and  was  admitted 
to  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  in  1789,  under  the  Presidency  of 
Dr.  Witberspoon.  The  year  after  his  graduation  he  spent  at  his  father's, 
devoting  himself  chiefly  to  general  reading,  and  undecided,  at  least  in  the 
early  part  of  the  year,  in  what  profession  or  occupation  he  should  ultimately 
engage.  From  his  earliest  developments  of  character,  his  conduct  had  been 
uncommonly  blameless,  and  those  who  had  had  an  opportunity  of  observing 
it,  were  inclined  to  the  opinion  that  he  had  been  the  subject  of  a  spiritual 
renovation  from  childhood — an  opinion  in  which  he  was  himself  rather 
disposed  to  concur.  He,  however,  during  this  year,  was  led  to  form  a  very 
different  judgment  of  himself:  he  became  convinced  of  his  deep  sinfulness 
and  utter  ruin  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  was  brought,  as  he  believed, 
cordially  to  embrace  the  Gospel  as  a  system  of  redeeming  mercy.  He  now 
formed  a  distinct  purpose  to  devote  himself  to  the  Christian  ministry ;  and 
when  his  father,  with  a  view  to  test  the  sincerity  and  strength  of  his  resolu- 

of  CbftpiBui  fomQy— Hotohkin*!  Hitt.  Wwt.  N.  Y.— MS.  from  hii  wm,  Rev.  R.  H. 
>,  D.  D. 


90  FES8BTTEBIAK. 

don,  spoke  to  him  freely  of  tlie  sacrifices  and  trials  incident  to  the  minis- 
terial office,  he  replied  with  great  decision  and  solemnity, — *'  None  of  these 
things  move  me'' — *'  Wo  is  me,  if  I  preach  not  the  Gospel."  Shortly  after 
this,  he  commenced  his  studies  immediately  preparatory  to  the  ministry,  and 
continued  them  for  three  years  ;  being,  during  a  part  of  this  time,  engaged 
80  an  instructor  in  connection  with  Queen's  College,  New  Brunswick,  chiefly 
with  a  view  to  his  availing  himself  of  the  College  Library.  He  was 
licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  York,  October  2,  1793  ;  and 
immediately  after  took  an  extended  missionary  tour  into  the  Southern 
States,  where  he  laboured  without  compensation  for  several  months,  and 
was  privileged  to  see  a  rich  blessing  attending  his  labours. 

After  his  return  from  his  missionary  tour,  he  accepted  a  call  to  settle  aa 
Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Rahway,  N.  J.,  and  was  installed  there  in  the  year 
1796.  .In  this  relation  he  continued  till  1801,  when  he  removed  to  Cam- 
bridge,  N.  Y.,  and  became  Pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  that 
place.  Here  the  Church  greatly  prospered  under  his  ministry,  being  blessed 
with  repeated  revivals  of  religion,  and  some  new  members  being  added  at 
nearly  every  Communion  season  during  his  connection  with  it.  In  1811, 
he  was  elected  President  of  the  University  of  North  Carolina ;  and,  notwith- 
standing his  great  reluctance  to  part  with  a  congregation  to  which  he  was 
so  much  attached,  he  felt  constrained,  by  considerations  of  duty,  to  accept 
the  appointment.  He  accordingly  removed  to  Carolina  in  the  autumn  of 
1812,  and  immediately  entered  upon  his  official  duties.  The  College  was 
in  all  respects  at  a  low  ebb ;  and  he  laboured  with  great  diligence  and  zeal 
for  its  improvement.  In  consequence  mainly  of  his  exertions,  the  tone  of 
morals  and  religion  was  elevated,  the  Bible  became  a  text-book  in  the  insti- 
tution, and  several  young  men  were  brought  under  the  power  of  religion, 
who  subsequently  became  ministers  of  the  Gospel.  He  was  also  a  princi- 
pal instrument  in  the  establishing  of  a  Presbyterian  Church  at  the  seat  of 
the  College, — none  having  existed  there  previous  to  his  accession  to  the 
Presidency.  During  his  connection  with  the  College,  he  performed  a  great 
amount  of  service  in  preaching  in  different  parts  of  the  State,  and  was  also 
very  punctual,  aa  well  as  active  and  useful,  in  his  attendance  on  the  judica- 
tories of  the  Church. 

In  1815,  ho  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Williams  College. 

Dr.  Chapman  had  always  taken  great  delight  in  the  peculiar  duties  of  the 
ministry,  and,  after  having  been  laboriously  employed  for  a  number  of  years 
as  the  head  of  the  College,  he  began  to  meditate  the  purpose  of  returning  to 
the  pastoral  life.  Accordingly,  in  the  year  1817,  he  tendered  his  resigna- 
tion to  the  Board  of  Trustees,  and  his  connection  with  the  institution  from 
that  time  ceased.  In  the  autumn  of  that  year,  several  promising  fields  of 
ministerial  usefulness  presented  themselves  to  him ;  but  he  a^.  length  decided 
in  favour  of  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  and  became  the  Pastor  of  Bethel 
Church,  then  one  of  the  largest  within  the  bounds  of  the  Synod.  Here  he 
laboured  with  many  tokens  of  success  till  the  year  1823,  when  he  removed 
to  the  lower  end  of  the  Valley, — the  neighbourhood  of  Winchester.  Hav- 
ing been  connected  with  the  Synod  of  Virginia  not  far  from  ton  years,  he 
determined  to  migrate  to  the  West ;  but,  previous  to  carrying  his  resolution 
into  effect,  he  spent  a  year  or  two,  labouring  with  his  accustomed  seal,  in 
the  hill  country  of  North  Carolina.     In  the  year  1830,  he  removed  with 


BOBEBT  HETT  CUAP2IAN. 


97 


Ub  family  to  the  State  of  Tennessee,  and  settled  at  Covington,  a  few  miles 
from  the  Mississippi  Elver.  His  field  of  labour  here  was  within  the  bounds 
of  what  was  then  a  frontier  Presbytery ;  and  be  had  an  important  ageney 
in  moulding  the  religious  state  of  things  in  that  new  and  sparsely  popular 
ted  region.  His  influence  for  good  was  powerfully  felt,  and  he  was  rejoic- 
ing in  the  prospect  of  constantly  extending  usefulness,  when  his  career  was 
suddenly  terminated  by  death. 

In  the  spring  of  1833,  he  was  appointed  to  represent  his  Presbytery  in 
the  General  Assembly  at  Philadelphia.  He  accomplished  his  journey  to 
the  North,  chiefly  on  horseback,  making  it  little  less  than  an  extended  mis- 
nonary  tour.  When  the  Assembly  had  closed  its  sessions,  he  made  a  hasty 
visit  to  a  brother  who  resided  in  the  city  of  New  York ;  and  then  set  out^ 
in  perfect  health,  on  his  homeward  way.  At  Winchester,  Ya.,  he  was 
arrested  by  a  violent  disease,  which  proved  to  be  constipation  of  the  bowels, 
and  which  terminated  his  life  after  four  days.  On  the  morning  that  he 
died,  he  arose,  dressed  himself,  opened  his  window,  and  finding  that  he  was 
free  from  pain,  imagined  himself  convalescent;  but  his  physician  quickly 
undeceived  him  by  telling  him  that  the  relief  he  experienced  was  the  effect 
of  mortification.  He  received  the  announcement  with  perfect  calmness; 
and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hill,  being  called  by  his  request,  read  to  him  the  ninety- 
seventh  Psalm,  and  offered  a  prayer  at  his  bedside;  and  then,  having 
requested  that  Dr.  H.  woul(i  preach  his  Funeral  Sermon,  mentioning  as  a 
suitable  text  Romans  v.  1,  he  expressed  a  wish  to  be  left  alone  that  he 
might  commune  with  his  God  and  Saviour,  and  die.  He  breathed  his  last 
shortly  after,  with  his  mind  in  a  state  of  perfect  serenity.  He  died  June 
18,  1833,  in  the  sixty- third  year  of  his  age,  and  the  forty-first  of  his  min- 
istry.    His  mortal  remains  rest  in  the  grave-yard  at  Winchester. 

On  the  14th  of  February,  1797,  he  was  married  to  Hannah,  daughter  of 
Isaac  and  Hannah  Arnette  of  Elizabethtown,  N.  J.  They  had  twelve 
children,  seven  of  whom  survived  their  father.  One  of  the  sons  is  the 
Rev.  Dr.  R.  H.  Chapman,  a  well  known  and  highly  respected  minister  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church.  The  mother,  a  lady  much  distinguished  for  her 
prudence  and  piety,  died  at  St.  Louis.  Mo.,  July  7,  1845. 

Dr.  Chapman  published  a  Sermon  on  Conscience,  and  one  on  the  Respon- 
sibility of  the  Sacred  Office,  preached  at  the  ordination  and  installation  of 
John  YouDglove.* 

FROM  THE  REV.  JAMES  MORRISON. 

Bblubvus,  Va.,  December  80, 1864* 

Dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Chapman  oommenoed  in  the 
year  1813,  when  he  was  President  of  the  University  of  North  Carolina,  and 
eootiBiied  antil  his  removal  from  Virginia,  which  was,  I  believe,  in  the  year  1822, 
or  1823.  I  was  first  a  student  of  the  University,  and  after  that,  for  nearly  two 
ycMWy  a  Tator.  During  the  time  I  was  a  student,  I  had  but  little  personal 
aeqmiiitaiice  with  him.  Whilst  I  was  a  Tutor,  I  became  intimately  acquainted 
with  him  in  his  private  character,  and  had  also  the  same  opportunities  of  observe- 
ing  him  in  his  official  relations,  which  I  had  enjoyed  when  a  student.    When  I 

*  Joaw  TovveLOTS  vai  a  satire  of  Csmbiidce,  N.  Y. ;  wm  mdaated  at  Union  CoUege  in 
19tl ;  wai  Tator  In  tho  CoUege  from  1802  to  1806;  was  wttled  in  the  minlstiy  at  Bmnflwiok, 
V.  T.,  wkciv  ho  diod  in  1833.    Ho  rceeired  the  degno  of  Doetor  of  BiTinitj  firom  hif  Mma 

Vol..  IV.  13 


>98  PR£SBTT£RIAir. 

became  a  pastor,  I  was  settled  in  a  congregation  adjoining  his.  My  opportuni- 
ties of  knowing  him,  therefore,  were  good;  though  it  was  the  acquaintance  of  a 
joung  man  with  one  who  was  in  the  prime  and  vigour  of  bis  da3'S.  I  always 
entertained  a  very  favourable  opinion  of  him. 

First  of  all,  I  believe  him  to  have  been  a  man  of  not  only  sincere  but  ardent 
piety.  On  this  point,  as  far  as  I  know,  there  was  but  one  opinion  amongst  his 
acquaintances.  He  was  remarkably  conscientious.  His  conscience  wns  both 
enlightened  and  tender.  The  Bible  was  his  guide,  and  he  was  exceedingly  sen- 
sitive to  any  departure  from  its  teaciiings.  He  was,  from  thorough  examination 
and  deliberate  conviction,  a  decided  Presbyterian;  but  still  he  was  liberal 
towards  other  Christian  denominations.  He  loved  all  who  gave  evidence  that 
they  loved  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Some  of  his  warmest  and  most  intimate 
friends,  during  the  time  of  my  acquaintance  with  him,  were  of  a  different  com- 
manion  from  his  own. 

He  took  great  interest  in  the  judicatories  of  his  Church,  and  was  not  only 
exceedingly  punctual  in  his  attendance  on  them,  but  was  an  active  and  influen- 
tial member. 

In  all  the  various  circumstances  and  relations  of  life,  he  was  eminently  exem- 
plary. He  was  an  uncommonly  affectionate  husband  and  father.  In  his  family 
the  law  of  love  and  kindness  prevailed.  No  one  could  be  intimate  in  his  domes- 
tic circle,  without  seeing  how  warmly  his  affections  centered  there,  and  how 
rich  were  the  enjoyments  which  he  found  there.  He  was  emphatically  a  lover 
of  home. 

As  a  teacher,  he  was  faithful  and  diligent.  He  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
progress  and  welfare  of  all  his  pupils,  and  especially  that  they  might  all  be 
taught  of  God,  and  made  wise  unto  eternal  life.  During  his  connection  with 
the  University,  he  was  the  instrument  of  a  most  salutary  moral  change  there, 
and  it  is  believed  that  a  considerable  number  received,  through  his  instrumental- 
ity, those  impressions  which  resulted  in  a  true  conversion.  Under  his  ministry, 
there  was,  at  one  time,  a  very  general  seriousness  amongst  the  students. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  highly  evangelical.  He  delighted  to  preach  *'  Christ 
and  Him  crucified;"  and  he  rarely  preached  a  sermon  that  did  not  make  this 
manifest.  His  discourses  were  carefully  prepared,  and  were  never  tedious. 
Lucid  and  logical  in  arrangement,  they  were  easily  remembered.  Whilst  Christ 
was  |;he  sun  in  his  system,  around  which  every  thing  moved,  and  from  which 
every  part  derived  light  and  life,  his  preaching  furnished  a  rich  variety  of  scrip- 
tural truth,  and  no  one,  so  far  as  I  knew,  ever  complained  of  sameness  in  his 
discourses.  His  language  was  always  dignified,  and  yet  so  plain  and  simple  as 
to  be  easily  understood  by  any  person  of  ordinary  intelligence  and  attention. 
His  sermons  may  be  said  to  have  been  uniformly  good.  I  suppose  I  have  heard 
him  preach  more  than  one  hundred,  and  yet  I  do  not  remember  to  have  heard 
among  them  all  what  I  would  call  an  indifferent  one.  His  manner  in  the  pulpit 
was  tender  and  earnest.  It  was  evident  that  he  felt  deeply  the  importance  of 
the  truths  which  he  preached;  and  I  have  often  seen  him  affected  to  tears. 
Hence  he  succeeded,  beyond  what  is  common,  in  securing  the  attention  of  his 
hearers,  even  though,  as  was  sometimes  the  case,  they  disrelished  and  resisted 
his  dose  and  pungent  appeals. 

It  is  now  thirty  years  since  my  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Chapman  ceased.  I 
feel  that  I  cannot  do  full  justice  to  his  character;  and  yet  the  outline  is  so  fresh 
.And  vivid  that  I  think  my  impressions  in  respect  to  it  cannot  be  wrong. 

Yours  sincerely  and  respectfully, 

JAMES  MORRISON. 


ROBSBT  H£TT  CHAPMAN.  ^ 


FROM  THE  HON.  F.  NASH, 

JUDGE  OV  THB  gUPREMB  OOU&T  OF  NOBTB  OABOLINA. 

Ralbigh,  February  17, 1857 
Dear  Sir:  Your  letter  has  just  reached  me,  and  few  things  would  give  me  more 
pleBSore  than  to  comply  with  the  request  which  it  contains,  if  the  pressure  of 
my  official  engagements  were  not  such  as  to  forbid  my  doing  it  in  any  other  than 
the  most  hurried  manner.  1  knew  Dr.  Chapman  well  and  loved  him  much. 
When  he  came  to  this  State  to  preside  over  our  College,  he  resided  with  me  nearly 
three  months  before  he  went  to  Chapel  Hill.  This  gave  me  an  opportunity  to 
become  well  acquainted  with  him.  Plain  and  unpretending  in  his  appearance 
and  manner,  his  heart  was  warm  and  sincere.  Not  specially  calculated  to  shine 
as  a  Professor,  the  pulpit  was  his  appropriate  place.  More  highly  gifted  with 
power  on  his  knees  than  any  man  I  ever  knew,  his  public  prayers  warmed  the 
hearts  of  all  who  heard  him.  I  have  met  with  no  man,  unless  perhaps  the  late 
Br.  Nettleton  was  an  exception,  who  seemed  to  me  to  exceed  Dr.  Chapman  in  a 
deep  and  spiritual  acquaintance  with  the  Word  of  Qod.  His  discourses  were 
plain,  but  always  interesting.  He  was  a  good  man — eminently  faithful  in  the 
discharge  of  every  duty,  social  and  relative;  eminently  kind  to  those  around 
him,  and  always  having  an  eye  to  their  better  interests.  I  cannot  say  that  he 
was  the  father  of  Prcsbyterianism  in  this  particuUr  region,  but  I  may  say  that 
be  was  a  most  efficient  promoter  of  it — when  he  came  hither,  the  lamp  was 
baming,  but  it  was  with  a  feeble  and  dubious  flame — by  his  untiring  zeal  and 
vigorous  efforts  he  poured  into  it  fresh  oil,  and  it  has  been  burning  ever  since 
with  a  steadily  increasing  lustre  and  warmth.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  exerted 
a  benign  influence  here,  which  was  far  from  exhausting  itself  with  the  genera- 
tion that  was  contemporary  with  him. 

Regretting  that  my  account  of  this  excellent  man  must  be  so  meagre, 
I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  with  sincere  regard. 

Respectfully  and  sincerely  your  friend, 

F.  NASH. 


-•♦- 


JAMES  RICHARDS,  D.  D  * 

1793—1848. 

J  AJTBS  RicHABDS  was  a  descendant,  in  the  fourth  generation,  of  Samnel 
Richards,  a  native  of  Wales,  who  settled  in  the  parish  of  Middlesex,  near 
Siamford,  Conn.  He  was  the  eldest  child  of  James  Richards,  and  was 
bom  in  New  Canaan,  Conn.,  October  29,  1767.  His  father  was  an  intelli- 
gent, respectable  &nner,  highly  esteemed  both  as  a  man  and  a  Christian ; 
and  his  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Ruth  Hanford,  was  one  of  the 
brighter  ornaments  of  her  sex ; — ^not  indeed  specially  favoared  in  respect  to 
advantages  for  education,  but  distinguished  for  a  masculine  understanding, 
great  firmness  of  purpose,  and  a  fervent  and  elevated  piety.  In  bis  earliest 
jesrs«  he  gave  indications  of  an  uncommonly  delicate  bodily  constitution, 
tbough  it  was  quickly  discovered  that  there  was  no  corresponding  mental 
inbecility — on  the  contrary,  his  intellectual  powers  were  perceived  to  be 

•  XoMrir  pMftzed  to  his  LMtans  by  B«t.  S.  H.  OridUj.— IIS.  from  hii  Umilj* 


^00  PRESBTTERIAK. 

of  a  yerj  high  order ;  and  some  of  his  early  feats  in  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge  would  seem  almost  incredible.  When  he  was  thirteen  years  old, 
he  had  so  much  knowledge  and  so  much  character  withal,  that  he  was  a 
sucoessfol  teacher  of  a  common  district  school ;  and  he  was  employed  in 
this  way  for  two  successive  winters. 

From  his  early  childhood,  he  evinced  a  strong  desire  for  a  collegiate  edu- 
oation ;  but  the  straitened  circumstances  of  his  father,  in  connection  with 
his  own  apparently  frail  constitution,  seemed  to  put  this  beyond  his  reach. 
At  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  left  home,  with  the  concurrence  of  his  parents, 
with  a  view  to  seek  some  employment  in  which  he  might  become  perma- 
nently settled.  He  went  first  to  Newtown,  distant  about  twenty-five  miles 
from  his  native  place,  and  there  became  an  apprentice  to  a  cabinet  and  chair 
maker.  He  was  obliged,  however,  in  consequence  of  a  severe  and  pro- 
tracted illness  which  occurred  shortly  after  this,  to  return  home ;  and  we 
hear  of  him  resuming  his  mechanical  labours,  first  at  Banbury,  and  after- 
wards at  Stamford,  and  then  retiring  from  them  altogether.  He  seems, 
however,  at  one  period,  to  have  been  occupied  at  his  trade,  for  a  short  time, 
in  the  city  of  New  York. 

The  early  religious  instruction  which  he  received  under  the  parental  roof, 
and  particularly  from  his  mother,  did  not  fail  to  make  some  impression  upon 
his  mind ;  but  that  impression  seems  to  have  yielded,  in  a  great  measure,  to 
the  influence  of  worldly  associations.  But  in  17S6,  when  he  was  in  his  nine- 
teenth year,  he  became  thoroughly  awakened  to  the  importance  of  religion 
as  a  practical  concern,  and  ultimately  gave  the  most  satisfactory  evidence 
of  being  renewed  in  the  temper  of  his  mind.  He  is  said  to  have  been 
brought  to  serious  reflection  in  the  midst  of  a  scene  of  unhallowed  levity, 
and  particularly  in  consequence  of  the  prominent  part  which  he  was  him- 
self bearing  in  it.  For  a  season,  the  burden  of  his  guilt  seemed  to  him 
greater  than  he  could  bear;  but,  after  a  few  days,  while  he  was  reading  the 
thirty-eighth  Psalm,  he  found  the  joy  and  peace  in  believing.  Shortly  after 
this,  he  joined  the  Congregational  Church  in  Stamford,  and  henceforward 
evinced  the  genuineness  of  his  piety  by  a  consistent  and  devoted  Christian 
life. 

His  great  purpose  now  was  to  devote  himself  to  the  Christian  ministry. 
Accordingly,  having  been  released  from  his  apprenticeship,  he  relumed  to 
New  Canaan,  and  commenced  his  studies  preparatory  to  College,  under  the 
direction  of  the  Rev.  Justus  Mitchell,  at  that  time  Pastor  of  the  Church 
with  which  his  parents  were  connected.  He  was,  however,  quickly  inter- 
rupted in  his  preparatory  course  by  ill  health,  and  then  by  an  affection  of 
the  eyes ;  and  for  several  months  he  depended  on  his  sister  to  read  to  him 
as  the  only  means  of  advancing  in  his  studies.  He  finally  completed  his 
preparation  for  College  at  Norwalk,  under  the  instruction  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Burnet,  and  through  the  kindness  of  two  female  friends,  who  had  offered  to 
aid  him  to  the  extent  of  their  ability. 

Notwithstanding  he  entered  Yale  College  in  1789,  yet,  at  the  cloae  of  his 
Freshman  year,  in  oonsequence  of  inability  to  meet  the  necessary  expenses, 
be  was  obl^ed  to  withdraw  from  College  and  return  to  hb  friends.  Con- 
Tineed  that  it  wovdd  be^  difficulty  if  not  impossible,  for  him  to  prosecute  a 
regular  collegiate  course,  he  put  himself  again  under  the  instruction  of  kb 
venerated  friend.  Dr.  Burnet,  at  Norwalk ;  but,  after  he  had  been  there  a 
short  tiine,  another  severe  illness  subjecied  hint  to  a  still  farther  interrup- 


JAJCBS  JUCSARDS.  IQ^ 

iion.  His  case,  for  a  wUle,  tr«8  regarded  as  well  nigh,  hopeless ;  and  his 
remarkable  recoTery  he  was  aocustomed  to  ascribe,  under  God,  to  the  con* 
staiit  and  affectiona4«  vigilance  of  one  of  his  sisters.  Having  passed  a  few 
BBonths  at  Norwalk  after  his  recovery,  he  went  to  Farmiagton  in  1791,  where 
he  engaged  for  a  few  months  as  a  teacher ;  and  then  went  to  Greenfield,  and 
oompletod  both  his  academical  and  theological  course  under  the  instruction 
of  Dr.  D wight.  His  diligence  throughout  his  whole  course  was  untiring, 
and  his  improvement  worthy  of  the  best  advantages — as  an  evidence  of 
which,  the  Corporation  of  Yale  College,  in  1794,  at  Dr.  Dwight's  sugges* 
lion,  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts. 

In  1793,  Mr.  Richards  was  licensed  by  a  Committee  of  the  Association 
in  the  Western  District  of  Fairfield  County,  to  preach  the  Gospel.  After 
preaching  a  few  Sabbaths  in  the  parish  of  Wilton^  he  went,  by  invitation, 
to  Ballston,  N.  Y.,  where,  for  some  time,  he  supplied  a  vacant  pulpit ;  and, 
during  his  residence  there,  he  committed  to  paper  a  series  of  resolutions  for 
the  government  of  hb  heart  and  conduct,  which  no  doubt  had  much  to  do 
with  his  eminent  piety  and  usefulness.  On  leaving  Ballston,  he  went  to 
Long  Island,  and  for  a  while  supplied  two  small  congregations, — one  on 
Shelter  Island,  the  other  at  Sag  Harbor  ;  and,  though  the  generation  to  which 
he  ministered  has  now  passed  away,  it  is  said  that  the  savour  of  his  earnest 
and  faithful  ministrations  still  remains. 

In  May,  1794,  in  consequence  of  the  earnest  recommendation  of  the  Rev. 
Doctors  Buell  and  Woolworth  of  Long  Island,  he  received  an  invitation  from 
the  Church  in  3Iorristown,  N.  J.,  to  preach  to  them  as  a  candidate ;  and, 
having  accepted  the  invitation  and  passed  two  or  three  months  with  thero, 
they  gave  him  a  call  to  become  their  Pastor  in  September  following!,  He 
accepted  the  call,  but  for  some  reasons  his  ordination  and  installation 
were  deferred  until  May,  1797,  when  he  was  solemnly  consecrated  to  the 
pastoral  office  by  what  was  then  the  Presbytery  of  New  York. 

In  November,  1794,  he  was  married  to  Caroline,  daughter  of  James  and 
Caroline  (Hooker)  Cowles  of  Farmington,  Conn., — a  lady  of  a  refined  and 
excellent  character,  in  whom  he  found  not  only  a  most  affectionate  and 
devoted  wife,  but  an  effective  coadjutor  in  carrying  out  all  the  great  pur* 
poses  for  which  he  lived.  They  had  seven  children.  Mrs.  Richards  sur- 
vived her  husband  several  years,  and  died  at  Auburn  on  the  8th  of  October, 
1847. 

Mr.  Richards'  position  at  Morristown  was  one,  not  only  of  great  respon- 
sibility,  but  of  great  delicacy.  With  comparatively  little  experience  in  the 
ministerial  work,  with  a  numerous  congregation,  embodying  a  large  amount 
of  intelligence,  scattered  over  an  extensive  territory,  and  withal  still  agi* 
tated  by  the  strife  of  preceding  years, — his  settlement  there  would  have 
seemed  at  least  an  experiment  of  doubtful  issue.  He  succeeded,  however, 
in  reconciling  parties  which  had  been  at  variance,  and  giving  to  the  cougre* 
gation  a  more  harmonious  and  peaceful  character  than  it  had  known  for  a 
long  period.  At  the  same  time,  his  labours  in  the  pulpit  were  eminently 
acceptable,  not  only  at  home  but  abroad ;  and  he  came  to  be  regarded 
throughout  the  whole  region  as  quite  a  model  of  ministerial  character.  And 
his  faithful  efforts,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  were  not  in  vain.  At  three 
Afferent  periods  during  his  ministry,  the  salvation  of  the  soul  became  the 
all  engrossing  concern  among  his  people,  and  largo  numbers  were  added  to 


;L02  PRESBTTERlAlf. 

the  cbarch,  whose  subsequent  ezemplarj  life  attested  the  genmncness  of 
their  oonrersion. 

In  1801,  he  received  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  from  Princeton  Col- 
lege; and  in  1805,  he  was  chosen  Moderator  of  the  General  Assembly  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church.  This  latter  distinction  was  remarkable,  on 
account  of  his  being  at  the  time  but  thirty-seven  years  of  age. 

Mr.  Richards  continued  to  exercise  his  ministry  with  great  acceptanco 
for  several  years,  and  indeed  as  long  as  he  remained  at  Morrbtown  ;  but, 
after  a  while,  in  consequence  of  the  increasing  expenses  of  his  family,  he 
found  himself  under  the  necessity  of  asking  for  an  addition  to  his  salary ; 
and  this  request,  though  seconded  by  the  cordial  wbhes  of  many,  met  with 
no  very  grateful  response  from  the  Congregation  at  large.  Shortly  after 
thb, — ^in  the  early  part  of  1809,  the  Presbyterian  Congregation  at  Newark, 
having  become  vacant  by  the  removal  of  Dr.  Griffin  to  a  Professorship  in 
the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  presented  a  unanimous  call  to  Mr. 
Richards  to  become  their  Pastor.  This  call,  after  mature  deliberation,  he 
accepted;  though  he  parted  with  his  Congregation  at  Morristown  with 
great  reluctance,  and  with  every  demonstration  on  their  part  of  the  most 
cordial  good  will.  Indeed  they  ultimately  acceded  to  his  proposal  in  respect 
to  an  increase  of  salary ;  but  he  still  believed,  in  view  of  all  the  circum- 
stances, that  Providence  pointed  him  to  Newark.  The  Presbytery  of  Jer- 
sey, when  called  to  consider  the  case,  sanctioned  the  proposed  transfer, — 
immediately  after  which,  he  entered  his  new  field  of  labour. 

In  taking  his  position  at  Newark,  Mr.  Richards  succeeded  a  man,  the 
splendour  of  whose  gifts  and  the  power  of  whose  eloquence  had  elevated 
him  to  the  highest  rank  of  American  preachers.  He  was  aware  that  this  ren- 
dered his  situation  one  of  no  ordinary  difficulty ;  but  he  resolved,  in  better 
strength  than  his  own,  that  he  would  task  his  faculties  to  the  utmost  witH  a 
view  to  make  full  proof  of  his  ministry.  And  in  carrying  out  this  purpose, 
he  quickly  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  congregation  who  gave  him  the 
most  decisive  testimonies  of  their  respect  and  confidence.  His  instructive, 
judicious  and  earnest  preaching,  the  tenderness  and  fidelity  of  his  pastoral 
intercourse,  and  the  remarkable  discretion  which  he  evinced  in  all  relatione 
and  circumstances,  secured  to  him  a  place  in  the  affections  of  his  people  and 
of  the  surrounding  community,  such  as  few  ministers  have  ever  attained. 

During  his  residence  at  Newark,  the  sphere  of  his  influence  was  continu- 
ally enlarging,  while  he  was  constantly  receiving  new  expressions  of  public 
regard.  He  was  chosen  a  Trustee  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey  in  1807, 
and  was  a  Director  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton  from  its  first 
establishment ;  both  of  which  offices  he  held  until  he  left  the  State.  He 
was  also  intimately  connected,  at  this  period,  with  several  of  the  earlier  and 
more  important  of  our  benevolent  institutions  ;  and  in  1815,  he  preached 
the  Annual  Sermon  before  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for 
Foreign  Missions.  In  the  same  year,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Divinity  from  two  Colleges, — Yale  and  Union — a  high  but 
deserved  testimony  to  both  his  literary  and  theological  acquirements. 

Dr.  Richards'  ministry  in  Newark,  as  in  Morristown,  was  signalized  by 
remarkable  tokens  of  the  Divine  favour.  The  years  1813  and  1817  were 
specially  memorable  for  the  powerful  workings  of  Divine  influence  among 
his  people.  During  fourteen  years,  which  constituted  the  whole  period  of 
his  ministry  here,  he  received  to  the  church  about  five  hundred  members, 


JAMfiS  RICHARDS. 


lea 


three  hundred  and  thirty-two  of  whom  were  added  onr  a  profession  of  their 
faith.  Among  them  were  six  young  men  who  beoame  ministers  of  the 
Gospel. 

The  Theological  Seminary  at  Auburn  having  been  established  by  the 
Synod  of  Geneva  in  1819,  Pr.  Richards  was  appointed  to  its  Professorship 
of  Theology  in  1820;  but  declined  the  appointment.  Being  re-elected, 
however,  in  1823,  under  somewhat  different  circumstances,  be  signified,  in 
due  time,  bis  acceptance  of  the  invitation.  This  was  justly  regarded  as 
ominous  of  great  good  to  the  institution ;  as  his  standing  in  the  Church  for 
prudence,  piety,  and  theological  attainment,  was  such,  as  to  secure  not  only 
to  himself  but  to  the  infant  Seminary  with  which  he  became  identified,  the 
general  confidence  and  favour  of  the  Christian  community.  He  was  inau- 
gurated Professor  of  Christian  Theology,  October  29, 1828, — the  fifty-sixth 
anniversary  of  his  birth. 

The  enterprise  to  which  he  now  addressed  himself,  was,  on  many 
accounts,  a  laborious  and  difficult  one ;  and  no  one  who  knows  its  history 
can  doubt  that  the  success  which  subsequently  attended  it,  was  attributable 
in  a  great  degree  to  his  persevering  and  well  directed  efforts.  He  engaged 
immediately,  and  not  in  one  instance  only  but  again  and  again,  in  the  busi- 
ness of  collecting  funds  ;  and,  at  different  periods,  he  traversed  a  large  part 
of  the  State  of  New  York,  besides  visiting  Philadelphia,  Boston,  and  some 
other  large  towns,  for  the  prosecution  of  this  object.  His  letters,  during 
this  period,  indicating  the  various  degrees  of  success  which  he  met  in  dif- 
ferent places,  show  how  completely  his  mind  had  become  absorbed  in  the 
interests  of  the  institution,  and  withal  how  constantly  he  acknowledged  God 
in  all  the  favour  with  which  his  efforts  were  crowned. 

It  is  quite  safe  to  say  that,  during  the  whole  period  of  his  relation  to  the 
Seminary,  he  may  be  regarded  as  having  been  the  chief  instrument  of 
increasing  its  funds, — the  main  spring  of  its  financial  operations.  He  pos- 
sessed rare  qualities  to  fit  him  for  this  service ;  and  whatever  may  have 
been  the  self-denial  which  it  involved,  he  always  performed  it  with  the 
utmost  alacrity.  The  universal  respect  which  was  felt  for  his  character, — 
bis  dignified  manners,  and  fine  social  qualities,  and  highly  acceptable  efforts 
in  the  pulpit,  and  especially  his  almost  intuitive  perception  of  the  springs 
of  human  action,  gave  him  an  advantage  in  his  appeals  to  the  liberality  of 
the  Christian  public,  as  rare  as  it  was  important.  And  then  he  was  a  most 
accomplished  financier ; — strictly  accurate,  though  always  perfectly  honour- 
able, in  every  pecuniary  transaction.  Notwithstanding  he  was  associated  in 
the  management  of  the  concerns  of  the  institution  with  men  of  the  utmost 
shrewdness,  and  of  great  experience  in  such  matters,  they  were  more  than 
willing,  especially  in  circumstances  of  embarrassment,  to  take  counsel  of 
bis  wisdom  ;  and  in  seasons  of  the  deepest  darkness,  the  first  gleam  of  light 
generally  emanated  from  his  far-reaching  and  prolific  mind.  * 

Dr.  Kiohards,  shortly  after  he  went  to  Auburn,  and  indeed  during  almost 
ibe  whole  period  of  his  connection  with  the  Seminary,  felt  himself  con- 
strained to  take  and  to  keep,  if  not  a  strictly  controversial  attitude,  yet  an 
attitude  of  defence,  towards  those  whom  he  regarded  as  holding  theological  or 
practical  errors.  He  found,  immediately  on  his  arrival  there,  that  the  peculiar 
views  of  Dr.  Emmons  prevailed  extensively  in  that  region,  and  had  obtained 
no  inconsiderable  footing  in  the  Seminary ;  and,  as  he  dissented  totaUj[ 
and  strongly  from  those  views,  though  with  great  respect  for  the  talents  and 


^ 


;L02  PRESBTTERlAir. 

the  ohurch,  whose  subsequent  exemplary  life  attested  the  genuineness  of 
their  oonversion. 

In  18Q1,  he  received  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  from  Princeton  Col* 
lege;  and  in  1805,  he  was  chosen  Moderator  of  the  General  Assembly  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church.  This  latter  distinction  was  remarkable,  on 
account  of  his  being  at  the  time  but  thirty-seven  years  of  age. 

Mr.  Richards  continued  to  exercise  his  ministry  with  great  acceptance 
for  several  years,  and  indeed  as  long  as  he  remained  at  Morristown ;  but, 
after  a  while,  in  consequence  of  the  increasing  expenses  of  his  family,  he 
found  himself  under  the  necessity  of  asking  for  an  addition  to  his  salary ; 
and  this  request,  though  seconded  by  the  cordial  wishes  of  many,  met  with 
no  very  grateful  response  from  the  Congregation  at  large.  Shortly  after 
this, — ^in  the  early  part  of  1809,  the  Presbyterian  Congregation  at  Newark, 
having  become  vacant  by  the  removal  of  Pr.  Griffin  to  a  Professorship  in 
the  Theolo^cal  Seminary  at  Andover,  presented  a  unanimous  call  to  Mr. 
Richards  to  become  their  Pastor.  This  call,  after  mature  deliberation,  he 
accepted;  though  he  parted  with  his  Congregation  at  Morristown  with 
great  reluctance,  and  with  every  demonstration  on  their  part  of  the  most 
cordial  good  will.  Indeed  they  ultimately  acceded  to  his  proposal  in  respect 
to  an  increase  of  salary ;  but  he  still  believed,  in  view  of  all  the  circum- 
stances, that  Providence  pointed  him  to  Newark.  The  Presbytery  of  Jer- 
sey, when  called  to  consider  the  case,  sanctioned  the  proposed  transfer, — 
immediately  after  which,  he  entered  his  new  field  of  labour. 

In  taking  his  position  at  Newark,  Mr.  Richards  succeeded  a  man,  the 
splendour  of  whose  gifts  and  the  power  of  whose  eloquence  had  elevated 
him  to  the  highest  rank  of  American  preachers.  He  was  aware  that  this  ren- 
dered his  situation  one  of  no  ordinary  difficulty  ;  but  he  resolved,  in  better 
strength  than  his  own,  that  he  would  task  his  faculties  to  the  utmost  witK  a 
view  to  make  full  proof  of  his  ministry.  And  in  carrying  out  this  purpose, 
he  quickly  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  congregation  who  gave  him  the 
most  decisive  testimonies  of  their  respect  and  confidence.  His  instructive, 
judicious  and  earnest  preaching,  the  tenderness  and  fidelity  of  his  pastoral 
iotercourse,  and  the  remarkable  discretion  which  he  evinced  in  all  relations 
and  circumstances,  secured  to  him  a  place  in  the  affections  of  his  people  and 
of  the  surrounding  community,  such  as  few  ministers  have  ever  attained. 

During  his  residence  at  Newark,  the  sphere  of  his  influence  was  continu- 
ally enlarging,  while  he  was  constantly  receiving  new  expressions  of  public 
regard.  He  was  chosen  a  Trustee  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey  in  1807, 
and  was  a  Director  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton  from  its  first 
establishment ;  both  of  which  offices  he  held  until  he  left  the  State.  He 
was  also  intimately  connected,  at  this  period,  with  several  of  the  earlier  and 
more  important  of  our  benevolent  institutions ;  and  in  1815,  he  preached 
the  Annual  Sermon  before  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for 
Foreign  Missions.  In  the  same  year,  he  waa  honoured  with  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Divinity  from  two  Colleges, — Yale  and  Union — a  high  but 
deserved  testimony  to  both  his  literary  and  theological  acquirements. 

Dr.  Richards*  ministry  in  Newark,  as  in  Morristown,  was  signalized  by 
remarkable  tokens  of  the  Divine  favour.  The  years  1813  and  1817  were 
specially  memorable  for  the  powerful  workings  of  Divine  influence  among 
his  people.  During  fourteen  years,  which  constituted  the  whole  period  of 
his  ministry  here,  he  received  to  the  church  about  five  hundred  members, 


JAJCES  RICHARDS. 


103 


three  hundred  and  thirty-two  of  whom  were  added  on  a  profession  of  their 
faith.  Among  them  were  six  young  men  who  became  ministers  of  the 
Gospel. 

The  Theological  Seminary  at  Auburn  having  been  established  by  the 
Synod  of  Geneva  in  1819,  Pr.  Richards  was  appointed  to  its  Professorship 
of  Theology  in  1820;  but  declined  the  appointment.  Being  re-elected, 
however,  in  1823,  under  somewhat  different  circumstances,  he  signified,  in 
due  time,  his  acceptance  of  the  invitation.  This  was  justly  regarded  as 
ominous  of  great  good  to  the  institution ;  aa  his  standing  in  the  Church  for 
prudence,  piety,  and  theological  attainment,  was  such,  as  to  secure  not  only 
to  himself  but  to  the  infant  Seminary  with  which  he  became  identified,  the 
general  confidence  and  favour  of  the  Christian  community.  He  was  inau- 
gurated Professor  of  Christian  Theology,  October  29, 1823, — the  fifty-sixth 
anniversary  of  his  birth. 

The  enterprise  to  which  he  now  addressed  himself,  was,  on  many 
accounts,  a  laborious  and  di£Gicult  one ;  and  no  one  who  knows  its  history 
can  doubt  that  the  success  which  subsequently  attended  it,  was  attributable 
in  a  great  degree  to  his  persevering  and  well  directed  efforts.  He  engaged 
immediately,  and  not  in  one  instance  only  but  again  and  again,  in  the  busi- 
ness of  collecting  funds  ;  and,  at  different  periods,  he  traversed  a  large  part 
of  the  State  of  New  York,  besides  visiting  Philadelphia,  Boston,  and  some 
other  largo  towns,  for  the  prosecution  of  this  object.  His  letters,  during 
this  period,  indicating  the  various  degrees  of  success  which  he  met  in  dif- 
terent  places,  show  how  completely  his  mind  had  become  absorbed  in  the 
interests  of  the  institution,  and  withal  how  constantly  he  acknowledged  God 
in  all  the  favour  with  which  his  efforts  were  crowned. 

It  is  quite  safe  to  say  that,  during  the  whole  period  of  his  relation  to  the 
Seminary,  he  may  be  regarded  as  having  been  the  chief  instrument  of 
increasing  its  funds, — the  main  spring  of  its  financial  operations.  He  pos- 
sessed rare  qualities  to  fit  him  for  this  service ;  and  whatever  may  have 
been  the  self-denial  which  it  involved,  he  always  performed  it  with  the 
utmost  alacrity.  The  universal  respect  which  was  felt  for  his  character, — 
his  dignified  manners,  and  fine  social  qualities,  and  highly  acceptable  efforts 
in  the  pulpit,  and  especially  his  almost  intuitive  perception  of  the  springs 
of  human  action,  gave  him  an  advantage  in  his  appeals  to  the  liberality  of 
the  Christian  public,  as  rare  as  it  was  important.  And  then  he  was  a  most 
accomplished  financier ; — strictly  accurate,  though  always  perfectly  honour- 
able, iu  every  pecuniary  transaction.  Notwithstanding  be  was  associated  in 
the  management  of  the  concerns  of  the  institution  with  men  of  the  utmost 
shrewdness,  and  of  great  experience  in  such  matters,  they  were  more  than 
willing,  especially  in  circumstances  of  embarrassment,  to  take  counsel  of 
his  wisdom ;  and  in  seasons  of  the  deepest  darkness,  the  first  gleam  of  light 
generally  emanated  from  his  far-reaching  and  prolific  mind. 

Dr.  Kichards,  shortly  after  he  went  to  Auburn,  and  indeed  during  almost 
the  whole  period  of  his  connection  with  the  Seminary,  felt  himself  con- 
strained to  take  and  to  keep,  if  not  a  strictly  controversial  attitude,  yet  an 
attitude  of  defence,  towards  those  whom  he  regarded  as  holding  theological  or 
practical  errors.  He  found,  immediately  on  his  arrival  there,  that  the  peculiar 
views  of  Dr.  Emmons  prevailed  extensively  in  that  region,  and  had  obtained 
no  inconsiderable  footing  in  the  Seminary ;  and,  as  he  dissented  totallj[ 
and  strongly  from  those  views,  though  with  great  respect  for  the  talents  and 


104  PRESBTTERIAK. 

dliaracter  of  their  atttliOT,  he  feli  himself  ealled  upon  to  endeavour  to  expose 
thdr  fallacy,  and,  as  far  as  he  coald,  to  fix  in  the  minds  especially  of  his 
own  students,  an  opposite  system.  It  was  a  comparatively  silent,  hut  some- 
what severe  and  protracted  conflict,  in  which  this  purpose  engaged  him ; 
hut  there  is  no  douht  that  he  ultimately  succeeded  in  giving  a  different 
direction  to  the  prevailing  sentiment,  not  only  of  the  institution,  hut  of  the 
surrounding  community,  on  that  general  suhject. 

But  this  was  by  no  means  the  most  important  controversy  in  which  Dr. 
Richards  was  called  to  bear  a  part.  About  the  year  1826  commenced  the 
period  signalized  in  the  history  of  both  the  Presbyterian  and  Congregational 
denominations  in  this  country,  by  what  have  been  commonly  called  *'new 
measures  "  in  connection  with  revivals  of  religion.  Dr.  Richards  marked 
the  progress  of  this  new  state  of  things  with  the  deepest  concern.  He 
carefully  noted  all  the  progressive  developments,  and  deliberately  came  to 
the  conclusion  that,  however  there  might  be  somewhat  of  Divine  influence 
connected  with  it,  or  rather  operating  in  spite  of  it,  yet  it  was  to  be 
regarded,  to  a  great  extent,  as  a  spurious  excitement.  With  this  convic- 
tion strongly  fixed  in  his  mind,  he  was  prepared  to  take  the  attitude  of 
resistance,  whenever  he  should  be  called  to  act  in  reference  to  it ;  and,  after 
a  while,  the  time  for  action  came,  and  he  was  found  as  firm  as  a  rock  in  the 
midst  of  an  agitation  that  convulsed  the  entire  community.  Without 
making  himself  needlessly  offensive,  he  utterly  refused  to  co-operate  in  the 
popular  measures,  notwithstanding  he  did  it  at  the  expense  of  being 
branded,  in  public  and  in  private,  as  fighting  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  The 
fever  existed,  not  to  say  raged,  inside  of  the  Seminary  itself;  and  even 
some  of  his  own  students,  who,  both  before  and  after,  regarded  bim  as 
among  the  brightest  models  of  wisdom  and  excellence,  were,  for  the  time, 
excited  into  such  a  phrenzy,  that  they  publicly  prayed  for  his  conversion. 
But  none  of  these  things  moved  him ;  and  he  lived  not  only  to  see  the 
finger  of  scorn  that  had  been  pointed  at  him  withdrawn,  and  to  hear  the 
voice  of  obloquy  that  had  been  raised  against  him,  die  away,  but  to  know 
that  his  course  had  met  the  approbation  of  the  wise  and  good  every 
where, — to  receive  in  some  instances  the  hearty  acknowledgments  of  those 
who  had  been  among  his  active  opponents. 

In  the  winter  of  1827-28,  Dr.  Richards'  health  became  seriously 
impaired,  and  for  nearly  two  years  it  continued  in  a  somewhat  feeble  and 
dubious  state.  In  1830,  it  was  so  far  improved  that  he  was  enabled  to  dis- 
charge the  duties  of  his  office  with  nearly  his  accustomed  energy ;  though  a 
shock  had  evidently  been  given  to  his  constitution  from  which  he  never  fully 
recovered. 

Notwithstanding  Dr.  Richards  had  stood  up  so  erect  against  the  tempest 
which,  for  several  years,  had  swept  over  the  churches,  especially  in  the 
region  in  which  he  resided,  he  did  not  concur  in  the  ultimate  measures 
which  were  adopted  by  the  General  Assembly  for  the  division  of  the 
Church.  But  he  never  indulged  the  semblance  of  acrimony  towards 
those  of  his  brethren  who  viewed  the  case  differently,  or  those  whom  be 
considered  chiefly  instrumental  in  bringing  about  that  result.  He  endea- 
voured subsequently  to  conform  to  the  state  of  things  as  it  actually  existed, 
as  well  as  he  could ;  and  he  often  expressed  his  gratification  at  the  regular 
and  rapid  growth  both  of  order  and  of  purity  in  the  portion  of  the  Church 
with  which  he  had  been  more  immediately  connected. 


JAMsa  rigsjlrbs.  105 

In  the  antamn  of  1842,  Dr.  Richards'  health  began  perceptibly  to  fail, 
and  there  were  several  concurring  circumstances  that  may  have  contributed 
to  hasten  his  decline.  As  he  was  walking  in  the  village  of  Auburn ,  he  sad* 
denly  fell  in  consequenee  of  a  determination  of  blood  to  the  head,  and  was 
taken  up  nearly  or  quite  insensible.  Shortly  after  this,  he  was  deeply 
afflicted  by  the  sudden  death  of  his  eldest  child,  Mrs.  Beach  of  Newark ; 
and  before  he  had  recovered  from  the  shock  which  this  event  had  occasioned, 
the  iatelligenee  came  to  him  that  a  beloved  grandchild, — a  boy  of  thirteen 
years,  had  been  drowned  under  the  most  afflictive  circumstances.  But  not- 
withstanding his  infirmities,  aggravated  no  doubt  by  these  bereavements,  he 
continued  to  give  considerable  attention  to  the  duties  of  his  Professorship 
during  the  winter  and  spring ;  and  he  occasionally  heard  the  recitations  of 
his  class,  until  within  two  days  of  his  death.  It  was  his  intention  to  have 
conducted  the  religious  services  of  the  chapel  in  the  Seminary  the  Sabbath 
before  he  died  ;  but  when  the  day  came,  it  found  him  unable  even  to  leave 
his  house.  Towards  the  close  of  the  next  day,  as  he  was  conversing  with 
one  of  his  colleagues,  he  was  suddenly  seised  with  a  chill,  which  proved  the 
immediate  harbinger  of  his  dissolution.  From  this  time  his  articulation 
became  indistinct,  and  his  tendencies  manifestly  were  towards  a  state  of 
insensibility.  He  was  enabled,  however,  to  signify  his  wants  to  those  around 
him,  and  especially  to  bear  testimony  to  the  sustaining  power  of  the  Gos- 
pel in  his  last  hour.  There  was  a  delightful  tranquillity  diffused  over  his 
dying  scene,  that  spoke  most  impressively  of  the  rest  to  which  death  intro- 
dticed  him.  He  died  on  the  2d  of  August,  1848.  Two  days  after,  his 
Funeral  was  attended  by  a  large  concourse  of  citizens  and  friends,  and  an 
appropriate.  Discourse  delivered  by  one  of  his  colleagues,  the  Bev.  Dr.  Mills, 
on  Acts  xiii.  36.  His  death  was  also  duly  noticed  in  the  pulpits  which  he 
had  formerly  occupied,  both  at  Morristown  and  Newark. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Bichards'  publications : — ^A  Discourse  occa- 
sioned by  the  death  of  Lewis  Le  Conte  Congar,  a  member  of  the  Theologi- 
cal Seminary  at  Andover,  1810.  An  Address  delivered  at  the  Funeral,  of 
Mrs.  Sarah  Cumming,  wife  of  the  Bev.  Hooper  Cumming,  1812.  Two  Ser- 
mons in  the  New  Jersey  Preacher,  1813.  A  Sermon  before  the  American 
Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  missions,  1814.  A  Sermon  at  the 
Funeral  of  Deacon  Stephen  Baldwin,  1816.  **  This  world  is  not  our  rest:  "  / 
A  Sermon  delivered  at  Morristown,  1816.  The  Sinner's  inability  to  come  v 
to  Christ :  A  Sermon  on  John  vi.  44,  1816.  A  Circular  on  the  subject  of 
the  Education  Society  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  United  States, 
1819.  A  Sermon  before  the  Education  Society  of  the  Presbyterian  Church 
in  the  United  States  of  America,  1819.  A  Sermon  on  a  day  of  Public 
Thanksgiving  and  Prayer,  1823.  Two  Lectures  on  the  Prayer  of  faith, 
read  before  the  students  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Auburn,  1832. 
Two  Sermons  in  the  National  Preacher,  1834.  After  Dr.  Bichards'  death 
there  was  published,  from  his  manuscripts,  in  1846,  in  an  octavo  volume. 
Lectures  on  Mental  Philosophy  and  Theology,  with  a  sketch  of  his  life,  by 
the  Bev.  Sanrael  H.  Gridley  ;  and  in  1849,  in  a  duodecimo  volume,  twenty 
of  his  Discouraes,  about  half  of  which  were  a  reprint  of  what  he  had  pub- 
lished during  his  life. 

Vol.  IV.  14 


106  PBISBTTSRIAK. 


FBOH  THE  HON.  THEODORE  FRELINGHUTSEN,  LL.  D. 

MBXBSJl  OF  THI  SEVATI  01  TBI   VNITBD  0TATBS,   OHAHCKLLOE  01  THB  VKIYBK8ITT   Of 

MEW  TO&Ky   AND  PABSIDBHT  01  BUT0BB8  OOLLBOB. 

Nbw  Tobk,  May  9, 1848. 

Dear  Sir :  I  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  a  friendly  and  intimate  acquaintance 
with  Dr.  Richards,  from  the  spring  of  1809,  when  he  first  settled  in  Newark, 
until  his  death.  I  have  much  reason  to  be  grateful  to  God  that  his  kind  proTi- 
dence  early  brought  me  into  such  relations  and  under  such  influences.  Dr. 
Richards  was  a  man  of  singular  excellence.  There  was  in  his  character  a  happy 
combination  of  Christian  discretion  and  deep,  sober-minded  and  cheerful  piety. 

His  good  sense,  (and  few  men  had  more,)  and  his  religion,  seemed  to  be  formed, 
if  I  may  so  say,  after  a  business  mould.  They  were  practical,  daily,  and  every- 
where. He  was  as  much  at  home  in  the  social  circle  as  in  the  great  congrega- 
tion— in  the  pulpit  as  at  his  fireside. 

He  was  a  wise  man.  Sagacious  in  his  estimates  of  human  character,  and  of 
large  foresight  of  the  probable  results  of  measures  and  principles :  and  hence  he 
was  an  able  and  reliable  counsellor. 

He  maintained  an  exemplary  prudence  in  the  management  of  his  domestic 
concerns.  While  his  charities  were  always  liberal,  he  still  conscientiously 
"  guided  his  affairs  with  discretion;  "  and  his  household  economy  was  conducted 
on  the  just  and  safe  rule  of  keeping  his  expenses  within  the  reach  of  his  means. 

But  I  most  honoured  and  revered  him  in  the  pulpit,  where  he  appeared  as  an 
ambassador  for.  Christ  to  persuade  men  to  be  reconciled  to  God.  He  was  not 
what  a  very  refined  taste  would  regard  as  a  finished,  or  even  a  graceful,  orator. 
But  while  he  possessed  few  of  the  decorations,  he  had  none  of  the  arts,  of  ora- 
tory. He  came  as  the  messenger  of  God  on  a  mission,  solemn  as  deflth  and  the 
awards  of  eternity;  and  his  great  subject  filled  his  soul,  and  gave  an  earnestness, 
an  animation,  and  a  deep  emotion,  often  to  tears,  to  his  addresses,  that  awed 
every  mind  of  his  audience.  He  spake  as  a  dying  man,  with  the  eloquence  and 
power  of  truth. 

And  then  the  ministrations  of  the  pulpit  and  the  impressions  made  on  the  Sab- 
bath were  followed  and  confirmed  by  the  consistent  testimony  of  his  life  and  con- 
versation through  the  week. 

As  might  well  be  supposed,  he  exerted  a  weighty  and  extensive  influence  with 
his  people,  his  townsmen,  and  in  the  ecclesiastical  assemblies  of  his  Church. 
Among  them  all  his  memory  is  cherished  with  affectionate  and  grateful  respect 
and  veneration.     He  left  the  savour  of  a  good  name. 

I  might  say  more — I  could  not  feel  satisfied  to  say  less,  of  a  servant  of  God, 
"  whom  I  esteemed  very  highly  in  love  for  his  work's  sake,"  and  for  his  own 
Bake. 

Yours  very  truly  and  respectfully, 

THEODORE  FRELINGHUYSEN. 


FROM  THE  REY.  CHARLES  WILEY,  D.  D. 

Utica,  August  16,  1848. 
Bev.  and  dear  Sir :  I  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request  to  furnish  you  with 
some  reminiscences  of  Dr.  Richards  during  the  period  of  my  connection  with  the 
Seminary  over  which  he  presided.  It  would  be  a  sufficient  motive  to  me  to  do 
80  that  you  have  made  the  request;  but,  in  addition  to  this,  I  feel  a  spontaneous 
pleasure  in  bearing  testimony  to  the  uncommon  excellence  and  worth  of  a  truly 
able  and  learned  divine,  and  one  too,  to  whom  I  feel  myself  under  a  weight  of 


JAMES  RICHABDS.  107 

peraonal  oUigation  for  his  paternal  interest  and  his  judicious  instructions  and 
advice. 

It  is  one  of  the  strongest  proofin  of  genuine  excellence  in  human  character,  as 
weU  as  in  every  thing  else,  that  it  bears  the  test  of  time  and  experience,  and 
that  the  effect  of  an  extended  and  thorough  acquaintance  is  rather  to  increase 
than  to  diminish  our  esteem  of  it.  This  was  the  case  in  an  eminent  degree  with 
Dr.  Richards.  There  was  nothing  illusory  about  him — no  transient  or  superfi- 
cial gloss,  that  would  disappear  on  a  nearer  approach  and  examination.  Hia 
excellence  consisted  for  the  most  part  in  strong  native  sense,  and  in  solid  attain- 
ments in  learning  and  piety,  that  disclosed  themselves  more  and  more  clearly  in 
the  progress  of  a  closer  intimacy  and  acquaintance.  Though  by  no  means  des- 
titute of  what  are  called  popular  talents,  he  could  not  be  regarded  as  a  brilliant 
man;  nor  did  he,  I  imagine,  commonly  strike  the  minds  of  the  young  and  imma- 
tore  with  special  admiration.  I  consider  it,  indeed,  one  of  the  best  evidences 
of  the  real  worth  of  Dr.  Richards,  that  my  appreciation  of  him  has  risen  with 
the  progress  of  my  own  maturity,  and  that,  at  this  moment,  when,  from  an 
extended  acquaintance  with  preachers,  and  divines,  and  Christian  men,  I  am 
better  qualified  than  ever  before  to  judge  of  his  merits,  I  feel  myself  constrained 
to  assign  to  him  a  conspicuous  and  elevated  place  amongst  those  eminent  per- 
sons, who  have  adorned  by  their  virtues,  and  edified  by  their  usefulness  and 
talents,  the  American  Church, 

His  preaching,  during  the  period  that  I  had  an  opportunity  of  listening  to  him, 
was  instructive,  judicious  and  earnest;  and,  though  marked  by  no  feature  of 
or^nality,  either  in  the  matter  or  style,  was  never  destitute  of  interest,  being 
animated,  in  parts  of  it,  with  a  lively  Christian  sensibility  that  engaged  the 
attention,  and  at  times  moved  the  affections,  of  the  hearer.  Indeed,  I  can  easily 
imagine  that  fti  the  actual  relations  of  a  pastoral  charge,  with  the  advantage  of 
a  tall  and  imposing  person,  a  powerful  voice,  an  engaged  manner,  and  an  easy 
movement  of  the  sensibilities,  all  uniting  to  give  effect  to  a  deep  and  thorough 
evangelical  sentiment  in  his  discourses,-— Dr.  Richards  must  have  been  at  tiroes 
a  very  effective,  and  in  the  best  sense  of  the  term,  eloquent,  preacher.  His  dis- 
courses,  though  uniformly  correct,  could  not  be  said  to  be  marked  by  any  spe- 
cial literary  character.  Indeed,  they  might  even  be  regarded  at  the  present  day 
as  deficient  in  this  particular,  though  perhaps  a  question  might  be  raised  as  to 
the  propriety  and  correctness  of  the  present  prevailing  taste  upon  the  subject. 
jEseesatoc  literature,  certainly,  is  out  of  place  in  a  sermon — ^it  is  an  element  of 
weakness  rather  than  of  strength — the  themes  of  the  Gospel  are  too  grand  and 
solemn  to  be  clothed  in  a  mere  literary  garb — they  demand  a  simpler  dress;  and 
be,  who  discovers  a  propensity  in  the  treatment  of  such  themes  to  exercise  extra- 
ordinary care  in  the  selection  of  his  words,  and  in  the  construction  of  his  periods, 
not  only  betrays  a  feeble  sense  of  the  momentous  character  of  his  subject,  but 
shows  himself  to  be  destitute  of  a  truly  masculine  taste.  Instances  indeed 
there  are,  as  in  the  eminent  case  of  Robert  Hall,  where  the  mind  appears  to  be 
cast  by  nature  in  a  peculiarly  graceful  mould,  and  where  the  greatest  elegance 
of  style  and  expression  se^ms  to  be  so  spontaneous  and  natural  as  in  no  degree 
to  detract  from  the  more  serious  and  useful  effect.  But  such  instances  are  rare, 
and  are  easily  distinguishable  from  every  thing  like  a  factitious  and  showy  taste, 
which,  in  the  sphere  of  preaching,  is  usually  connected  with  a  very  enfeebled 
effect  of  religious  impression. 

In  Dr.  Richards  there  is  nothing  of  this.  If  he  had  literary  propensities,  they 
Mem  to  have  been  restrained  rather  than  indulged.  His  preaching  was  marked 
by  a  simplicity  and  directneas  in  style  and  manner,  that  bespoke  the  serious 
divine  rather  than  the  ambitious  and  showy  orator. 

la  hia  social  character,  Dr.  Richards  united  in  an  eminent  degree  the  qualities 
of  a  true  dignity  of  deportment  with  an  engaging  affability  and  ease.    There  waa 


108 

a  genial  element  in  liis  character,— «naiaral  glow  of  social  iMing,  that  midehim 
at  all  times  accessible,  while,  at  the  same  time,  his  large  and  imposing  persoOy 
connected  with  a  character  matured  hy  grace,  and  eloTated  hj  station  and  inflo* 
ence,  protected  him  from  too  familiar  an  approach.  He  was  very  far,  howerer, 
from  any  thing  like  an  arHfidal  dignity  of  manner.  You  would  never  suspect 
him  of  resorting  to  any  of  those  studied  efforts  for  e£fect  and  impression,  which 
some  in  similar  stations  have  felt  it  necessary  to  employ,  but  which  generally 
betray  the  conscious  lack  of  a  better  and  truer  basis  of  influence.  On  the  ooo^ 
trary,  the  character  of  Dr.  Richards  was  a  truly  natural  one,  and  the  influence 
he  exerted  was  legitimate,  practical  and  useful.  Judging  from  my  own  know- 
ledge of  his  personal  qualities,  in  a  social  point  of  view,  I  should  be  led  to 
think  that,  however  excellent  and  instructive  he  was  as  a  preacher,  he  must  have 
excelled  still  more  in  the  peculiar  duties  of  the  pastoral  relation.  His  inter- 
course with  his  people  must  have  been  marked  by  the  most  valuable  characterise 
tics  of  Christian  prudence,  kindness,  and  sympathy.  I  have  occasion,  indeed,  to 
know  that  this  was  the  case.  Years  after  he  became  connected  with  the  Semi- 
nary at  Auburn,  a  lady  who  knew  him  in  the  days  of  his  pastoral  ministrations, 
spoke  to  me  in  the  warmest  terms  of  the  recollections  of  that  period,  and  dwelt 
upon  the  circumstances  of  his  ministry  with  a  detail  that  bespoke  the  deep  and 
lasting  impression  that  had  been  made  upon  her  mind.  I  remember  her  speak- 
ing particularly  of  the  extraordinary  benignity  of  his  countenance  and  sweetness 
of  his  smile,— a  circumstance  I  should  not  think  of  mentioning  but  that  it  toas 
extraordinary.  £very  one  that  ever  knew  Dr.  Richards  must,  I  think,  recall 
that  characteristic  smile  of  his.  Again  and  again  have  I  myself  felt  its  potent 
influence;  and  in  those  little  collisions  of  opinion  and  feeling  that  sometimes 
occurred  in  my  Seminary  relations,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  was  oftentimes  more 
controlled  by  the  irresistible  effect  of  his  smiling  countenance,  than  by  the  weight 
and  pertinency  of  his  arguments  and  persuasions.  Indeed,  I  sometimes  thought 
that  he  knew  the  power  of  this  amMh  artilUry, 

Another  prominent  circumstance  that  must  have  struck  every  one  that  had 
much  intercourse  with  Dr.  Richards,  was  his  profound  knowledge  of  human 
nature.  I  do  not  mean  any  ordinary  attainment  in  this  way — I  mean  an  uncom- 
mon insight  into  the  motives  and  workings  of  the  human  heart.  To  such  a 
degree,  indeed,  have  I  felt  this  easy  capacity  of  his  of  reading  the  thoughts,  and 
this  quick  perception  of  designs  and  motives  as  yet  undisclosed,  that  I  am  per- 
suaded it  would  have  rendered  my  intercourse  with  hhn  at  times  irksome  and 
unpleasant,  but  for  my  conviction,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  genuine  kindness  and 
sympathy  of  his  nature.  Had  he  inclined,  in  the  slightest  degree,  to  the  severe 
and  the  cynical  in  his  disposition,  his  ready  perception  of  human  character  could 
hardly  have  failed  to  impose  a  degree  of  restraint  upon  those  around  him.  But 
BO  genial  was  his  character,  and  so  full  his  apparent  communion  and  sympathy 
with  even  human  infirmity,  that  no  such  effect  was  in  fact  produced.  Y^ou  could 
only  be  surprised  and  amused  to  find  yourself  so  unexpectedly  anticipated,  and 
your  most  private  motives  and  feelings  so  completely  understood. 

Another  peculiarity  of  Dr.  Richards — for  so  I  tliink  it  may  be  regarded — was 
the  extraordinary  veneration  he  had  for  the  character  and  intellect  of  President 
Edwards, — a  feeling  thst  was  ready  to  discover  itself  on  all  occasions,  and 
amounted  almost  to  an  absorbing  sentiment.  No  one  could  be  in  his  society  even 
for  a  short  time,  without  perceiving  that  the  writings  of  this  eminent  divine  held  the 
next  place  in  his  esteem  to  the  Bible  itself.  He  not  only  cordially  agreed  in  the 
main  with  President  Edwards  in  theological  sentiment,  (being,  like  him,  what  is 
technically  called  a  mediate  imputationist,)  but  be  seemed  to  cherish  an  afl^tion 
for  his  very  person  and  name.  Again  and  again  have  I  seen  his  eyes  suffused 
with  tears  in  speaking  of  him — tears  of  veneration  for  his  piety,  and  of  admira- 
tion and  wonder  at  his  powerful  and  extraordinary  intellect.    He  did  not,  indeed. 


JAMES  RICHiJtSS.  109 

tnrrender  Us  independowe  of  misd  even  before  bo  grett  a  paiae,*-ror,  on  some 
minor  points,  he  differed  from  Edwards;  but  he  declared  that  it  was  always  with 
the  greatest  reluetanoe  and  regret  that  he  ventured  to  depart  from  so  high  an 
AQthority.  And  here  I  may  mention  it  as  a  general  characteristic  of  Dr. 
Richards,  that  he  was  easily  penetrated  with  exhibitions  of  true  genius  and 
intellect  in  others.  He  had  a  ready  susceptibility  of  every  thing  of  this  nature, 
and- his  generous  disposition  prompted  htm  to  accord  cheeriVilly  to  others  the 
measure  of  merit  that  was  due  to  them.  It  ga?e  him  the  most  unaffected  plea- 
sure, especially,  to  witness  any  unusual  display  of  talent  on  the  part  of  those 
who  were  under  his  instruction  in  the  Seminary,  and  I  have  been  told  that  he 
would  speak  of  such  things  with  the  liveliest  sensibility,  in  the  privacy  of  his 
owa  &mily  circle.  I  have  in  mind  one  instance  in  particular,  in  which  this  feel- 
ing discovered  itself  in  a  remarkable  degree — it  was  on  an  occasion  when  one  of 
mj  own  classmates,  who  certainly  possessed  extraordinary  powers  as  an  imagi- 
native and  descriptive  writer,  had  been  reading  to  him,  as  a  regular  exercise  in 
the  classy  a  sermon  remarkable  for  this  species  of  talent.  I  recollect  to  this  day 
the  scene  described,  and  the  vividness  of  the  painting.  It  was  an  illustration  of 
the  value  of  prayer  in  a  domestic  picture  of  a  widowed  mother,  kneeling  before 
her  covenant  God  in  the  silence  of  her  chamber,  and  presenting  the  case  of  a 
wayward  and  reckless  son  who  had  gone  to  sea.  Dr.  Richards  listened  with 
growing  interest  as  the  description  proceeded,  and  whether  it  was  the  character 
of  the  sentiment,  or  the  affecting  nature  of  the  narration,  or  admiration  of  the 
talent  displayed,  or  all  combined-Hiertain  it  is,  that,  at  the  close  of  the  exercise, 
he  was  entirely  overmastered.  Tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  and  flowed  freely  down 
his  cheeks, — an  honourable  witness  of  his  own  generous  sensibility,  and  at  the 
same  time  an  involuntary  tribute  to  the  success  and  talent  of  the  writer. 

And  this  brings  to  mind  another  reminiscence  of  the  class-room,  of  a  some- 
what different  character.  The  incident  is  fresh  in  my  recollection,  but  so  much 
depended  on  the  manner  that  I  fear  it  cannot  be  successfully  transferred  to 
paper — ^it  was  a  criticism  of  a  ludicrous  character  on  a  sermon,  or  outline  of  a 
sermon,  presented  by  a  student  who  had  imbibed  a  fondness  for  the  style  of  ser- 
monizing then  in  vogue  among  the  revival  and  new  measure  preachers  of  the  day. 
The  method  I  refer  to,  was  that  of  defining  very  exactly  the  subject  of  dis- 
course, by  telling  first  what  it  was  noty  and  secondly  what  it  toos, — a  sufficiently 
inelegant  method  at  all  times,  but  at  this  period  greatly  hackneyed  and  worn  out. 
In  discriminating  some  Ohristian  virtue, — ^repentance,or  faith,  or  some  other,  the 
student,  following  this  method,  proposed  first  to  show  what  it  was  not,  and 
secondly  what  it  was;  and  under  the  former  division  introduced,  as  usual,  a  long 
string  of  heads,  some  of  which  were  so  remote  from  any  affinity  with  the  subject 
to  be  defined,  that  the  most  stupid  mind  could  not  possibly  confound  them.  Dr. 
Richards,  who  had  no  particular  leaning  towards  the  pattern  of  sermonizing 
here  referred  to,  nor -the  source  from  which  it  was  derived,  seized  the  occasion  to 
indulge  a  little  his  vein  of  humour.  He  launched  out  without  much  mercy 
against  the  mighty  show  of  logic  and  philosophic  exactness  in  this  method — a 
method,  he  said,  which  gravely  and  formally  detained  the  argument  to  very 
weariness,  in  order  to  tell  iis  under  a  dozen  different  heads  that  a  thing  was  not 
what  nobody  ever  dreamed  it  toas, — just  as  if,  in  directing  an  inquirer  after  some 
particular  place  of  residence,  you  should  very  carefully  and  tediously  describe 
some  i)ther  place  only  to  inform  the  patient  interrogator  that  that  wasn't  it — and 
then  he  turned  upon  the  sermon  before  him,  **  You  say  repentance  is  not  so. 
Who  ever  imagined  it  was  ?  You  might  as  well  tell  me  " — and  here  he  rose  to 
the  highest  pitch  of  a  good-humoured  impatience — "you  might  as  well  tell  me 
that  repentance  isn't  that  stove/'  pointing  ,to  a  most  unsightly  object  of  that 
doseription  in  the  centra  <^  the  room.    The  effect  was  just  what  he  intended-— 


110  FSESBTTKBIAK. 

we  had  no  more  specimens  of  thst  species  of  sermonidng  while  I  was  in  the 
Semlnftry. 

I  have  thought  proper  to  mention  this  incident,  hecause,  to  those  who  knew 
Dr.  Richards,  it  cannot  fail  to  recall  his  image  yividly  to  mind,  under  a  natural 
and  not  unamiable  aspect,  making  a  judicious  use,  as  he  often  did,  of  the  genuine 
humour  he  possessed,  in  order  to  convey  a  salutary  lesson. 

But  I  fear  I  may  be  protracting  my  letter  to  too  great  a  length.  I  shall  there- 
fore close  my  imperfect  sketch  with  a  very  few  words  in  reference  to  the  charac- 
ter of  Dr.  Richards'  piety.  From  an  extended  acquaintance  with  Christian  and 
ministerial  character,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  of  it,  that  it  was  altogether  unu- 
sual. It  was  marked  especially  by  two  important  characteristics,  which  will  be 
recognised  by  all  who  knew  him  the  moment  they  are  named — I  mean  a  profound 
veneration  of  the  Deity,  and  an  exceeding  tenderness  in  the  spirit  of  it — ^features 
that  were  very  apparent  even  in  his  public  exercises  of  devotion.  I  seem  to 
recall  very  distinctly  his  image,  as  he  appeared  on  these  occasions.  There  he 
stands,  as  I  have  often  seen  him,  Abraham-like,  pleading  with  God  in  earnest 
but  reverential  tones — declaring  himself,  in  the  Yerj  language  of  the  Patriarch, 
and  I  doubt  not  in  his  spirit  too,  to  be  *'  but  dust  and  ashes,"  and  pressing  his 
suit  with  unaffected  humility  and  fervour,  until  his  voice  becomes  tremulous,  and 
his  accents  broken,  with  overpowering  emotion.  No  one  could  listen  to  him,  even 
in  these  public  exercises,  without  being  impressed  with  a  conviction  of  the  depth 
and  tenderness  of  his  piety.  But  I  have  reason  to  suppose  that  those  only  who 
knew  him  more  privately  and  intimately,  had  any  thing  like  an  adequate  impres- 
sion on  this  subject.  A  classmate  of  mine  told  me  that,  much  as  he  had  always 
esteemed  Dr.  Richards,  he  never  knew  him  until  he  had  travelled  with  him,  and 
for  some  days  occupied  the  same  room.  He  had  no  idea  until  then  of  the  depth 
and  fervour  of  his  piety.  The  seasons  of  their  private  devotions  were  among 
his  most  hallowed  and  delightful  recollections — such  reverential  approaches  to 
God,  and  such  tender  expostulations  as  of  a  friend  conversing  with  a  friend  face 
to  face,  it  had  never  been  his  privilege  to  witness;  and  1  can  readily  believe  all 
that  he  said  upon  this  subject, — it  being  fully  in  keeping  with  the  results  of  my 
own  more  limited  observation  of  him  in  this  particular. 

I  will  only  say,  in  conclusion,  that  while  many  men  have  been  more  brilliant 
than  Dr.  Richards,  and  some  more  profound,  few,  it  seems  to  me,  have  possessed 
a  better  combination  of  solid  and  useful  qualities.  He  filled  with  entire  success, 
and  at  the  same  time  without  ostentation,  the  important  public  stations  to  which 
he  was  called,  and,  after  he  had  truly  "  served  his  generation,"  like  the  Patriarch 
whom  he  emulated  in  the  tenderness  and  fervour  of  his  piet}',  '^  he  fell  asleep." 

Very  truly  and  respectfully  yours, 

CHARLES  WILEY. 

FROM  THE  REV.  J.  T.  HEADLEY. 

Nkw  Yobk,  December  18, 1849. 
Dear  Sir:  I  hardly  know  what  to  say  respecting  Dr.  Richards;  for,  with  the 
ample  materials  in  your  hands,  I  am  afraid  I  can  add  nothing  except  what  will  be 
mere  repetition.  On  the  whole,  I  think  it  safest  to  confine  myself  to  a  few  anec- 
dotes, illustrating  one  feature  of  his  character,  and  which  may  possibly  be  new  to 
you.  I  was  his  pupil  at  Auburn,  and  of  all  men  loved  him  next  to  my  own  father. 
My  grandfather  and  father  were  both  intimate  friends  of  his,  and  hence  he 
always  took  a  great  interest  in  me.  His  noble  and  generous  heart  and  parental 
ways  bound  all  his  students  closely  to  him,  and  every  hair  on  his  venerable  head 
was  sacred  in  their  eyes.  His  benevolence  and  kindness  were  unbounded;  which, 
blending,  as  they  did,  with  a  rich  vein  of  humour,  running  through  his  whole 
character,  gave  a  sprightliness  to  his  goodness,  and  heightened  the  benign 
expression  of  his  countenance. 


Jij(£S  mcsAws.  211 

At  the  Seminftry,  one  of  his  ^veekly  exercises  with  the  advanced  classes  was 
to  meet  them  in  a  body,  and  discuss  with  four  or  five  of  the  students,  selected 
by  turns,  some  knotty  points  on  which  they  had  written  short  essays.  No  one 
vbo  has  seen  him  at  those  times,  with  his  spectacles  resting  upon  the  extreme 
point  of  his  by  no  means  small  nose, — his  eyes  looking  over  them,  as,  with  his 
head  inclined,  he  coolly  wound  up  the  confident  and  impetuous  young  man  in  his 
own  logical  web,  can  ever  forget  the  expression  of  his  face.  He  loved  to  contem- 
plate the  workings  of  a  keen.,  rapid  intellect,  and  would  often  play  with  it  as  an 
airier  with  a  fish,  to  see  how  manfully  it  would  struggle  till  the  debate  had  gone 
Lr  enough,  and  then  gently  tighten  the  coil  around  his  helpless  victim.  After 
eonteinplating  the  astonishment  of  the  student  for  a  while  over  his  glasses,  every 
feature  of  his  face  working  with  a  good-humoured,  3'et  comical,  smile,  he  would 
say,  **  Well,  I  guess  that  is  the  end  of  the  worsted,"  and  go  on  to  the  next.  This 
playfulness  was  characteristic  of  his  whole  life.  My  father  was  a  member  of  his 
church,  when,  comparatively  a  young  man,  he  was  settled  in  Morris  town,  N.  J., 
and  relates  many  anecdotes  illustrating  this  trait.  One  day  some  of  his  parish- 
ioners were  dining  with  him,  when,  nothing  but  brown  bread  being  on  the  table, 
he  pleasantly  remarked  that,  whether  it  was  laufvJ  for  him  to  eat  rye  bread  or  not, 
he  found  it  to  be  expedient.  At  another  time,  he  was  preaching  a  lecture,  upon  a 
week  day,  in  a  private  house,  on  the  outskirts  of  his  parish,  when,  just  before  the 
dose  of  his  sermon,  a  poor  drunken  woman  came  in  and  sat  down.  In  her  fits  of 
intoxication,  she  was  always  very  religious,  and  hence  remained  after  the  people 
diapcrsed,  to  converse  with  Mr.  Richards.  She  wanted  to  learn,. she  said,  the 
meaning  of  the  passage  of  Scripture, — '*  The  last  shall  be  first  and  the  first  last." 
Mr.  Richards,  who  had  noticed  her  late  entrance  into  the  place  of  worship,  and 
who  saw  also  the  condition  she  was  in,  replied, — "  Tt  means  that  those  who  come 
to  meeting  Uist,  should  go  home  first;  and  as  the  rest  have  gone,  it  is  high  time 
you  were  going  also."  She  took  the  hint  and  started.  He  then  turned  to  those 
present,  and  quaintly  remarked, — "  I  have  sufficiently  explained  it,  for  she  is 
making  a  practical  application  of  it  to  herself."  Numberless  similar  anecdotes 
are  told  of  him,  illustrating  both  his  wit  and  good  humour. 

To  the  Doctor's  benevolence  and  noble  kindness  there  was  attached  none  of 
the  maudlin  sensibility  so  common  to  many  of  the  philanthropists  of  our  day. 
A  dei^'man  now  settled  in  Massachusetts  has  more  than  once  told  me  the  fol- 
lowing story  with  great  sest.  He  said  that  one  vacation,  whilst  he  was  a  student 
of  the  Seminary  at  Auburn,  the  Doctor  wished  to  take  a  journey,  and  so  left  his 
8on  James,  who  was  then  rather  a  roguish  boy,  under  his  care.  One  day,  at  the 
usual  time  of  recitation,  James  was  seen  playing  in  the  garden,  and,  when  called 
to  his  lesson,  refused  to  come;  and,  as  the  student  went  to  fetch  him,  took  to  his 
heels  and  ran.  The  student  pursued,  and  caught,  and  chastised  him.  Imme- 
diately after  the  Doctor's  return,  James  entered  his  complaint  against  his  tutor. 
He  heard  him  through,  and  then  bade  him  go  and  fetch  the  young  gentleman. 
He  did  so;  and  when  the  latter  arrived,  the  Doctor  said,  "  Sir,  Jeemea  (he 
always  called  him  thus)  has  told  me  that  you  whipped  him  because  he  did  not 
get  his  lesson,  and  ran  away,  and  now  I  have  sent  to  you  to  know  if  you  laid  it 
on  well.**  The  student  replied  that  he  thought  he  did.  "  Do  you  think  you 
punished  him  enough  ?"  He  said  **  Tes."  *'  Well  then,"  continued  the  Doc- 
tor, "  if  you  are  sure  you  punished  him  sufficiently,  JeemeBt  you  may  go  this 
time."  Stern,  yet  kind;  with  a  heart  overflowing  with  the  tenderest  feelings, 
yet  bound  as  with  cords  of  iron  to  duty  and  the  Divine  law,  he  furnished  in  him- 
self the  noblest  specimen  of  a  man  and  a  Christian. 

Very  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

J.  T.  HEADLEY. 


112  PUSBYTBBIAir. 


FROM  THE  HON.  WILLIAM  H.  SEWARD,  LL.  D. 

OOYEBVOB  OF  THB  STATE  Of  HEW  TOBK,  V.  8.  BEKATOB^  &C. 

AuBURir,  May  19, 1851. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  was  quite  young  when  Dr.  Richards  came  to  occupy  a  Pro- 
fessor's chair  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  this  place,  and  he  was  already 
advanced  in  years.  Belonging  to  a  different  communion,  I  had  let;s  opportunity 
than  many  others  to  mark  his  traits  of  character,  but  I  heard  him  often  enough, 
and  saw  him  often  enough,  to  discover  that,  with  considerable  learning  and  a 
terse  and  simple  stj^lo  he  combined  in  a  high  degree  the  talent, — ^best  of  all 
talents,  common  sense. 

He  was  simple  and  unassuming,  but  truly  dignified  in  his  address  and  conver- 
sation. He  did  not  oflen  mingle  in  the  secular  concerns  of  the  community  in 
which  he  lived,  but  they  never  failed  to  call  out  his  opinions  and  his  influence  on 
great  and  important  occasions  of  general  interest.  His  influence  was  then  irre^ 
sistible.  I  remember  that  in  1825  or  1826,  when  the  struggle  of  the  Greeks  for 
deliverance  from  their  Turkish  oppressors  engaged  the  sympathies  of  the  Ameri- 
can people,  and  of  the  Christian  world,  our  citizens,  following  the  example  set 
before  them  in  other  and  more  important  places,  moved  with  earnestness  to  make 
contributions  for  their  relief.  Arrangements  for  a  meeting  were  made,  and  it 
was  thought  proper  that  a  committee  should  be  appointed  to  solicit  in  behalf  of 
that  noble  charity.  It  was  informally  agreed  that  ten  persons  of  considerable 
wealth  and  generosity,  each  of  whom  was  pledged  to  give  fifty  dollars,  should 
constitute  a  committee,  and  that  they  should  be  appointed  by  the  chair.  A 
chairman  intrusted  with  the  secret  was  chosen  without  difficulty.  After  many 
eloquent  speeches  had  given  utterance  to  the  just  and  enlightened  sympathy  of 
the  assembly,  it  was  moved  that  the  chair  appoint  a  committee.  Opposition 
arose  immediately,  and  the  meeting  was  soon  involved  in  a  long  and  very  inhar- 
monious debate  on  the  propriety  of  vesting  such  an  appointment  in  the  chair, 
instead  of  its  exercise  by  the  meeting  itself, — which  was  claimed  to  be  the  only 
democratic  mode.  It  was  quite  apparent  that  the  great  object  of  the  movement 
was  in  jeopardy,  and  yet  no  one  seemed  to  be  able  to  satisfy  the  people  that  they 
could  safely  renounce  the  power  claimed  for  them.  In  this  dilemma,  I  appealed 
to  Dr.  Richards,  who  had  before  addressed  the  meeting  on  the  general  subject 
with  marked  effect.  He  immediately  arose.  All  was  profound  silence.  '*  Mr. 
Chairman,"  said  he,  ''I  should  agree  with  the  speakers  who  claim  that  this 
committee  ought  to  be  appointed  by  the  meeting,  that  is  by  every  body,  if  every 
body  knew  every  body,  and  every  body  was  wise.  But  we  all  know  that  every 
body  here  does  not  know  every  body,  and  some  of  us  feel  that,  as  to  ourselves, 
we  are  not  as  wise  as  you  are,  and  therefore  we  who  are  of  that  class  think  it 
best  that  you  should  exercise  that  power."  The  effect  was  complete — the  oppo- 
sition made  a  very  feeble  effort  farther,  the  committee  was  appointed  by  the 
chair,  and,  to  the  amazement  and  gratification  of  the  people,  the  committee  led  off 
with  subscriptions  to  the  amount  of  five  hundred  dollars,  which,  with  the  other 
sums  subscribed,  placed  our  little  community  among  the  most  geaeroos  ones  on 
that  interesting  and  memorable  occasion. 
I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

With  great  respect  and  esteem, 

Your  friend  and  humble  servant, 

WILLIAM  H.  SEWARD. 


JOHN  ROBINSOK.  213 


JOHN  ROBINSON,  D.  D. 

1793—1843. 

FROM  THE  REV.  R.  H.  MORRISON,  D.  D. 

Cottage  Home,  N.  C,  August  24, 1848. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  reverence  for  the  memory  of  the  venerable  man  of 
whose  life  and  character  yon  ask  me  to  furnish  yon  some  notices,  and 
my  conviction  that,  as  he  lived  for  the  benefit  of  his  generation,  so  the  his- 
tory of  his  life  ought  to  be  perpetuated  for  the  benefit  of  posterity,  render 
it  Duly  a  labour  of  love  to  me  to  comply  with  your  request. 

John  Robinson  was  born  within  the  bounds  of  the  Sugar  Creek  Church, 
Meeklenberg  County,  N.  C,  on  the  8th  of  January,  1768.  His  parents 
were  very  respectable  and  pious  members  of  that  Church,  and  left  many 
memorials  of  their  faith  and  fidelity  in  God's  service.  By  them  he  was 
trained  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  and  often  spake  in 
after  life  of  their  faithful  concern  for  his  salvation. 

lie  received  part  of  his  classical  education  in  the  town  of  Charlotte,  in 
an  Academy  taught  by  Dr.  Henderson,  an  eminent  physician,  in  the  old 
College  building,  and  part  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Poplar  Tent,  in  an 
Academy  taught  by  a  Mr.  Archibald.*  His  college  course  was  pursued 
and  completed  at  Winnsborough,  S.  C. 

In  respect  to  the  particular  time  or  circumstances  of  his  conversion,  I 
hare  no  knowledge ;  though  I  may  state  with  confidence  the  more  impor- 
tant fact,  that  his  conversion  was  accompanied  by  a  good  hope  of  salvation 
through  Christ,  and  followed  by  a  full  and  firm  determination  to  devote  his 
life  to  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel. 

He  studied  Theology  under  the  care  of  the  Orange  Presbytery,  which 
then  embraced  within  its  bounds  the  whole  State  of  North  Carolina,  and 
was  licensed  to  preach  on  the  4th  of  April,  1793. 

On  the  9th  of  April,  1795,  he  was  married  to  Miss  Mary  C.  Baldwin, 
in  whom  he  found  an  amiable,  intelligent,  pious  and  useful  companion, — 
esteemed  and  beloved  by  all  who  knew  her.  They  had  four  children  who 
lived  to  maturity, — two  sons  and  two  daughters. 

At  the  time  he  was  licensed  to  preach,  he  was  directed  by  the  Presbytery 
to  visit  Dupin  County  in  this  State.  That  was  his  first  field  of  labour  in 
the  ministry.  He  was  the  instrument  of  much  good  to  the  churches  he 
organised  or  built  up  in  that  county,  and  was  reluctant  to  leave  them ;  but 
the  effect  of  the  cUmate  npon  the  health-  of  hb  family  rendered  it  necessary* 
He  coptinaed  there  abovt  aeven  years. 

In  tke  yen  1800,  he  aeoepted  a  call  from  the  Chnrdi  in  Fayetieyilb  to 
becoBM  their  resident  minister*  Here  he  was  indneed,  parUy  by  his  limited 
miarjf  and.  partly  by  ihe  soanty  means  of  edueation,  to  open  a  okssical 
Bskool;  but,  af|er  oimtinning  there  a  little  more  than  a  year,  he  fonnd  the 

•  RoBVKT  Aechibald  wm  gndaated  at  the  CoUege  of  New  Jersey  Ib  1772;  aod,  after  utiiijr- 
Ibc  mtdUtm^f  vae  tteeaaed  hf  the  Freebyteiy  of  Orange  In  the  aotDHB  of  1775.  In  Oetobery 
ina,  hm  WMoWUIned  and  tnitaUed  PaeWr  of  the  Chareh  of  Reeky  Rlirer,  and  eontlnned  to 
hold  thie  oftee  until  abont  17939  when  he  became  an  advocate  of  the  doetrine  of  UniTeraal'.Sal- 
vaUen.    In  eMaeqaeMe^  tUa»  he  waa  taspended  fnm  tfaa  anfaiiatry  in  1704,  and  in  1797  was 


Vol.  IV.  15 


^]^^  PRESBTTERIAK. 

labours  of  tlie  two  offices  too  exhausting,  and  he  accordingly  relinquished 
both  his  school  and  his  pastoral  charge  about  the  close  of  1801,  and  removed 
to  Poplar  Tent,  the  scene  of  part  of  the  instructions  of  his  early  life. 
After  remaining  here  in  the  character  of  both  a  preacher  and  a  teacher  for 
about  four  years,  he  was  induced,  early  in  the  year  1806,  by  the  earnest 
solicitation  of  the  crtizens  of  Fayetteville,  to  return  to  that  place,  then 
vacant  by  the  removal  of  his  successor,  the  Rev.  Andrew  Flinn,  to  Cam* 
den,  S.  C.  Here  he  resumed  his  pastoral  labours  and  his  classical  school; 
and  from  among  his  pupils  North  Carolina  has  gathered  some  of  its  bright- 
est ornaments. 

But  his  greater  usefulness  here  was  in  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel.  He 
was  the  father  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  that  place.  He  not  only 
organized  it,  but  received  to  communion  many  who  have  been  its  pillars 
since.  His  firmness,  dignity,  and  courtesy,  enabled  him  to  exert  an  influ- 
ence in  such  a  community,  in  favour  of  religion  and  good  order,  which  few 
could  have  successfully  attempted.  The  fruits  of  his  labours  are  yet  visi- 
ble, and  acknowledged  with  gratitude  by  many  witnesses.  I  have  never 
known  any  man  move  through  society,  receiving  more  striking  tokens  of 
veneration  and  affection,  than  I  have  seen  shown  to  Dr.  Robinson  in  that 
town. 

In  December,  1818,  he  returned  to  Poplar  Tent,  where  he  passed  the 
residue  of  his  days.  His  longest  and  perhaps  most  useful  pastoral  relation 
was  here.  Few  connections  of  the  kind  exist  so  long,  with  so  many  evi- 
dences of  mutual  confidence  and  attachment.  His  pastoral  charge  was  not 
surrendered  until  the  infirmities  of  age  demanded  it ;  and  then  it  was  ter- 
minated with  mutual  feelings  of  unabated  good  will. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  Univer- 
sity of  North  Carolina  in  the  year  1829. 

After  resigning  his  charge  at  Poplar  Tent,  he  continued  to  preach  occa- 
sionally for  his  brethren,  to  whom  his  visits  were  always  most  welcome, 
until  he  was  confined  to  his  house  by  an  asthmatic  cough ;  and  from  this 
time  he  seemed  calmly  and  patiently  waiting  till  his  change  should  come. 
In  October,  1842,  the  Synod,  with  a  special  view  to  his  gratification,  held 
their  sessions  at  the  place  of  his  residence;  but  so  feeble  was  he  at  the  time 
that  he  was  unable  even  to  leave  his  chamber.  They,  however,  sent  a  com- 
mittee, charged  with  a  most  respectful  and  tender  message  to  the  venerable 
man,  which  he  received  with  many  expressions  of  humility  and  gratitude. 
He  died  on  the  14th  of  December,  1843,  having  nearly  completed  his  sev- 
enty-sixth year. 

Dr.  Robinson  was  a  man  of  consistent  and  elevated  piety.  On  all  proper 
occasions,  his  conversation  and  actions  manifested  his  deep  conviction  that 
no  order  of  talents,  no  amount  of  learning  or  variety  of  gifts,  can  qualify  a 
man  to  preach  without  true  religion.  The  urgency  and  power  with  which 
he  exhorted  others  to  examine  themselves,  not  by  opinions  or  forms  but 
substantial  fruits,  indicated  both  his  convictions  and  feelings  on  4;his  subject; 
We  are  permitted  to  rise  above  impulses  and  observances  in  looking  for  the 
staAlard  of  his  piety.  We  are  referred  to  his  long  continued  and  well 
defined  course  of  conduct,  regulated  by  one  rule,  and  directed  to  one  end. 

In  his  ministrations  from  the  pulpit,  one  characteristic  could  not  be  ovei^ 
looked  by  those  who  heard  him — a  clear  and  faithful  exhibition  of  the  pecu- 
liar truths  of  Christianity.    Upon  these  his  mind  kindled  with  ardent  eaio* 


JOHN  ROBINSOK.  115 

tian,  and  often  with  Bubdning  tenderness.  Upon  Commnnion  seasond 
especially,  the  tenderness  and  fervour  of  his  spirit  was  strikingly  manifest. 
The  revivals  of  religion  with  which  the  churches  were  blessed  at  different 
periods  of  his  ministry,  always  found  him  in  the  front  ranks  in  attempting 
to  promote  the  work  of  the  Lord.  But  his  evidences  of  a  devotional  spirit 
did  not  appear  at  favobred  seasons  only,  and  then  vanish  before  the  rugged 
realities  of  life.  Amidst  the  most  trying  bereavements,  his  faith  sustained 
him.  In  his  conflicts  with  the  world,  it  armed  him  with  energy.  On  the 
approach  of  death,  it  cheered  his  submissive  spirit. 

Benevolence  was  a  prominent  feature  of  his  character.  He  looked  upon 
**the  things  of  others,"  with  an  earnest  desire  for  their  happiness.  His 
travels,  and  labours,  and  sacrifices  for  the  public  good,  made  up  no  incon- 
giderable  part  of  his  life.  Where  distress  oould  be  alleviated,  he  loved  to 
go.  In  the  chamber  of  disease  and  around  the  bed  of  death,  his  warm  and 
generous  sensibility  flowed  with  a  deep  current,  and  impressed  the  words  of 
instruction  and  consolation.  Into  all  the  great  benevolent  enterprises  of 
the  Charch,  he  entered  with  cheerfulness  and  alacrity.  Every  plan  which 
promised  the  promotion  of  good  or  the  mitigation  of  evil,  found  in  him  an 
eloquent  advocate  and  a  liberal  contributor.  He  was  so  free  from  a  selfish 
or  covetous  spirit,  that  the  accumulation  of  property  seemed  not  to  enter 
his  thoughts,  farther  than  the  decent  support  and  comfort  of  those  depend- 
ant on  him  rendered  necessary. 

He  was  remarkable  for  his  humility  also, — ready,  at  all  times,  to  ascribe 
whatever  was  good  in  himself  or  in  his  condition,  to  the  rich  and  sovereign 
grace  of  God.  And  how  little  indeed  would  the  airs  of  superiority,  the 
forms  of  ostentation,  and  the  Teachings  of  selfish  ambition,  appear,  if  held 
Qp  in  contrast  with  his  calm,  dignified  and  noble  deportment. 

His  firmness  of  purpose  and  intrepidity  of  character  were  acknowledged 
by  all  who  knew  him.  Perhaps  few  men  have  been  gifted  in  a  higher  degree 
with  those  natural  qualities  which  constitute  bravery.  I  allude  to  this  not 
as  if  it  were  a  virtue  in  the  abstract ;  for  I  well  know  that,  apart  from  the 
influence  of  higher  principles,  it  may  spread  terror  and  desolation  over  the 
earth.  But  I  advert  to  it,  to  show  how  the  stamp  of  boldness,  impressed 
by  nature  upon  his  character,  was  modified  by  grace,  and  made  to  harmo- 
nize with  the  forbearance,  meekness,  and  tenderness,  inculcated  by  the  Gos- 
pel. With  a  courage  that  would  not  quail  before  any  amount  of  danger, 
was  blended  a  disposition  to  regard  the  just  rights  of  others,  to  sympathise 
with  their  sufferings,  and  to  feel  with  the  utmost  tenderness  the  endearing 
ties  which  cement  and  adorn  the  nearest  relations  of  life. 

It  would  be  easy  to  illustrate  Dr.  Robinson's  personal  courage  by  many 
striking  anecdotes ;  but  a  single  one  may  suffice.  When  he  lived  in  Dnpin 
Oonnly,  he  was  once  travelling  alone,  to  attend  a  meeting  of  Presbytery. 
Passing  through  a  certain  village,  he  had  occasion  to  stop  for  accommoda- 
tions. Selecting  what  appeared  to  him  the  most  decent  looking  inn,  he 
asked  for  dinner ;  which  was  promised.  He  had  not  been  long  in  the  sit* 
ting-room  until  a  crowd  around  the  bar  of  the  house  commenced  using  very 
profane  language.  Dr.  Robinson  politely  remarked  that  such  language  was 
rery  painful  to  him,  and  wrong  in  itself,  and  that  he  hoped  they  would  desist 
from  it.  After  a  temporary  pause,  the  drinking  and  swearing  again  com- 
meneed,  with  more  insulting  indecency  than  before.  The  Doctor,  perceir- 
%g  iSbaA  the  landlord  was  not  only  among  the  band,  but  a  leader  in  the 


JJj  PRESBYTERIAN. 

outrage,  addressed  himself  to  him,  stating  that  ho  bad  called  at  his  ho«aC| 
expecting  to  find  the  ciyility  which  a  place  for  the  accommodation  of  tra¥- 
ellerd  ought  always  to  insure,  and  that  he  hoped  his  character  as  a  landlord 
and  the  honour  of  his  house  would  afford  a  shield  from  insult  to  a  stranger. 
The  landlord,  instead  of  appreciating  a  manly  appeal  to  his  character,  in  a 
Tiolent  rage  and  with  more  terrible  profaneness,  rushed  towards  the  Doctor, 
swearing  that  his  house  was  his  own,  and  hia  tongue  was  his  own,  and  that 
he  would  do  as  he  pleased ;  and  drew  his  fist  as  he  advanced.  Upon  this 
Dr.  R.  rose,  with  a  stem  and  commanding  aspect,  and  said, — ''Your  house 
may  be  your  own,  and  your  tongue  is  your  own,  but  take  care  how  you  use 
your  fist.''  The  faltermg  landlord  had  not  before  surveyed  the  majesty  of 
his  form,  or  met  the  indignant  flash  of  Us  eye.  Instead  of  maintaining  his 
attitude  of  attack,  he  cowered  in  dismay,  and  commenced  begging  pardon 
for  the  insult.  The  crowd  around  the  bar  slunk  away  from  the  house,  leav- 
ing the  poor  landlord  to  humiliating  confessions  of  his  meanness  in  offering 
insult  to  a  gentleman,  and  protracted  entreaties  that  Dr.  Robinson  would 
not  make  the  affair  public  to  the  disgrace  of  his  tavern. 

Dr.  Robinson  in  stature  was  large  and  robust,  and  his  personal  appear- 
ance aud  manners  were  altogether  attractive.  For  that  true  politeness 
which  flows  from  esteem  and  good  will,  which  is  marked  by  a  ready  percep- 
tion of  what  the  proprieties  of  life  demand,  and  a  decorous  observance  of 
all  the  usages  of  good  society,  he  was  distinguished  in  a  high  degree.  In 
the  pulpit,  his  form,  and  countenance,  and  bearing,  gave  commanding  force 
to  hia  sentiments.  Often  has  his  dignified  and  attractive  manner  been  felt 
as  a  cord  drawing  men  towards  the  truth  which  he  wished  thetn  to  believe 
and  obey. 

His  punctuality  was  proverbial.  This  was  shown  especially  in  fulfilling 
his  contracts  and  his  appointments  for  preaching,  and  in  attending  the  judi- 
catories of  the  Church.  Some  years  since,  the  Stated  Clerk  of  the  Synod 
of  North  Carolina  drew  up  a  statement  of  the  attendance  of  its  members, 
and,  if  I  mistake  not,  Dr.  Robinson  was  the  only  member  who  had  never 
been  absent.  During  half  a  century,  I  think  he  never  failed  to  be  present 
at  any  of  the  sessions  of  the  Synod  to  which  he  belonged,  until  the  infirmities 
of  age  rendered  it  impracticable  for  him  to  attend. 

.  He  was  a  good  classical  scholar,  and  retained  to  the  close  of  life  in 
remarkably  vivid  remembrance  the  studies  of  his  youth.  Ho  was  also  a 
warm  and  indefatigable  friend  to  all  the  interests  of  learning.  When  an 
effort  was  made  in  1820  to  establish  a  College  in  the  Wostem  part  of  North 
Carolina,  he  was  among  its  most  active  friends.  .  When  the  more  recent  and 
suceessful  attempt  was  made  to  build  Davidson  College,  he  made  great 
effo^s  apd  sacrifices  ia  its  behalf,  and  thay  were  continued  to  the  close  of 
lua  life..  He  was  the  first  President  of  the  Board  of  ImsteeSf  and  held 
lliat  o4^  UU  his  declining  health  obliged  him  to  resign  it. 
.  As  a  pnaaoker,  he  was  faithful,  ia  settings  forth  the  great  doctrines  and 
4utie8  of  our  holy  religion.  Having  no  disposition  to  build  theories  or 
weave  spQculations^  he  proclaimed  the  truth,  as  be  found  It  in  the  Bible,  in 
its  penetrating  force  and  majestic  simplicity ;  wlule  his  prayers,  and  tears, 
and  affectionate  entreaties,  proved  his  Jiumble  reliance  on  the  Spirit  of  God 
j^  jmake^it  eSectuai  to  salvation.  His  delivery  was  interesting,  earnest, 
jmd.stttimes.  very  eloquent.  HLb  style  was  marked  by  great  precision  and 
f0r9picuity«    No  hearer  was  left  to. inquire,  what  he.  meant.    His  voice  wa« 


JOHN  ROBXKSOir.  1X7 

dear,  strong  and  melodioas ;  and  be  had  an  admirable  facultj  at  roodula- 
ting  it,  from  tbe  btgbest  to  the  lowest  key.  With  these  graces  of  delivery, 
IB  connection  with  his  deep  conyictions  of  truth,  his  elevated  sentiments 
and  warm  emotions,  it  is  not  strange  that  he  should  have  ranked  among  the 
most  popular  preachers  of  his  day. 

Ihuiiig  the  period  of  Dr.  Robinson's  ministry  in  Dapin  County,  bo  was 
onee  invited  very  kindly  by  a  gentleman  wbo  bad  been  educated  in  Scotlaud 
to  go  home  with  him.  He  did  so ;  and  was  much  gratified,  during  tbe 
evening)  by  the  fluent  and  appropriate  conversation  of  the  gentleman  on 
the  Doctrines  and  Discipline  of  the  Church,  the  Confession  of  Faitb,  Cate- 
chism, Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  &c.  At  supper  the  gentleman  asked 
Dr.  Robinson  to  implore  a  blessing  and  return  thanks,  and  at  the  proper 
time  had  his  family  assembled  for  prayers.  The  next  morning,  after  prayers 
were  oyer,  and  the  &mily  had  assembled  around  the  breakfast  table,  Dr. 
Robinaon^  concluding  that  a  man  who  seemed  to  know  so  much  about  the 
doctrines  and  duties  of  the  Church,  had  certainly  some  forms  of  religion, 
politely  referred  to  him  to  ask  a  blessing.  The  gentleman  commenced,  and 
went  on  probably  half  through  an  ordinary  invocation  of  the  Divine  bless- 
ing,— when  he  halted,  and  turning  to  Dr.  R.,  with  an  imploring  counte- 
nance, said, — "Will  you  please  to  finish.  Sir?"  After  retiring  from  the 
table,  he  came  to  his  Reverend  guest,  and  said  with  tears — "You  now  see 
what  I  have  come  to — ^I  was  born  of  pious  parents,  was  taught  religion  in 
my  youth,  and  observed  its  forms  in  my  native  country.  But  here,  Sir,  I 
have  neglected  its  duties ;  and  now  cannot  even  ask  God  to  bless  the  food 
of  my  own  table."  So  deep  was  the  impression  produced  on  his  mind  by 
this  trivial  incident,  that  his  convictions  of  sin,  cherished  by  the  means  of 
grace,  continued  and  increased  until  he  professed  a  hope  of  conversion,  and 
was  received  into  the  Church;  and,  as  far  as  is  known,  lived  consistently 
with  a  Christian  profession. 

In  1886,  Dr.  Robinson  was  sorely  afflicted  by  the  death  of  his  excellent 
wife.  How  deeply  he  felt  that  bereavement  all  his  friends  had  reason  to 
know ;  nor  could  they  overlook  the  humble  and  edifying  submission  with 
which  he  bore  the  trial. 

When  his  declining  health  called  him  to  retire  from  his  public  labours, 
his  serenity,  cheerfulness,  and  patience  remained  unimpaired,  and  added  lus- 
tre to  the  evening  of  his  days.  When  the  summons  of  death  met  him,  he, 
with  composure  and  sustaining  confidence  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Clirist,  resigned 
his  soul  to  God,  and  departed  in  peace,  December  15,  1843.  And  when 
he  died,  a  great  and  good  man  in  Zion  fell — "not  lost,  but  gone  before." 

Dr.  Robinson  published  a  Eulogy  on  Washington,  delivered  shortly  after 
hia  death. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  very  sincerely  yours, 

ROBERT  H.  MORRISON. 


1 


llg  PSESBTTERIAK. 


SAMUEL  MARTIN,  D.  D. 

1793—1845. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  FINNEY. 

Gbvrchtille,  Md.,  April  10, 1850. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  In  accordance  with  your  request,  I  herewith  furnish 
you  with  some  brief  notices  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  Martin.  Although 
his  life  did  not  abound  in  those  thrilling  incidents  which  sometimes  lend  a 
charm  to  our  reminiscences  of  great  and  good  men,  yet  it  was  full  of  inte- 
rest. It  was  a  beautiful  development  of  the  unpretending  spirit  of  the 
Christian,  and  the  uniform  devotedness  of  the  able  and  well  furnished  Min- 
ister of  the  New  Testament. 

Dr.  Martin  conducted  my  theological  studies  in  early  life  ;  and  it  was  my 
privilege  until  his  death,  during  the  long  period  of  thirty-seven  years,  to 
share  largely  in  his  friendship,  and  often  have  I  been  tempted  to  regret  that 
a  higher  post  had  not  been  assigned  him  in  the  Church,  where  his  talents 
and  attainments  would  have  been  better  appreciated,  and  his  influence  exerted 
upon  a  wider  field. 

Samuel  Martin  was  born  in  Chestnut  Level,  Lancaster  County,  Pa.,  on 
the  9th  of  January,  1767.  His  parents,  Samuel  and  Agnes  Martin,  emigrated 
from  Ireland  about  the  year  1754.  They  were  consistent  and  exemplary 
members  of  the  Associate  Church,  and,  like  Zacharias  and  Elizabeth, 
'*  walked  in  the  ordinances  and  commandments  of  the  Lord  blameless." 
Their  third  son,  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  early  manifested  a  preference 
for  the  Presbyterian  Church.  The  days  of  his  boyhood  he  spent  in  labours 
upon  the  farm  on  which  his  father  resided,  with  the  exception  of  occa- 
sionally passing  a  few  months,  especially  in  the  winter  season,  at  some 
common  school  in  the  neighbourhood.  Favoured  with  that  kind  of  early 
training  which  might  be  expected  from  his  excellent  parents,  it  is  not  strange 
ihat  be  should  grow  up  free  from  open  vice,  and  that,  from  a  child  he.should 
have  known  the  Holy  Scriptures.  It  was  not,  however,  until  his  twenty- 
secund  year,  that  he  became  deeply  anxious  about  his  soul,  and  was  made, 
as  he  himself  believed,  a  subject  of  saving  grace.  On  a  certain  Sabbath 
in  the  summer  of  that  year,  he  had  heard  an  impressive  sermon  from  the 
Pastor  of  the  Church  of  Chestnut  Level, — afterwards  the  esteemed  and  ven- 
erable Dr.  James  Latta.  During  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  he  sat  in  his 
father's  porch,  and  read  Erskine  on  the  Believer's  right  to  appropriate  by 
faith  the  promises  of  the  Grospel.  Suddenly,  the  conviction  flashed  upon 
his  mind  that  he  had  not  that  right.  To  shake  off  the  painful  feeling  it 
occasioned,  he  took  a  long  and  solitary  walk.  But  his  distress  became  so 
great  before  his  return,  that  he  threw  himself  upon  the  ground,  and  cried 
for  mercy.  His  anguish  increased  every  moment,  and  seemed  to  deepen, 
as  the  shadows  of  evening  closed  around  him.  He  spent  a  sleepless  and 
prayerful  night,  and,  as  day  appeared,  fell  into  a  disturbed  and  broken 
Blumber.  Daring  that  slumber,  he  dreamed  that  he  was  in  a  long  dark 
passage, — so  low  that  he  was  not  able  to  walk  erect.  After  groping  his 
way  for  a  considerable  time,  in  great  distress  and  horror  of  mind,  he  came 
to  what  he  supposed  to  be  a  door.  On  his  uttering  a  cry  of  distress,  the 
door  instantly  flew  open,  and  the  dark  passage  was  filled  with  a  flood  of 


SAMUBL  MABTIK.  219 

light*  When  he  «woke,  light  Beemed  to  haye  dawned  upon  his  .soul,  and 
he  was  enabled  to  cast  his  trembling  spirit  into  the  arms  of  mercy.  He 
did  not  value  dreams,  and  did  not  attach  any  particular  importance  to  the 
one  just  related,  and  but  seldom  mentioned  the  circumstance;  but  still  he 
recollected  it  with  pleasure  almost  every  day  of  his  after  life,  and  spoke  of 
it  with  deep  interest  but  a  short  time  before  his  death. 

From  that  period  may  be  dated  the  commencement  of  his  walk  with  God, 
and  his  determination  to  devote  himself  to  the  Gospel  ministry.  His  pre* 
liminary  studies  were  pursued  under  the  superintendence  of  the  Eev.  Dr. 
Latta,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Smith  of  Pequea.  To  meet  the  expenses  of  his 
college  course,  he  spent  two  years  in  teaching  a  grammar  school  in  West- 
chester, Pa.,  and  one  year  at  St.  George's  in  Delaware.  But  notwithstand- 
ing the  many  embarrassments  to  which  he  was  subjected,  his  native  energy 
of  character  surmounted  them  all,  and  he  soon  distinguished  himself  by  a 
rapid  improvement  in  the  different  branches  of  a  substantial  education. 
He  graduated  at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  on  the  8th  of  July,  1790, 
where,  throughout  his  whole  course,  he  maintained  a  high  standing  iu  his 
class,  and  enjoyed  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  the  Professors.  He  could 
not,  however,  be  called  a  laborious  student.  That  knowledge  which  many 
acquire  by  a  slow  and  painful  process,  he  obtained  with  but  little  effort ; 
and  hence  he  depended  more,  in  after  life,  upon  the  excitement  of  the  pass* 
ing  moment  than  on  any  previous  preparation; — a  habit  from  which  he 
found  it  difficult  to  escape,  though  he  decidedly  condemned  it.  He  laid  hold 
of  his  subject  at  once,  and  with  an  iron  grasp.  So  retentive  was  his 
memory  that  it  seldom  or  never  failed  him.  He  could  relate  the  incidents 
of  former  years  in  all  their  minute  details,  without  omitting  a  single  circum- 
stance. His  imagination  was  strong  and  vivid,  but  controlled  by  a  sound 
and  discriminating  judgment.  Although  he  possessed  talents  of  a  very  high 
order,  he  carefully  avoided  whatever  savoured  of  display.  On  this  subject 
he  was  perhaps  unduly  sensitive ;  for  it  was  not  until  pressed  by  circum- 
stances, and  deeply  excited  by  the  occasion,  that  his  noble  powers  were 
fully  called  into  exercise. 

Mr.  Martin  was  licensed  by  the  Presbytery  of  Baltimore,  in  May,  1793, 
and  was  soon  after  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  the  Congregation  of 
Slateridge  in  York  County,  Pa.  Here  he  laboured  faithfully  among  the 
people  of  his  charge,  and  conducted,  at  the  same  time,  a  classical  school,  to 
eke  out  a  slender  support.  In  that  school  he  educated  a  number  of  young 
men,  some  of  whom  now  stand  high  in  office  and  in  public  estimation,  and 
cherish  with  no  common  feelings  of  gratitude  and  affection  the  memory  of 
their  early  preceptor. 

At  the  expiration  of  five  years,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Congregation 
of  (.^anceford,  for  one  half  of  his  ministerial  services.  In  this  wide  field  he 
laboured  until  the  year  1812,  when  he  removed  to  Bockville,  Montgomery 
County,  Md.  At  Kockville  he  continued  but  about  eighteen  months,  when 
he  accepted  a  unanimous  invitation  to  return  to  Chanceford.  His  whole 
niioisterial  life  of  nearly  fifty  years,  with  the  exception  of  the  short  time  he 
was  at  Bockville,  was  spent  in  the  Congregations  of  Slateridge  and  Chance- 
ford,  and  it  was  while  labouring  among  the  people  whom  he  loved,  and  in 
whose  spiritual  welfare  he  was  deeply  interested,  that  he  appeared  to  the 
greatest  advantage  as  a  diligent  and  faithful  minister  of  Jesus  Christ.  His 
ministerial  qualifications  were  of  no  common  order.     An  intimation  that  he 


120  PRESBYTBRIAV. 

was  expected  to  preaoh  in  any  of  the  neighbonring  oongregattons,  always 
secured  a  crowded  house.  His  sermons  were  seldom  written,  and  the  few 
that  were  written  fell  below  the  average  standard  of  his  eztemporsneons 
efforts.  His  first  thoughts  upon  almost  ercry  subject  seemed  to  be  his  best. 
His  common  preparation  for  the  Sabbath  was  a  few  short  notes  ;  and  when 
preparing  them,  he  had  usually  no  books  around  him  but  his  Bible  and  Con- 
cordance. He  rather  thought  for  himself  than  gathered  from  the  thoughts 
of  others.  His  sermons  were  delivered  with  energy  and  animation,  and 
while  they  conveyed  light  and  knowledge  to  the  head,  they  found  their  way 
to  the  heart.  It  was  not  the  drapery  of  a  splendid  rhetoric  thrown  around 
common  place  ideas,  that  chained  the  attention  of  his  hearers — ^it  was  rather 
the  freshness  and  originality  of  glowing  thoughts  thrown  out  in  their  simple 
grandeur.  His  earnest  and  impressive  manner  left  upon  the  minds  of  his 
hearers  the  conviction  that  he  preached  not  himself,  and  that  he  was  tilled 
with  zeal  for  his  Master's  glory,  and  love  for  the  souls  of  men.  He  was  an 
active  and  efficient  member  of  Presbytery;  and  in  the  higher  Ecclesias- 
tical Courts  he  was  surpassed  by  few  as  an  able  debater,  and  aealous  advo* 
oate  for  the  doctrines  and  government  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

As  a  man,  he  possessed  traits  of  character  peculiarly  attractive.  It  was 
difficult  to  know  and  not  esteem  him.  He  exhibited,  in  beautiful  corabi* 
nation,  the  lofty  characteristics  of  a  noble  mind  with  the  simplicity  and 
playfulness  of  the  child.  Remarkably  free  from  worldly  ambition,  his 
grand  aim  was  to  be  useful.  Without  guile  himself,  he  never  suspected 
others,  and  never  deemed  to  feel  himself  above  the  level  of  the  humblest 
individual  that  approached  him.  And  yet  he  was  a  master  in  Israel ; — one 
whom  the  wisest  might  consult  with  the  certainty  of  receiving  benefit  and 
instruction.  His  habits  were  almost  to  a  fault  domestic.  He  loved  with 
uncommon  devotedness  the  endearments  of  home,  and  the  peaceful  enjoy- 
ments of  his  own  fireside.  As  a  friend,  he  was  sincere,  generous  and  ardent. 
He  knew  nothing  of  cold,  calculating  reserve — with  his  hand  you  had  his 
heart,  and  with  that  heart  no  ordinary  friendship.  With  the  sweet  charm 
of  piety  diffused  over  so  many  attractive  qualities,  it  is  not  strange  that  he 
should  have  descended  through  the  vale  of  years  with  the  affections  of  a  con- 
fiding family,  and  the  sympathies  of  a  devoted  people,  clastering  around 
him. 

Amidst  the  infirmities  of  age  and  the  attacks  of  a  painful  disease,  he  con- 
tinued his  favourite  employment  of  preaching  the  Gospel,  until  within  a  few 
months  of  his  decease.  Towards  the  close  of  his  life,  he  seemed  to  be 
rapidly  ripening  for  Heaven.  His  natural  cheerfulness  visibly  abated,  and 
although  he  was  never  morose,  he  became  unusually  grave.  He  had  a  pre- 
sentiment that  his  end  was  not  far  distant ;  and,  placing  himself  in  an  atti- 
tude of  readiness,  patiently  awaited  the  result,  and  calmly  looked  for  the 
mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  unto  eternal  life.  When  he  saw  that  the 
time  of  his  departure  had  nearly  come,  he  was  perfectly  collected ;  and 
though  there  was  little  or  none  of  that  rapture  which  sometimes  i^arks  the 
death-bed  scene  of  the  man  who  has  walked  with  G-od,  there  was  that  which 
was  equally,  if  not  even  more,  satisfactory — a  calm,  unwavering  eonfidenoe 
in  the  meritorious  sacrifice  of  Christ.  Death  came  at  last  in  its  mildest 
form,  and  about  midnight  of  the  holy  Sabbath,  (June  29,  1845,)  the  last 
sands  of  his  glass  passed  down,  and  his  spirit  ascended  to  the  "rest  that 
remaineth  for  the  people  of  God." 


SAIIFSL  MARTIK.  X2f 

Tbe  degree  of  Doctor  of  Diyinitj  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Jefferson 
College  in  1824. 

When  about  thirty  years  of  age,  and  abont  tbe  time  be  accepted  a  call 
from  the  Congregation  of  Slateridge,  he  was  married  to  Rosanna  Irwin, 
whose  early  home  was  but  a  few  miles  distant  from  his  own.  In  that  con- 
nection he  wu  peculiarly  happy.  His  wife  was  indeed  an  help  meet  for  him. 
Pious,  intelligent,  and  gifted  in  no  ordinary  degree,  she  rendered  his  home 
a  hallowed  and  delightful  resting  place.  She  survived  him  about  two  years ; 
and  now  they  both  deep  under  a  chaste  and  beautiful  monument  erected  by 
tbe  Congregation  of  Chanceford.  Dr.  Martin  buried  four  of  his  children  in 
infancy,— -one  of  them  an  only  son.  Four  daughters  have  survived  him. 
Three  of  them  are  respectably  married,  and  comfortably  settled  in  the  Con- 
gregation of  which  their  father  was  Pastor.  The  other  daughter  is  the  wife 
of  the  Bey.  Oeoi^e  Inglis,  whose  father  was  the  predecessor  of  the  lamented 
Nevins  of  Baltimore. 

Dr.  Martin  published  two  Discourses,  in  which  the  doctrine  of  Election 
is  proved  and  illustrated,  1806;  and  one  on  Begeneration,  printed  in  the 
'*  Spruce  Street  Lectures."  He  published  also  a  Sermon  in  the  **  Presby* 
terian  Preacher,"  Pittsburg,  entitled,  '*  Children  are  an  heritage  of  the 
Lord."  Besides  a  number  of  fugitive  pieces  in  different  religious  periodi- 
cals, he  published  Sermons  on  the  death  of  the  Bev.  Messrs.  William  Kerr,* 
Bobert  White,t  Beuben  H.  Davis,t  and  George  Morrison.^ 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Very  respectfully  and  affectionately  yours, 

WILLIAM  FINNEY. 

*  William  Kerr  was  born  i&  Bart  Townsbip,  Lancaster  Coanty,  I^f^*i  in  1777;  was  educated 
at  the  institotioxi  whioh  afterwards  became  Jenerson  College ;  studied  Theology,  partly  under 
tbe  Rev.  Dr.  Sample,  and  partly  at  Princeton ;  was  settled  in  the  ministry  at  JDionegal,  Lanoas* 
ter  Coonty,  Pa*,  about  1809,  and  died  in  1823,  in  his  forty-seventh  year.  Dr.  Martin  said  of 
him, — '*  Few,  if  any,  stood  hiffher  in  the  estimation  of  bis  brethren." 

t  Robert  Whitb  was  bom  In  Montgomery  County,  Pa.,  abont  the  year  1785;  received  his 
classical  and  mathematical  education  at  Norristown,  under  the  direction  of  General  Porter; 
studied  Theology  under  the  Rev.  Nathan  Grier,  of  the  Forks  of  Brandywine,  whose  eldest 
daughter  he  married  in  1809;  became  Pastor  of  tbe  Church  at  Fagg's  Manor  in  1810;  and, 
after  a  ministry  there  ef  twenty-five  years,  died  September  20,  1835.  He  published  a  Sermon 
designed  to  prove  that  Job  was  Melohisedec.  His  successor  in  the  ministry,  the  Rev.  A .  Hamil- 
ton, says  of  him, — ''His  people  regarded  him  with  great  affection,  and  thought  him,  as  he  was 
in  truth,  a  \p}jonou»,  tender-hearted,  prayerful  pastor." 

X  Rbuben  H.  Davis  was  licensed  and  ordained  by  the  Presbytery  of  Newcastle,  but  never 
had  a  pastoral  charge.  He  taught  a  classical  school,  first  in  Baltimore,  and  afterwards  in  Bel- 
Air,  Md.,  with  great  acceptance.    He  died  December  4,  1835,  aged  forty -seven  years. 

§  George  Morrison,  was  the  Pastor  of  the  Bethel  Congregation  in  Harford  County,  Md. 
He  taught  an  Academy  for  a  number  oi  years  in  Baltimore,  and  afterwards  superintended  a 
•ohool  in  connection  with  his  pastoral  charge  at  Bethel. 


Vol.  IV.  16 


122  raBSBTTSRlAM. 


ROBERT  G.  WILSON,  D-  D  * 

1793—1851. 

BoBBBT  G.  WiLBON,  the  son  of  John  and  Mary  (Wray)  Wilson,  was 
born  in  Lincoln  Connty,  N.  C,  December  80,  1768.  His  fether  was  a  far- 
mer,— a  man  of  good  common  edncation,  who  filled  the  offices  of  Magistrate 
and  Register  in  bis  County,  and  of  Elder  in  the  Chnrch.  He  emigrated 
before  the  Beyolution  from  Pennsylvania,  where  his  father,  who  came  from 
the  North  of  Ireland,  had  settled.     His  mother's  parents  came  from  Wales. 

At  the  age  of  about  four,  he  became  the  subject  of  religious  impressions 
under  somewhat  extraordinary  circumstances.  He  was  tying  alone  on  his 
little  bed,  and  suffering  severely  from  a  toothache ;  when  it  occurred  to  him 
that  God  is  the  hearer  of  prayer,  and  that  it  was  his  privilege  to  look  to 
Him  for  relief.  Accordingly,  he  knelt  down  by  the  side  of  his  bed,  and 
earnestly  besought  God  to  take  away  the  pain,  and  instantly  the  pain 
ceased.  This  made  a  powerful  impression  upon  his  mind ;  and,  though  he 
did  not  himself  date  his  conversion  from  that  period,  yet  the  developments 
of  his  childhood,  especially  his  gentle  and  peaceful  spirit,  and  his  high 
regard  for  the  privileges  and  duties  of  the  sanctuary,  led  many  of  his 
friends  to  believe  that  the  principle  of  religion  was  thus  early  implanted  in 
his  heart.  It  was  not  till  he  had  reached  his  seventeenth  year,  and  then  in 
consequence  of  a  sermon  which  he  heard  from  his  pastor,  the  Rev.  Francis 
Cummins,  that  he  believed  himself  to  have  felt  the  power  of  religion. 
Shortly  after  this,  he  made  a  public  profession  of  his  faith. 

In  July,  1784,  he  commenced  the  study  of  the  Latin  at  a  grammar  school 
near  home,  and  was  chiefly  prepared  for  College  in  an  Academy  at  Salis- 
bury, N.  C.  During  a  part  of  his  preparatory  course,  he  was  a  fellow 
student  with  Andrew  Jackson,  and  with  several  others  whose  names  have 
since  become  historical.  In  1789,  he  entered  Dickinson  College,  then 
under  the  Presidency  of  Dr.  Nisbet,  and  graduated  in  1790.  Immediately 
after  his  graduation,  he  returned  to  Carolina,  and  prosecuted  his  theological 
studies  under  the  direction  partly  of  his  pastor,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Cummins,  and 
partly  of  the  Rev.  William  C.  Davis.t     On  the  16th  of  April,  1793,  he 

•  Memoir  in  the  Presbyterian,  1851. — MSS.  from  Rev.  Dr.  S.  B.  Wilson,  Rev.  H.  S.  Fuller- 
ton,  Rev.  Dr.  G.  Howe. — Foote's  Sketches  of  N.  C. 

t  William  C.  Davis  was  bom  on  the  16th  of  December,  1760.  He  was  received  as  a  oan- 
didpte  under  the  South  Carolina  Presbytery,  October  12,  1786,  n-^d  was  licensed  to  preach  bj 
the  same  Presbytery,  December  13,  1787.  Ho  accepted  a  call  from  the  Nazareth  and  Milford 
Gharches,  October  16,  1788;  was  ordained  and  installed  as  their  Pastor,  April  14,  1789;  and 
was  dismissed  September  28,  1792.  On  the  13th  of  October,  1707,  he  received  his  disutis- 
sion  from  tlie  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina  to  join  the  Presbytery  of  Concord,  and  about  that 
time  was  settled  over  the  Church  at  Olney,  N.  C.  In  1803,  he  was  appointed  by  a  commission 
of  Synod  to  *^  act  as  a  stated  missionary  ''  to  the  Catawba  Indians  until  the  next  stated  meet- 
ing of  Synod,  and  also  to  superintend  the  school  in  that  nation.  In  1805,  he  snppliod,  by  per- 
mission of  Presbytery,  the  Church  of  Bullock's  Creek.  On  the  30th  of  September,  18U6,  he 
was  received  back  from  the  Presbytery  of  Concord  to  the  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina,  and 
accepted  a  call  from  the  last  mentioned  Church. 

In  1807,  Mr.  Davis  began  to  be  charged  with  holding  erroneous  doctrines,  and  in  September 
of  that  year,  the  Second  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina,  by  a  memorial,  complained  to  the 
Synod  of  the  Carolinas  that  "  the  First  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina  does  not  discipline  a 
member  of  theirs,  William  C.  Davis,  for  preaching  erroneous  doctrine,  though  known  by  Pres- 
bytery to  hold  and  preach  such  doctrine."  The  Synod,  after  due  consideration  of  the  case, 
directed  the  First  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina  to  attend  to  the  matter,  **  as  duty  and  discip- 
line may  direct."  At  the  meeting  of  the  Synod  in  October  18U8,  the  First  Presbytery  bein^ 
aalled  on  to  report  their  doings  in  respect  to  Mr.  Davis,  stated  that,  after  hearing  his  explana- 
tionsi  they  had  not  done  any  thing;  and  at  the  same  time  put  to  the  Synod  the  following 


BOBXBT  G.  WILSOT .  123 

VM  Ucenied  to  preaoh  by  tbe  Presbytery  df  South  Cftrolina ;  ind  on  the 
22d  of  May,  1794,  was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  Upper  Long 
Cane  Charch,  in  Abbeville  District.  He  had,  at  the  same  time,  the  charge 
of  the  Churoh  at  Greenville.  Daring  his  connection  with  those  churches, 
his  labours  were  signally  blessed  to  their  edification  and  enlargement. 

He  was  offered  a  Professorship  in  South  Carolina  College,  and  was  also 
invited  to  become  Principal  of  an  Academy  in  Augusta,  Ga.,  with  very 
flattering  pecuniary  prospects  in  each  case ;  but  he  declined  these  offers, 
and  afcccepted  in  1805  a  call  to  become  Pastor  of  a  small  Church,  then  lately 
organized  in  Chilieothe,  0.,  with  a  salary  of  only  four  hundred  dollars. 

After  his  removal  to  Chilieothe,  he  gave  half  of  his  labours  for  seven 
years  to  Union  Church,  five  miles  from  the  town.  On  resigning  his  charge 
there,  he  found  his  salary  entirely  inadequate  to  the  support  of  his  family ; 
and,  in  consideration  of  this,  and  by  the  earnest  solicitation  of  his  friends, 
he  reluctantly  accepted  the  office  of  Postmaster.  By  this  means  he  was 
enabled  to  obtain  a  comfortable  living ;  but  when  a  change  came  to  be 
made  in  the  postal  arrangements,  which  required  the  mail  to  be  opened  on 
the  Sabbath,  he  at  once  resigned  his  office,  and  wrote  to  the  government  a 
letter  of  earnest  remonstrance. 

In  1818,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
the  College  of  New  Jersey. 

Dr.  Wilson  remained  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Chilieothe  nineteen  years, 
greatly  beloved  by  his  people  and  fellow  citizens,  and  signally  blessed  in 
bis  labours.  In  1824,  he  resigned  his  charge,  by  advice  of  Presbytery,  and 
accepted  an  invitation  to  the  Presidency  of  the  Ohio  University,  at  Athens. 

qnestion — ''>yhether  the  holding  and  proptusating  any*  and  what,  doctrines,  apparently 
repugnant  to  the  letter  of  the  Confession  of  Faim,  will  justify  a  Presbytery  in  calling  a 
member  to  public  trial  V  The  Synod,  not  satisfied  with  this  report,  appointed  a  Committee 
to  prepare  a  minute  to  direct  the  Presbytery  in  its  future  proceedings.  The  substance  of  the 
minute  which  was  submitted  and  adopted  was  that  the  Second  Presbyteiy  of  South  Carolina 
should  be  directed  to  meet  immediately,  on  the  snot,  and  exhibit  whatever  charges  they  mi^ht 
have  against  Mr.  Davis,  before  the  First  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina;  and  that  the  First 
Presbytery  should  also  constitute  immediately  to  receive  such  charges,  and  that  Mr.  Davis 
aboald  be  furnished  with  a  copy  of  them,  together  with  the  names  of  the  witnesses;  that  the 
Moderator  of  the  First  Presbytery  should  call  an  occasional  meeting  on  a  specified  day  to  con- 
fer with  Mr.  Davis  in  respect  to  the  alleged  aberrations,  and  that  they  should  make  a  record 
of  all  the  questions  and  answers,  with  a  view  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  concerned.  When  the 
ca«e  came  up  again  before  the  Synod  in  October,  1809,  (abcftit  this  time  Mr.  Davis  published 
an  octavo  volume,  defining  his  views,  entitled  **  The  Gospel  Plan,")  it  appears  that  the 
Second  Presbytery  had  tabled  charges  against  Mr.  Davis,  but  did  not  appear  to  proseoute  al 
the  appointed  time;  that  the  First  Presbytery  heard  Mr.  D.  and  pronounced  sentence; — the 
amount  of  which  was  that  though  they  condemned  his  tenets  as  unsound  and  contrary  to  the 
Confession  of  Faith,  yet  did  not  consider  him  as  on  the  whole  worthy  of  any  Church  censure. 
The  Synod,  being  dissatisfied  with  this  result,  were  about  to  take  the  matter  into  their  own 
hands  and  proceed  to  trial,  when  Mr.  D.  protested,  nnd  appealed  to  the  General  Assembly. 
The  Synod  acconlingly  remitted  his  case  to  the  Assembly,  together  with  an  overture  res- 
pecting his  book  entitled  "  The  Gospel  Plan."  At  this  meeting  the  First  Presbytery  was,  by 
its  own  request,  dissolved;  in  consequence  of  which  Mr.  Davis  fell  into  the  Concord  Presbytery. 
In  1810,  the  subject  came  before  the  General  Assembly,  when  a  committee  appointed  to  review 
the  book,  reported  that  they  found  in  it  eight  difi'erent  doctrines  which  they  regarded  as  in  con- 
flict with  the  standards  of  the  Church, — among  which  were  that  "  the  active  ol^enoe  of  Christ 
constitutes  no  part  of  that  righteousness  b^  which  a  sinner  is  justified ;"  that  ^*  obedience  to  the 
moral  law  was  not  required  as  the  condition  of  the  Covenant  of  works;"  that  "  Kegenoration 
most  be  a  consequence  of  Faith;"  that  *'  Faith  in  the  first  act  of  it  is  not  a  holy  act,"  Ao., 
Ac.  The  Assembly  pronounced  the  doctrines  of  ''very  dangerous . tendency,"  and  *^ declare 
that  the  preaching  or  publishing  them  ought  to  subject  the  person,  or  persons  so  doing  to  be 
dealt  with  by  their  respective  Presbyteries,  according  to  the  discipline  of  the  Church  relative  to 
the  propagation  of  errors."  In  accordance  with  this  judgment,  the  Presbytery  of  Orange  pro- 
ceeded, on  the  .3d  of  April,  1811,  to  suspend  the  Rev.  William  C.  Davis  from  the  exercise  of 
his  functions  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and  on  the  4th  of  October  (bllowing,  they  solemnly 
deposed  him  from  the  ministry.  Mr.  Davis  died  on  the  28th  of  September,  1831,  aged  seventy 
Tears.  He  teems  to  have  been  a  man  of  more  than  onUnary  vigour  of  iatellecty  and  to  h^ra; 
been  specially  given  to  metaphysical  speculation. 


J24  PSCSBTTKUlAKv     : 

Over  ^is  institntton  he  oontitfrned  to  prmde  iiiitfl  1889^  when,  OfD  sooomi 
of  tho  mcreasing  infirmitioB  of  age,  he  resigned  the  offioe  and  retarned  to 
Ohilioothe.  Bat,  notwithftaDding  he  had  now  become  an  old  man,  he  conld 
not  be  contented  to  remain  inactive ;  and,  accordingly,  he  engaged  to  preach 
as  a  stated  supply  for  the  Union  Church.  Here  he  laboured  seven  years. 
As  an  illustration  of  his  great  punctuality, — it  is  stated  that,  aftfir  he  had 
left  the  church,  the  following  memorandum  was  found  in  the  pulpit  Bible : — 
"  On  —  day  of  —  a  very  wet  day,  rode  out  from  Chilicothe  (five  miles)  to 
preach  here,  and  found  no  person  present — no,  not  one."  At  the  age  of 
seven ty*eight,  he  retired  from  public  life,  and  after  that  very  rarely  appeared 
in  the  pulpit.  His  mental  vigour  and  the  strength  of  his  religious  affec- 
tions remained,  bnt  his  voice  and  physical  energy  were  gone.  The  last  four 
years  and  four  months  of  his  life  he-spent  with  his  children  at  Sonth  Salem ; 
and,  daring  this  whole  time,  he  was  absent  bnt  four  Sabbaths  from  the 
house  of  God.  He  would  lead  the  worship  of  the  family,  when  he  was  so 
feeble  as  to  be  unable  to  rise  from  his  bed  or  from  his  knees  without  help. 
He  did  this  on  the  day  preceding  his  death, — the  fifty-eighth  anniversary  of 
his  licensure.  His  decline  was  marked  by  the  most  quiet  submission  to  the 
will  of  Heaven,  the  most  grateful  acknowledgments  of  the  Divine  good- 
ness, and  the  most  cheering  assurance  of  a  glorious  hereafter.  He  died  at 
South  Salem  on  the  17th  of  April,  1851,  in  the  eighty-third  year  of  his  age. 

On  the  9th  of  October,  1797,  he  was  married  to  £lisabeth,  daughter  of 
Alexander  and  Frances  Gilliland,  of  Lincoln  County,  N.  C.  They  had 
eight  children, — three  sons  and  five  daughters.  Samuel,  the  youngest, 
was  the  only  son  that  reached  maturity.  After  graduating  at  the  Ohio 
University,  he  commenced  the  study  of  Theology.  In  the  autumn  of  1833, 
while  connected  with  the  Alleghany  Theological  Seminary,  he  was  taken 
with  bleeding  at  the  lungs,  and  died  at  Athens,  0.,  July  16,  1834.  He 
was  a  young  man  of  great  promise.  Three  of  the  daughters  have  been 
married  to  Presbyterian  clergymen.  Mrs.  Wilson  died  December  21,  1813. 
In  1818,  Dr.  Wilson  married  a  second  wife,  (Mrs.  Crafts,)  who  died  in 
1838. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Wilson's  publications: — Satan's  wiles:  A 
Sermon  preached  at  Chilicothe,  1817.  A  Sermon  preached  at  the  opening 
of  the  Synod  of  Ohio,  1828.  A  Sermon  on  Temperance,  delivered  at 
Athens,  1829.  A  Sermon  in  the  Presbyterian  Preacher,  1833.  .  An 
Address  to  the  graduating  class  of  Ohio  University,  1836. 


FROM  THE  REV.  JAMES  HOGE,  D.  D. 

Columbus,  O.,  August  25, 1854. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  In  1805,  the  Committee  of  Missions  of  the  General  Assem- 
bly gave  me  an  appointment  as  a  missionary  in  Ohio  and  the  adjacent  regions, 
for  BIX  months.  In  October  of  that  year,  I  arrived  in  Chilicothe,  in  pursuance  of 
this  appointment,  and  visited  Dr.  Wilson  who  resided  in  that  neighbourhood, 
and  whom  I  found  living  in  a  cabin  of  a  single  apartment,  prosecuting  bit 
studies,  and  performing  his  ministerial  duties,  with  as  great  assiduity  and  cheer- 
Ailness,  as  if  he  had  been  &voured  with  all  the  advantages  of  a  comfortable  home 
and  of  refined  society.  I  received  from  him  a  cordial  welcome,  and  much  need- 
ful information.  During  my  six  months  mission,  which  was  largely  itinerant, 
I  called  on  him  repeatedly,  and  was  with  him  at  the  organisation  of  the  church 


RQBEET  a,  WILSON.  XaS 

TVBwity*  now  thci  Eirat  Ohuroh  of  Columbus,  ia  which  I  was  ordained 
two  jears  afterwards.  After  my  settloment,  we  made  an  arrangement,  at  his 
instanoe,  to  visit  each  other  at  Communion  seasons,  which  then  were  continued 
in  respect  of  public  services,  four  days,*— once  in  each  year.  This  arrangement 
was  kept  up  until  he  was  appointed  President  of  the  Ohio  University.  We  wei-e 
associated  frequently  in  other  services,  were  members  of  the  same  Presbytery 
during  eight  or  ten  years,  and  of  the  same  Synod  more  than  thirty.  When  he 
was  chosen  President  of  the  College,  I  was  one  of  the  Trustees,  and  of  course 
had  full  opportunity  of  knowing  him  well  in  that  department.  From  him  I 
derived  more  advantage  in  forming  my  character,  and  pursuing  my  labours  as  a 
miniater,  than  from  any  other  man.  I  was  but  twenty-one  years  of  age  when  I 
began  to  associate  with  him ;  and  we  were  on  terms  of  affectionate  intimacy  from 
that  time  ibr  thirty  years.  I  mention  these  ciroumatances  that  you  may  know 
how  to  estimate  my  testimony  in  respect  to  him. 

In  person.  Dr.  Wilson  was  of  a  noble,  commanding  appearance,  dignified  in  his 
manners,  yet  cheerful,  afifable,  and  peculiarly  pleasing  in  private  intercourse  with 
his  friends. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  solemn,  instructive,  impressive,  and  often  affecting,  in 
respect  to  both  manner  and  matter.  Always  abounding  in  doctrinal  preaching, 
he  was  also  unusually  practical :  indeed,  it  was  his  special  excellence  that  he 
taught  Christian  doctrine  with  direct  and  pointed  application.  He'  believed 
and  felt  the  truth  which  he  spake,  and  therefore  was  a  useful  and  successful  min- 
ister of  Christ.  Doubtless  he  was  the  instrument  of  the  conversion  of  many 
hundreds  of  souls,  and  administered  important  instruction  and  edification  to 
many  thousands.  One  incident  illustrative  of  his  success  here  occurs  to  me, 
which  I  cannot  forbear  to  mention.  Shortly  after  he  came  to  reside  in  this 
State,  Mr.  Dobbin,  a  licentiate  from  South  Carolina,  whom  he  knew,  had  an 
appointment  to  preach  in  a  neighbourhood,  about  twelve  miles  from  Chilicothe: 
he  went  thither,  and,  at  Mr.  Dobbin's  request,  preached  to  the  small  congregation 
assembled  under  a  tree  in  the  forest.  More  than  forty  years  afterwardn,  he 
found  in  the  church  within  whose  limits  he  passed  the  last  years  of  his  life  three 
persons  who  ascribed  their  conversion  to  the  blessing  of  God  on  that  sermon. 

He  excelled  as  a  member  of  the  judicatories  of  the  Church.  Indeed  he  had 
few  equals,  and  certainly  no  superiors,  in  the  qualities  necessary  to  render  a 
man  eminently  useful  in  this  sphere  of  action.  A  calm,  clear-sighted,  discrimi- 
nating mind,  united  with  great  impartiality  and  firmness  of  purpose,  gave  him  a 
high  degree  of  influence  among  his  brethren. 

He  was  firmly  and  fully  established  in  the  faith  and  order  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  was  jealous  of  any  efibrts  that  seemed  to  him  designed  to  modify 
either.  So  strong  were  his  convictions  on  this  subject  that,  on  the  division  of 
the  Church  in  1838,  he  stood  alone  in  the  Presbytery  of  which  he  was  then  a 
member,  and  entered  his  protest  against  their  proceedings,  and  was  subsequently 
attached  to  another  Presbytery  by  the  Synod  of  Ohio. 

In  no  situation  perhaps  in  which  Dr.  Wilson  was  ever  placed,  were  the  ener- 
of  his  mind  brought  into  more  vigorous  and  effective  exercise,  than  in  the 
•f  Ohio  Unireraity.  When  he  enteied  upon  that  office,  the  insUtu- 
ly  i^wii^  to  ita  nni^TomliUi  loeatiott  and  other  eircumataacea^  was  greatly 
fiemoit  from  the  more  populous  portions,  of  the^State,  having  fi»w 
aad  dii&eiilt.means  of  access,  and  oppressed  with  debt  as  the  result  of  misman- 
agement and  insufficient  funds,  it  was  the  labour. of  years  to  place  it  in  a  favour- 
able condition.  Dr.  Wilson  gave  to  the  work  the  whole  power  of  hb  vigorous 
mind;  and  his  success  was  indicated,  within  a  few  years,  by  a  very  considerable 
increase  of  both  fiinds  and  students.  He  was  thus  instrumental  in  moulding, 
in  no  smalt  degree,  the  characters  of  many  who  have  sbce  risen  to  distinction  in 
both  the  SUte  and  the  Church. 


126  FRBSBTTBBIAN. 

•It  18  perhaps  due  to  historic  truth  to  state  that  Br.  Wilson,  notwithstandhis 
he  was  born  and  educated  in  the  midst  of  slaTery,  was  yet,  in  his  feelings  and 
conyictions,  strongly  opposed  to  it.  He  has  repeatedly  stated  that  the  circum- 
stance that  operated  more  strongly  with  him  than  any  Other,  to  a  removal  from 
the  Southern  States,  was  his  unwillingness  to  labour  as  a  minister,  and  rear  his 
family,  under  the  influence  of  this  institution.  He  never  became  an  abolitionist, 
in  the  technical  sense  of  the  word,  nor  could  he  exclude  slaveholders,  as  such, 
from  Christian  charity  and  fellowship;  yet  he  continued  through  life  to  be  as 
firmly  opposed  to  the  system,  as  when  he  removed  from  a  favourable  settlement 
and  cherished  associations  to  the  then  comparatively  uncultivated  wilderness  of 
Ohio. 

On  the  whole,  Dr.  Wilson  was  one  of  those  men  who  make  their  mark  on  the 
age  in  which  they  live;  and  it  may  be  confidently  affirmed  that  he  has  done 
more,  directly  and  indirectly,  to  form  the  character  and  advance  the  interests  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Ohio,  than  any  other  man. 

I  am  very  respectfully  and  sincerely  yours, 

JAMES  H06E. 


■♦♦- 


ROBERT  FINLEY,  D.  D  * 

1794—1817. 

Robert  Finley  was  bom  at  Princeton,  N.  J.,  in  the  year  1772.  His 
father,  James  Finley,  came  with  his  family  from  Scotland  to  this  country  in 
1769,  at  the  suggestion  of  Dr.  Witherspoon,  his  personal  friend,  who,  a  few 
years  before,  had  migrated  hither,  on  being  chosen  President  of  New  Jersey 
College.  He  (the  father)  was  a  man  of  vigorous  mind,  of  strong  religious 
feelings,  and  of  earnest  devotion  to  the  interests  of  his  adopted  country. 
He  unhesitatingly  espoused  the  cause  of  the  Colonies  in  the  war  of  the 
Revolution ,  and  was  employed  as  clothier  to  a  brigade  of  American  troops. 

Young  Finley  evinced  no  inconsiderable  precocity  of  intellect. — ;for,  when 
he  was  only  in  his  eighth  year,  he  had  begun  the  study  of  the  Latin  lan- 
guage. After  having  temporarily  enjoyed  the  instruction  of  several  different 
teachers,  he  was  placed  under  the  care  of  Mr.  (afterwards  the  Rev.  Dr.) 
Ashbel  Green,  then  an  undergraduate  in  Princeton  College.  Here  he  laid 
the  foundation  for  that  uncommonly  thorough  knowledge  for  which  he  was 
distinguished  in  after  life.  His  teacher  had  occasion  to  admire  his  remark- 
able diligence,  inquisitivcucss,  and  success,  not  more  than  his  exemplary 
sobriety  and  stability  of  character. 

In  1788,  when  he  was  in  his  eleventh  year,  he  joined  the  Freshman  class 
in  Princeton  College.  Mr.  Green,  having  meanwhile  graduated,  and  been 
appointed  a  Tutor  in  the  College,  had  his  young  pupil  still  under  his  care ; 
and  he  watched  with  great  interest  his  improvement,  especially  in  the 
classics.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  college  course,  in  which  were 
embraced  chiefly  mathematical  and  philosophical  studies,  he  was,  as  might 
have  been  expected  from  his  extreme  youth,  less  successful  than  he  had 
been  in  the  languages ;  nevertheless  he  maintained  a  respectable  standing 

•  Brown's  Memoir.— MS.  from  Us  son^  Rev.  B.  S.  Finley. 


KOBERT  FINLEY.  127 

tLroughoat  Lis  whole  course,  and  was  admitted  to  the  degree  of  Bachelor 
of  Arts  in  1787,  before  he  had  completed  his  sixteenth  year. 

During  the  first  winter  after  his  graduation,  he  was  employed,  by  the 
advice,  and  under  the  superintendence,  of  his  venerable  friend,  Dr.  Wither^ 
spoon,  as  a  teacher  of  the  grammar  school  at  Princeton.  Here  he  discovered 
a  degree  of  firmness,  good  judgment,  and  tact,  which  commanded  universal 
respect  and  confidence.  While  thus  engaged,  he  received  an  invitation  to 
take  charge  of  a  respectable  Seminary  in  the  State  of  Maryland.  He 
shortly  after  visited  the  place  with  a  view  to  accept  the  invitation ;  but  his 
plans  were  frustrated  by  the  accidental  burning  of  the  Academy  just  before 
be  arrived  there.  He  immediately  returned  to  New  Jersey,  and  accepted 
proposals  to  take  charge  of  the  Academy  at  Allentown. 

His  attention  was  first  seriously  directed  to  the  subject  of  religion  as  a 
practical  concern,  during  his  Junior  year  in  College ;  but  though  he  did  not 
then  reach  a  point  that  was  at  all  satisfactory  to  himself,  his  mind  seems, 
from  that  time,  not  only  never  to  have  lost  its  interest  in  religious  things, 
but  to  have  been  in  a  state  of  progressive  seriousness.  During  his  resi- 
dence at  Allentown,  where  he  enjoyed  the  ministry  of  the  Rev.  (afterwards 
Dr.)  Joseph  Clark,  he  became  so  much  established  in  his  religious  views 
and  feelings,  that  he  made  a  public  profession  of  his  faith,  and  was  admitted 
a  communicant  in  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

From  Allentown,  where  he  was  usefully  employed  as  a  teacher,  Mr. 
Finley  was  called,  in  the  autumn  of  1791,  to  occupy  a  similar  place  in 
Charleston,  S.  C.  He  accepted  the  invitation,  and  became  a  resident  for 
some  time  of  that  city,  where  he  gained  a  high  reputation  as  a  gentleman, 
a  Christian,  and  a  teacher.  He  formed  an  acquaintance,  and  even  an  endur- 
ing friendship,  with  many  of  the  old  and  distinguished  families  of  the  place, 
which  continued  to  be  a  source  of  pleasure  and  advantage  to  him  as  long  as 
he  lived.  The  private  diary, — evidently  intended  only  for  his  own  eye, 
which  he  kept  during  this  period,  shows  that,  amidst  all  the  temptations  to 
worldliness  by  which  he  was  surrounded,  he  still  maintained  a  consistent 
and  constantly  groVing  Christian  character.  Having  determined  to  devote 
himself  to  the  ministry,  he  left  Charleston,  after  a  residence  there  of  about 
a  year,  and  returned  to  Princeton,  where  he  took  charge  of  the  grammar 
school,  and  at  the  same  time  commenced  the  study  of  Theology  under  the 
direction  of  Dr.  Witherspoon.  He  was,  however,  soon  appointed  Tutor  in 
College,  and  Served  in  that  capacity  from  1793  to  1795, — with  great 
success  and  acceptance. 

Mr.  Finley,  having  gone  through  a  course  of  theological  study  in  connec- 
tion with  his  labours  as  an  instructer  at  Princeton,  was  licensed  to  preach 
by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick,  on  the  16th  of  September,  1794. 
Having  spent  a  few  months  in  preaching  to  different  congregations  in  New 
Jersey,  he  was  invited,  in  the  spring  of  1795,  to  take  charge  of  the  vacant 
Congregation  of  Basking  Kidge,  and,  having  accepted  the  call,  was  ordained 
and  installed  on  the  16th  of  June  following.  The  Sermon  on  the  occasion 
was  preached  by  the  Rev.  James  F.  Armstrong,  of  Trenton,  and  the  Charge 
was  delivered  by  the  Rev.  Joseph  Clark,  with  whose  church  Mr.  Finley  first 
united.  The  congregation  with  which  he  now  became  connected,  had  pre- 
viously been  in  a  distracted  and  unhappy  state,  and,  having  grown  weary  of 
their  divisions,  they  gratefully  welcomed  their  new  pastor  in  the  expectation 


/ 


128  PRESBYTSBIAK. 

tbat,  ander  hin  ministry,  tbey  should  at  least  regain  their  former  prosperity. 
Nor  were  their  hopes  disappointed. 

In  May,  1798,  Mr.  Finley  was  married  to  Esther,  daughter  of  the  Bev. 
James  Caldwell,  of  Elizabeth  town,  whose  tragical  end  forms  one  of  the 
painful  events  in  the  history  of  the  Revolution. 

Shortly  after  his  settlement  at  Basking  Bidge,  he  was  induced  to  receive 
into  his  family  a  small  number  of  boys,  with  a  view  to  their  being  fitted 
either  for  business  or  for  College.  The  number  gradually  increased,  till  the 
enterprise  resulted  in  one  of  the  most  popular  and  useful  schools  of  the 
day.  His  high  character  as  a  teacher,  and  especially  as  a  disciplinarian, 
drew  to  it  many  young  men  of  the  most  respectable  families  in  various  parts 
of  the  country ;  and  there  are  a  goodly  number  still  oocupying  prominent 
places  of  honour  and  usefulness  in  the  liberal  professions,  who  refer  their 
earliest  intellectual  impulses  to  the  influence  of  Mr.  Finley. 

The  good  fruit  of  his  ministry  at  Basking  Bidge  began  almost  imme- 
diately to  appear  in  the  removal  of  former  prejudices  and  alienations,  in  an 
increased  attention  to  the  means  of  grace,  and  in  a  general  improved  state 
of  the  congregation.  In  1803,  a  revival  of  great  power  took  place  among 
his  people,  at  the  same  time  that  some  other  churches  in  the  neighbourhood 
were  visited  in  a  similar  manner.  The  number  admitted  to  the  Communion 
as  the  fruit  of  this  revival  was  about  one  hundred  and  fifty.  He  laboured 
in  it  with  untiring  zeal,  and  regarded  it  as  a  special  manifestation  of  the 
Divine  goodness  in  thus  owning  and  blessing  his  early  labours.  At  several 
succeeding  periods  during  his  ministry,  an  unusual  attention  to  religion  pre- 
vailed, followed  by  considerable  accessions  to  the  Church. 

In  the  year  1806,  Mr.  Finley  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Board  of 
Trustees  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  He  was  in  all  respects  well  quali- 
fied for  this  station  ;  and,  as  long  as  he  continued  in  the  State,  he  retained 
the  office,  discharging  its  various  duties  with  alacrity  and  ability. 

In  1809,  he  was  appointed  to  preach  the  Missionary  Sermon  before  the 
General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church;  and  he  performed  the 
service 'in  an  able  and  satisfactory  manner.  He  was  appointed  the  same 
year,  in  connection  with  the  Bev.  Messrs.  J.  B.  Bomeyn,  and  E.  D.  Griffin, 
to  represent  the  General  Assembly  in  the  General  Association  of  Connecti- 
cut, which  held  its  meeting  that  year  at  New  London.  This  appointment* 
also  he  fulfilled ;  and  while  he  was  highly  gratified  with  his  visit  to  New 
England,  his  health,  which  had  been  previously  somewhat  impaired,  waa 
improved  by  the  journey. 

In  1815,  Mr.  Finley  suggested  the  idea  of  communicating  religious 
instruction  by  means  of  Bible  Classes.  Such  a  class  he  instituted  in  his 
own  congregation  in  the  spring  of  that  year ;  and  so  benign  was  its  influence 
that  he  could  not  rest  until  he  had  made  an  efibrt  to  carry  the  like  provision 
throughout  the  Church.  Accordingly,  he  obtained  an  endorsement  of  the 
plan,  first  from  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswiok,  and  afterwards  from  the 
Synod  of  New  York  and  New  Jersey,  involving,  on  the  part  of  the  latter 
Body,  a  resolution  to  request  the  General  Assembly  at  their  next  session  to 
give  to  it  the  weight  of  their  recommendation.  This  request  was  readily 
complied  with  by  a  unanimous  vote,  recommending  to  all  the  Presbyteries 
and  Congregations  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  to  take  measures  for  carrying 
this  plan  into  effect.     Mr.  Finley  was  of  course  exceedingly  gratified  by  the 


BOBBBT  FIlffLET.  229 

of  the  effort,  and  reeognised  in  it  another  signal  instance  of  the 
DiTine  blessing  npon  his  labours. 

For  some  years  previous  to  this  time,  Mr.  Finley's  mind  had  been 
earnestly  direoted  to  find  out  some  plan  for  improving  the  condition  of  the 
Free  People  of  Colour  in  this  country  ;  and  the  idea  of  Colonization,  though 
he  saw  clearly  the  numerous  difficulties  by  which  it  was  beset,  struck  him 
as  at  once  more  desirable  and  more  feasible  than  any  other.  Having,  in 
the  spirit  of  a  broad  philanthropy,  conceived  a  plan  for  the  accomplishment 
of  this  object,  he  conversed  and  corresponded  in  respect  to  it  with  a  large 
number  of  the  leading  minds  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  the  result  of 
which  was  that  he  was  increasingly  confirmed  in  respect  to  the  obstacles 
which  the  enterprise  must  encounter  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  possibility 
of  their  being  successfully  met  on  the  other.  He  resolved  at  length  to 
visit  Washington  during  the  session  of  Congress,  with  a  view  to ,  make 
known  his  plan,  to  endeavour  to  enlist  the  co-operation  of  distinguished 
individuals  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  and,  if  possible,  to  secure  in 
some  form  the  sanction  of  the  Government  itself,  and  finally  to  form  a 
Society  at  the  heart  of  the  nation,  whose  influence  should  be  felt  to  its 
remotest  extremities.  He  arrived  at  Washington  early  in  December,  1816. 
He  immediately  sought  and  obtained  opportunities  to  confer,  in  respect  to 
his  favourite  project,  with  the  leading  members  of  Congress,  the  Heads  of 
Department,  and  even  Mr.  Madison  himself;  and,  though  all  listened  to 
him  with  respect,  not  a  small  number  regarded  the  scheme  as  altogether 
impracticable  and  chimerical.  His  **  Thoughts  on  the  Colonization  of  the 
Free  Blacks,'*  published  about  this  time,  had  no  small  influence  in  awaking 
public  attention  to  the  contemplated  enterprise.  By  means  of  this 
pamphlet,  in  connection  with  his  unwearied  personal  efforts,  he  succeeded  in 
getting  together  a  very  respectable  number  of  gentlemen,  on  the  21st  of 
December,  1816,  for  the  purpose  of  forming  a  Colonization  Society.  This 
meeting  was  eloquently  addressed  by  several  individuals  of  distinction, 
among  whom  were  John  Kandolph  and  Henry  Clay,  the  latter  of  whom 
presided.  The  meeting  was  adjourned  for  a  week,  in  order  to  give  time  for 
making  the  arrangements  preliminary  to  the  formation  of  the  Society;  and 
on  Saturday,  the  28th  of  December,  the  second  meeting  was  held,  consisting 
of  a  large  number  of  citizens  of  Washington,  Georgetown,  and  Alexandria, 
together  with  many  members  of  Congress,  at  which  the  '*  American  Society 
for  Colonizing  the  Free  People  of  Colour  '*  was  duly  organized,  with  Bush- 
rod  Washington  at  its  head.  Mr.  Finley  regarded  this  as  a  triumph,  des- 
tilled  to  mark  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  the  coloured  population  of  our 
eoQBtrj,  that  would  be  recognised  through  all  coming  time. 

On  his  return  home,  he  stopped  in  Philadelphia,  and  was  not  a  little  dis- 
tvrbed  at  finding  that  the  coloured  people  of  that  city  had  expressed  strong 
disapprobation  of  the  new  project,  as  involving  some  compromise  of  their 
rights,  or  throwing  a  deeper  shade  over  their  prospects.  He  had  a  confer* 
enoe  with  some  of  the  more  intelligent  of  their  number,  and  succeeded  in 
satisfying  them  that  not  only  was  there  no  evil  intended  in  respect  to  them, 
Imi  that  the  plan  was  designed  and  adapted  to  subserve  their  highest 
iatereats. 

Mr.  Finley  reached  home  about  the  middle  of  January,  1817;  and,,  as 
the  Legislature  of  New  Jersey  was  then  in  session,  he  hastened  to  Trenton, 
the  Capital  of  the  State,  with  a  view  to  attempt  the  formation  of  a  subordi 

Vol.  IV.  17 


ISO  FBK8BTTBBIAH. 

nate  Colonisation  Society  for  the  State  of  New  Jersey.  Though  he  had  to 
encounter  here  not  a  little  of  indifference,  and  somewhat  of  prejudice,  he 
finally  succeeded  in  the  accompUshmeDt  of  his  purpose,  and  a  Society  auxil- 
iary to  that  formed  at  Washington  was  constituted,  and  officers  appointed 
for  the  ensuing  year. 

During  his  stay  at  Washington,  he  preached  several  times,  not  only  there 
but  in  the  neighbouring  cities  of  Georgetown  and  Alexandria,  and  his  ser- 
vices were  uniformly  in  a  high  degree  acceptable.  The  Presbyterian  Church 
in  Washington  gave  him  a  unanimous  call  to  become  their  Pastor,  which, 
however,  he  declined. 

Shortly  after  his  return  from  Washington,  he  received  a  letter  from  the 
Secretary  of  the  Corporation  of  the  University  of  Georgia,  announcing  to 
him  his  appointment  to  the  Presidency  of  that  institution,  and  urging  his 
acceptance  of  it.  This  communication  was  not  altogether  unexpected  to 
him,  as  he  had  been  previously  consulted  in  regard  to  the  subject  of  it,  and 
had  given  so  much  encouragement  that,  on  certain  conditions,  he  would 
accept  the  office,  if  it  were  proffered  to  him,  as  was  thought  to  justify  the 
appointment.  After  some  further  negotiations,  during  the  pendency  of 
which  he  felt  no  small  anxiety  as  to  the  question  of  duty,  he  signified  his 
acceptance  of  the  place,  and  immediately  commenced  preparations  for  the 
removal  of  his  family  to  Georgia. 

Having  now  formed  the  purpose  of  leaving  the  State,  he  resigned  the 
office  of  Trustee  of  Princeton  College,  which  he  had  held  during  the  twelve 
previous  years ;  and  the  Board,  in  accepting  his  resignation,  conferred  upon 
him,  as  an  expression  of  their  high  sense  of  his  intellectual  and  moral 
worth,  as  well  as  his  usefulness  in  connection  with  the  College,  the  degree 
of  Doctor  of  Divinity. 

On  the  21st  of  April,  he  met  the  Presbytery  with  which  he  was  connected, 
for  the  last  time,  and  received  from  them  his  dismission  with  a  view  to  hii 
removal.  The  meeting  was,  both  to  him  and  to  them,  one  of  great  interest ; 
and  the  parting  was  attended  by  the  strongest  demonstrations  of  mutual 
attachment.  The  separation  from  his  flock  was  a  sore  trial  to  him ;  and 
the  strength  of  his  feelings  was  such  as  to  forbid  his  addressing  them  in  a 
formal  Farewell  Discourse.  He,  however,  in  connection  with  his  last  ser- 
vices among  them,  gave  them  much  appropriate  and  affectionate  counsel, 
and,  on  the  Sabbath  immediately  preceding  his  departure,  administered  the 
Lord's  Supper  to  them  for  the  last  time. 

He  embarked  with  his  family  from  New  York  early  in  May,  and  reached 
Savannah  after  a  boisterous  passage  of  nearly  two  weeks.  Then  he  had 
two  hundred  miles  to  travel  by  land,  before  reaching  the  place  of  his  desti- 
nation,— a  journey  which  occupied  him  fifteen  days  longer.  On  his  arrival 
at  Athens,  where  he  was  to  make  his  home,  he  found  in  many  respects  a 
less  encouraging  and  pleasant  state  of  things  than  he  had  expected ;  and 
the  College  he  described  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  as  *'at  the  last  gasp."  He 
seems,  however,  to  have  been  nothing  daunted  by  adverse  oiroumstances, 
but  addressed  himself  with  great  vigour  to  his  various  duties,  in  the  full 
confidence  that  a  course  of  persevering  effort  would  secure  highly  important 
results.  As  there  was  no  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  village  of  Athens, 
or  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood,  he  set  himself  immediately  to  form  one, 
and  this  little  band  enjoyed  his  faithful  ministrations  on  the  Sabbath.  At 
the  Commencement,  which  occurred  on  the  last  Wednesday  of  July,  he 


/ 


ROBERT  FINLWr.  .       ,  {3 J 

presided  witli  uncommon  dignity  and  addreaa/gSfaa  ^j^jjjftmAin^  daj 
delivered  a  Baccalaureate  Discourse,  which  gave  great  and  universal  satis- 
faction, and  confirmed  the  high  hopes  which  had  been  formed  in  respect  to 
his  usefulness  as  President  of  the  College.  The  greater  part  of  the  vaca- 
tion he  spent  on  a  begging  tour  in  aid  of  the  college  funds;  and,  as  his  mind 
and  body  were  both  constantly  on  the  stretch  during  this  time,  and  as  he 
was  ezppsed  to  the  debilitating  influence  of  a  climate  to  which  his  constitu- 
tion was  unaccustomed,  he  now  contracted  the  malady  which  terminated  his 
life.  He  returned  home  in  a  state  of  unusual  languor  and  prostration ;  but 
he  still  attended  to  various  duties,  and  even  met  the  Presbytery  of  Hope- 
well, at  Madison,  in  Morgan  County,  on  the  5th  of  September,  and  was 
received  as  a  member  of  that  body,  and  took  part  in  their  public  religious 
exercises.  But  within  a  few  days  after  this,  his  disease,  which  was  a  fever 
of  a  mixed  type,  so  far  developed  itself  that  he  was  obliged  to  desist  from 
all  labour,  and  give  himself  into  the  physician's  hands.  His  case  became 
more  and  more  alarming,  resisting  and  baffling  all  medical  skill,  till  the  3d 
of  October,  1817,  when  he  was  released  from  the  struggles  of  mortality. 
During  part  of  his  illness,  he  was  sunk  in  a  comatose  state,  which  pre- 
vented all  intercourse  with  him ;  but,  whenever  he  had  the  use  of  his  facul- 
ties, his  mind  seemed  absorbed  in  religious  contemplation,  and  his  spirit 
was  even  panting  for  admission  to  the  House  not  made  with  hands.  His 
death  was  followed  by  every  demonstration  of  respect  to  his  memory,  and 
the  news  of  it  came  back,  like  an  electric  shock,  to  the  numerous  circle  of 
friends  in  his  native  State,  from  whom  he  had  so  recently  been  separated. 

Dr.  Finley  had  nine  children.  His  four  sons  all  graduated  at  the  College 
of  New  Jersey,  and  all  became  ministers  except  the  youngest,  who  was  a 
student  of  Theology,  and  under  the  care  of  Presbytery,  at  the  time  of  his 
death.  Mrs.  Finley  died  while  on  a  visit  to  her  eldest  son,  in  Lebanon.  111., 
September  23,  1844. 

Dr.  Finley's  publications  are  a  Sermon  on  the  Baptism  of  John,  showing 
it  to  be  a  peculiar  dispensation,  and  no  example  for  Christians,  1807 ;  a 
Sermon  at  the  Funeral  of  the  Rev.  William  Boyd,  of  Lamington,  1807 ;  a 
Sermon  on  the  nature  and  design,  the  benefits  and  proper  subjects,  of  Bap- 
tism, 1808;  two  Sermons  in  the  New  Jersey  Preacher,  1813;  Thoughts  on 
Colonization,  1816. 


FROM  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  FISHER,  D.  D. 

GaEZiTBrsH,  N.  T.,  April  18, 1849. 

My  dear  Sir:  Your  request  that  I  should  furnish  you  with  my  recollections  of 
^e  late  Dr.  Robert  Finley  embarrasses  me  only  becauso  advanced  years  have  ren- 
dered my  recollections  less  distinct  and  accurate  than  they  once  were,  and  I  fear 
I  shall  fiiil  to  do  justice  to  the  memory  of  my  departed  friend.  I  will,  however, 
eheerfally  communicate  to  you  what  I  do  remember  concerning  him;  and,  iu 
order  to  aid  my  recollection,  I  have  looked  over  some  sketches  of  his  life  pub- 
lished many  years  ago,  which  are  generally  very  much  in  accordance  with  my 
own  impressions.  I  was  on  quite  intimate  terms  with  Dr.  Finley  for  a  number 
of  years.  "We  were  both  settled  in  New  Jersey  at  a  distance  of  only  five  or  six 
miles  from  each  other,  and  we  often  exchanged  pulpits  during  that  time,  and  met 
frequently  at  other  times  in  occasional  intercourse.  I  always  cherished  for  him 
a  high  respect,  and  1  may  say  a  truly  fraternal  afiection. 


Jlg2  PREBBTTniAK. 

Dr.  Finley's  penonftl  appearance  was  mach  in  hia  fkroiir.  He  had  a  fine, 
large,  well  proportioned  form,  and  a  countenance  not  lacking  indeed  in  an  exprea- 
aton  of  benevolence,  but  chiefly  marked  by  decision  and  energy.  His  manners, 
though  not  unduly  reserved,  were  dignified,  and  his  whole  appearance  might 
perhaps  be  said  to  be  rather  commanding  than  attractive. 

Nor  were  his  appearance  and  manners  any  unfiiithful  index  to  the  character 
of  his  mind  and  heart.  His  perceptions  were  uncommonly  vivid,  and  his  feel- 
ings proportionally  strong.  Whatever  he  did,  he  did  with  his  whole  heart  and 
soul.  Formed  upon  a  scale  of  true  nobleness,  he  could  keep  no  terms  with  anj 
thing  that  had  even  the  appearance  of  disingenuousness  and  duplicity.  He  was 
always  true  to  his  own  convictions,  and  yet  was  never  disposed  dogmatically  to 
trench  on  the  rights  of  others.  In  his  latter  years,  the  virtues  of  meekness 
and  gentleness  became  more  prominent  in  his  character,  while  yet  he  lost  noth- 
ing of  his  unyielding  energy  and  glowing  zeal. 

As  a  preacher,  he  sustained  a  highly  respectable  rank  among  the  better  preach- 
ers of  his  time.  I  cannot  say  that  his  sermons,  as  specimens  of  composition  to 
be  read,  were  of  a  very  high  order;  for  his  object  seemed  to  be  to  bring  out  his 
strong  and  often  striking  thoughts  without  much  regard  to  rhetorical  effect;  but 
there  was  in  his  sermons  a  copiousness  and  pertinence  of  thought,  a  perspicuity 
of  style,  and  an  all-pervading  unction  of  manner,  that  often  gave  them  great 
power  over  an  audience.  His  religious  views  were  fully  in  accordance  with  the 
standards  of  the  Church  to  which  he  belonged;  and  the  doctrines  of  man's  deep 
and  desperate  depravity,  and  of  atonement  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  of 
regeneration  and  sanctification  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  with  other  kindred  doctrines, 
constituted  the  burden  of  his  preaching.  His  prayers,  though  sometimes  of 
extraordinary  length,  were  yet  so  pertinent,  and  earnest  and  deeply  evangelical, 
that  they  rarely,  if  ever,  produced  the  feeling  of  weariness  in  those  whose  devo- 
tions he  conducted. 

He  was  a  champion  for  the  cause  of  revivals  of  religion.  In  the  purity  and 
the  frequency  of  revivals  he  believed  that  the  prosperity  of  the  Church  was,  in 
a  great  measure,  bound  up;  and  he  laboured  in  them  with  all  the  zeal  and  dili- 
gence which  his  high  estimate  of  their  importance  was  fitted  to  awaken.  I  am 
not  aware  that  his  zeal  ever  became  enthusiasm,  in  the  offensive  sense  of  that 
word,  or  that  in  any  measures  he  may  have  adopted  in  connection  with  revivals, 
he  exceeded  the  bounds  of  strict  propriety;  and  yet,  had  he  lived  at  a  later 
period,  when  what  have  been  termed  the  ''new  measures "  became  the  order  of 
the  day,  it  would,  I  have  no  doubt,  have  required  all  the  strength  of  his  judgment 
to  have  kept  his  zeal  within  the  bounds  which  reason  and  Scripture  prescribe. 

In  the  pastoral  relation,  he  evinced  the  utmost  solicitude  for  the  spiritual 
interests  ot  his  flock.  He  made  himself  at  home  in  every  part  of  his  congrega- 
tion, and,  by  his  private  intercourse,  as  well  as  his  familiar  addresses  in  neigh- 
bourhood circles,  did  much  for  their  edification  and  spiritual  growth.  His  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  human  nature  gave  him  great  advantage  in  approaching  his 
people  individually  in  respect  to  their  eternal  interests.  He  knew  how  to  find 
the  right  chord,  and  to  touch  it  at  the  right  time,  and  with  the  best  effect.  His 
conversation,  even  when  it  was  not  upon  religious  subjects,  was  always  of  useful 
tendency.  His  large  store  of  knowledge,  and  his  ready  command  of  thought 
and  expression,  rendered  him  on  all  occasions  a  highly  interesting  companion. 

He  was  a  man  of  enlarged  public  spirit.  The  neighbourhood  in  which  he  lived 
felt  his  good  influence,  even  in  respect  to  its  agricultural  interests.  The  ecclesi- 
astical judicatories  with  which  he  was  connected,  always  found  in  him  a  judi- 
cious, active  and  highly  influential  member.  The  various  benevolent  institu- 
tions of  the  day  owed  much  to  his  wise  counsel  and  his  efficient  support.  The 
welfare  of  the  poor  negroes  particularly  roused  every  energy  and  every  sympa- 
thy of  his  soul.    I  well  remember  how  earnestly  and  effectively  he  pressed  the 


BOBXRT  riHLBY. 


138 


Mlfeet  of  OolODintioii  npon  the  Synod  with  which  w«  were  oonnecied,  while 
the  Colonitttion  Society  existed  in  no  other  form  than  as  a  project  in  his  own 
beneTolent  mind.  His  labours  in  that  cause  exhibited  an  almost  martyr4ike 
leal;  and  in  connection  with  it,  probably  his  character  is  most  gratefully 
embalmed,  and  his  name  will  be  longest  remembered. 

I  am  yours  in  the  bonds  of  the  Gospel, 

SAMUEL  FISHEB. 


-♦♦- 


EBENEZER  DICKEY,  D.  D  * 

17W— 1831. 

Sbsnszsr  Diokst  was  born  Alarch  12,  1772,  near  Oxford,  Chester 
Coanty,  Pa.  His  paternal  ancestors  migrated  to  this  oountry  from  the 
North  of  Ireland,  and,  on  their  arrival  here,  attached  themselves  to  the 
Associate  Presbyterian  Church.  His  mother,  whose  name  was  Jackson, 
was  descended  from  English  Puritans,  who  settled  first  in  Maryland,  and 
remained  there  until  the  supremacy  of  the  Episcopal  Church  was  established 
by  law.  Her  brother,  Paul  Jackson,  is  spoken  of  in  Watson's  Annals  of 
Philadelphia,  as  a  graduate  of  the  first  class  in  the  University  of  Pennsyl* 
Tania.  The  subject  of  this  sketch  was  called  Ebenezer,  from  a  grateful 
recognition  of  the  merciful  providence  of  God;  and  it  was  the  earnest 
prayer  of  his  mother,  from  his  birth,  that  he  might  become  a  faithful  min- 
ister of  the  Gospel. 

His  studies  preparatory  to  entering  College  he  pursued  in  a  log  school- 
hoiise,  several  miles  from  his  father's,  to  which  he  was  accustomed  to  walk 
everyday  ;  but  he  there  enjoyed  the  instruction  of  a  very  eminent  teacher, — 
a  Mr.  Wilson, — ^grandfather  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ramsey,  now  (1848)  a  mis* 
sionary  of  the  Presbyterian  Board  among  the  Chocktaw  Indians.  After 
going  through  his  preparatory  course,  he  became  a  member  of  the  Univcr- 
sity  of  Pennsylvania,  then  under  the  Presidency  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ewing; 
and,  having  held  a  high  rank  as  a  scholar,  he  graduated  with  great  credit  in 
the  year  1792.  His  theological  education  was  conducted  by  the  Rev.  John 
Smith,  who  had  been  sent  out  from  Scotland  as  a  missionary,  and,  after  act- 
ing for  a  time  with  the  Associate  Reformed  Body,  went  back  to  the  part  of 
the  Associate  Church  which  had  not  come  in  at  the  union.  After  his  licen- 
sure by  the  First  Associate  Reformed  Presbytery  of  Pennsylvania,  in  1794, 
he  spent  some  time,  preaching  in  different  places  on  the  Hudson  River,  and 
was  finally  settled  over  the  United  Congregations  of  Oxford  and  Octorora, 
Pa.,  in  1796.  His  connection  with  the  Congregation  of  Octorora  continued 
until  1800,  and  with  that  of  Oxford,  until  his  death,  which  occurred  on  the 
Slst  of  May,  1831. 

In  the  year  1822,  when  the  union  was  ratified  between  part  of  the  Asso- 
ciate Reformed  Synod  and  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Chnrch,  the  Pastor  and  Congregation  of  Oxford  were  brought  under  the 
care  of  the  General  Assembly. 

Towards  the  dose  of  the  year  1819,  he  crossed  the  ocean,  and  travelled 
■omewhat  extensively  in  Europe,  during  the  greater  part  of  the  next  year, 

*  MS.  from  his  too,  Rev.  Br.  J.  M.  Diekej,  and  Rev.  Br.  MeJimiej. 


}34  RBssBTnouAJr. 


for. the  benafit  of  his  health.    His  laqvintiTe  and  well  fkntished 

revelled  ia  the  new  and  vast  field  of  obeervation  that  now  opened  npon  him. 
He  returned  home  in  the  autumn  of  1820. 

In  1823,  be  was  bonoured  by  the  College  of  New  Jersey  with  the  degree 
of  Doctor  of  Divinity. 

The  last  few  months  of  Dr.  Dit;key*s  life  were  months  of  great  suffering. 
His  disease,  which  was  an  affection  of  the  stomach,  though  it  subjected  him 
to  severe  pain,  never  deprived  him  of  his  composure,  self-possession,  and 
cheerful  confidence  in  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  his  Heavenly  Father.  He 
manifested  the  deepest  concern  for  the  state  of  the  Church,  and  would  fain 
have  desired  to  see  her  walking  in  a  brighter  light,  previous  to  his  depar- 
ture ;  but  he  bowed  submissively  to  God's  sovereign  will,  and,  without  a 
murmuring  word  or  look,  committed  to  Him  not  only  his  own  int-erests,  but 
the  more  extended  interests  of  his  Redeemer's  cause.  His  death  was  worthy 
ef  his  life, — ^full  of  Christian  hope  and  peace. 

Dr.  Dickey's  whole  course  was  marked  by  eminent  disinterestedness.  In 
the  early  part  of  his  ministry,  he  was  called  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  an 
important  and  wealthy  congregation  in  the  State  of  New  York,  but  he  pre- 
ferred the  more  retired  and  humble  place  in  which  he  actually  spent  his  life. 
It  was  the  Church  in  which  his  father  and  grandfather  had  served  as  elders ; 
and  in  this  endearing  association,  in  connection  with  other  circumstances,  he 
found  a  motive  strong  enough  to  detain  him  there  to  the  end  of  his  days. 
One  of  his  sons  has  entered  into  his  labours,  and  has,  for  fifteen  years,  been 
auccessfully  occupying  the  same  field  which  the  death  of  the  father  vacated. 
He  has  two  sons  in  the  ministry,  and  one  daughter  married  to  a  clergyman ; 
and  his  widow  is  still  (1848)  living. 

Dr.  Dickey's  printed  works  are  a  "  Tract  to  Parents,"  published  by  the 
American  Tract  Society  ;  an  Essay  in  pamphlet  form  entitled  **  A  Plea  for 
Christian  Communion ;  "  and  a  series  of  Letters  published  in  Dr.  Green's 
Christian  Advocate  entitled  '*  Travels  in  Europe  for  health  by  an  American 
Clergyman  of  the  Synod  of  Philadelphia."  These  Letters  were  read  very 
extensively  and  with  great  interest,  and  would  have  been  published  in  a 
Tolume,  if  the  author's  consent  could  have  been  obtained. 

FROM  THE  REV.  GEORGE  JUNKIN,  D.  D. 

PBBSIDBNT  or  LArATBTTB   OOLLXOB. 

Easton,  Pa.,  February  28,  1848. 

Dear  Brother:  Yours  of  the  22d  inst.,  asking  for  my  impressions  of  my  friend, 
the  late  Dr.  Dickey  of  Oxford,  has  been  duly  received,  and,  in  reply  to  it,  1  shall 
endeavour  to  guard  the  avenues  of  friendship,  lest  truth  should  foil  before  affec- 
tion. Allow  me  to  speak  very  briefly  of  him  as  a  Man,  a  Christian,  a  Preacher, 
and  a  Public  Benefactor. 

As  a  Man,  Dr.  Dickey  was  the  very  personification  of  amiability.  A  flow  of 
good  sense,  vivacity,  and  something  bordering  on  wit,  made  him  a  most  agreea- 
ble companion.  His  conversation,  even  when  he  was  broken  in  health,  was  lively 
and  instructive,  by  reason  of  his  very  general  information.  Few  subjects  turned 
up  in  the  ever  varying  intercourse  of  society,  upon  which  the  company  did  not 
derive  information  as  well  as  pleasure  from  his  share  of  the  conversation.  Every 
person  could  see  that  he  thought  for  himself  without  supposing  that  he  monopo- 
lized the  privilege.     But  conceding  the  same  right  to  all  others,  he  never 


EBSK£2SB  mOKET.  \^ 

Attempted  to  force  kis  opinions  upon  his  friends,  except  as  ressOB  constituted 
force. 

But  the  leading  moral  characteristic  of  the  man  was  sincerity — ^ho  was  a 
true  man.  Apart  from  what  grace  had  made  him,  there  was  a  deep  sinceritj 
woven  into  the  very  texture  of  his  mind.  Paul  before  his  conversion  lived  in  all 
good  conscience  before  God.  He  was  sincere  and  honest,  though  in  error — ^so 
our  brother  was  a  true  man;  and  when  his  mind  was  enlightened,  and  his  heart 
sanctified,  he  became  one  of  the  brightest  examples  of  uncorruptness; — '*  an 
Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  was  no  guile." 

As  a  Christian,  humility  was  perhaps  the  strongest  point  of  his  character. 
There  was  in  his  whole  manner  an  inimitable  and  unaffected  simplicity,  in  respect 
to  which  I  have  often  been  at  a  loss  whether  it  was  to  be  put  more  to  the  credit  of 
nature  or  of  grace.  He  was  truly  humble,  without  appearing  to  know  it.  This, 
combined  with  the  deep  current  of  devotional  feeling,  whose  refreshing  waters 
flowed  directly  from  the  living  Rock,  gave  to  him  a  moral  force,  both  in  private 
circles  and  in  public  bodies,  which  can  never  be  attained  by  mere  learning, 
talents,  and  eloquence.  He  was  an  eminently  prudent  man,  and  therefore  an 
eminently  safe  counsellor;  and  it  is  believed  that  the  counsels  of  few  men  were 
ever  as  seldom  disregarded  as  his.  Whether  they  were  whispered  into  the  ear 
of  private  friendship,  or  spread  before  the  understandings  of  the  deliberative 
bod}',  they  were  very  generally  adopted,  and  rarely  followed  by  regrets. 

As  a  Preacher,  Br.  Dickey  was  clear,  strong,  solemn  and  impressive.  His 
manner  was  not  graceful — he  aimed  at  nothing  like  oratorical  effect.  But  his 
power  of  analysis  being  very  considerable,  he  generally  succeeded  in  exhibiting 
the  truths  of  his  text  or  context  in  such  logical  arrangement,  as  to  secure  the 
attention  and  carry  the  understandings  of  his  hearers  with  him.  He  never  uttered 
sound  without  sense;  and 'he  seems  to  have  understood  the  true  philosophy  of 
mind, — for  he  practised  upon  the  principle  that  the  most  logical  and  philosophical 
arrangement  of  thoughts  is  the  easiest  for  the  hearer  to  comprehend,  as  well  as 
for  the  speaker  to  present.  Accordingly,  Dr.  Dickey's  auditors  were  very  likely 
to  leave  the  church  meditating  upon  the  truths  they  had  brought  away  with 
them — not  the  words,  gestures,  tones,  and  manner,  of  the  preacher,  but  the 
thoughts,  occupied  their  minds  ;  and  they  found  it  easier  to  remember  his  dis- 
courses than  those  of  almost  any  other  man.  It  were  well  if  our  young  minis- 
ters would  seriously  consider  this.  What  may  be  called  the  essay  style  of  ser- 
monizing may  entertain  and  amuse;  but  philosophical  analysis  and  logical 
arrangement  will  edify  and  permanently  benefit. 

Dr.  Dickey  always  made  himself  felt  in  the  Councils  of  the  Church.  As  a 
Director  of  the  Theological  Seminary  under  the  care  of  Dr.  J.  M.  Mason  of  New 
York,  he  exerted  great  influence,  and  commanded  universal  respect.  Between 
him  and  Dr.  ^lason  there  existed  a  most  tender  and  confidential  fricnd.ship. 
Long  did  they  labour  together  in  building  up  the  Associate  Reformed  Church; 
and  afterwards  they  as  cheerfully  co-operated  in  bringing  about  a  union  of  a 
portion  of  that  church  with  the  General  Presbyterian  Body.  Hero  too,  Dr. 
Dickey  exercised  aij  almost  unbounded  influence.  No  man  in  the  Newcastle 
Presbytery  was  looked  up  to  with  feelings  of  deeper  affection,  or  more  cordial 
confidence.  So  also  in  the  large  Synod  of  Philadelphia  his  prudence  and  sound- 
ness of  judgment,  as  well  as  his  guileless  character,  soon  secured  to  him  a  high 
place  in  the  respect  and  good  will  of  his  brethren.  A  similar  position  he  held  in 
the  General  Assembly;  but  just  as  his  influence  was  beginning  to  be  extensively 
felt  there,  disease  arrested  him  in  his  course,  and  at'no  distant  period  both  his 
usefulness  and  his  life  were  at  an  end. 

Upon  the  general  benevolent  enterprises  his  mind  was  much  set,  and  his  tongue 
and  his  pen  were  ready  to  help  forward  every  good  cause.  In  the  use  of  the  pen, 
he  confined  himself  chiefly,  in  his  earlier  days,  to  preparations  for  the  pulpit,  and 


;|36  PBBSBTTEEIAK. 

at  ft  UCer  period  to  AigitiTO  essays  for  periodicals.  Perhaps  I  shoald  except  his 
Letters  in  the  Christian  Adyocate,  edited  by  Dr.  Green,  (toIs.  3d,  4th,  5th,) 
entitled  *'  Trayels  in  Europe  for  health  in  1820."  These  Letters  excited  very 
considerable  interest,  when  published,  and  I  have  often  wondered  why  the  pub- 
lic did  not  demand  them  in  a  separate  volume.  Certainly  there  are  few  trayd- 
lers  better  worth  being  accompanied;  few  observers  who  have  given  forth  more 
interesting  and  instructive  matter.  Indeed,  letter  writing  was  Dr.  Dickey's 
forte,  as  to  the  pen.  In  this  department  of  literature,  I  might  almost  say  that 
he  was  unrivalled. 

Very  respectfully  yours  in  the  Lord, 

GEORGE  JUNKIN. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  KNOX,  D.  D. 

New  York,  March  11,  1848. 

Dear  Brother :  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  know  that  in  the  work  which  you  have 
under  preparation,  the  name  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Ebenezer  Dickey  is  to  have  a 
place.  It  is  a  name  worthy  to  be  associated  with  the  names  of  the  best  men  who 
have  adorned  the  American  Pulpit. 

Doctor  Dickey  was  eminent  alike  in  intellectual  endowments  and  moral  worth. 
He  possessed  a  clear,  comprehensive  and  well  disciplined  mind,  capable  in  a  high 
degree  of  sustained,  vigorous  and  successful  effort.  His  judgment  was  sound, 
his  piety  fervent  and  consistent,  and  his  life  was  without  reproach.  Of  childlike 
simplicity  of  character, — amiable,  cheerful,  social,  and  affectionate,  enjoying  the 
confidence  of  all,  he  was  a  man  eminently  beloved. 

In  his  theological  views  he  was  conscientiously  and  decidedly  a  Calvinist;  but 
he  was  no  bigot.  Taught  and  disciplined  in  the  School  of  Christ,  the  affections 
of  his  warm,  kind  and  sanctified  heart  flowed  out  freely  to  all  who  loved  his 
Lord.  His  preaching  was  with  peculiar  unction — often  tender  and  touching, — 
always  clear,  rich,  evangelical  and  impressive  in  thought;  and,  although  his 
utterance  was  laboured  and  slow,  his  manifest  sincerity  and  earnestness  ren- 
dered his  manner  by  no  means  unattractive,  especially  to  the  intelligent  and  sober- 
minded. 

As  a  member  of  the  various  Church  Courts  he  was  admirable,  and  uniformly 
exerted  great  influence.  Thoroughly  drilled  in  the  rules  of  procedure;  firm  in 
his  adherence  to  what  he  believed  to  be  evangelical  truth  and  order;  and  at  the 
same  time,  kind  in  spirit,  modest  and  unassuming  in  manner,  and  always  honest 
and  disinterested,  the  most  gifted  of  his  compeers  yielded  to  him  a  cheerful 
deference. 

He  was,  as  the  natural  result  of  his  peculiar  qualities,  a  prominent  actor  in  the 
affairs  of  his  Church, — a  frequent  and  leading  member  of  her  delegated  Courts, 
and  in  the  adjustment  of  affairs  of  difficulty  and  delicacy,  his  counsel  and  influ- 
ence were  frequently  invoked. 

Such,  in  few  words,  was  the  character  of  this  revered  father,  as  impressed  upon 
my  mind  and  heart  in  the  days  of  my  youth.  My  recollections  of  him  are  all 
respectful,  affectionate  and  pleasant. 

Wishing  you  the  Divine  assistance  and  guidance  in  presenting  to  our  imitation 
the  examples  of  those  who  through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the  promises, 

I  am,  dear  brother,  affectionately  and  truly 

Yours  in  the  bonds  of  the  Gospel, 

JOHN  KNOX 


JAHBS  GILLILiOn).  187 


JAMES  GILLILAND  * 

1794_1845. 

Jamks  Gilliland,  »  son  of  AlexaDder  and  Frances  Oilliland,  was  born 
ia  Lineoln  Goanty,  N.  0.»  October  28,  1769.  His  grandparents  emigrated 
from  Ireland.  His  father  was  a  farmer,  and  James,  daring  his  boyhoodi 
was  occupied  with  his  father  in  assisting  to  support  the  family. 

He  was  fitted  for  College  under  the  Rev.  William  0.  Davis  of  South 
Carolina.  In  due  time,  he  became  a  member  of  Dickinson  College,  Carlisle, 
where  he  was  graduated  in  1792.  He  then  returned  to  Carolina,  and  prose* 
euted  bia  theological  studies,  partly  at  least  under  the  direction  of  the  same 
clergyman  by  whom  he  had  been  fitted  for  College.  He  was  licensed  to 
preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina  on  the  26th  of  September, 
1794 ;  and  was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  the  Broadaway  Congregation, 
in  the  summer  of  1796. 

During  his  residence  at  Carlisle,  Mr.  Gilliland's  views  of  the  subject  of 
slavery  seem  to  have  undergone  an  important  change ;  and  it  would  appear 
from  the  Records  of  both  Presbytery  and  Synod,  that  his  zeal  in  the  cause 
of  emancipation  subjected  him  to  some  degree  of  embarrassment.  The  Rev. 
Dr.  Howe,  Professor  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Columbia,  S.  C,  has 
kindly  furnished  me  the  following  statement  as  the  result  of  his  exami- 
nation of  the  Presby terial  Records : — 

"At  his  ordination  and  installation  over  Broadaway  Church,  in  1796,  a 
remonstrance  signed  by  eleven  or  twelve  persons  against  his  ordination,  is 
mentioned.  Mr.  Gilliland  denied  that  he  had  preached  against  the  govern- 
ment, but  acknowledged  that  he  had  preached  about  slavery  before  he  was 
called  by  the  Church  and  since.  The  next  day  he  said  that  he  thought  the 
voice  of  God,  through  the  counsel  of  the  Presbytery,  advised  him  to  desist 
from  preaching  upon  that  topic,  and  that  he  would  not  do  so  without  pre- 
viously consulting  the  Presbytery.  The  difference  between  him  and  the 
remonstrants  was  thus  made  up,  and  he  was  ordained.  He  afterwards  con- 
sulted Presbytery  on  the  subject.  They  advised  that  he  should  still  desist 
until  he  should  have  an  opportunity  to  obtain  the  judgment  of  the  Synod." 

The  following  minute  appears  in  the  Records  of  Synod,  at  their  meeting 
in  November  of  the  same  year : — 

'*  A  memorial  was  brought  forward  and  laid  before  Synod,  by  the  Rev. 
James  Gilliland,  stating  his  conscientious  difficulties  in  receiving  the  advice 
of  the  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina,  which  has  enjoined  upon  him  to  be  silent 
in  the  pulpit  on  the  subject  of  the  emancipation  of  the  Africans ;  which 
injunction  Mr.  Gilliland  declares  to  be,  in  his  apprehension,  contrary  to  the 
counsel  of  God.  Whereupon,  Synod,  after  deliberation  upon  the  matter,  do 
concur  with  the  Presbytery  in  advising  Mr.  Gilliland  to  content  himself  with 
using  his  utmost  endeavours  in  private  to  open  the  way  for  emancipation,  so 
fts  to  secure  our  happiness  as  a  people,  preserve  the  peace  of  the  Church, 
and  render  them  capable  of  enjoying  the  blessings  of  liberty.  Synod  is  of 
the  opinion,  to  preach  publicly  against  slavery,  in  present  circumstances, 

•  Footo'i  8k€t0hcf  of  N.  C— M8S.  ft«m  Uf  son^  Bcr.  A.  B.  GiUUaad^  snd  B«v.  M.  B.  Fol- 

t4Mi. 

Vol.  IV.  18 


}8g  FBWBYTBBIAy. 

wad  to  l»j  down  as  the  daty  of  every  one  to  liberate  those  who  are  under 
their  oare,  is  that  which  would  lead  to  disorder,  and  open  the  way  to  great 
confusion.'' 

Mr.  Oilliland  retained  his  connection  with  the  Broadaway  Congregation  a 
little  less  than  eight  years.  Both  his  character  and  ministrations  were 
highly  appreciated,  and  even  those  who  dissented  most  earnestly  from  his 
views  of  duty  in  regard  to  slavery,  were  not  slow  to  award  to  him  the  credit 
of  acting  from  deliberate  aod  conscientious  conviction.  It  is  nnderstood, 
however,  that  this  difference  ultimately  led  him  to  seek  a  residence  in 
another  State.  He  was  dismissed  from  Broadaway  Congregation  on  the 
4th  of  April,  1804,  and  had  leave  to  travel  beyond  the  bounds  of  the  Pres- 
bytery, beiug  furnished,  at  the  same  time,  with  the  requisite  credentials.  On 
the  Sd  of  April,  1805,  he  was  dismissed  to  join  the  Presbytery  of  Wash- 
ington, in  Kentucky,  and  about  the  same  time  settled  in  Red  Oak,  Brown 
County,  Ohio,  where  he  remained  till  the  close  of  his  life. 

Mr.  Gilliland  had  naturally  a  vigorous  constitution,  but  it  was  very  much 
broken  by  a  severe  attack  of  typhoid  fever  in  the  year  1818 ;  and,  though 
he  continued  to  preach  till  within  a  year  of  his  death,  he  suffered  not  a  little 
from  bodily  infirmity.  The  disease  which  terminated  his  life  was  ossifica- 
tion of  the  heart.  It  was  long  and  painful,  but  borne  with  great  patience. 
He  died  on  the  Ist  of  February,  1845,  in  the  seventy-sixth  year  of  his  age. 
Two  Sermons  were  preached  with  reference  to  his  death — one  by  the  Rev. 
J.  Rankin,  the  other  by  the  Rev.  L.  Gilmer. 

Mr.  GilHland  was  married  to  Frances  Baird, — it  is  believed  in  the  year 
1793.  She  died  on  the  23d  of  August,  1837.  They  had  thirteen  children, 
three  of  whom  received  a  collegiate  education.  One  of  them  is  a  Presby- 
terian clergyman — two  are  lawyers. 

Mr.  Oilliland  published  a  Dialogue  on  Temperance,  1820;  a  Sermon  on 
Missions,  delivered  before  the  Synod  of  Kentucky ;  and  a  Sermon  delivered 
before  the  Synod  of  Cincinnati  on  the  abuse  of  ardent  spirits. 

FROM  THE  REV.  H.  S.  FTJLLERTON. 

South  Salbx,  O.,  Hay  7,  1856. 
My  dear  Sir:  Father  Gilliland,  concerning  whom  you  ask  for  my  personal 
recollections,  was,  for  about  forty  years,  a  member  of  the  Presbytery  which 
licensed  and  ordained  me,  and  with  which  I  have  been  connected  ever  since.  He 
was,  however,  an  old  man  before  I  knew  him.  Uis  once  erect  and  manly  form 
was  shrivelled  and  bowed  with  disease  and  age;  and  time  had  given  him  the 
hoary  head  which  was  **  a  crown  of  glory,"  because  it  "  was  found  in  the  way 
of  righteousness."  If  it  had  been  possible  for  a  stranger  to  look  upon  him  with- 
out observing  his  expansive  brow,  and  his  keen,  sparkling  blue  eye,  ho  might 
have  supposed  that  he  had  before  him  the  image  of  feebleness,  mental  as  well  as 
bodily.  But  these  features  could  not  be  overlooked  at  any  time,  especially  when 
ho  was  speaking.  It  was  then  seen  that  beneath  these  snows  there  was  a  glow- 
ing fire  which  clothed  his  countenance  with  brightness,  and  shed  light  all  around 
him.  There  was  a  singular  transparency  in  his  mind.  On  one  occasion,  during 
an  animated  and  earnest  discussion  in  our  Synod,  an  eminent  minister  from 
abroad  sat  at  my  side — a  man  well  known  throughout  our  country,  especially 
the  West  and  Southwest.  Father  Gilliland  rose  to  speak.  The  stranger,  not 
knowing  him,  seemed,  for  a  little  while,  listless  and  inattentive;  but  his  eye  was 
soon  fixed  upon  the  speaker  with  an  expression  of  interest  and  wonder;  and,  as 


JAMES  QSLLILAXJ}.  13^ 

soon  as  thA  speach  was  doied,  he  turned  to  me»  and  exclaiiii«d» — "  Sir,  that  old» 
man's  path  was  a  path  of  light." 

At  another  time,  one  of  our  Western  Presbyteries  refused  to  license  a  young 
man,  who  had  just  graduated  at  one  of  our  Theological  Seminaries,  because  they 
considered  him  ultra  on  some  points  of  Christian  morality.  One  of  his  supposed 
errors  was  on  the  subject  of  war.  He  had  embraced  the  notion  that  war, 
whether  offensiye  or  defensive,  is,  in  all  cases,  sinful.  A  distinguished  clergyman 
who  was  a  Professor  in  the  Seminary  where  the  young  man  had  graduated,  and 
was  also  a  member  of  the  Presbytery  that  had  refused  to  license  him,  felt 
aggrieved  at  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  treated.  At  his  request,  the 
young  man  appeared  before  the  Ghilicothe  Presbytery,  as  a  candidate.  Father 
Gilliland  proposed  to  him  a  series  of  questions,  which  .led  him  on  step  by  step, 
with  irresistible  force,  imtU  he  fully  and  frankly  confessed  that  he  had  been  in 
error.    He  soon  became  a  very  devoted  and  useful  minister. 

Father  Gilliland  was  a  very  humble  and  modest  man.  He  shrank  from  every 
thing  like  ostentation  or  display.  Plainness,  extreme  plainness  characterized 
his  dress,  his  style  of  living,  and  his  style  of  speaking; — every  thing  he  said, 
and  every  thing  he  did.  In  preaching,  more  perhaps  than  any  man  I  ever  knew, 
he  hid  himself  behind  his  subject,  especially  when  that  subject  was  the  cross. 
Self,  nothing — Christ,  all  in  all,  seemed  to  be  his  motto.  His  great  modesty 
never  forsook  him  to  the  last.  On  visiting  his  grave  some  years  after  his  burial, 
I  was  grieved  to  find  that  the  only  memorial  on  the  plain  head-stone  that 

marked  the  spot  was  this, — **  James  Gilliland,  Bom ,  Died ." 

Wlien  I  remonstrated  with  his  friends  about  the  meagemess  of  the  inscription, 
they  assured  me  that  all  had  been  done  in  accordance  with  his  expressed  wishes. 
Bat  while  he  was  modest,  he  was  not  mean;  and  while  diffident,  he  was  far 
from  being  timid.  He  was  distrustful  of  himself;  but  not  of  the  cause  he 
espoused,  or  the  doctrine  he  preached.  He  never  embraced  doctrines  until  he 
was  well  convinced  that  they  were  true,  or  appeared  as  the  advocate  of  a  cause 
until  he  felt  confident  that  it  was  right.  And  then  he  seemed  to  say, — ^'  What 
I  have  written,  I  have  written."  He  appeared  never  to  ask  the  question, — 
"Are  my  sentiments  popular?"  but  simply,  **Are  they  true?" — and  when 
this  question  was  answered  in  the  affirmative,  nothing  could  induce  him  to 
shrink  from  their  avowal  on  all  proper  occasions.  There  were  some  memorable 
instances  in  the  course  of  his  ministry  of  his  exhibiting  an  almost  martyr-like 
spirit,  in  adhering  to  his  honest  convictions. 

Father  Gilliland  was  of  a  social,  cheerful  disposition.  Although  never  forget* 
ful  of  his  dignity  as  a  Christian  minister,  there  was  a  vein  of  good  humour  and 
pleasantry  in  his  conversation  which  made  him  a  highly  attractive  companion. 
Neither  the  infirmities  of  old  age,  nor  the  depressing  effects  of  disease,  destroyed 
his  vivacity  when  among  his  friends,  or  his  animation  when  in  the  pulpit.  His 
conversation  was  always  edifying  and  instructive — his  sermons  eminently  so. 
Although  not  written,  they  were  carefully  thought  out,  and  well  arranged. 
They  were  clear,  practical,  experimental,  instructive,  and  often  strikingly  origi- 
nal; and  the  impression  they  made  was  not  a  little  deepened  by  the  solemnity 
of  the  speaker's  manner,  and  by  a  voice  clear  and  strong  even  in  old  age.  I 
never  heard  Dr.  Alexander  speak  in  public  but  once;  and  that  was  in  1842, 
when  he  was  quite  an  old  man.  His  voice  reminded  me  at  once  of  Father  Gil- 
liland's,  though  I  thought  it  had  less  volume  and  more  treble  in  it.  Father  G.'s 
gestures  were  few,  but  they  were  always  natural  and  simple.  You  will  observe 
that  I  speak  of  him  as  he  was  in  his  later  years — of  his  manner  when  he  was  a 
young  man  I  have  no  knowledge. 

But  I  must  not  omit  to  say  that  that  which  imparted  the  richest  lustre  to  all 
his  powers  was  his  sincere,  heartfelt  godliness.  He  was  an  eminently  devout 
and  exx>erimental  Christian.    A  short  time  before  his  death  he  remarked  to  me, — 


140  PRB8BTTBRIAK. 


f« 


I  hear  one  class  of  men  who  preach  the  doetrinefl  of  the  Oospd  rery  well;  and 
another  who  preach  its  practical  duties  very  well;  but  none  of  as  preach  enoog^li 
on  experimental  religion.*'  The  remark  seemed  to  me  as  just  as  it  was  charac- 
teristic. 

Very  truly  your  friend  and  brother, 

H.  S.  FULLERTON. 


-♦♦■ 


SETH  WILLISTON,  D.  D  * 

1794—1851. 

SsTH  WiLLiSTON  was  the  third  child  of  Consider  and  Bhoda  (King) 
Williston,  and  was  bom  at  Suffield,  Conn.,  April  4,  1770.  His  father 
united  the  two  occupations  of  saddler  and  farmer,  and  bore  in  all  respects 
an  excellent  character.  The  son,  previous  to  commencing  his  prepara- 
tion for  College,  and  to  some  extent  while  he  was  making  it,  assisted  his 
father  both  in  the  shop  and  on  the  farm ;  and  he  was  remarkable  then,  as 
he  was  through  life,  for  a  habit  of  industry.  ][n  July,  1786,  he  com- 
menced the  study  of  Latin  under  the  tuition  of  the  Rev.  R.  S.  Storrs  of 
Longmeadow,  Mass.,  and  he  subsequently  studied  under  William  Gay  and 
Jedediah  Starks  of  Suffield,  and  at  a  still  later  period  under  a  Mr.  Colton 
in  Somers.  In  June,  1787,  he  became  a  member  of  an  Academy  at  Nor^ 
wich,  Yt.,  and  in  September  following  was  admitted  a  Freshman  in  Dart- 
mouth College.  During  his  college  course  he  was  distinguished  for  his 
scholarship,  and  when  he  graduated,  in  179t,  delivered  a  Greek  Oration. 

Shortly  after  his  graduation,  he  took  charge  of  a  school  at  Windsor, 
Conn.,  where  he  remained  till  April,  1792.  The  next  two  years — from  May 
1792  to  May  1794 — he  taught  an  Academy  at  New  London,  where  he  had 
for  a  pupil  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Channing,  who  was  at  that  time  fitting  for 
College.  Here  a  new  impulse  seems  to  have  been  given  to  his  religious 
feelings,  and  a  tone  of  greater  efficiency  and  elevation  to  his  Christian 
character,  which  marked  an  important  epoch  in  the  history  of  his  life. 

In  June,  1794,  he  commenced  the  study  of  Theology  under  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Backus  of  Somers ;  though  much  of  his  reading,  during  the  two  or  three 
preceding  years,  had  been  in  the  direction  of  his  future  profession.  Hav- 
ing remained  with  Dr.  Backus  about  four  months,  he  was  licensed  on  the 
7th  of  October  following,  by  the  Tolland  County  Association,  holding  its 
session  at  Willington,  to  preach  the  Gospel.  He  preached  for  the  first 
time,  at  Willington,  on  the  next  Sabbath. 

During  the  first  nine  months  after  his  licensure,  he  was  occupied  in  sup- 
plying, temporarily,  several  churches  in  Connecticut, — ^namely,  Waterbury, 
New  Fairfield,  Middlebury,  Derby,  and  Litchfield.  In  July,  1795,  he  went 
to  Vermont,  and  divided  his  labours  chiefly  between  the  Churches  of  Dor- 
set and  Rupert,  until  May,  1796, — during  which  period  large  measures  of 
Divine  influence  seemed  to  attend  his  ministry.  He  was  invited  and  urged 
to  settle  at  Rupert,  but  preferred  to  delay  giving  his  answer  until  he  had 

•  Hotobkhis  Western  New  Tork.— MBS.  from  lUv.  Tunothy  WilUtton,  Ber.  Daniel  Wnldo^ 
and  Mr.  Herrey  Chittenden. 


SRCH  WILUSTOK.  ]  41 

nsited  bis  friends  in  Massachusetts  and  Gonneeticut ;  and,  after  ccmsnlting 
with  them,  especially  with  his  venerable  theological  teacher,  Dr.  Backus, 
he,  at  length,  resolved  to  decline  the  call  from  Rupert,  and  visit  the  Che- 
nango country  (as  it  was  then  called)  in  the  State  of  New  York.  After  visit- 
ing New  London,  New  Haven,  and  New  York,  he  went  in  July,  1796,  to 
that  part  of  the  town  of  Union,  N.  Y.,  which  was  known  as  "  Patterson's," 
or  *'  the  Chenango,  Settlement."  He  laboured  there  and  in  the  adjoining 
region,  with  much  success,  till  May,  1797,  when  he  revisited  Suffield.  On 
the  7th  of  June  following,  he  was  ordained  as  an  evangelist,  at  Northing- 
ton,  Conn.,  at  a  meeting  of  the  North  Association  of  Hartford  County. 

Very  soon  after  his  ordination,  he  returned  to  Union,  and  laboured  in 
that  region,  and  on  the  Military  Tract,  as  a  missionary  of  the  Connecticut 
Society,  travelling  extensively,  suffering  great  hardships  and  deprivations, 
scattering  the  seed  of  the  word  wherever  he  had  opportunity,  and  laying 
the  foundation  of  many  churches  which  have  since  attained  to  a  good  degree 
of  strength  and  efficiency.  Among  these  was  the  Church  in  Lisle,  (for- 
merly included  in  Union,)  which  he  organized  on  the  15th  of  December, 
1797, — then  composed  of  sixteen  members.  About  two  years  after,  he 
was  called  to  become  their  stated  minister.  He  declined  the  invitation  at 
first,  bat  accepted  it  about  a  year  afterwards,  though,  owing  to  various 
hindrances,  his  installation  did  not  take  place  till  the  19th  of  October, 
1803,  on  which  occasion  the  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Joel  Cha- 
pin.* 

Mr.  Williston's  labours  in  this  new  country  were  prosecuted  with  the 
most  untiring  zeal,  and  were  attended  by  many  tokens  of  the  Divine  favour. 
Not  only  his  own  immediate  charge,  but  the  whole  surrounding  region,  was, 
to  a  great  extent,  under  his  supervision  ;  and  the  monuments  of  his  cease- 
less vigilance  and  fidelity  were  multiplied  in  every  direction  through  an 
extensive  territory.  There  is  here  and  there  a  survivor  to  witness  how 
faithfully  he  served  his  Master,  while  acting  as  a  pioneer  in  that  then 
remote  and  difficult  field. 

On  the  8th  of  May,  1804,  Mr.  WUliston  was  married  to  Mrs.  Sibyl  Dud^ 
ley,  widow  of  Wright  Dudley,  of  Lisle,  and  daughter  of  General  Orringe 
Stoddard,  of  Stockbridge,  Mass.  He  had  one  child, — Timothy,  who  became 
a  Presbyterian  minister,  and  is  now  (1857)  settled  at  Strongsville,  0.  Mrs. 
Williston  died  at  Durham,  N.  Y.,  on  the  4th  of  August,  1849,  aged  eighty- 
three  years. 

After  serving  the  people  of  Lisle,  not  far  from  ten  years,  Mr.  Williston 
resigned  his  charge,  and  on  the  4th  of  July,  1810,  was  installed  Pastor  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Durham,  N.  Y.  Here  he  continued  in  the 
vigorous  and  successful  discharge  of  his  ministerial  duties  for  about  eighteen 
years.  At  the  close  of  that  period,  (December  22,  1828,)  he  received  a 
dismtssion,  at  his  own  urgent  request,  and,  during  the  rest  of  his  life, 
preaebed  in  various  places,  chiefly  in  the  State  of  New  York,  and  in  the 

*  JoKL  Chapih  ma  gndnated  at  Dartmouth  College  in  1791,  at  the  age  of  thirty;  haying 
la  cm-It  life  tenred  aa  a  loldier  in  the  war  of  the  Revolntion.  After  preaching  for  aome  time 
as  a  muriooaij  at  Jericho,  (now  North  Bainbridge,)  N.  Y.,  he  was  installed  as  Pastor  of  the 
Cbareh  hi  that  place,  in  the  Tear  1708.  Ill  health  retarded  his  entranoe  on  the  ministry,  and 
ifcwlea<d  the  time  of  his  actiTe  labonis  in  it.  During  more  than  twenty  of  the  last  yean  of 
his  life,  be  redded  in  PennsylTania,--was  at  first  a  member  of  the  PresV)rtery  of  Snsqnehanna, 
Bttd,  on  the  division  of  that  Presbytevy,  was  set  oft  to  the  Presbytery  of  Montrose,  with  which 
be  eoDtiiised  in  oonneetion  till  the  dose  of  his  life.  He  died  in  the  year  1846.  He  is  said  to 
kaTe  been  a  man  of  fenrent  pietT,  and  eminently  skilled  in  tmuaoting  eedeiiastioal  boainefl^ 
•Bd  In  healing  divisioot  in  the  Cnnreb. 


142  PRESBTTERIAK. 

region  which  eonstitnted  the  field  of  his  earlier  labonrs.  He  devoted  no 
Binall  part  of  his  time,  from  the  period  of  his  settlement  in  Durham, 
till  the  close  of  his  ministry,  to  writing  for  the  press ;  and  not  long  beforo 
his  death,  he  brought  out  a  work  entitled  "  Millennial  Discourses,'*  which, 
in  point  of  execution  as  well  as  spirit,  would  have  been  creditable  to  him  at 
any  period  of  his  life. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Hamilton 
College  in  1838. 

Though  Dr.  Williston  had  felt,  for  some  years,  the  infirmities  of  age,  ho 
was  almost  constantly  active,  in  some  way  or  other,  in  endeavouring  to  pro- 
mote the  Redeemer's  cause.  His  eye  was  open  to  all  ihe  signs  of  the  times, 
and  his  heart  seemed  always  to  beat  in  quicker  pulsations,  at  every  new 
victory  that  was  gained  over  moral  evil.  While  he  was  pursuing  the  great 
object  of  his  life  with  unceasing  interest  and  effort,  he  was  suddenly  arrested 
by  disease,  and,  after  a  short  period  of  severe  bodily  suffering,  finished  his 
earthly  course.  He  had  great  tranquillity  of  mind  amidst  all  his  suffering, 
and  met  the  last  enemy  without  any  signs  of  dismay  or  apprehension.  He 
died  at  Guilford  Centre,  Chenango  County,  N.  Y.,  on  the  2d  of  March,  1851, 
having  nearly  completed  his  eighty-first  year.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was 
preached  by  the  Rev.  J.  P.  Hoyt  of  Coventry, — his  former  pupil,  from 
II.  Samuel  iii.  38.  '*  Enow  ye  not  that  there  is  a  prince  and  a  great  man 
fallen  this  day  in  Israel  V* 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Williston *s  publications  : — 

VOLUMES. 

An  Address  to  Parents,  1799.  Sermons  on  Doctrinal  and  Experimental 
Religion,  1812.  Five  Discourses  on  the  Sabbath,  1813.  A  Vindication  of 
some  of  the  most  essential  doctrines  of  the  Reformation,  1817.  Sermons 
on  the  Mystery  of  the  Incarnation  and  the  Special  Influences  of  the  Spirit, 
1823.  Sermons  adapted  to  Revivals,  1828.  Harmony  of  Divine  truth,  183B. 
Discourses  on  the  Temptations  of  Christ,  1837.  Chrbt's  Kingdom  not  of 
this  world :  Three  Discourses,  1843.  Lectures  on  the  moral  imperfection 
of  Christians,  1846.     Millennial  Discourses,  1848. 

PAMPHLETS. 

The  Agency  of  God  in  raising  up  important  characters,  and  rendering 
them  useful:  A  Sermon  delivered  at  Scipio,  N.  Y.,  in  commemoration  of 
the  death  of  General  Washington,  1800.  A  Sermon  on  Intemperance, 
1808.  A  Discourse  on  Friendship,  delivered  at  Durham  before  the  Friend- 
ship Lodge,  1810.  A  Sermon  illustrating  the  duty  of  Females  to  aid  in 
advancing  the  Kingdom  of  Christ,  1819.  Two  Dbcourses  on  the  member^ 
ship,  obligations,  and  privileges  of  the  seed  of  the  Church, — the  children  of 
the  Covenant,  1820.  A  Fast  Sermon  on  the  National  profanation  of  the 
Sabbath,  1825.  A  Sermon  on  Revivals  of  Religion,  1827.  A  Sermon  on 
the  great  importance  of  a  right  entrance  on  a  Christian  profession,  1833.  The 
Parable  of  the  Sower,  in  two  Sermons,  1834.  Slavery  not  a  scriptural 
ground  of  division  in  efforts  for  the  salvation  of  the  heathen :  A  Tract, 
1844. 

In  addition  to  the  above,  he  published  the  following  tracts  without  his 
name : — Will  all  men  be  saved — Subjection  to  civil  government  a  moral 
obligation — The  fear  of  God  the  most  efficient  principle  of  moral  action — 
Thoughtlessness  on  the  subject  of  Religion  unreasonable — The  Sabbath — 
On  the  importance  of  distingubhing  between  true  and  false  conversions. 


SETH  WILLISTON.  143 

My  acqaaintance  with  Dr.  Williston  did  not  commence  till  within  a  little 
more  than  two  years  before  his  death :  though  his  name  and  character  had  long 
been  familiar  to  m'c,  I  had  never  met  him  until  February,  1849,  when  he 
came  to  my  house,  introduced  himself,  and  passed  two  or  three  days  in  my 
fiimily.  I  was  struck  at  once  with  his  intelligent  countenance,  his  grave 
and  venerable  aspect,  and  his  simple  and  somewhat  puritanic  manner.  As 
I  became  acquainted  with  him,  I  found  that  he  had  a  vigorous  and  well  stored 
mind ;  and  while  he  was  by  no  means  lacking  in  general  information,  was 
UDCouimonly  familiar  with  the  Bible,  and  with  the  History  of  the  Churchy 
and  was  accustomed  to  look  much  at  the  events  of  providence  both  as  the 
fulfilment  of  prophecy,  and  as  the  legitimate  preparation  for  the  universal 
triumph  of  the  Gospel.  He  had  evidently  paid  great  attention  to  metaphy- 
sical theology,  and  his  system  seemed  to  embrace  at  least  some  of  what 
have  generally  been  considered  the  extreme  views  of  the  school  of  Hopkins. 
In  one  of  my  conversations  with  him  I  was  surprised  to  find  him  seeming 
to  take  for  granted  that  many  at  least  who  die  in  infancy  are  lost ;  but  I 
found  him  less  capable  of  sustaining  his  position  than  I  had  expected.  After 
a  somewhat  extended  discussion,  I  remarked  to  him  that  the  subject  was 
unpleasant  to  me,  as  I  had  buried  an  infant  child  a  few  days  before.  * '  That,'* 
said  be,  "may  be  the  very  reason  why  you  ought  to  hear  more  about  it." 
But,  notwithstanding  some  of  hb  views  seemed  to  me  extreme,  I  was  much 
impressed  with  the  spirituality  of  his  conversation,  and  the  high  tone  of 
benevolent  feeling  and  action  which  he  manifested.  I  think  I  have  rarely, 
if  ever,  seen  a  person,  who  seemed  more  scrupulously  to  consult  his  con- 
science in  every  thing,  or  to  have  a  more  single  aim  to  the  glory  of  his 
Master.  He  visited  me  a  second  time,  I  think,  in  the  succeeding  autumn. 
when  he  was  circulating  his  ''Millennial  Discourses,"  which  he  published  and 
sold  for  the  benefit  of  the  missionary  cause.  On  that  occasion,  he  preached 
an  evening  lecture  for  me,  on  the  glorious  prospects  of  the  Church ;  and 
though  he  had  no  notes,  it  was  a  well  digested  and  able  discourse,  and 
delivered  with  very  considerable  animt^ion  and  fervour.  I  saw  him  after- 
wards, for  the  last  time,  at  the  Comn%ncement  at  Dartmouth  College,  in 
August,  1850.  I  believe  that  he  was  the  oldest  graduate  on  the  ground ; 
bat  I  observed  that  he  was  present  at  all  the  exercises,  and  seemed  to  listen 
to  all  with  great  interest.  I  remember  his  telling  me  that  he  had  delivered 
the  annual  oration  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  about  fifty  years 
before.  He  seemed  at  that  time  in  good  health,  but  the  next  news  that 
reached  me  concerning  him  was  that  he  had  entered  into  his  rest. 


FBOM  THE  BEV.  JOHN  FISKE,  D.  D. 

Nsw  Braintrkk,  Mass.,  January  20, 1862. 
My  dear  Sir:  In  attempting  to  comply  with  your  request  that  1  should  furnish 
yon  with  some  recollections  of  my  much  esteemed  class  mate, — the  Rev.  Dr. 
Williston,  I  must  go  back  to  our  college  life;  for  though  I  have  often  met  him 
in  later  years,  yet  my  most  intimate  acquaintance  with  him  was  during  that 
interesting  period,  which  closed  sixty  years  ago  last  August.  TVe  were  always 
on  terms  of  most  friendly  intercourse.  The  impression  which  his  character 
made  upon  my  mind,  during  our  four  years'  intimacy  in  College,  seems,  at  this 
time,  almost  as  vivid  as  when  we  parted. 


144  FSESBTTBRIAK. 

Mr.  WilUston  was  eonaidered  by  myself,  and  I  am  very  oertain,  by  all  his 
associates,  as  possessing  natural  talents  far  above  mediocrity;  and,  being  a  dili- 
gent student,  he  became  what  was  esteemed  at  that  day  in  Dartmouth  College, 
an  excellent  classical  scholar.  He  was  one  among  the  few  first.  lie  excelled 
especially  in  composition  and  elocution. 

In  his  conduct  in  College,  he  uniformly  manifested  a  scrupulous  regard  for  law 
and  order.  He  never,  to  my  knowledge,  performed  an  act,  that  was  an  occasion 
of  regret  to  the  Faculty,  or  that  left  the  semblance  of  a  stain  upon  his  character. 

As  he  possessed  not  only  an  independent  mind,  but  a  sanguine  temperament, 
it  was  not  strange  that  he  should  sometimes  appear  to  claim  superiority  when 
among  equals;  and  to  be  very  tenacious  of  his  own  opinions  and  less  r^ardfui 
of  those  of  others,  when  they  were  not  in  accordance  with  his  own,  than  he 
ought  to  have  been.  What  needed  correction  in  his  natural  character,  probably, 
more  than  any  thing  else,  was  a  spirit  of  excessive  emulation. 

Mr.  WilUston  did  not  make  a  public  profession  of  his  faith  till  after  he  left 
College;  but  he  was  far  from  being  inattentive  to  the  subject  of  religion,  during 
his  college  course.  Not  only  was  he  a  constant  and  reverent  attendant  on  all  his 
duties  in  the  chapel,  morning,  and  evening,  and  on  the  Lord's  day,  but  all  his 
associations  were  with  persons  of  a  serious  character.  He  was  a  regular  attend- 
ant also  at  our  religious  conferences,  and  often  took  an  edifying  part  in  the  devo- 
tional service.     In  his  conversation,  he  evinced  deep  religious  feeling. 

I  feel  authorized  to  say  that  his  not  making  a  profession  of  religion  at  an 
earlier  day,  was  owing  to  his  desire  and  expectation  of  receiving  higher  evidence 
of  his  having  been  born  from  above  than,  to  say  the  least,  is  usually  granted. 
With  this  same  feeling  he  was  tried  in  subsequent  life;  and  I  know  not  but  that 
it  continued  with  him  till  the  close.  It  probably  contributed  to  impart  a  some- 
what sombre  hue  to  his  Christian  experience. 

With  the  knowledge  which  I  had  of  my  beloved  class  mate,  when  I  parted  with 
him  at  the  close  of  our  college  course,  I  was  quite  prepared  to  hear,  in  due  time, 
of  his  being  a  laborious,  earnest  and  successful  minister  of  the  Gospel,  in  the 
wide  field  to  which  he  was  early  called.  Though  I  am  not  acquainted  with  the 
various  localities  at  which  he  has  been  stationed,  from  time  to  time,  yet,  from 
all  that  I  have  known  or  heard  of  him,  my  impression  is,  that  he  justly  deserves 
the  reputation  of  having  been  an  able  and  faithful  servant  of  Christ,  and  that  he 
has  been  instrumental  of  turning  many  to  righteousness,  who  will  be  his  crown 
of  rejoicing  in  the  day  of  the  Lord. 

I  am.  Sir,  yours  most  sincerely. 

And  with  great  respect, 

JOHN  FISKE. 

FROM  THE  REV.  DANIEL  WALDO. 

Gbddeb,  November  4, 1851. 

Dear  Sir:  Dr.  WilUston  being  a  native  of  Suffield,  I  became  acquainted  with 
him  soon  after  I  was  settled  there  in  the  ministry,  and  from  that  time  I  had 
more  or  less  intimacy  with  him  till  the  close  of  his  life.  He  had  not  commenced 
his  ministerial  career  when  I  first  knew  him,  but  I  think  he  did  shortly  after; 
and  I  well  remember  that,  at  an  early  period  in  my  ministry,  he  came  and 
laboured  with  me  some  time,  and  to  very  good  purpose,  during  a  season  of 
unusual  attention  to  religion  among  my  people. 

He  was  a  tall  and  rather  slender  man,  and  had  a  countenance  indicating  great 
thoughtfulness,  and  withal  tinged  with  a  hue  of  sadness.  His  mind  was  natu- 
rally rather  of  a  metaphysical  turn,  and  his  theological  and  religious  associa- 
tions probably  rendered  it  still  more  decidedly  so.  He  had  very  little  imagina- 
tion, while  he  possessed  the  reasoning  fkculty  in  much  more  than  common 


SETH  WILLISTON.  145 

•trai^h.  He  was  bj  no  means  unsocial  in  his  habits,  and  yet,  owing  to  some 
eaase  or  other,  he  was  less  cheerful  in  his  ordinary  intercourse  than  could  have 
been  desired.  He  possessed  naturally  an  amiable  and  benevolent  spirit.  His 
Tiews  were,  I  believe,  Tery  thoroughly  in  accordance  with  the  Ilopkinsian 
school,  in  the  early  part  of  his  ministry;  and  whether  they  were  in  any  degree 
modified,  or  to  what  extent,  at  a  later  period,  I  do  not  know.  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  however,  from  some  circumstances,  that  he  held  his  peculiar  opinions 
somewhat  less  rigidly  towards  the  close  than  in  the  early  part  of  his  life.  He 
used  to  defend  vigorously  the  notion  that  God  was  the  efficient  cause  of  sin 
in  the  same  sense  as  of  holiness;  that  infants  are  not  saved,  &c, — indeed  I 
suppose  him  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  thorough  Hopkinsians  of  his  day. 
fiat  no  one  could  know  him  even  slightly,  without  being  satisfied  that  his  attain- 
ments in  religion  were  much  beyond  the  ordinary  measure.  He  was  among  the 
most  devout  men  I  have  ever  known :  not  a  small  portion  of  each  day  he  spent 
in  private  communion  with  his  God.  He  was  eminently  conscientious — ^particu- 
larly careful  not  to  go  beyond  the  line  in  little  things;  and  sometimes  he  carried 
this  so  far  that  his  conduct  might  almost  be  set  to  the  account  of  a  morbid  sen- 
sitiveness. I  remember,  for  instance,  to  have  known  a  case  in  which  he  had 
dated  a  letter  two  or  three  days  before  the  time  it  was  written;  and  it  weighed 
upon  his  conscience  so  much  that  he  could  have  no  peace  till  the  mistake  was 
corrected.  His  conversation  was  chiefly  upon  religious  subjects,  and  he  was 
evidently  always  uneasy  if  he  was  placed  in  circumstances  where  he  was  obliged, 
ibr  any  considerable  time,  to  talk  about  any  thing  else.  Whenever  he  entered 
a  &mily  as  a  guest,  he  felt  that  he  had  a  duty  to  perform  towards  the  family  in 
ascertaining,  so  far  as  he  could,  the  spiritual  condition  of  the  different  members, 
and  in  administering  pertinent  counsels  and  admonitions.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
he  was  sometimes  led  by  his  notions  of  fidelity  in  this  respect  too  far,  and  that « 
bis  excessive  zeal  really tdefcated  his  own  good  intentions.  His  religious  charac- 
ter, not  less  than  his  natural  temperament,  was  rather  of  the  sombre  cast;  and 
while  be  kept  you  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he  was  an  eminently  devoted 
man,  you  could  not  but  wish  that  his  religious  experience  had  assumed  a  some- 
what more  cheerful  character. 

As  a  preacher.  Dr.  Williston  was  distinguished  in  the  class  to  which  he 
belonged.  His  preaching  was  more  doctrinal  than  is  common  at  this'day;  and 
his  statements  of  doctrine  were  modified  of  course  by  the  Uopkinsian  theory. 
But  he  was  nevertheless,  for  the  most  part,  simple  and  direct  in  his  illustrations 
and  appeals,  and  rarely,  if  ever,  spoke  above  the  comprehension  of  the  common 
mind.  I  think  he  dwelt  more  on  the  terrors  of  the  Law  than  the  glories  of  the 
Gospel.  Many  of  his  sermons  were  written  out,  and  not  a  few  of  them  pub- 
lished; but  a  large  part  of  them  were  either  not  written  at  all,  or  were  delivered 
from  short  notes.  His  manner  of  speaking  in  the  pulpit  was  manly  and  earnest, 
without  any  thing  that  looked  like  an  attempt  to  speak  well.  He  extemporized 
with  great  facility,  and  I  suspect  that  his  extemporaneous  efforts  were  generally 
his  most  effective  ones.  He  was,  however,  a  sensible,  perspicuous  and  useful 
writer,  as  his  published  works  attest. 

Kot  a  small  part  of  his  life  he  spent  as  a  missionary  in  Western  New  York. 
I  subsequently  followed  about  in  his  track,  and  was  struck  with  the  fact  that 
the  traces  of  his  devoted  activity  and  energy  were  to  be  found  everywhere.  The 
last  time  I  saw  him  was  at  Braintree,  Mass.,  shortly  before  his  death.  He  was 
going  round  from  house  to  house,  offering  for  sale  a  book  which  he  had  just  pub- 
lished, having  a  bearing  on  the  conversion  of  the  world.  He  felt  himself  relieved 
from  the  indelicacy  with  which  he  might  otherwise  have  been  chargeable,  from 
the  consideration  that  the  avails  of  his  book  were  sacredly  appropriated  to  the 
cause  of  missions.  His  heart  was  greatly  in  the  missionary  work,  and  no  occa- 
sion was  more  attractive  to  him  than  a  missionary  meeting.     He  was  extensively 

Vol..  IV.  19 


146 


PBESBTTKRIAir. 


known  in  the  Church,  and  the  memory  of  his  earnest  piety  and  f&ithful  labours 
will  long  remain  fragrant. 

I  omitted  to  mention,  in  the  proper  place,  that,  in  the  early  part  of  his  minis- 
try, he  fell  into  great  doubts  on  the  subject  of  Baptism,  and  for  some  little 
time  suspended  the  exercise  of  his  ministerial  functions.  He  was  at  the  time 
greatly  depressed  in  spirit;  but  he  was,  after  a  while,  relieved  of  his  scruples, 
and  his  mind  recovered  its  accustomed  tone. 

Very  truly  yours, 

DANIEL  WALDO. 


■♦♦- 


SAMUEL  RALSTON,  D.  D. 

1794—1851. 

FROM  THE  REV.  A.  T.  McGILL,  D.  D., 

paOFXSSOR  IN  THS  WESTBKN  TSTBOLOGICAI.  SBXIHART.* 

Alleghany  Citt,  December  8,.  1851. 

Dear  Brother :  My  knowledge  of  Dr.  Ralston  began  in  my  boyhood ;  for 
I  was  born  and  educated  in  Washington  County,  Pa.,  where  he  lived  and 
laboured  more  than  half  a  century.  My  fondest  recollections  of  college 
life  are  identified  with  the  image  of  his  noble  and  majestic  person,  bland, 
though  dignified,  demeanour,  and  exceedingly  accurate  and  extensive  classi- 
cal attainments.  For  though  at  no  time  a  teacher  in  Jefferson  College,  he 
was  President  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  from  the  date  of  its  Charter,  1802, 
till  the  beginning  of  the  present  year,  1851 ;  and  remarkably  punctual,  all 
the  while,  in  attending  the  examination  of  the  students. 

A  few  hours  before  his  death,  he  requested  of  his  family  that,  if  any 
man  would  say  any  thing  about  him,  when  he  was  gone,  it  should  be  myself. 
Hence  you  may  be  assured  that  whatever  defects  the  following  brief  account 
may  betray,  it  is  at  least  a  warranted  sketch ;  alike  by  your  own  kind 
request,  and  the  testamentary  word  of  this  departed  father. 

Samuel  Ralston  was  born  in  Ireland,  County  of  Donegal,  in  the  year 
1756.  His  parentage  was  highly  respectable,  and  of  that  good  old  Scottish 
character,  which  made  his  house  a  nursery  of  Gospel  truth,  where  religion 
with  its  Bible  and  Catechisms,  instead  of  politics  with  its  newspapers,  early 
imbued  his  vigorous  mind. 

The  rudiments  of  a  classical  education  he  received  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  his  birthplace ;  and  like  the  Irish  Presbyterian  schools  of  that  day  gene- 
rally, his  must  have  been  thorough  in  its  training,  if  we  may  judge  from 
the  accurate  and  extensive  classical  attainments  for  which  he  was  distin- 
guished. He  completed  his  studies  at  the  University  of  Glasgow.  Some 
years  after  his  entrance  on  the  ministry,  he  migrated  to  America, — arriving 
on  our  shores  in  the  spring  of  1794.  After  itinerating  about  two  years  in 
Eastern  Pennsylvania,  he  went  West,  and  was  called  immediately,  in  the 
year  1796,  to  the  pastoral  care  of  the  united  Congregations  of  Mingo  Creek 
and  Williamsport,  (now  Monongahela  City,)  where  he  remained  during  the 
residue  of  his  life, — Pastor  of  the  latter  branch,  thirty-five  years,  and  of 

•Now  (1857,)  Profefsor  in  the  Theological  Beminary  atPxinoeton. 


SAKUEL  BiXSTOK.  217 

tiie  former,  forty  years.  In  1798,  he  was  married  to  a  lady  in  a  neighbour- 
ing congregation.  Pigeon  Crock,  whose  family  name  was  Ferguson.  They 
had  nine  children, — three  sons  and  six  daughters ; — five  of  whom, — one  son 
and  four  daughters,  are  still  living.  One  of  the  sons  had  just  completed 
his  preparatory  studies  for  the  ministry,  with  bright  promise  of  distin- 
guished usefulness,  when  he  was  removed  by  death.  All  these  children 
gladdened  their  venerable  father  by  a  reasonable  and  hopeful  connection 
with  the  visible  Church.  And  in  his  long  loneliness  after  the  death  of  his 
wife,  whom  he  survived  some  twenty-four  years,  his  children,  and  especially 
one  daughter  who  remained  unmarried,  cherished  his  life  and  health  widi 
more  than  ordinary  filial  faithfulness  and  tender  care. 

In  1822,  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by 
Washington  College,  Pa. 

Although  later  in  coming  to  this  field  of  Western  Pennsylvania  than 
McMillan,  Power,  Hughes,  McCurdy,  and  others,  he  was  contemporary  with 
these  fathers  in  their  best  days ;  and  shared  with  them  the  remarkable  sea- 
son of  revival  which  spread  over  this  country  with  such  wonderful  power 
and  abiding  benefit  and  blessing.  The  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by 
those  distinguished  men,  and  the  extent  to  which  he  was  interested  and 
active  in  that  memorable  work  of  grace,  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that 
he  was  their  chosen  writer  and  champion  in  the  polemics  of  that  time.  At 
their  urgent  request,  he  wrote  **The  Curry-Comb,"  published  in  1805, — a 
little  book,  whose  current  title  suited  the  rather  quaint  and  unpolished 
humour  of  pioneers  in  '*the  back  woods;''  but  the  contents  of  which  might 
well  rank  with  the  **  Characteristics  "  of  Witherspoon  for  keenness  of  satire, 
and  overwhelming  vigour  of  argument  and  animadversion.  His  object  was 
to  answer  objections  to  'Uhe  falling  work,"  as  it  was  often  called  with  a 
sneer. 

This  first  production  of  his  pen,  though  written  in  times  of  religious 
excitement,  and  with  evident  polemical  heat,  fairly  exhibits  the  qualities  of 
his  mind  as  a  thinker  and  writer.  These  were  energy  and  independence  of 
thought,  directness  of  argument,  candour,  comprehensive  power  to  seize  the 
main  point  at  issue,  and  dismiss  a  thousand  irrelevances,  on  which  inferior 
minds  would  dwell  to  prolixity ;  and  withal,  a  magnanimity  of  heart,  and 
even  courtesy  of  expression  at  times,  which  would  do  honour  to  the  best 
writers  in  seats  of  urbane  and  cultivated  literature. 

His  watchtower  was  in  the  woods ;  but  nothing  of  any  importance  in  the 
religious,  literary,  or  political,  world,  escaped  his  keen  observation.  When 
the  speculations  of  Alexander  Campbell  began  to  agitate  the  country.  Dr. 
Balston  published  a  book  on  Baptism,  comprising  a  Review  of  Mr.  Camp- 
beirs  debate  with  Mr.  Walker,  and  Letters  in  reply  to  his  attack  upon  this 
Review.  This  little  work  is  one  of  remarkable  force  and  erudition.  What- 
ever diversity  of  opinion  may  exist  respecting  some  positions  taken  by  the 
author,  all  must  concede  that  in  originality  and  power  the  book  is  one  of 
snrpassing  merit. 

A  similar  remark  may  be  made  respecting  the  next  work  he  published — 
**  A  Brief  Examination  of  the  principal  prophecies  of  Daniel  and  John." 
Here,  at  the  age  of  eighty-six,  when  retired  from  pastoral  life  to  a  quietude 
and  seclusion  from  the  world,  which  would  have  relaxed  to  second  ohQdhood 
many  another  man  of  sixty  years,  we  have  a  display  of  power  to  observe, 
and  generalise,  and  investigate  profoundly,  which  very  few  in  the  vigour  of 


148  PRESBYTERIAN. 

their  prime  ever  attain.  Yolumes  of  useful  information  are  compressed  in  % 
duodecimo  of  some  one  hundred  and  eighty  pages — Faber,  Newton,  Groly, 
Scott,  Keith,  &c.,  dissected  with  a  master's  hand ;  their  merits  indicated,  and 
their  defects  ascertained,  with  a  breyitj  and  fidelity  which  compel  our  admi- 
ration. Indeed  the  student  of  prophecy  can  scarcely  find  a  better  history 
of  criticism  on  this  great  subject  within  any  volume  of  moderate  size.  And 
its  defect  as  a  key  of  interpretation,  is  precisely  such  as  was  inevitable  to  a 
gigantic  mind,  labouring  without  a  library,  and  in  circumstances  every  way 
unpropitious.  Connected  with  this  publication  and  bound  up  in  the  same 
volume,  is  a  pungent  examination  of  a  Mr.  R.'s  book,  entitled  *'  The  seven 
last  plagues  ; ''  in  one  part  of  which  he  deals  in  great  severity  with  all  those 
churches  in  which  Christ  is  sung  expressly  as  having  already  come,  in  the 
person  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  His  strictures  on  Mr.  R.  brought  him  into 
oontroversy  with  Dr.  P.  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Church ;  and  occasioned 
the  next  and  last  publication  from  his  pen — **  A  Defence  of  Evangelical 
Psalmody."  This  effort  was  made  in  the  eighty-eighth  year  of  the  author^ 
life.  The  whole  history  of  modem  polemics  cannot  produce  a  parallel 
instance,  perhaps,  of  such  fresh  activity,  quick  perception,  spirited  reply, 
and  powerful  concentration,  beyond  the  limits  of  fourscore  years. 

It  was  matter  of  regret  with  this  venerable  father,  as  he  once  said  to  me 
with  manifest  emotion,  that  nearly  all  his  writings  were  controversial ;  that 
he  had  been  **  a  man  of  war  from  his  youth."  It  had  been  his  duty.  It 
was  not  his  natural  disposition.  His  temper  was  peculiarly  bland,  genial 
and  courteous.  As  a  remarkable  illustration  of  his  pacific  turn,  as  well  as 
honourable  and  delicate  sensibility,  his  successors  in  the  pastoral  charge 
always  loved  him  more  than  feared  him ;  and  always  found  him  scrupulously  . 
careful  to  hold  up  their  hands,  and  strengthen  them  in  the  respect  and  affec- 
tions of  their  people.  '*  He  loved  peace,"  writes  the  Pastor  of  Mingo 
Greek,  where  Dr.  Ralston  continued  to  reside  and  worship, — **and  the  busi- 
ness of  peace-making  was  his  great  delight.  And  all  his  influence  went  to 
establish  the  pastor  in  the  affections  of  the  people.  There  was  much  that 
was  truly  noble,  and  generous,  and  kind  in  the  elements  of  his  soul.  Ilia 
friendship  was  ardent  and  constant." 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  eminently  didactic  and  distinctive ;  clear,  copious 
and  profound  in  the  exposition  and  defence  of  saving  truth.  And  yet,  like 
every  man  of  truly  gifted  mind,  he  was  full  of  strong  emotion,  which  led 
him  to  earnest  and  solemn  appeals  of  a  practical  kind.  Perhaps  his  man- 
ner of  treating  subjects  had  rather  too  much  of  a  controversial  air.  But 
with  him  there  was  no  bitterness  of  spirit.  What  he  stoutly  claimed  for 
himself,  he  heartily  granted  to  others.  He  was  therefore  truly  catholic  in 
his  feelings,  and  utterly  remote  from  bigotry  and  rancour.  He  loved  with 
broad  and  deep  affections  all  that  differed  from  him ;  just  in  proportion  to 
the  enlightened  zeal  with  which  he  vindicated  the  distinctive  tenets  of  his 
own  profession. 

As  an  ecclesiastic,  he  was  ever  disting^ished  for  punctuality  and  faithful- 
ness in  attending  Church  Courts.  Always  attentive  and  interested  in  the 
business  of  a  judicatory,  he  acquired  such  a  ready  apprehension  of  matters 
usually  transacted  there,  that  even  when  he  ceased  to  hear  the  ordinary 
tones  of  speech  on  the  floor,  he  could  discern  what  many  others  who  had 
ears  to  hear,  failed  to  perceive ;  and  mingle  the  expression  of  his  own  opin- 
ion with  a  pertinence  which  often  excited  the  wonder  of  hu  juniors.  Indeed 


SAMU8L  RAL3T0K.  149 

until  be  was  over  ninety  years  old,  and  his  infirmities  absolutely  hindered 
him  from  travel,  he  was  among  the  most  regular  and  useful  members  of  the 
Presbytery  and  the  Synod.  He  possessed  pre-eminently  that  triple  element 
of  Christian  oourage, — the  spirit  of  power,  and  of  love,  and  of  a  sound 
mind.  Ardent  as  were  his  feelings  constitutionally,  and  ready  as  they  were 
to  bo  aealously  affected  in  every  good  thing,  he  was  exceedingly  discreet, 
and  sober,  and  well  balanced  in  bis  estimation  of  a  popular  rage  or  a  fanati- 
cal excitement. 

Resembling  these  solid  attributes  of  his  understanding,  was  the  type  of 
his  personal  piety.  It  was  remarkably  free  from  irregular  impulse  and  dis- 
tressing variation.  Tender,  and  humble,  and  self-abasing,  it  was  yet  almost 
uniformly  serene  and  cheerful.  Few  men  exhibit  a  more  delicate  and  lively 
appreeiation  of  God's  favour  in  the  smallest  mercies  of  his  providence  or 
grace.  Gratitude,  then, — fiducial  gratitude,  which  will,  under  any  circum- 
stances,  *'  thank  God  and  take  courage,*'  which  so  beautifully  distinguishes 
the  piety  of  David,  and  with  which  he  ever  imbues  even  the  saddest  song — 
**  Because  thou  hast  been  my  help,  therefore  in  the  shadow  of  thy  wings  will 
I  rejoice," — ^was  the  prevailing  characteristic  of  Dr.  Ralsten's  personal 
piety.  Upon  this  beautiful  adornment  of  a  calm  and  thankful  spirit,  he 
wore  the  gem  of  consistency  which  no  man  could  ever  impeach.  Tempta- 
tion to  swerve  was  not  only  repelled  by  the  dignity  of  his  peculiar  charao- 
ier,  but  far  more,  was  vanquished  by  a  conscientiousness  which  a  fitful  and 
variable  experience  of  personal  religion  so  often  lamentably  wants. 

His  powerful  mind,  active,  unclouded  and  strong  till  the  very  last,  grap- 
pled with  *'  the  last  enemy,"  death,  as  it  had  been  wont  to  do  with  sin  and 
error  for  almost  a  century.  He  was  cheerful  and  happy  in  the  prospect — 
girded  and  roused,  yet  tranquil,  and  even  sublime,  in  the  nearest  approach. 
On  the  day  of  his  death,  he  looked  out  once  more  on  the  visible  and 
militant  Chureh  that  he  had  loved  so  much,  and  watched  with  so  great 
solicitude, — ^reading  with  fresh  interest  a  late  number  of  the  Presbyterian. 
Then,  as  the  struggle  came  on,  he  calmly  felt  his  own  pulse,  found  it  sink- 
ing away,  and  exclaimed  without  faltering  or  agitation,  '*  I  am  ready — I  am 
a  sinner  saved  by  grace.  Tell  my  brethren,  tell  the  congregation,  that  I 
die  in  the  faith  I  so  long  preached — I  die  relying  upon  the  meritorious 
righteousness  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  What  a  blessing  to  have  such  a 
rock !  "  He  died  at  his  residence  in  Washington  County,  Pa.,  on  the  25th 
of  September,  1851,  at  the  age  of  ninety-five  years. 

Hoping  that  these  brief  notices  of  one  of  the  most  venerable  men  may 
answer  the  purpose  for  which  you  have  requested  them, 

I  am  truly  and  fraternally  yours, 

ALEXA1»IDBR  T.  MoGILL. 


150  PRESBTTERIAK. 


SAMUEL  GRAHAM  RAMSEY. 

1795—1817. 

FROM  J.  G.  H.  RAMSEY,  M.  D. 

MboklbhbubOi  near  KnozTille,  Tenn.,  Jnlj  4,  1857. 

My  dear  Sir :  When,  heretofore,  I  have  been  requested  to  prepare  a  biogra- 
phical sketch  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  O.  Ramsey,  I  have  asked  to  be  excosed  from 
that  otherwise  gratefol  and  pleasant  duty,  on  the  ground  that  he  was  a  brother 
of  my  father ;  that  my  academic  studies  were  prosecuted  under  his  instruc- 
tion, and  I  was  his  fayourite  pupil,  as  well  as  near  relatiTe-;  and  that,  under 
such  influences,  my  pen  might,  unconsciously  to  myself,  mislead  me  in  the 
delineation  of  his  character.  But  as  my  endeavours  to  enlist  others  in  the 
work  have  proved  unsuccessful,  —all  his  co-presbyters,  with  a  single  excep- 
tion, and  most  of  his  contemporaries,  having  passed  away, — I  have  deter- 
mined to  forego  my  scruples  on  the  ground  of  delicacy,  so  far  as  to  attempt 
a  compliance  with  your  request.  I  cannot  doubt  that  the  name  of  this 
venerable  man  is  worthy  to  be  commemorated  in  your  work,  and  that  your 
Western  readers  particularly  will  be  interested  in  tracing  the  outline  of  a 
life  so  pre-eminently  devoted  to  the  interests  of  learning  and  religion  in  this 
part  of  the  country.  He  is  still  recollected  by  a  considerable  number  of 
our  older  citizens  with  an  affectionate  and  almost  filial  regard.  He  was 
one  of  the  pioneers  in  the  State  of  Tennessee,  and  helped  to  give  form  and 
symmetry  to  its  civilisation,  its  learning,  its  piety,  and  I  may  add  its  Pres- 
byterianism.  Founding  the  church,  the  school  house,  the  Academy,  in  its 
Eastern  section,  his  agency  in  cultivating  and  improving  the  morals,  and 
especially  in  sending  abroad  his  pupils  to  enlighten  and  refine  the  secluded 
settlements  on  the  frontier,  is  still  gratefully  remembered  and  acknowledged. 

The  ancestors  of  Samuel  Graham  Ramsey  were  Scotch  Irish  Presby- 
terians. He  was  a  son  of  Reynolds  and  Naomi  (Alexander)  Ramsey,  and 
was  born  on  the  20th  of  October,  1771,  at  Marsh  Greek,  York  (now  Adams) 
Oounty,  Pa.,  whither  his  parents  had  removed  shortly  after  their  marriage. 
Both  his  parents  were  well  educated,  industrious  and  excellent  persons, 
and  his  father  was  distinguished  for  his  public  spirit  and  patriotism,  and 
was  intimately  connected  with  some  of  the  most  stirring  scenes  of  the 
Revolution.  When  he  was  almost  grown,  he  was,  for  a  short  time,  under 
the  instruction  of  the  Rev.  Alexander  Dobbin,  a  Seceder  clergyman,  who 
resided  in  the  same  county.  He  was  afterwards  a  student  at  Liberty  Hall, 
now  Washington  College,  in  Virginia,  then  under  the  Presidency  of  the 
Rev.  William  Graham,  for  whose  character  he  had  such  admiration  that  he 
adopted  his  name,  Graham^  as  part  of  his  own.  After  completing  his  col- 
legiate course,  he  studied  Theology  under  the  same  distinguished  instructer 
and  eminent  divine,  and  on  the  20th  of  April,  1795,  was  licensed  to  preach 
the  Gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of  Lexington. 

Mr.  Ramsey,  for  a  short  time  after  he  was  licensed,  travelled  in  Virginia, 
and  preached  in  several  different  churches.  He  afterwards  extended  his 
miiisionary  tour  to  the  '*  South  Western  Territory  " — since  the  State  of 
Tennessee.  There  he  met  with  an  elder  brother — Col.  Francis  Alexander 
Ramsey,  who  had  preceded  him  to  the  West  twelve  years,  and  was  then 


SAMUEL  GRAHAM  RAMSEY.  15X 

fettled  at  his  late  residenee,  Swan  Pond,  Knox  County.  He  found  him 
well  established  in  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  the  new,  enterprising  and 
patiiotio  eommnnitj,  with  whose  social,  civil,  and  political  condition  he  had, 
sinee  1783,  fully  identified  himself.  The  two  brothers  went  together  still 
further  into  the  adjoining  frontier  settlements.  A  hearty  welcome  greeted 
their  arrival  at  each  cabin,  and  a  cordial  wish  was  every  where  expressed 
that  the  young  minister  should  remain  in  the  country,  and  organize  churches 
in  the  wilderness.  He  listened  respectfully  to  their  solicitations,  visited 
several  forts  and  stations,  and  preached  to  many  who  had  not,  since  they 
left  &therland,  heard  a  Presbyterian  sermon.  His  was  indeed  the  '*  voice 
of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness."  Thousands  came  out  to  hear  and  wel- 
come the  arrival  of  the  strange  minister.  They  followed  him  from  station 
to  station,  and  heard  him  gladly.  The  vox  papidi  was,  in  this  instance, 
fdainly  the  ixfx  Dei;  and  the  leadings  of  Providence,  and  the  suggestions 
of  eonscience,  united  in  forming  the  stranger's  determination  to  obey  the 
Macedonian  cry, — ''  Come  over  and  help  us.*'  With  this  purpose  he 
returned  to  Virginia.  But  there  a  new  era  in  his -life  began  to  open  upon 
him.  In  his  peregrinations  through  that  State,  he  had  met  with  Mrs.  Eliza 
Allen,  the  widow  of  the  Rev.  Carey  Allen,  who  died  in  Kentucky  in  the 
summer  of  1795.  Mrs.  Allen  was  the  'daughter  of  Col.  William  Flem- 
sing,  M.  D., — a  native  of  Scotland,  and  a  graduate  of  the  University  of 
Edinburgh, — ^a  surgeon  of  the  Virginia  troops,  and  a  commander  of  one  of 
her  regiments  at  Point  Pleasant  (Kanawha)  battle  where  he  was  severely 
woonded.  The  widowed  daughter  returned  in  her  desolation  to  her  father's 
house,  near  the  Big  Lick,  Bottetourt  County,  Va.,  and  was  a  member  of 
his  family,  when  Mr.  Ramsey  first  made  her  acquaintance.  She  was  every 
vay  an  exceedingly  interesting  lady, — ^beautiful,  talented,  well  educated, 
aocastomed  to  the  best  society,  and  from  early  life,  an  exemplary  professor 
of  religion.  With  a  heart  still  saddened  by  the  heaviest  domestic  bereave* 
meats,  she  found  quiet  and  solace  in  the  bosom  of  her  old  home,  and  in  the 
privil^es  and  ordinances  of  God's  house.  Under  these  circumstances,  the 
youDg  minuter  first  saw  his  future  wife.  They  were  married  on  the  24th  of 
February,  1797 ;  and  in  December  of  the  same  year,  they  migrated  to,  and 
settled  at.  Mount  Ebeneser,  by  which  name  they  designated  their  private 
residence,  eleven  miles  West  of  Knoxville, — the  then  seat  of  Government 
of  the  State  of  Tennessee.  Mr.  Ramsey  then  became  the  Pastor  of  the 
Grassy  Valley  Congregation,  preaching,  on  alternate  Sabbaths,  at  Ebenezer 
aad  Pleasant  Fount.  Over  these  Churches  he  exercised  his  ministry, 
being  ordained  and  installed  in  1798.  His  pastoral  labours  were  incessant ; 
and  from  the  large  area  occupied  by  the  people  of  his  charge,  heavy  and 
fatiguing  in  the  extreme.  He  was  overworked  by  preaching  and  visiting, 
and  after  three  years  of  severe  parochial  service,  he  was  attacked  with  a 
violent  pulmonary  hemorrhage,  which  had  well  nigh  terminated  his  life. 
His  brethren  of  the  Presbytery  sympathized  deeply  in  his  affliction,  and  at 
their  fall  session,  in  1800,  adopted  the  following  minute — **  Presbytery 
finding  that  our  brother  Ramsey  is  in  a  delicate  and  weak  state  of  health, 
and  that  preaching  in  his  present  situation  would  be  injurious  to  him.  we  do 
recommend  to  Mr.  Ramsey  to  be  cautious  in  his  exertions,  until  he  feels 
more  fully  recovered.  We  likewise  recommend  to  his  charge  to  continue 
their  attachment  to  him,  in  hopes  of  his  speedy  recovery,  and  we  do  cheer* 


152  PRKSBTTERIAN. 

fully  agree  to  give  as  much  of  oar  labours  to  the  Churches  under  Mr. 
Bamsey's  care  as  will  comport  with  our  other  duties." 

But  tlie  shock  was  too  great  for  his  constitution  to  rally  under  it  at 
once,  and  in  April,  1802,  the  following  minute  appears  in  the  Records  of 
Presbytery — *  *  Mr.  Ramsey  reports  that  he  has  not  been  able  to  preach  any 
the  year  past,  but  that,  whenever  the  state  of  his  health  would  admit,  he 
met  with  the  people  in  society,  and  gave  an  exhortation,  and  prayed  with 
them,  and  that  he  was  able  to  do  this  for  the  most  part,  though  not  always ; 
and  that  he  had  administered  the  Sacrament  twice." 

In  November,  1803,  Mr.  Ramsey  informed  the  Presbytery  that,  in  con- 
sequence of  bodily  indisposition,  he  was  unable  to  discharge  the  duties  of 
his  office,  and  therefore  asked  for  a  dissolution  of  the  pastoral  relation.  His 
petition  was  granted,  and  the  Church  declared  vacant.  In  this  condition 
matters  remained  until  1807,  when  the  Moderator,  Mr.  Ramsey,  informed 
the  Presbytery,  that  *'  through  the  goodness  of  Divine  Providence,  he  has 
been  enabled  to  preach  statedly  to  his  congregation  since  last  October,  and 
that  the  congregation  have  taken  up  a  subscription  for  his  support," 

From  the  time  of  this  partial  restoration  of  his  health,  Mr.  Ramsey  con- 
tinued to  minister  to  his  people  for  nearly  ten  years, — when  he  gave  another 
instance  of  his  noble  and  disinterested  spirit,  and  considerate  regard  to  the 
best  interests  of  his  flock.  This  is  seen  in  the  minute  adopted  by  Presby- 
tery— "The  Rev.  Samuel  G.  Ramsey,  being  in  a  very  ill  state  of  healih, 
communicated  information  to  Presbytery  that  he  did  not  expect  to  be  able 
to  supply  Grassy  Valley  Congregation  any  longer, — that  he  had  no  claim 
or  charge  against  them,  and  that  he  wished  this  to  be  recorded,  as  it  might 
favour  their  procuring  the  stated  means  of  grace  from  some  regular  minister." 
Such  was  the  man. 

His  apprehensions  about  his  health  were  but  too  well  founded.  That 
delicate  fabric,  which  had,  by  the  great  goodness  of  God,  so  long  held  out« 
was  rapidly  tending  to  decay ;  and  the  next  meeting  of  Presbytery  furnishes 
this  record — *'  Penetrated  with  sentiments  of  sincere  affection  and  deep  sor* 
row.  Presbytery  have  to  notice  in  ibis  place  that,  on  the  6th  (5th?)  of  July, 
1817,  the  Rev.  Samuel  G.  Ramsey  was  removed  by  death  from  serving  the 
cause  of  Christ  in  his  Church,  and  has  left  his  seat  vacant  amongst  us." 

Notwithstanding  these  several  interruptions  which  he  experienced  in  his 
ministerial  labours,  Mr.  Ramsey  had  the  satisfaction  to  see  Ebeneser  and 
Pleasant  Fount  increase  and  flourish.  Few  churches  in  Tennessee  contained 
more  of  evangelical  piety,  intelligence,  or  weight  of  character.  Yearly 
additions  wore  made  to  its  original  list,  while  few  became  backsliders,  and 
none  were  excommunicated.  Mr.  Ramsey's  Congregation  resembled  a  well* 
regulated  familyj-r-united,  affectionate  and  dutiful.  The  Pastor's  voice, 
his  counsels  and  example,  were  ever  regarded  with  a  respect  and  veneration 
almost  filial.  He  was  urbane,  eonciliatory  and  prudent,  and  in  his  inter- 
course with  his  people  through  the  week,  compensated  in  part  for  the  loss 
of  regular  pulpit  exercises  and  public  instruction. 

Besides  his  engagements  with  hb  Congregation  proper,  Mr.  Ramsey,  for 
a  time,  preached  to  the  Church  in  Knoxville,  left  vacant  by  the  sudden 
death  of  its  Pastor,  the  Rev.  Samuel  Carrick.  During  that  time,  he  rode, 
every  third  Sabbath,  eleven  miles  to  Knoxville,  preaching  in  the  Court 
House ;  and  it  was  owing  to  his  persevering  efforts  that  the  late  church  edi- 
fice of  the  First  Presbyterian  Congregation  in  that  city  was  erected.     On 


SAMUKL  GRAHAM  RAMSEY.  153 

one  of  the  days  that  he  supplied  them,  he  preached  from  the  following  very 
appropriate  text,  a  Sermon  that  is  iBaid  to  have  produced  a  powerful  and 
probably  a  decisive  effect,  in  leading  them  to  take  the  resolution  to  build 
the  new  church : — *^  Thus  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  consider  your  ways.  Go 
up  to  the  mountain,  and  bring  wood,  and  build  the  house :  and  I  will  take 
pleasure  in  it,  and  I  will  be  glorified,  saith  the  Lord.  Ye  looked  for  much, 
and  it  came  to  little ;  and  when  ye  brought  it  home,  I  did  blow  upon  it. 
Why  ? — saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  Because  of  my  house  that  is  waste,  and 
ye  run  every  man  to  his  own  house.  Therefore  the  heaven  over  you  is 
stayed  from  dew,  and  the  earth  is  stayed  from  her  fruits.''  (Haggai  i., 
7-10.)  The  Sermon  is  still  extant.  Mr.  Ramsey  was  a  great  favourite 
with  that  people. 

Daring  the  suspension  of  his  ministerial  functions  at  different  periods,  on 
account  of  existing  or  apprehended  hemorrhages,  he  taught  a  classical 
school.  Ebenezer  Academy  he  first  opened  about  1801 ;  and,  after  a  tern* 
porary  suspension,  it  was  again  opened  in  1809.  Young  men  fiocked  to  his 
school  from  all  parts  of  the  State.  His  scholarship  was  better  than  is  com- 
mon among  modem  clergymen, — especially  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  Classics. 
A  faithful  and  indefatigable  teacher,  he  was  a  great  favourite  with  his  pupils. 
The  Latin  Grammar,  in  his  school,  formed  the  study  of  an  entire  session  of 
five  months,  and  this  made  future  progress  in  the  language  easy  and  rapid. 
He  permitted  no  student  to  speak  in  school  hours  in  any  other  language 
thao  that  which  he  was  learning.  Among  his  scholars  were  always  found 
some  poor  and  pious  young  men,  who  were  aiming  at  the  ministry.  These 
were  not  only  instructed,  but  boarded  in  his  house,  gratuitously. 

Mr.  Ramsey  was  remarkably  slender,  and  quite  above  the  common  sta- 
ture,— say  six  feet,  two  or  three  inches, — dignified,  benignant  and  grave. 
HiB  voice  was  strong,  loud,  clear  and  musical.  The  old  people  of  the 
country  say  that  it  was  the  best  bass  they  ever  heard.  His  manner  in  the 
pulpit  was  not  vehement,  but  exceedingly  solemn  and  impressive.  He 
never  read  his  sermons — always  had  a  skeleton  before  him,  but  generally 
extemporiced.  Still,  in  his  earlier  pulpit  preparations,  he  regularly  studied 
and  wrote  out  h'ls  discourses.  Many  of  them  are  still  in  the  possession  of 
surviving  friends,  elaborately  composed  and  neatly  written.  His  chirography 
was  remarkably  elegant.  His  preaching  was  plain,  practical,  pathetic, 
instructive,  and  powerfully  persuasive. 

His  general  temper,  even  after  disease  had  fastened  itself  upon  him,  was 
quiet  and  placid — he  always  exhibited  great  amenity  and  sometimes  a  plea- 
sant mirtbfttlness.  The  suaviter  in  modo  was  his  chief  characteristic,  while 
he  had  almost  none  of  the  fortittr  in  re,  which  abounded  so  much  in  many 
of  hu  frontier  contemporaries.  Though  he  was  a  decided  Presbyterian  and 
Calvinist,  he  had  little  to  do  with  controversy,  and  rarely,  if  ever,  preached 
a  controversial  sermon. 

In  the  more  private  relations  of  life,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  add 
that  he  was  a  dutiful  son,  a  kind  and  affectionate  husband  and  father,  a 
sympathising  brother,  a  good  neighbour  and  citisen,  and  an  indulgent  and 
considerate  master.  The  children  of  his  slaves  he  presented  in  Baptism, 
and  instructed  them  in  religious  truth.  Nearly  the  whole  of  them  were 
members  of  the  church,  could  read  the  New  Testament,  and  answer  the 
questions  of  the  Catechism. 

Vol.  IV.  20 


X54  FBSSBTTERIAir. 

It  remains  only  to  refer  briefly  to  the  eircnmstanees  of  his  death. 
Exhausted  hy  previons  hemorrhages,  and  the  depletory  remedies  provided  for 
their  prevention  and  cure,  Mr.  Ramsey,  in  the  spring  of  1817,  became  drop- 
sical and  declined  rapidly.  The  Sabbath  before  his  death  he  thought  was 
his  last,  and  he  improved  it  hy  an  interesting  conversation  with  his  wife  on 
the  subject  of  his  release  from  earth.  As  he  had  foretold,  the  next  Sabbath 
he  was  laid  in  his  grave  at  Ebeneser  Ohurch.  **  A  heavenly  and  peaceful 
smile  was  upon  his  face — oh !  so  different  from  the  expression  of  pain,  worn 
for  so  many  months.  For  a  day  or  two  preceding  his  death,  he  had  been 
in  a  kind  of  lethargic  stupor,  and  scarcely  noticed  any  thing.  An  only 
brother  (and  there  was  an  unusual  affection  between  them)  arrived,  and, 
approaching  the  bed,  and  taking  his  hand,  asked  if  he  knew  him.  The 
sound  of  that  loved  voice  aroused  him  for  a  moment,  when  he  looked  up, 
and  with  a  glad  smile,  said  'Yes,  you  are  my  dear,  dear  brother.' 
Although  he  appeared  unconscious,  and  indifferent  to  surrounding  objects, 
yet  that  night  he  joined  in  singing,  with  a  clear,  sweet  voice,  the  twenty- 
third  Psalm,  short  metre : 

'  The  Lord  my  Shepherd  is, 
I  sliaU  be  well  supplied,'  &€. 

It  is  not  recollected  that  he  aroused  again.  Calmly  he  breathed  his  last, 
the  next  moruing  at  five  o'clock.  This  was  Saturday,  July  5, 1817."  The 
next  day  he  was  buried  in  Ebeneser  church-yard.  An  immense  concourse 
of  people  attended  his  Funeral,  and  witnessed,  with  uncommon  interest  and 
solemnity,  his  interment;  and  in  the  afternoon,  the  Rev.  Richard  Hall  King,* 
his  successor  in  the  pastorate  of  the  churches  to  which  he  had  ministered, 
preached  an  appropriate  Sermon  from  the  text — *'See  that  ye  refuse  not 
him  that  speaketh." 

The  widow  of  Mr.  Ramsey  survived  him  nearly  twenty  years.  Affliction 
had  only  ripened  her  for  Heaven.  She  trained  her  fatherless  children  well, 
and  until  her  sons  were  old  enough  to  divide  that  duty  with  her,  she  regu- 
larly conducted  family  worship,  and  was  the  priestess  in  her  own  household. 
From  a  domestic  altar  thus  early  erected,  from  parental  instruction  thus 
persistently  imparted,  and  from  examples  thus  luminously  spread  out  before 
them,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  six  children, — three  sons  and  three 
daughters, — who  survived  the  best  of  fathers,  and  the  most  faithful  of 
mothers,  should  become  respectable  and  useful  members  of  society,  and 
ornaments  of  the  Church.  Of  the  sons,  two  at  least  are  elders  of  different 
Presbyterian  Congregations ;  while  the  same  office  is  held  by  the  gentlemen 
who  married  the  three  daughters.  I  am  yours  truly, 

J.  G.  M.  RAMSEY. 

*  Richard  Hall  Kiho  was  a  native  of  North  Carolina,  and  proseeated  his  early  studies 
under  the  Ker.  Dr.  James  Hall.  He  became  hopefully  pious  about  the  year  1801  or  1802 ;  and, 
as  he  was  very  sealons  and  more  than  commonly  gifted,  he  commenced  preaching  at  once  with- 
out any  preparatory  course  of  study.  As  this  was  a  step  that  could  not  he  tolerated  in  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  he  joined  the  Methodist  Communion,  and  laboured  for  several  years  in 
that  connection;  but  was  afterwards  received  into  the  Presbyterian  Church  and  ministry. 
About  the  year  1816,  he  made  a  visit  to  the  central  portion  of  Tennessee,  and  was  so  well 
pleased  with  the  country  that  he  returned  to  North  Carolina  with  a  view  of  removing  Lis  family 
thither.  On  his  way  to  Maury,  in  April,  1817,  he  passed  the  residence  of  the  Rev.  S.  G.  Ham* 
sey,  who  was  then  near  the  olose  of  life,  and  was  prevailed  on  to  stop  and  take  charge  of  the 
Churches  of  which  Mr.  R.  had  been  the  Pastor.  Ho  was  received  into  the  Presbjrtery  of  Union 
from  the  Presbytery  of  Concord,  on  the  22d  of  September,  1817,  and  continued  to  minister  fo 
the  Grassy  Vallev  Churches  until  he  was  disabled  by  bodily  in6rmity.  He  died  on  the  27th 
of  May,  1825.  He  was  a  large  and  corpulent  man,  and  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  was  greatir 
alBioted  by  the  disease  called  eUphanttaiii,  in  one  leg.  Dr.  Foote,  in  his  Sketches  of  North 
Carolina,  tays  that  Mr.  King  was  «  esteemed  a  man  of  the  finest  powers  eyer  trained  in  Western 
Carolina." 


AMZI  ARMSTRONG.  155 


AMZI  ARMSTRONG,  D.  D  * 

1795—1827. 

Amzi  Arhstronq  was  born  in  Florida,  Orange  County,  N.  Y.,  on  the 
1st  of  December,  1771.  His  parents,  Franois  and  Jane  (Borland)  Arm- 
strong, were  of  Irish  extraction,  tkeir  parents  having  migrated  to  this  coun- 
try not  far  from  the  year,  1730.  His  father  was  a  fanner,  and  an  elder  in 
the  Presbyterian  Church.  He  (the  son)  commenced  the  study  of  the  lan- 
guages, when  he  was  quite  young,  under  the  tuition  of  the  Rev.  Amii 
Lewis,t  then  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Florida.  Subsequently  to  this,  he 
spent  two  years,  as  a  member  of  Dr.  Dwight's  school  at  Greenfield,  Conn. 
He  was  never  connected  as  a  student  with  any  College. 

Before  entering  the  ministry,  he  was  engaged  for  a  while,  as  a  teacher  in 
Bloomfield,  N.  J.  He  pursued  his  theological  studies  under  the  direction 
of  the  Rev.  Jedediah  Chapman  of  Orange  in  the  same  State.  He  was 
taken  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery  of  New  York  as  a  candidate,  on 
the  5th  of  October,  1794,  and  was  licensed  to  preach  on  the  23d  of  Octo- 
ber, 1795.  The  same  Presbytery  ordained  him  to  the  work  of  the  mUiis- 
try,  and  installed  him  as  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Mendham,  Morris  County, 
N.  J.,  on  the  29th  of  November,  1796.  Here  he  continued  laborionsly 
and  sealously  engaged  for  twenty  years.  His  pastoral  relation  being  dis- 
solved by  the  Presbytery  of  Jersey,^  on  the  2d  of  October,  1816,  he 
removed  to  Bloomfield  to  take  charge  of  the  Academy  in  that  place,  with 
the  intention  to  make  it  a  school  for  the  instruction  of  young  men  in  a 
course  of  preparation  for  the  ministry.  It  was,  however,  his  own  private 
school  for  a  number  of  years ;  though  he  ultimately  disposed  of  it  to  the 
Presbyterian  branch  of  the  Education  Society,  whose  Executive  Committee 

*  MSS.  from  hU  family. 

f  Amzi  Lb  wis,  a  son  of  Samuel  Lewis,  was  bom  at  Canterbary,  Conn.,  Ootober  18,  1746; 
was  Kradnated  at  Yale  CoUego  in  1768 ;  and  was  ordained  Pastor  of  the  Charobes  of  Florida 
and  Warwick,  in  Orange  County,  N.  Y.,  April  9^  1772.    Within  a  few  years  after  his  settle- 
ment, he  was  dismissed  from  the  pastoral  oare  of  the  Warwiok  Congregation,  bat  continued  his 
connection  with  the  Congregation  of  Florida  until  November,  1787,  when  he  left  with  their 
consent, — having  laboured  among  them  about  sixteen  years.    During  his  connection  with  the 
Florida  Congregation,  he  separated  himself  fti>m  the  Presbytery  of  New  York,  and  united  with 
three  other  ministers,  one  of  whom  was  the  Hev.  Jacob  Green  of  Hanover,  N.  J.,  in  forming 
an  Independent  Presbytery,  called  the  Associated  Presbytery  of  Morris  County.    The  Body 
never  grew  in  numbers,  though  it  continued  many  years.     In  1787,  Mr.  Lewis  took  charge  of 
the  Academy  in  North  Salem,  Westchester  County,  and  at  the  same  time  became  the  acting 
Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  there,  though  it  is  believed  that  he  was  never  formally 
installed.     He  remained  Principal  of  the  Academy  until  about  the  beginning  of  1795.     On  the 
26tb  of  December,  of  that  year,  he  was  installed  as  Pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in 
North  Stamford,  Conn.,  where  he  died  on  the  5th  of  April,  1819,  in  the  seventy-third  year  of 
his  age.    He  published  a  pamphlet  entitled  '*  The  Covenant  interest  of  the  children  of  believ- 
ers illustrated  and  proved,  ana  considered  as  a  solid  foundation  for  Infant  Baptism.     With  an 
Appendix  coneemine  the  Discipline  of  baptised  children,"  1782;  a  Sermon  preached  at  the 
ordination  of  Zechanah  Qreene  to  the  pastoral  cfaarse  of  the  Church  at  Cntohoeue  (so  called) 
in  Southold,  1787 ;   a  Sermon  delivered  at  Gilead  in  Frcdericktown,  1792.     lie  prepared  for 
publication  an  elaborate  Treatise  on  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity ;  another  on  the  Prophecies  of 
Daniel;  and  another  ^n  the  Revelation  of  St.  John.    The  Rev.  Daniel  Smith,  sa^sof  him  in 
his  Funeral  Sermon — *< He  possessed  a  strong  and  discriminating  mind;  maintained  a  high 
standing  as  a  man  and  a  scholar  among  his  contemporaries  in  Yale  College,     *    *    and  has 
uniformly,  through  his  ministerial  life,  maintained  a  high  standing  as  a  scholar  and  a  theolo- 
gian :  but  his  most  distinguishing  excellence  consisted  in  being  an  eminent  Christian,  a  labo- 
rious, faithful,  and  in  a  good  degree  successful,  minister  of  the  Gospel." 

}  The  Presbytenr  of  New  YorK  was  divided  by  the  Synod  of  New  York  and  New  Jerser,  in 
October,  1809;  and  the  new  Presbytery  was  known  aa  the  Pretbytory  of  Jer^sy,  asd  Mr»Aim« 
strong,  with  the  Church  of  Mendham,  fell  within  its  bounds. 


156  PBESBTTERIAir. 

were  several  of  them  members  of  the  Newark  Presbytery.  Of  this  instita- 
tion  he  continued  the  Principal  till  about  a  year  previous  to  his  death. 
After  his  removal  to  Bloomfield,  he  preached  occasionally,  though  he  had 
no  stated  charge. 

Mr.  Armstrong  received  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  from  the  College 
of  New  Jersey  in  1804,  and  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the 
same  College,  in  1821. 

Dr.  Armstrong,  a  short  time  before  his  death,  removed  with  his  family  to 
Perth  Amboy,  N.  J.,  where  he  spent  his  last  days.  In  May,  1821,  he  had 
an  attack  of  paralysis,  from  which  he  never  fully  recovered;  and  he  had 
several  attacks  afterwards,  each  leaving  him  more  feeble  than  the  previous 
one.  Towards  the  close  of  his  life,  his  mind  became  seriously  affected  by 
his  disease,  and  he  lost  that  self-control  which  had  always  constituted  one 
of  his  prominent  characteristics ;  though  he  retained  to  the  last  a  strong 
filial  confidence  in  God.  The  Sabbath  morning  before  his  death,  he  called 
his  children  together,  and,  after  committing  them  to  the  care  of  his  Heavenly 
Father,  soon  lost  the  power  of  speech,  and  never  afterwards  recovered  it. 
He  died  at  Perth  Amboy,  on  the  4th  of  March,  1827.  His  Funeral  Ser- 
mon was  preached  by  the  Rev.  G.  N.  Judd,  then  Pastor  of  the  Church  in 
Bloomfield,  to  which  place  his  remains  were  taken  for  burial. 

He  was  married  in  the  year  1795,  to  Polly,  daughter  of  Aaron  and  Sarah 
Dod,  of  Bloomfield, — of  Puritan  extraction.  She  died  on  the  13th  of 
December,  1826,  about  three  months  previous  to  the  death  of  her  husband. 
They  had  ten  children, — three  sons  and  seven  daughters.  The  sons  were 
all  graduated  at  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  The  eldest  was  the  Rev. 
William  J,  Armstrong,  D.  D.,  a  notice  of  whom  will  be  found  in  another 
part  of  this  work.  The  second,  Amzi  Armstrongs  was  a  lawyer,  and  for 
a  time  a  member  of  the  Senate  and  of  the  Governor's  Council  in  New  Jer- 
sey. The  third,  the  Rev.  George  D.  Armstrong,  D.  D.,  was  for  fourteen 
years  a  Professor  in  Washington  College,  Va.,  and  is  now  (1855)  Pastor 
of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Norfolk,  Va. 

Dr.  Armstrong  published  two  Sermons  in  the  New  Jersey  Preacher, 
1813 ;  a  Syllabus  of  Lectures  on  the  visions  of  the  Revelation,  1815 ;  a 
Sermon  entitled  *'the  last  Trumpet,"  1823. 

FROM  THE  REV.  E.  R.  FAIRCIIILD,  D.  D. 

New  York,  February,  16, 1866. 

My  dear  Sir :  Although  in  my  infancy  I  was  baptized  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Rich- 
ards of  Morristown,  N.  J.,  in  whose  parish  my  parents  then  lived,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Amzi  Armstrong,  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Mendham  of  that  State, 
was  the  earliest  minister  I  remember  to  have  seen. 

Before  I  had  reached  my  fourth  year,  my  parents  had  removed  from  the  Mor- 
ristown Congregation,  and  settled  within  the  bounds  of  Dr.  Armstrong's  charge. 
With  the  family  I  attended  his  ministrations  on  the  Sabbath,  and  at  other  times, 
till  the  pastoral  relation  between  him  and  his  people  was  dissolved,  in  1816,  and 
he  removed  to  Bloomfield.  My  father  was  early  elected  a  ruling  elder  in  his 
church,  and  thus  an  official  and  social  intimacy  sprung  up  and  continued  between 
him  and  our  family,  and  I  thus  had  many  opportunities  of  seeing  him  and  of 
becoming  acquainted  with  his  character. 

In  many  respects  Dr.  Armstrong  was  a  remarkable  man,  and  would  compare 
not  unfavourably  with  the  most  prominent  and  gifted  of  his  cotemporaries.    In 


AMZI  ABMSTRONG.  157 

person  lie  was  under  the  medium  sixe.  He  was  about  five  feet  six  inches  h^h. 
Hb  limbs  were  small;  his  chest  and  shoulders  were  somewhat  broader,  than 
is  usual  with  persons  bf  his  stature.  His  head  and  face  were  well  formed  and 
well  proportioned  to  his  chest.  Ilis  hair  was  straight,  and  of  dark  brown  colour. 
Ilts  eyes  were  bright  and  piercing,  and  his  countenance  open,  frank  and  intelli- 
gent. He  was,  however,  unfortunately,  a  cripple  from  his  infancy,  and  in  conse- 
quence often  suffered  a  great  deal.  Ho  was  rendered  a  cripple  by  his  nurse, 
who,  upon  her  dying  bed,  subsequent  to  his  retirement  from  Mendham,  revealed 
it  to  him.  He  was  sent  for  in  haste  to  visit  an  aged  woman,  who  was  about  to 
die,  but  who  declared  she  could  not  die  in  peace  till  she  had  seen  him.  He 
repaired  to  her  residence.  She  was  still  living  and  able  to  speak  to  him.  She 
told  him  she  had  called  for  him  to  reveal  to  him  a  secret,  and  to  ask  his  forgive- 
ness. He  was  surprised  when  he  found  the  secret  related  to  himself;  but  the 
woman  proceeded  to  inform  him  that  she  nursed  him  when  an  infant,  and,  in  a 
fit  of  impatience  one  day,  threw  him  from  her  arms  upon  the  floor  with  such 
violence  that  it  brought  on  him  his  lameness,  and  all  the  attendant  evils  he  had 
suffered  from  his  childhood.  Thus,  for  the  first  time,  he  learned  exactly  how, 
and  by  whose  agency,  his  frame  was  shattered,  and  he  subjected  to  such  bodily 
infirmity  and  pain  through  his  whole  life.  Of  course  he  forgave  the  dying 
woman,  and  gave  her  suitable  Christian  counsel. 

His  right  leg  was  shorter  and  smaller  than  the  other,  and  very  weak,  so  that 
he  walked  with  great  diflSculty,  even  when  aided  by  a  cane.  With  advancing* 
age,  this  infirmity  grew  upon  him,  and  it  was  a  principal  cause  of  leading  him 
to  ask  a  release  from  the  duties  of  his  pastoral  charge. 

As  a  man,  a  citizen,  a  friend,  and  a  pastor.  Dr.  Armstrong  was  very  highly 
esteemed  in  his  congregation.  His  perceptions  of  the  relations,  privileges,  and 
rights  of  others,  and  of  the  proprieties  of  life,  were  delicate,  quick  and  just; 
and  his  temperament  and  moral  principles  were  such  as  led  him  to  perform  his 
various  social  duties  in  an  easy  and  acceptable  manner.  He  was  of  an  uncom- 
monly happy  disposition.  Though  not  justly  liable  to  the  charge  of  levity, 
there  was  an  innocent  mirthfulness  which  enlivened  his  intercourse,  especially 
with  his  more  intimate  friends.  A  broad  current  of  genuine  wit,  and  a  vein  of 
keen  sarcasm  ran  through  his  mental  constitution,  whose  overflowings  it  was  not 
always  easy  for  him  to  repress;  and  his  impulses  to  repartee  made  most  who 
knew  him  deal  cautiously  in  their  approaches,  which  were  likely  to  call  him  out 
in  this  direction.  It  was  of  rare  occurrence  that  any  who  assailed  him  came  off 
unscathed,  or  other  than  *'  second  best "  in  the  conflict. 

His  manners  and  bearing  in  society  were  familiar,  courteous  and  gentlemanly. 
He  knew  how  to  mingle  with  his  people  with  a  graceful  freedom  that  would  seem 
to  put  all  reserve  away,  and  yet  by  that  intercourse  obtain  and  secure  to  himself 
higher  respect  and  veneration  than  he  had  before. 

As  a  pastor,  he  was  much  beloved  and  reverenced.  Few  have  had  such  influ- 
ence over  their  flocks  as  he  had.  He  was  regarded  not  merely  as  a  thorough 
theologian  and  safe  instructer  in  morals  and  evangelical  religion,  but  as  a  wise 
and  prudent  counsellor  in  all  the  matters  of  ordinary  life.  Few  understood 
human  nature  and  the  springs  of  action  better  than  he,  or  could  manage  men 
more  advantageously  to  the  peace  and  happiness  of  society.  Among  his  parish- 
ioners it  was  a  commonly  expressed  opinion,  (and  it  was  derived  to  a  good  extent 
from  things  dropped  by  him,  in  his  preaching  and  intercourse  with  them,)  that 
be  knew  about  all  that  was  going  on  in  every  part  of  the  parish.  If  the  youth 
or  others  were  occasionally  engaged  in  any  matter  of  doubtful  propriety,  some 
oecurrenoe  would  sooner  or  later  give  some  of  the  parties  an  impression  that  the 
pastor  had  heard  of  it. 

In  intellect,  Dr.  Armstrong  was  much  above  mediocrity;  and  as  a  preacher 
he  was  superior  to  most  of  his  brethren.    He  early  accustomed  himself  to 


X58  PAB8BTT£BLiN. 

preach  without  his  manascript,  and  uUimately  attained  to  great  self-possession 
and  power  in  that  mode  of  preaching.  He,  however,  did  not  lay  aside  writing, 
but  cultivated  the  two  habits  of  writing  and  extemporizing  at  the  same  time. 

In  the  judicatories  of  the  Church,  he  exerted  great  influence,  and  commanded 
high  respect.  He  had  a  clear  and  well  balanced  mind,  and  a  happy  faculty  of 
disentangling  difficult  and  involved  subjects.  He  usually  imparted  light  when- 
ever he  spoke,  from  which  acknowledged  fact  he  was  facetiously  called  '*  the 
snuffers  of  the  Presbytery."  I  believe  the  foregoing  hints  and  facts  will  cover 
the  ground  which  your  request  contemplated.  If  they  shall  aid  you  in  your 
work,  I  shall  be  happy  in  having  furnished  them. 

Tours  respectfully, 

£.  R.  FAIBCHILD. 


-♦♦- 


SAMUEL  BLATCHFORD,  D.  D  * 

1795—1828. 

Samuel  Blatghford  was  a  descendant  of  Major  Blatchford  who  was 
at  the  battle  of  the  Boyne,  having  gone  from  Holland  to  England  with  King 
William's  army.  He  was  the  son  of  Henry  and  Mary  Blatchford,  and  was 
bom  in  the  town  of  Plymouth  Dock,  now  called  Davenport,  in  the  County 
of  Devon,  England,  in  the  year  1767.  His  parents  were  both  distingubhed 
for  piety  :  his  father  first  became  seriously  impressed  under  the  preaching 
of  John  Wesley,  his  mother  under  that  of  Rowland  Hill.  He  was  early 
devoted,  in  the  purpose  and  wish  of  his  parents,  to  the  ministry  of  the 
sanctuary,  and  his  studies  were  directed  with  reference  to  that  end. 

It  was  while  he  was  yet  a  mere  child  that  the  war  broke  out  that  resulted 
in  the  American  Revolution.  Among  those  who  ventured  to  espouse  our 
country's  cause  in  Great  Britain,  were  young  Blatchford's  family  connec- 
tions, particularly  his  maternal  uncle,  the  Rev.  Robert  Heath.  While  the 
American  prisoners  were  confined  in  Mill  prison,  these  benevolent  persons 
were  assiduous  in  endeavouring  to  mitigate  their  sufferings  by  every  means 
in  their  power  ;  until  at  length  an  association  was  formed  in  London  for  the 
purpose,  with  several  philanthropic  noblemen  at  its  head.  The  subject  of 
this  sketch  was  often  employed  to  convey  the  means  of  relief  to  these  tenants 
of  the  prison  ;  and,  as  he  became  familiar  with  their  sufferings,  and  inter- 
ested in  their  fortunes,  he  formed  the  purpose,  while  he  was  yet  in  his  boy- 
hood, that,  if  his  life  should  be  spared,  he  would  some  day  make  his  home 
in  America. 

Between  the  ages  of  seven  and  nine  years,  he  experienced  two  signal 
instances  of  Divine  goodness  in  the  preservation  of  bis  life,  when  exposed 
to  imminent  danger.  Of  these  merciful  interpositions  he  has  left  the  fol- 
lowing account : — **  I  had  been  amusing  myself  nearly  the  whole  of  an 
afternoon  by  fishing  from  a  boat  which  lay  beside  the  dock,  and  was  so  much 
occupied  by  my  employment  that  I  did  not  perceive  the  falling  of  the  tide. 
It  fell,  I  think,  about  twelve  or  fourteen  feet.  It  now  became  a  question 
how  to  return,  and  I  determined  to  clamber  up  by  the  help  of  the  projecting 

•MS.  Aatobkgiaiihy  fimn  hlisoBy  Dr.  T.  W.  BUtahfoid. 


SAMUEL  BLATGHFORD.  Igg 

•toBcs  of  whiek  the  pier  was  built*  In  the  attempt,  one  of  the  stones  g«ye 
awaj  and  I  fell  between  the  boat  and  the  pier.  At  the  adjoining  pier  lay  a 
collier  of  about  three  hundred  tons  burden,  and  on  the  yard  arm  of  which 
was  a  Mr.  B.,  belonging  to  the  customs.  He  swung  off  the  yards  by  means 
of  a  rope,  and  caught  me  by  my  hair,  and  thus  rescued  me  from  a  watery 
grave.  The  second  circumstance  to  which  I  referred  was  this :  I  was 
requested  to  ride  my  uncle's  horse  from  Stoke,  his  country  residence,  into 
Plymouth  Dock.  As  I  approached  the  draw  bridge  which  covered  the  fort, 
(for  Plymouth  Dock  was  a  fortified  town,)  I  slid,  by  some  means,  from  the 
saddle,  and  my  left  leg  caught  in  the  stirrup.  No  one  was  near  to  render 
me  assistance,  excepting  the  sentry  who  was  on  guard  at  the  time,  and  could 
not  leave*  his  post  without  a  breach  of  orders,  which  would  subject  him  to 
punishment.  But  the  invisible  God  was  present,  and  graciously  sustained 
me,  until  the  horse  drew  me  without  injury  within  the  limits  beyond  which 
the  sentry  could  not  pass." 

Under  the  influence  of  faithful  parental  instruction,  he  seems  to  have  been 
the  subject  of  religious  impressions  from  his  early  childhood,  and,  at  the  age 
of  about  twelve,  he  supposed  that  he  came  to  the  great  practical  decision  in 
favour  of  a  religious  life.  Almost  simultaneous  with  the  consecration  of 
himself  to  the  service  of  God,  was  the  purpose  to  serve  Him  in  the  ministry 
of  reconciliation  ;  and,  with  this  view,  both  on  the  part  of  his  parents  and 
of  himself,  he  was  sent  to  a  boarding  school  at  Willington,  in  Somersetshire, 
under  the  care  of  the  B.ev.  Joseph  Chadwick,  a  Dissenting  clergyman  of 
excellent  character  and  fine  endowments.  Here  he  was  prepared  to  enter 
tbe  Dissenting  Theological  School  at  Homerton,  near  London.  Previous 
to  his  leaving  the  school  at  Willington,  death  deprived  him  of  his  father, — 
a  loss  which  he  deeply  felt,  as  he  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  best  of 
fathers. 

Though  his  parents  had  originally  designed  him  for  the  ministry,  his 
mother,  under  the  influence  of  some  of  his  remoter  relatives,  was  prevailed 
on  to  propose  to  him  the  medical  profession.  He  could  not,  however,  for  a 
moment,  entertain  the  idea,  but  resolutely  persevered  in  the  purpose  to 
become  a  minister  of  the  Gospel.  In  due  time,  having  gone  through  with 
his  preparatory  course  at  Willington,  he  became  a  student  at  Homerton, — 
an  institution  which  then  was  and  is  still  one  of  the  most  respectable  of  its 
kind  in  Great  Britain.  Here  he  enjoyed  the  instruction  of  several  able 
Professors,  among  whom  was  the  Be  v.  Dr.  Thomas  Gibbons,  well  known  in 
this  country  as  the  editor  of  President  Davies'  Sermons.  He  was  also  the 
intimate  and  confldential  friend  of  Dr.  Watts;  and  he  often  entertained  his 
students  with  reminiscences  of  that  great  and  excellent  man. 

Daring  his  connection  with  Homerton  College,  he  had  a  good  opportunity 
of  exercising  his  gifts  and  graces  in  connection  with  various  institutions  in 
and  about  London  for  the  relief  and  support  of  pious  and  destitute  widows. 
At  several  of  these  places  there  were  weekly  lectures  established  by  the 
students,  in  the  labour  and  the  benefit  of  which  he  thought  it  a  privilege  to 
share  ;  and  the  Christian  intercourse  which  he  enjoyed  with  these  afflicted 
bat  eminently  godly  persons,  was  of  great  use  in  invigorating  his  own 
good  affeetions,  and  thus  increasing  his  spiritual  preparation  for  the  min- 
istry. 

In  his  last  year  at  Homerton,  he  was  invited  to  preach,  during  the  vaca- 
tion, to  a  Congregation  in  Plymouth,  in  the  absence  of  one  of  its  pastors. 


160  PRESBTTXRIAK. 

He  accepted  the  inTitation,  and  continued  his  labours  there  for  dx  weds. 
About  the  same  time,  he  was  introduced  to  the  Rev.  William  Evans,  Pastor 
of  the  United  Congregations  of  Kingsbridge  and  Ford,  where,  during  his 
connection  with  the  College,  he  had  occasionally  preached.  As  soon  as  his 
theological  studies  were  closed,  he  accepted  au  invitation  to  become  Mr. 
Evans'  assistant  in  the  duties  of  the  ministry,  and  immediately  entered  on 
this  engagement.  He  was  ordained  (not  however  till  November,  1789)  Pas- 
tor of  the  Church  at  Kingsbridge ;  though  this  did  not  interrupt  the 
arrangement  into  which  he  had  entered,  of  preaching  alternately  at  Kings- 
bridge  and  Ford. 

Shortly  after  his  settlement,  he  entered  into  a  matrimonial  engagement 
with  Alicia,  daughter  of  Thomas  Windeatt,  Esq.,  of  Bridgetown  Totwas. 
The  connection  was  consummated  in  March,  1788,  and  was  a  source  of  great 
comfort  to  him  as  long  as  he  lived. 

Previous  to  his  marriage,  an  invitation  was  presented  to  him  through  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Lake  of  London  to  accompany  Lord  Dorchester  to  Canada,  of 
which  he  had  just  been  appointed  Governor.  This  offer  he  declined,  chiefly 
on  account  of  the  opposition  of  the  friends  of  his  intended  wife  ;  and,  though 
the  offer  was  subsequently  repeated,  he  felt  constrained  to  adhere  to  his 
original  determination. 

Before  he  had  been  long  at  Kingsbridge,  he  was  invited  by  the  Church  in 
Topsham,  near  the  city  of  Exeter,  in  Devonshire,  to  become  its  Pastor. 
This  was  an  old  Presbyterian  Church,  and  had  for  some  years  been  under 
the  influence  of  the  Arian  and  Sabellian  doctrines,  with  which  Mr.  Blatch- 
ford,  of  course,  did  not  sympathize.  The  call  was,  however,  urged,  upon 
him,  particularly  by  some  of  his  Calvinistic  brethren,  and  he  finally  accepted 
it  from  a  conviction  that  it  was  a  call  of  Qod.  He  commenced  his  labours 
here  early  in  1791. 

Not  long  after  his  removal'  to  Topsham,  the  subject  of  Sabbath  Schools 
engaged  the  attention  of  many  benevolent  persons,  in  consequence  of  the 
vigorous  and  successful  efforts  that  had  been  made  in  behalf  of  poor  and 
neglected  youth  by  that  eminent  philanthropist,  Robert  Raikes.  Mr.  Blatch- 
ford  entered  with  great  zeal  into  this  labour  of  love  ;  and,  though  the  pro- 
ject had  to  encounter  a  strong  opposition  on  different  grounds,  he  had  the 
pleasure,  at  no  distant  period,  of  seeing  four  distinct  schools  opened  and  in 
successful  operation,  in  his  immediate  neighbourhood. 

Mr.  Blatchford  seems  never  to  have  lost  sight  of  the  purpose  which  he 
formed  in  his  childhood,  from  his  intercourse  with  the  American  prisoners, 
to  make  his  ultimate  settlement  in  the  United  States.  Accordingly,  in  1794, 
he  made  out  and  committed  to  a  friend  who  was  about  to  come  to  this  coun- 
try, a  list  of  inquiries,  with  a  request  that  he  would  obtain  ans^p^ers  to  them 
from  competent  persons,  hoping  thereby  to  gain  information  which  would 
enable  him  to  form  a  more  decided  and  intelligent  conclusion  in  respect  to 
his  duty.  In  due  time  he  received  from  his  friend  an  intimation  that  he 
might  be  employed  as  a  minister  in  Bedford,  Westchester  County,  N.  Y.; 
upon  which  a  correspondence  took  place  between  himself  and  a  committee 
of  the  Bedford  Congregation,  which  resulted  in  his  tendering  the  resigna- 
tion of  his  charge  at  Topsham,  and  making  his  arrangements  to  remove  to 
America.  The  Captain  of  the  vessel  in  which  he  sailed  was  present  and 
heard  his  Farewell  Sermon ;  and  so  deeply  was  he  affected  by  it,  Uiat  he 
immediately  offered  to  take  him  and  his  family  at  a  greatly  reduced  price. 


SAMUEL  BLATCHFORD. 


161 


ttftt  he  iBiglit  liaye  the  benefit  of  his  instructions  during  the  passage  ;  though, 
previous  to  that  time,  the  price  that  had  been  talked  of  was  so  much  beyond 
Mr.  Blatchford's  means,  that  he  almost  regretted  having  projected  the  enter- 
piise.  fie  left  his  native  shores  on  the  19th  of  June,  1795,  and  arrived 
within  the  Hook  at  New  York  on  the  1st  of  August, — the  day  that  com- 
pleted  his  twenty-eighth  year. 

Without  any  unnecessary  delay,  he  made  his  way  to  Bedford,  the  antici- 
pated field  of  his  labours ;  but  several  adverse  circumstances  occurred  in 
ooDDection  with  his  arrival  there,  which  occasioned  disappointment  and  even 
despondency.  The«<nost  mortifying  thing  of  all  was  that  one  of  the  indi- 
viduals with  whom  he  had  corresponded,  informed  him  that,  as  his  arrival 
had  been  delayed  beyond  their  expectations,  they  had  actually  filled  the 
plaee,  and  a  Mr.  Benedict  was  engaged  to  supply  their  pulpit  for  one  year. 
When  Mr.  Benedict,  however,  came  to  understand  the  circumstances  of  the 
ease,  he  generously  insisted  on  withdrawing  in  favour  of  Mr.  Blatchford; 
but  the  result  was  that  they  were  both  retained  to  supply  alternately  the 
Congregations  of  Bedford  and  Pouudridge.  At  the  next  meeting  of  the 
Presbytery  of  Hudson,  within  the  bounds  of  which  were  those  Congrega- 
tions, Mr.  Blatchford,  having  given  his  consent  to  the  Presbyterian  Con- 
fession of  Faith  and  Form  of  Government,  was  regularly  appointed  to  sup- 
ply at  Bedford  as  many  Sabbaths  as  might  be  convenient. 

Early  in  the  succeeding  year,  (1796,)  he  was  invited  to  pass  a  Sabbath  at 
Greenfield,  Conn.,  and  preach  in  the  pulpit  which  had  then  been  lately 
vacated  by  the  removal  of  Dr.  Dwight  to  the  Presidency  of  Yale  College. 
Having  complied  with  this  request,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Congre- 
gation, they  unanimously  requested  his  services  for  a  year.  To  this  request 
also  he  gave  an  afiirmative  answer,  with  an  understanding,  however,  that 
the  engagement  should  not  extend  beyond  six  months,  if  circumstances 
should  render  his  removal  desirable. 

In  February,  1797,  the  Congregational  Society  at  Stratfield  (now  Bridge- 
port) Conn,  extended  to  him  an  invitation  to  labour  among  them  for  six 
months,  with  reference  to  a  permanent  settlement.  And  in  March  of  the 
same  year,  a  similar  proposal  was  made  to  him  by  the  United  Society  of 
Fair  Haven  and  White  Haven,  in  the  city  of  New  Haven,  where  he  had 
some  time  before  preached  for  several  Sabbaths  to  great  acceptance.  The 
two  invitations  were  before  him  at  the  same  time ;  but,  after  much  delibera- 
tion, he  decided  in  favour  of  the  former. 

His  residence  at  Greenfield,  though  it  was  for  only  a  year,  was  in  the 
main  exceedingly  pleasant  to  him.  Beside  his  duties  as  a  minister,  he 
iBStmcied  an  Academy-  there,  being  successor  in  that  office  to  Mr.  Jeremiah 
Day,  now  the  Rev.  Dr.  Day,  late  President  of  Yale  College. 

In  the  acceptance  of*  the  invitation  from  Stratfield,  he  stipulated  for  the 
bttiUing  of  an  edifice  suitable  for  an  Academy ;  as  he  foresaw  that  the  salary 
which  the  parish  offered  him  wouldbe  inadequate  to  the  support  of  his  grow- 
ing, and  by  this  time  numerous,  family.  Here  he  was  installed  by  the  Con- 
sociation of  Fairfield  East,  and  here  he  remained,  discharging  the  double 
dviies  of  Pastor  of  a  Church  and  Preoeptor  of  an  Academy,  for  several 
years.  His  intereourse  with  the  clergy  of  Connecticut,  during  this  penod, 
seems  to  have  been  a  source  of  great  pleasure  to  him,  and  various  were  the 
expressions  he  received  of  Aeir  fraternal  good-will  and  confidence. 

Vol.  rV.  21 


IQ2  PRESBYTERIAN. 

In  January,  1804,  he  was  invited  to  take  charge  of  the  Preshyterian 
Churches  in  Lansingburg  and  Waterford,  in  the  State  of  New  York.  Here 
was  offered  not  only  a  more  adequate  support  for  his  family,  but  a  more 
extensive  field  of  usefulness.  The  result  was  that  he  accepted  the  invita- 
tion, and  was  installed  by  the  Presbytery  of  Columbia  in  July  following. 
He  agreed,  at  the  same  time,  to  continue  his  labours  as  an  instructor  of 
youth,  taking  charge  of  the  Lansingburg  Academy. 

Soon  after  hw  settlement  in  Lansingburg,  having  long  witnessed  the  dif- 
ficulties which  beginners  in  Greek  experienced  for  want  of  a  good  Greek 
Grammar  in  English,  instead  of  a  Latin  translation,  life  undertook  the  task 
of  rendering  into  English  the  Grammar  of  Dr.  Moor ;  to  which  also  he 
added  various  notes,  together  with  Dr.  Ewing's  Syntax.  This  Grammar 
met  with  considerable  favour  in  its  day,  and  was  adopted  by  several  of  our 
Colleges. 

For  the  first  four  years  after  his  settlement  in  Lansingburg,  he  continued 
unremittingly  to  discharge  the  duties  of  Principal  of  the  Academy  and  Pas- 
tor of  the  united  Congregations  of  Lansingburg  and  Waterford.  In  1809, 
finding  that  the  Academy  occupied  more  of  his  time  than  he  could  conve- 
niently devote  to  it,  in  consistency  with  due  attention  to  his  pastoral  duties, 
an  arrangement  was  entered  into  by  which  the  amount  of  labour  he  was  to 
perform  in  the  Academy  was  reduced  one  half.  In  a  subsequent  arrange- 
ment, he  engaged  to  spend  one  day  in  a  week  in  the  Academy  ;  and  in  1811, 
ho  withdrew  from  it  altogether,  except  as  he  still  continued  to  hold  the  office 
of  Trustee,  and  acted  as  President  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  until  a  short 
time  before  his  death. 

In  1808,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Williams  College,  — an  honour  that  he  appreciated  the  more,  as  it  came  from 
those  who  were  personally  almost  strangers  to  him. 

Dr.  Blatchford's  general  health  was  remarkably  good  ;  but  it  began  to 
wane  about  two  years  previous  to  his  dcathu  He  had  a  large  tumour  which 
proved,  on  a  post  mortem  examination,  to  be  an  enormous  expansion  of  the 
kidney,  weighing,  when  removed,  fourteen  pounds  and  six  ounces.  For  the 
last  six  mouths  of  his  life,  he  was  confined  to  his  room,  and  mostly  to  his 
easy  chair  or  his  bed.  He  experienced  much  intense  suffering  ;  but  through- 
out the  whole  evinced  the  most  cheerful  submission  to  the  Divine  will,  and 
the  utmost  readiness  to  depart  whenever  God  should  call  him.  Many  of  his 
remarks  in  the  near  prospect  of  death  have  been  preserved,  which  indicate 
an  uncommonly  high  tone  of  spirituality.  He  died  on  the  17th  of  March, 
1828,  in  the  sixty-second  year  of  his  age,  and  the  forty-first  of  his  minis- 
try. A  Sermon  on  the  occasion  of  his  death  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Nott,  President  of  Union  College. 

Dr.  Blatchford  was  the  father  of  seventeen  children.  Of  these,  seven 
died  before  him, — two  in  England,  four  in  Lansingburg,  and  one  in  Mary- 
land. Two  of  his  sons  have  been  in  the  ministry,  one  is  a  physician,  and 
one  a  lawyer ;  and  all  highly  respectable  and  useful  in  their  several  profes- 
sions and  occupations. 

Henry,  the  eldest  son,  was  born  at  Ford  in  Devonshire,  England,  Decem- 
ber 4,  1788,  and  came  with  his  parents  to  this  country,  when  he  was  in  his 
seventh  year.  Shortly  after  the  removal  of  the  family  to  Lansingburg,  in 
1804,  he  made  a  profession  of  religion,  and  joined  the  church  under  his 
father's  care.     He  entered  the  grammar  school  connected  with  Union  Col- 


SAICUEL  BLATCHFORD.  26 


o 


lege,  Schenectady,  in  1806,  became  a  member  of  the  Freshman  class  in  Col- 
lege in  1807,  and  graduated  in  1811.  He  then  went  to  New  York,  and 
oommenc'ed  the  study  of  Theology  under  the  Rev.  Dr.  Milledoler;  but 
when  4he  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton  was  opened  the  next  year,  he 
entered  it  as  a  student,  and  remained  there  until  he  was  licensed  to  preach 
by  the  New  York  Presbytery,  on  the  22d  of  April,  1815.  On  the  27th  of 
November  following,  be  was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  the  Orange 
Street  Church,  New  York.  After  remaining  there  about  three  years,  he 
accepted  a  call  from  the  Branch  (Presbyterian)  Church  in  Salem,  Mass., 
and  was  installed  there  by  the  Londonderry  Presbytery,  on  the  6th  of 
January,  1819.  He  resigned  this  charge  about  the  close  of  1820,  spent 
the  succeeding  winter  and  spring  in  the  city  of  New  York,  and  then  took  a 
missionary  tour  in  the  Western  part  of  the  State  of  New  York,  and  in  Ohio. 
In  the  summer  of  1822,  he  accepted  an  invitation  from  the  united  Congre- 
gations of  Snow  Hill,  Pitt's  Creek,  Rehoboth,  and  Monokin  in  Maryland, 
and  immediately  commenced  his  labours  there.  But  when  he  had  scarcely 
had  time  to  survey  his  anticipated  field  of  labour,  death  put  a  period  to  both 
his  labours  and  his  life.  In  August  of  the  same  year,  he  was  attacked  with 
congestive  fever,  and  on  the  7th  of  September  foUowiug,  died  at  Princess 
Ann,  whither  he  had  gone  a  few  days  before, — in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of 
his  age.  It  is  inscribed  on  his  monument— *' All  who  knew  him,  loved 
him."  In  the  autumn  of  1816,  he  was  married  to  Mary  Ann,  daughter  of 
£lisha  Coit,  of  New  York.  She  is  now  (1856)  the  widow  of  the  late  lion. 
Samuel  Hubbard,  of  Boston. 

John,  a  younger  son  of  Dr.  Blatchford,  who  also  entered  the  ministry, 
was  born  at  Bridgeport,  Conn.,  May  24,  1796.  Having  removed  with  his 
father^s  family  to  Lansingburg,  he  was  fitted  for  College,  partly  at  the 
Cambridge  Academy,  Washington  County,  N.  Y.,  and  partly  at  the  Salem 
Academy,  He  entered  Union  College  in  1817,  and  graduated  in  1S20. 
Shortly  after,  he  became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Prince- 
ton, where  he  remained  between  two  and  three  years.  After  being  licensed 
by  the  Presbytery  of  Troy,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Presbyterian  Church 
in  Pittstown,  N.  Y.,  where  he  was  ordained  and  installed  in  August,  1823. 
Here  he  remained  till  the  spring  of  1825,  when  he  removed  to  Stillwater, 
N.  Y., — being  installed  Pastor  of  the  Church  there  on  the  20th  of  April 
of  that  year.  In  1829,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Congregational 
Church  in  his  native  place.  Here  he  laboured  with  much  acceptance  till 
1836,  when  the  enfeebled  health  of  his  wife  led  him  to  resign  Lis  charge 
with  a  view  to  foreign  travel.  This  purpose,  however,  was  providentially 
defeated;  and  the  winter  following  he  spent  at  Jacksonville,  111.  In  1837, 
he  was  called  to  Chicago,  where  he  continued  labouring  acceptably  and 
usefully  until  1840,  when,  in  consequence  of  having  suffered  severely  from 
a  brain  fever,  from  the  effects  of  which  he  never  fully  recovered,  he  returned 
to  the  East  with  a  view  to  a  permanent  residence.  But,  compelled  by  the 
bealtb  of  his  wife,  he  again  went  to  the  West.  The  winter  of  1840-41  he 
fipent  at  Wheeling,  Va. ;  and  from  1841  to  1844,  he  was  connected  with 
Marion  College, — first  as  Professor  of  Intellectual  and  Moral  Philosophy, 
and  afterwards  as  President.  After  the  College  was  purchased  by  the 
Freemasons,  he  removed  to  West  Ely,  where  he  continued  till  1847 ;  when, 
at  the  instance  of  friends,  he  removed  to  Quiucy,  111.;  and  there,  after 
abounding  in  labours  for  several  years,  he  died  in  April,  1855.     He  was  a 


X64  PUSBTTSBIAN. 

man  of  a  ready  mind,  a  genial  spirit,  frank  and  pleasant  manners,  sealoody 
devoted  to  his  work,  and  a  very  acceptable  preacher.  He  was  honoured 
with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Marion  College  in  1841. 

Mrs.  Blatehford  (the  Doctor's  widow)  survived  him  many  years,  and  died 
at  Lansiiigburg,  after  an  illness  of  about  six  days,  on  the  2d  of  December, 
1846.  She  was  a  lady  of  high  intellectual  endowments,  and  a  beautiful 
specimen  of  true  refinement  and  Christian  loveliness. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Blatchford's  published  works: — The  Validity 
of  Presbyterian  Ordination  maintained  in  a  Letter  to  the  Rev.  William 
Smith,  D.  D.,  1798.  An  Address  delivered  to  the  Oneida  Indians,  1810. 
A  Sermon  before  the  Albany  Bible  Society,  1811.  A  Sermon  on  the  day 
of  the  National  Thanksgiving,  1815.  A  Sermon  on  the  sanctification  of 
the  Sabbath,  1825. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Dr.  Blatehford  several  times,  and  was 
always  struck  with  his  bland  and  gentlemanly  manners,  and  his  sensible  and 
edifying  conversation.  I  heard  him  preach  once  only :  the  sermon  in  mat- 
ter and  manner  was  highly  impressive.  I  could  easily  understand,  from 
what  I  saw  of  him,  that  he  must  have  been  one  of  the  leading  men  of  his 
day. 


FROM  THE  REV.  MARK  TUCKER,  D.  D, 

Wethersfibld,  Conn.,  Jane  21,  1849. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  recollections  of  the  late  Dr.  Blatehford  are  altogether  of  & 
pleasant  character.  He  is  associated  in  my  mind  with  the  whole  of  my  college 
course,  with  its  hopes  and  aspirations,  with  its  early  struggles  and  closing  scenes, 
lie  was  one  of  the  Trustees  and  one  of  the  Examiners  of  Union  College.  He  was 
exceedingly  kind  to  young  men,  and  took  a  deep  interest  in  their  welfare.  As 
several  of  his  sons  were,  at  different  times,  members  of  College,  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  visit  them  in  their  rooms,  and,  indulging  himself  M'ith  a  pipe  and 
familiar  conversation,  intermingling  interesting  anecdotes  with  judicious  counsel, 
his  hold  upon  the  affections  of  the  young  men  whom  he  occasionally  met  there, 
became  very  strong.  His  open,  manly  countenance,  and  dignified  English  man- 
ners, made  an  early  impression  upon  me.  He  was  an  excellent  Greek  scholar — 
his  translation  of  Moor's  Greek  Grammar  was  adopted  by  the  Faculty  of  Union 
College.  He  was  always  present  at  the  Examinations  and  the  Commencements 
of  the  College,  and  was  regarded  as  one  of  its  most  eflBcient  friends  and  patrons. 
I  had  no  intimate  acquaintance  with  him  until  after  my  settlement  in  the  minis- 
try at  Stillwater,  in  1817.  I  Was  allowed  to  become  one  of  a  small  circle  of 
ministers  who  met  for  mutual  improvement,  and  soon  was  admitted  to  his  con- 
fidence. That  circle,  though  small,  embraced  men  of  the  first  talents  in  Albany 
and  the  vicinity.  It  was  at  their  meetings  that  I  first  learned,  from  actual 
observation,  the  benignity  and  generosity  of  his  spirit,  his  vigorous  powers,  and 
substantial  acquirements. 

Dr.  Blatehford  was  eminently  favoured  in  having  a  wife  admirably  fitted  to 
her  station.  Their  numerous  children,  both  sons  and  daughters,  have  borne 
ample  testimony,  by  their  excellent  characters  and  useful  lives,  to  the  wisdom 
and  fidelity  of  their  parents.  One  of  the  greatest  American  statesmen  once  said, 
"  Our  children  rather  than  our  parents  tell  what  we  are."  It  is  seldom  that 
such  strong  ties  hold  a  family  together. 

As  a  preacher,  Dr.  Blatehford  was  distinguished  for  ease  and  naturalness;  for 
appropriate  and  useful  thought,  and  an  impressive  and  somewhat  imposing 


SAMUEL  BLATCHFORD.  105 

Vftimer.  He  SAmetimes  rose  to  saUimity,  but  n«Ter  descended  to  tamencss. 
fie  was  always  instructive,  and  occasionally  irresistibly  pathetic. 

His  religious  opinions  were  formed  upon  mature  reflection,  and  were  held 
with  DO  small  tenacity.  They  were,  I  believe,  strictly  in  accordance  with  the 
standards  of  the  Church  to  which  he  belonged.  An  incident  occurred  about 
1819,  when  I  was  travelling  with  him  to  Saratoga  Springs,  which  very  well 
illustrated  his  polemic  dexterity.     We  paused  for  a  short  time  at  the  house  of  a 

Mr.  G— ,  a  man  of  considerable  pretension,  and  some  notoriety.     He  very  soon 

entered  into  conversation  with  Dr.  Blatchford,  on  a  variety  of  subjects,  and  took 
occasion  to  suggest  some  difficulties  in  respect  to  the  doctrine  of  Election.  Turn- 
ing to  the  Tenerable  looking  gentleman,  who  was  a  professor  of  religion,  the 
Boctor  enquired,  with  an  air  of  great  benignity, — **  Do  you  believe  the  conversion 
of  a  sinner  from  the  error  of  his  ways  to  be  an  act  of  Divine  power  ?^'  He 
replied, — **  I  do."  He  then  enquired,—?**  Do  you  believe  God  ever  puts  forth  an 
act  of  almighty  power  without  intending  it  ?**  **  Certainly  not,"  was  the 
answer.  **  Then,"  said  Dr.  B.,  **  when  does  God  intend  to  do  it  ?"  The 
objector  made  no  reply,  but  immediately  turned  the  conversation  to  other  topics. 
The  Doctor  only  remarked, — **  that  is  my  doctrine  of  Election." 

Although  not  a  member  of  the  same  Presbytery,  yet  I  often  met  lum  in  Synod. 
He  was  a  thorough  Presbyterian,  and  a  judicious  and  safe  counsellor.  He 
regarded  it  as  an  imperative  duty  to  attend  all  the  judicatories  of  the  Church, 
and  he  was  a  strenuous  advocate  of  Gospel  discipline. 

He  gave  the  whole  weight  of  his  influence  to  elevate  the  standard  of  ministerial 
education,  and  often  set  his  face  against  hasty  admissions  to  the  clerical  office. 
He  was  an  early  and  zealous  friend  of  the  Princeton  Theological  Seminary,  and 
eTinced  great  sympathy  for  young  men,  who  were  struggling  through  poverty  or 
ill  health  to  enter  the  sacred  profession.  He  always  had  a  kind  word,  which 
often  proved  a  balm  to  a  wounded  heart  and  a  depressed  spirit. 

He  had  some  physical  infirmities  which  abridged  his  usefulness  as  a  pastor,  by 
preventing  him  from  visiting  his  people  as  often  as  he  desired;  but  his  eldest 
daughter,  who  survived  him  several  years,  made  up,  in  a  great  measure,  by  her 
gentleness  and  fidelity,  for  the  defect.  The  sight  of  some  domestic  animals 
would  throw  him  into  convulsions,  and,  owing  to  this,  he  was  several  times  near 
losing  his  life.  These  peculiarities,  however,  became  known,  and  he  seldom 
suiTered  much  inconvenience  on  account  of  them. 

Dr.  Blatchford  had  a  large  Christian  heart :  he  was  ready  to  sustain  the  great 
benevolent  institutions  of  the  day  according  to  his  ability.  His  name  will  be 
found  on  many  of  the  rolls  of  Christian  charity,  and  especially  among  the  early 
friends  of  Home  Missions,  and  of  the  American  Bible  Society. 

In  his  last  protracted  illness,  he  enjoyed  many  precious  manifestations  of  tlie 
Divine  favour.  It  was  my  privilege  to  see  him  often  during  his  long  continued 
sufierings.  His  countenance  sometimes  shone  like  the  Jewish  Legislator's.  His 
whole  conversation  indicated  an  eminently  spiritual  frame  of  feeling.  He  would 
occasionally  expound  passages  of  Scripture  with  a  compass  and  unction,  a  beauty 
and  force,  which  astonished  me.  He  had  a  chair  which  he  sometimes  called  his 
'*  revelation  chair."  He  would  sit  in  it,  and  pour  out  his  soul  in  strains  of  devout 
fervour,  until  nature  was  exhausted.  As  the  morning  star  fades  into  the  splen- 
donrs  of  the  rising  sun,  so  he  went  out  of  the  world  in  a  blaze  of  glory.  His 
was  an  eminently  triumphant  death  scene. 

A  few  weeks  before  his  death,  I  signified  to  him  that  I  wished  him  to  baptize 
my  infant  son,  who  was  to  bear  his  name.  A  highly  respectable  friend  of  mine 
accompanied  us  to  witness  the  ceremony,  and  the  peculiarly  solemn  and  impres- 
sive manner  in  which  the  service  was  performed,  is  believed  to  have  had  an 
important  influence  in  bringing  that  friend  to  a  practical  and  experimental 
knowledge  of  Divine  truth.     Thus,  to  the  very  last,  was  he  the  instrument  of 


166  PRESBYTERIAN. 

turning  men  to  righteousness^  and  doubtless  he  will  shine  as  the  stars  foreror 
and  ever. 

Tours  in  the  fellowship  of  the  Gospel, 

MARK  TUCKER. 


FROM  THE  REV.  RAVAUD  K.  RODGERS,  D.  D. 

Bound  Brook,  K.  J.,  June  17, 1857. 

My  dear  Brother:  It  gives  me  great  pleasure,  in  compliance  with  your  request, 
to  furnish  you  with  some  reminiscences  of  the  character  of  the  late  Rey.  Dr. 
Blatchford.  My  recollections  of  him  are,  as  my  associations  with  him  were> 
yery  pleasant.  Although  I  became  somewhat  acquainted  with  him  before  I 
entered  the  ministry,  (for  he  was  often  at  my  father's  house  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  a  Director  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  while  I  was  pur- 
suing my  studies  there,)  yet  it  was  not  until  Providence  cast  my  lot  within  the 
bounds  of  the  Presbytery  of  Troy,  of  which  he  was  an  honoured  and  useful 
member,  that  I  knew  how  to  estimate  his  great  worth. 

In  adverting  to  some  of  his  prominent  traits,  I  should  say,  first  of  all,  that  he 
was  evidently  an  humble  follower  Of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  He  carried  his 
religion  with  him  wherever  he  went,  and  was  never  backward  in  showing  forth 
the  praises  of  his  Master,  both  by  word  and  by  deed.  He  was  a  sober,  thorough, 
well-read  theologian,  and  an  able  minister  of  the  New  Testament.  Ilis  dis- 
courses were  prepared  with  great  care,  were  full  of  the  most  weighty  instruction, 
and  adapted  with  great  discrimination  to  the  circumstances  of  his  people.  They 
were  fitted,  on  the  one  hand,  to  administer  comfort  and  strength  to  the  children 
of  the  Kingdom,  and  on  the  other  to  bring  the  wanderer  to  a  consideration  of  his 
ways,  and  finally  to  an  acceptance  of  the  gracious  provision  of  the  Gospel.  His 
people  were  bound  to  him  by  a  tie  of  unusual  strength.  Some  constitutional 
peculiarities  prevented  him  from  mingling  as  much  with  them  as  might  have  been 
desirable — ^still,  when  duty  called  him,  he  was  always  ready  and  willing  to  go, 
and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  a  rich  blessing  attended  his  private  as  well  as 
public  labours.  Nor  did  he  confine  his  labours  to  the  people  of  his  own  charge. 
Though  he  did  not  go  out  to  visit  other  churches  as  often  as  his  neighbour,  the 
late  venerable  Dr.  Coe,  of  Troy,  yet  he  took  great  pleasure  in  preaching  and 
administering  the  ordinances  of  the  Gospel  abroad,  as  occasion  required,  or 
opportunity  offered.  Many  yet  live  who  remember  with  heartfelt  pleasure  the 
visits  he  made  to  the  churches  with  which  they  were  connected,  and  the  deep 
interest  he  manifested  for  the  promotion  of  their  spiritual  welfare.  While  the 
memory  of  these  visits  is  embalmed  in  their  hearts,  I  doubt  not  there  is  a  yet 
more  enduring  record  of  them  on  high. 

Dr.  Blatchford  was  eminently  "a  lover  of  hospitality" — none  who  ever  had 
the  privilege  of  a  place  at  his  fireside  or  his  table,  but  will  render  a  grateful  con- 
firmation of  this.  Of  remarkably  easy  and  winning  manners,  and  kindly  and 
generous  dispositions,  and  fine  powers  of  conversation, — no  one  who  came  under 
his  roof  could  long  retain  the  feelings  of  a  stranger.  Of  him  it  may  be  said,  as 
was  said  of  Dr.  D wight  by  Professor  Olmsted, — "  He  shone  nowhere  with 
brighter  lustra  than  in  the  circle  of  friends  he  loved,  when  the  glow  of  animation 
lighted  up  his  countenance,  and  a  perpetual  stream  of  knowledge  and  wisdom 
flowed  from  his  lips." 

Another  striking  characteristic  of  Dr.  Blatchford  was,  that  he  was  eminently 
the  friend  of  those  who  were  looking  forward  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  as 
well  as  ever  ready  to  aid,  by  his  judicious  and  paternal  counsels,  those  who  had 
entered  upon  it.  There  are  many  still  living, — ^and  I  am  myself  one  of  the  num- 
ber, — who  remember  what  wise  and  encouraging  words  he  used  to  speak  to 


SAMUEL  BLATCnrORD.  167 

ibeiDy  and  how  much  a  single  intenriew  with  him  often  did  to  strengthen  them 
ibr  their  arduous  lahours. 

Dr.  BUtchford  was  most  exemplary  in  his  attendance  on  the  judicatories  of 
the  Church.  In  the  Presbytery,  in  the  Synod,  and  in  the  General  Assembly,  of 
which  he  was  frequently  a  member,  (for  his  brethren  felt  that  they  were  safe  in 
committing  their  ecclesiastical  interests  to  his  care,)  his  opinions  uniformly  com- 
manded great  attention  and  respect.  On  these  occasions  particularly,  he  always 
left  the  impression  that  he  was  an  eminently  wise  counsellor,  as  well  as  a  faith- 
fal  friend  of  the  Church  to  which  he  belonged. 

Dr.  Blatchford's  death  was  worthy  to  crown  his  godly  and  useful  life.  It  was 
my  privilege  to  witness  the  serenity  and  triumph  of  his  spirit,  as  he  was  getting 
ready  to  put  on  immortality;  and  as  I  made  out  a  brief  record  of  what  I  wit- 
nessed and  knew  of  his  dying  exercises  while  the  scene  was  yet  fresh  in  my 
memory,  perhaps  I  cannot  occupy  the  rest  of  this  letter  more  advantageously 
than  by  giving  you  the  substance  of  it. 

Said  he,  on  one  occasion,  when  conversing  with  reference  to  his  departure, — 
"I  feel  like  a  passenger  waiting  to  be  carried  over  Jordan;"  and  at  another, 
when  in  great  distress  of  body, — "  It  is  harder  crossing  the  stream  than  I  had 
anticipated,  but  the  beauties  of  Canaan  are  not  at  all  diminished  by  it."  When, 
on  one  occasion,  a  member  of  his  family  proposed  to  him  to  take  some  nourish- 
ment»  he  replied,  with  a  sweet  smile  which  lighted  up  his  countenance  almost 
pallid  in  death, — "My  eating  days  are  almost  over,  but  my  banquet  days  are 
all  before  me.  Oh,  Eternity  !  Eternity  !  How  bright  will  be  its  shining  !  IIow 
rich  will  be  its  joys  !" 

Said  he  to  a  friend  who  was  standing  by,  and  making  some  inquiry  in  regard 
to  his  ministry,—*'  I  have  been  in  the  vineyard  forty  years.  I  have  handled 
the  plongh,  the  mattock,  and  the  spade,  but  in  so  sluggish  a  manner  that  I  won- 
der the  great  Master  has  not  turned  me  out.  Now  I  am  come  to  the  end  of  my 
work,  and  am  going  to  receive  my  penny;  and  if  that  is  bestowed  through 
sorereign  grace,  it  will  be  just  one  penny  more  than  I  deserve." 

When,  on  one  occasion,  it  was  proposed  that  prayer  should  be  offered  on  his 
behalf,  he  replied, — "  Oh,  yes, — prayer  is  an  order — a  bank  note — drawn  upon 
the  Great  Proprietor.  It  will  always  be  honoured,  if  presented  in  a  proper  frame 
of  mind — sure  pay — ^no  counterfeit." 

Addressing  himself  to  some  friends  who  had  called  to  see  him,  and  who 
expressed  the  hope  that  he  might  be  graciously  sustained,  even  unto  death,  he 
replied  as  follows — "  As  the  wise  men  were  travelling  in  pursuit  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  the  Star  of  Bethlehem,  which  guided  them  on  their  way,  grew  brighter 
and  brighter,  until  it  stood  over  the  place  where  the  child  lay;  and  if  I  am  permitted 
to  have  a  sight  of  that  Star,  even  in  its  faint  glimmering,  how  blest  am  I !  This 
strengthens,  supports,  encourages  me,  as  I  go  to  be  with  Christ.  But  Oh,  how 
shall  this  poor  heart  of  mine  bear  the  sight  of  the  transcendent  glory  of  my 
Divine  Redeemer,  unless  it  is  more  completely  sanctified  by  the  Blessed  Spirit.^ 
But  this  it  shall  be,  and  will  be,  to  the  praise  of  his  rich  and  glorious  grace." 

When  spoken  to  in  regard  to  his  final  rest,  he  replied  as  follows: — *' When  I 
have  been  travelling  up  and  down  the  North  River  in  the  steam-boat,  I  have 
often  noticed  a  great  anxiety  among  the  passengers  to  get  a  view  of  the  '  Moun- 
tain House'  on  the  Catskill  Mountain;  and  if  there  were  twenty  tele.scopes  on 
board,  they  would  all  be  employed  in  examining  the  distant  edifice;  but  we  who 
are  sailing  down  the  River  of  Life,  are  attracted  by  the  Building  of  God,  the 
House  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  Heavens.  And  we  have  a  telescope 
of  Divine  origin — the  Word  of  the  Living  God,"  (at  the  same  time  raising  his 
hand,  and  looking  through  it,)  *'  through  which  we  may  examine  the  beautiful 
bnflding,  and  view  its  foundation,  and  admire  its  structure  and  its  extent,  and 
by  meang  of  which  we  may  learn  the  qualifications  for  admittance  there." 


16g  PBESBTTEBIAN. 

"  Under  what  obligations  I  am,"  said  he  to  a  friend,  *'  to  sing  the  royalties  of 
grace — I  saj  royaUiea,  because  they  all  come  from  the  hand  of  a  Sovereign." 

Speaking  of  the  course  he  had  pursued  as  a  minister  of  Christ,  he  remarked,— 
"  I  have  always  been  a  moderate  man,  or  at  least  have  tried  to  be  so,  but  in  some 
things  I  have  been  vastly  too  moderate.  God  has  said — '  Thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart;'  but  oh,  how  often  have  I  suffered  a  little  bit 
of  the  creature  to  creep  in,  even  in  my  best  moments." 

Such  are  some  of  the  remarks  made  by  this  excellent  man,  as  he  was  approach- 
ing the  end  of  his  course.  Little  did  I  think,  as  I  took  down  some  of  them, 
while  standing  by  his  side,  and  was  furnished  with  others  by  his  son  John,  (now 
deceased,)  that,  after  the  lapse  of  nearly  thirty  years,  I  should  have  occasion  to 
present  them  in  this  public  manner  by  way  of  illustrating  his  triumphant  death 
scene.  T  shall  be  thankful  indeed  if  they  may  serve  to  reproduce  the  impression 
on  other  minds  which  they  have  made  on  mine. 

Yours  with  Christian  affection, 

R.  K.  RODGERS. 


-•♦- 


ARCHIBALD  CAMERON  * 

1795—1836. 

Archibald  Cahkbon  was  born  in  Scotland  about  the  year  1771  or 
1772  ;  but  his  parents  migrated  to  America,  when  he  was  in  his  infancy. 
His  father,  whosp  name  was  John  Cameron,  of  the  *'Clan  Cameron,"  of  the 
family  of  Kenloch,  was  a  farmer,  of  good  natural  capacity,  correct  princi- 
ples, and  strict  integrity.  His  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Jannet 
McDonald,  was  of  the  '*  McDonald  Clan,"  of  most  respectable  parentage, 
of  a  strong  and  well  cultivated  mind,  and  of  exemplary  piety.  She  was  a 
true  **  Scotch  Presbyterian." 

The  first  permanent  settlement  of  the  family,  after  their  arrival  in  this 
country,  was  in  Virginia,  on  the  Monongahela  River,  where  they  resided 
Until  April,  1781.  Meanwhile,  one  of  the  sons,  Angus ^  a  young  man  of 
fine  talents  and  accomplishments,  who  accompanied  General  George  Rogers 
Clark  in  his  expedition  through  the  Western  country,  had  visited  Kentucky, 
and  on  his  return  had  given  such  a  glowing  description  of  its  advantages  as 
a  place  of  residence,  as  induced  the  family  to  make  their  arrangements  for 
removing  thither.  They  accordingly  did  remove  in  the  spring  of  1781. 
After  spending  two  years  in  a  place  called  Lynn's  Station,  they  settled  on 
a  farm  in  Nelson.  County, — a  beautiful  and  romantic  spot,  about  six  miles 
from  Bardstown. 

Of  the  earliest  years  of  the  subject  of  this  sketch  little  is  known ;  but, 
as  his  father  was  a  farmer  in  moderate  circumstances,  it  is  presumed  that 
he  spent  most  of  the  time  at  home  as  a  labourer  on  the  farm.  But,  in  the 
midst  of  the  cares  and  perils  in  which  he  grew  up,  the  cultivation  of  his 
mind  was  never  lost  sight  of — he  studied  Latin,  and  to  some  extent  Greek 
also,  under  the  tuition  of  his  elder  brother,  Angus,  who,  though  subject  at 

•  MSS.  from  Bev«ral  elergymon,  Aimished  bj  Mr.  J.  C.  Brown.— Collins'  Hist.  Kv.— ^DaTld« 
son*8  Hist.  Presb.  Ch.  Ky. 


ABCHIBALD  GAnlOK.  .  ,    .  2gg 


that  time  to  mental  alieDAtion,  in  coDMquSK4^  1ik^MUi|a^CKV^i^JHi  head, 
was  still  eapable  of  rendering  good  service  in  nli^i^^oi  ioe^tuSttfen  to  the 
younger  members  of  the  family.  * 

Mr.  Cameron  spent  a  year  or  more  at  the  '*  Transylvania  Seminary,'*  now 
"  Transylvania  University/'  in  Lexington,  over  which  a  Mr.  Wilson  at 
that  time  presided.  He  subsequently  completed  his  literary  course  at 
Bardstown,  under  Dr.  James  Priestley/ — one  of  the  most  accomplished 
scholars,  and  perhaps  the  most  distinguished  classical  teacher,  of  his  day,  in 
the  West.  He  was  here  associated  in  his  studies  with  John  Eowan,  Felix 
Orundy,  John  Pope,  and  several  others,  who  became  greatly  distinguished  ; 
hut  he  is  said,  in  point  of  scholarship,  to  have  taken  the  precedence  of  them 
alL  The  acquaintance  which  he  now  formed  with  these  eminent  men  con- 
tinued in  after  life,  and  they  often  bore  the  highest  testimony  to  his  talents 
and  virtues. 

Though  he  had  the  benefit  of  a  strictly  religious  education,  and  grew  up 
under  the  restraining  influence  of  sound  religious  principle,  yet  it  was  not 
till  he  was  about  eighteen  years  of  age  that  his  attention  was  directed  to 
religion  as  the  chief  concern.  After  a  somewhat  protracted  season  of  anxiety 
in  respect  to  his  salvation,  he  believed  himself  to  have  become  the  subject 
of  a  renovating  influence  ;  and,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  he  made  a  public  pro- 
fession of  his  faith,  and  connected  himself  with  the  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Bardstown,  then  under  the  pastoral  care  of  the  Rev.  Terah  Templin.t 

Mr.  Cameron,  after  finishing  his  literary  course,  entered  on  the  study  of 
Theology,  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  David  Rice,  who  then  resided 
near  Danville,  in  Mercer  County,  Ky.  His  advantages  here  for  pursuing 
a  theological  course  were  quite  limited ;  but  his  uncommon  energy,  inde- 
pendence, and  perseverance,  made  up  in  a  great  measure  for  this  deficiency. 
He  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Oospel  by  the  Transylvania  Presbytery, 
February  14,  1795.  His  first  eff'orts  in  the  pulpit  by  no  means  gave  pro- 
mise of  what  was  subsequently  realized,  owing  particularly  to  a  hesitating 
and  diflident  manner,  which  practice  enabled  him  in  a  good  degree  to  correct. 
He  commenced  his  ministerial  course  as  a  missionary  ;  and  his  labours  were 
distributed  among  a  large  number  of  neighbourhoods,  mostly  in  the  Coun- 
ties of  Nelson,  Shelby,  and  Jefferson,  at  many  of  which  points  he  afterwards 
organized  churches. 

In  the  spring  of  1796,  he  received  a  call  from  a  people  who  wished  to  be 
collected  into  a  congregation,  and  to  enjoy  the  regular  ministry  of  the  Gos- 

*  Javes  PBiBBTLirwMtheson  of  a  poor  bot  rery  pioas  man  in  the  Comity  of  Rookbrid^^e^ 
Ta.  The  Rev.  William  Graham,  in  oateohisiDg  the  youth  of  his  charge,  having  been  struck 
vith  the  promptoess  and  pertinency  of  his  answers,  obtained  the  consent  of  his  parents  to  take 
him  into  his  own  family,  with  a  view  to  his  being  liberally  educated.  The  boy,  possessing 
miiark»ble  talents,  soon  became  a  distinguished  scholar  and  a  Tutor  in  the  Academy.  After 
eompleting  his  academical  stadies,  and  serving  for  some  time  as  Tutor,  he  directed  his  course  to 
Mazyland,  and  was  soon  employed  as  a  classioil  teacher,  first  in  Annapolis,  and  then  in  George- 
town. On  removing  to  Kentucky  as  a  lawyer,  he  resumed  the  business  of  teaching,  but  after- 
waida  retnmed  to  Georgetown.  Not  far  from  the  beginning  of  this  century,  he  transferred  his 
abode  to  the  city  of  Baltimore,  and  a  few  years  later,  accepted  an  invitation  to  take  charge  of 
Cumberland  College,  as  it  was  then  called,  at  Nashville.  Here  he  spent  the  last  years  of  his 
life ;  bat,  though  possessed  of  extracrdinary  learning  and  high  qualifications  as  a  teacher,  he 
did  not  meeeed  well  in  organising  and  arransing  an  infant  College. 

t  Tbbah  Templih,  having  been  licensed  by  the  Hanover  (Va.)  Presbytery  In  1780,  went  to 
Kentaeky  shortly  after,  where  he  received  ordination  in  1785.  He  settled  in  Washington 
Coanty,  on  the  South  side  of  the  Kuitucky  River,  and  there  organised  several  churdies  and 
laboarcd  faithfully  as  an  evangelist.  He  extended  his  labours,  in  the  wav  of  supplying  desti* 
tate  ehurehea  and  forming  new  ones,  into  Livingston  County  also.  He  died  October  0,  1818, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-six.  His  talents  were  respeotabloi  hiii  maimer  solemn  and  impressive^ 
Bad  his  eharaeter  every  way  irreproachable. 

Vol.  IV.  22 


170  PBESBYTERIAV. 

pel,  in  the  Coimiies  of  both  Shelby  and  Nelson.  On  the  2d  of  Jane,  1796, 
he  was  ordained  and  installed  over  the  Churches  of  Akron  and  Fox  Run  in 
Shelby,  and  Big  Spring  in  Nelson.  For  several  years,  his  labours  were 
spread  over  a  very  extensive  field,  now  occupied  by  the  Churches  of  Shelby- 
ville,  Mulberry,  Six  Mile,  Shiloh,  Olivet,  and  Big  Spring,  and  embracing  a 
circuit  of  from  thirty  to  forty  miles.  These  churches,  with  the  exception 
of  Big  Spring,  were  organized  and  built  up  through  his  instrumentality  :  he 
also  organized  the  Churches  of  Cane  Run  and  Pennsylvania  Run,  in  Jeffer- 
son County.  For  many  years,  he  was  the  only  Presbyterian  minister  in 
this  wide  extent  of  country  ;  to  supply  which  he  laboured  with  inde£aitigable 
industry  and  perseverance,  travelling  through  a  wilderness  in  the  most 
inclement  seasons,  and  often  being  obliged  to  swim  the  swollen  streams,  to 
fulfil  his  appointments.  But  the  field  being  too  wide,  aud  the  labour  in 
supplying  so  many  points  too  great,  he,  in  1803,  resigned  his  charge  of  the 
church  in  Nelson,  and  devoted  himself  exclusively  to  those  in  Shelby.  Here 
he  laboured  with  great  acceptance  and  success  until  1818,  when  the  Churches, 
now  called  Shiloh  and  Olivet,  being  desirous  of  having  a  large  portion  of 
the  time  and  labours  of  a  minister,  were  separated  from  his  charge,  and 
secured  the  services  of  another  pastor.  Mr.  Cameron  now  devoted  his  undi- 
vided energies  to  the  Shelby ville.  Mulberry,  and  Six  Mile,  Churches.  In 
this  still  extended  field,  the  people  were  much  attached  to  him,  and  his 
labours  among  them  were  attended  with  a  manifest  blessing ;  but  the  acces- 
sions to  his  churches,  though  very  considerable,  did  not  secure  a  propor- 
tionate increase  of  members,  as  the  Churches  were  subject  to  constant 
diminution  by  removals  to  the  West.  At  one  time,  in  the  space  of  two 
years,  almost  an  entire  church,  besides  many  from  some  other  of  his 
churches,  removed  to  Indiana;  and  in  that  single  State,  there  are  now 
(1852)  some  five  or  six  Presbyterian  Congregations,  which  are  colonies 
from  the  Congregations  of  which  he  was  pastor  in  Shelby  County.  During 
an  extensive  revival  of  religion  in  1828,  large  additions  were  made  to  all 
his  churches;  after  which  it  became  necessary  for  him  to  contract  his 
labours  within  a  still  narrower  field  ;  and  from  this  time  till  near  the  close 
of  life,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  Churches  of  Shelbyville  and  Mulberry. 
Here  he  had  a  long  and  interesting  term  of  service, — it  being  altogether 
more  than  forty  years. 

In  early  life,  Mr.  Cameron  had  a  most  vigorous  constitution,  and  enjoyed 
excellent  health;  but  his  abundant  labours  and  exposures,  in  connection 
with  his  habit  of  close  study,  gradually  impaired  his  vigour,  and  brought 
on  a  nervous  affection,  which,  though,  for  a  while,  it  did  not  interrupt,  yet 
greatly  embarrassed,  the  discharge  of  his  duties.  This  affection  finally  ter- 
minated in  bronchitis y — the  disease  that  occasioned  his  death.  He  was 
violently  attacked  by  it  in  February,  1836,  and  was  so  ill  that  his  recovery 
was  nearly  despaired  of;  but  in  the  early  part  of  summer,  his  health  had  so 
far  improved  that  he  was  able  occasionally  to  preach.  In  the  autumn  of 
that  year,  however,  he  began  to  sink,  and  no  medical  aid  was  sufficient  to 
arrest  his  decline.  During  his  last  illness, — a  period  of  ten  months,  he 
was  uniformly  sustained  by  the  consolations  of  religion,  and  sometimes  the 
state  of  his  mind  rose  to  intense  rapture.  To  his  brethren  of  the  Presby- 
tery, at  their  meeting  the  spring  before  his  death,  when  he  was  supposed  by 
himself  and  others  to  be  on  the  borders  of  the  grave,  he  sent  a  most  tender 
message,  assuring  them  that  the  nearer  he  approached  to  the  eternal  world, 


ARCHIBALD  CAMERON .  171 

th«  more  precious  did  the  doctrines  he  had  been  accustomed  to  preach 
appear  to  him,  and  charging  them  to  hold  fast  to  those  truths  which  yielded 
him  80  much  consolation  in  the  most  trying  circumstances.  In  the  full 
possession  of  his  faculties,  and  in  the  joyful  hope  of  entering  into  rest, 
he  died  on  the  4th  of  December,  1836. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  his  published  works : —  The  Faithful  Steward : 
against  baptizing  adults  who  do  not  give  evidence  of  faith  and  repentance, 
or  the  children  of  such  adults,  1806.  The  Monitor,  on  Religious  Liberty, 
Church  Government,  Discipline,  &c.,  1806.  An  Appeal  to  the  Scriptures 
on  the  design,  extent,  and  effect,  of  the  Propitiation  made  by  Christ,  1811. 
A  Diacourso  between  the  Confession  of  Faith  of  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
and  a  Preacher  in  that  Society  who  holds  the  doctrine  of  an  indefinite  or 
universal  atonement,  1814.  A  Defence  of  the  Doctrines  of  grace :  a  series 
of  Letters  in  reply  to  Judge  Davidge's  publication  addressed  to  the  **  advo- 
cates of  a  partial  Gospel,''  1816.  A  Keply  to  some  Arminian  questions 
on  "Divine  Predestination,"  and  to  a  doggerel  poem, — "The  trial  of 
Cain,**  1822.  An  anonymous  Letter  on  Foreordination.  Two  pamphlets 
addressed  to  the  Bcv.  George  C.  Light,  a  Methodist  Preacher,  1829.  An 
Historical  Sketch  of  the  Presbytery  of  Transylvania,  for  the  General 
Assembly's  Committee  appointed  to  write  a  History  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church. 

FROM  THE  HON,  C.  S.  TODD, 

MINUTER  raOX  THE  UEITED  STATES  TO  RUSSIA. 

Shelbtville,  Ky.,  January  1,  1852. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  proceed,  in  compliance  with  jour  request,  and  in  fulfilment  of 
my  promise,  to  submit  to  you  a  few  remarks  as  to  my  general  estimate  of 
the  character,  personal  appearance,  manners,  general  bearing  in  society,  the  Intel- 
leetaal  and  social  qualities,  the  style  of  preaching,  and  general  results  of  the 
labours,  of  the  late  Rev.  Archibald  Cameron. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  be  his  neighbour  for  many  years,  and  being  a  mem- 
ber of  one  of  the  churches  he  had  planted  in  this  region,  to  enjoy  the  privilege 
of  attending  his  preaching.  I  have  also  been  gratified  frequently  by  his  society 
around  my  own  fireside,  and  have  thus  been  enabled  to  form  an  estimate  of  his 
character  under  circumstances  the  most  favourable  to  obtain  a  right  appreciation 
of  it. 

His  personal  appearance  was  not  very  prepossessing,  though  his  head  and  the 
general  outline  of  his  features  indicated  his  striking  characteristics  of  mind, — 
decision  and  benevolence.  Ilis  personal  habits  as  to  dress  were  not  particularly 
neat, — which  may  be  ascribed  to  the  customs  of  the  early  days  of  Western 
Pennsylvania  and  Kentucky,  where  he  grew  up  to  manhood.  His  manners  in 
general  society  were  blunt,  evincing  traces  of  his  Scotch  descent,  but  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Church  and  of  his  congregation,  he  was  tender  and  affectionate  in 
his  intercourse,  exhibiting  a  remarkable  instance  of  the  power  of  grace  in  the 
soul.  The  thousands  who  attended  his  preaching  for  a  period  of  forty  years,  in 
a  wide  district  of  country,  and  especially  those  whom  he  was  the  blessed  instru- 
ment of  bringing  into  the  Church,  will  long  remember  the  affecting  instances  of 
his  intellectual  power  and  persuasive  eloquence;  but  most  of  all,  will  they  cherish 
a  deep  sense  of  the  tenderness  and  solicitude  with  which  he  laboured  for  their 
spiritual  welfare.  To  say  that  he  was  beloved  by  his  brethren  is  but  a  faint 
expression  of  their  feelings.  They  venerated  his  piety  and  his  rich  instruction, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  they  were  fascinated  by  the  sprightliness  of  his  wit  and 
the  benevolence  of  his  feelings. 


172  FBSSBTTJBRIAlf. 

His  style  of  preadiing  wss  peediiMr.  He  hftd  the  power  of  condensation  in  a 
very  remarkable  degree.  He  combined  chasteness  and  simplicitj  of  style  with 
great  earnestness  of  manner;  and  while  he  always  dwelt  with  emphasis  upon 
the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  he  neyer  failed  to  conclude  with  an  impressive  and 
practical  application. 

Mr.  Cameron  was  a  ripe  scholar  in  all  that  fitted  him  to  interpret  the  Scrip- 
tures, though  in  general  science  and  literature,  he  may  not  have  been  a  great 
proficient.  His  mind  was  cast  in  the  finest  mould,  and  its  distinctive  character- 
istics were  strength,  originality,  and  discrimination.  He  was  gifted  with  keen 
powers  of  satire,  and  when  contending  for  what  he  believed  to  be  the  truth,  he 
was  wonderfully  direct  and  pungent.  He  acted  upon  the  scriptural  principle, 
that  the  Church  mufrt  be  '^  first  pure — then  peaceable."  He  was  regarded  as 
decidedly  a  leader  in  the  Synod,  and  next  to  that  illustrious  ■  pioneer,  the  Rot. 
David  Rice,  he  was  the  Father  of  Presbyterianism  in  Kentucky. 

He  was  afflicted  for  many  years  with  what  was  termed  the  "  sleepy  disease," 
which  he  could  not  shake  off  in  the  pulpit.  Some  amusing  incidents  connected 
with  this  habit  are  treasured  up  in  the  memory  of  his  brethren.  Among  them 
may  be  mentioned  the  case  of  a  young  minister,  who,  on  the  occasion  of  a  pro- 
tracted meeting,  was  assisting  Father  Cameron.  During  his  sermon,  he  discov- 
ered his  elder  brother  to  be  apparently  in  a  sound  sleep,  and  he  ventured,  near 
the  close  of  the  discourse,  to  wander  out  of  the  Bible  in  search  of  some  philoso- 
phical speculations.  When  he  had  finished,  Father  Cameron  promptly  rose, 
and  reviewing  the  sermon  in  detail,  and  quoting  not  a  little  of  his  language, 
administered  such  a  rebuke  as  convinced  the  young  minister  that,  though  he 
seemed  to  sleep,  he  was  yet  wide  awake  to  the  truth.  The  lesson  was  not  lost 
on  the  young  preacher — ^he  afterwards  laboured  faithfully  many  years  in  one  of 
the  new  States. 

The  style  and  manner  of  Father  Cameron  bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  that 
of  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander  of  Princeton;  and  it  is  a  remarkable  coincidence 
that  they  were  pupils  of  the  same  teacher, — Mr.  Priestlej',  who  instructed  a  class 
in  Kentucky  who  became  distinguished  lawyers  and  statesmen.  In  one  peculiar 
talent.  Father  Cameron  and  Mr.  Rowan  were  equally  happy  ;  that  of  method, 
chasteness,  and  beauty  in  an  extemporaneous  address.  Mr.  Rowan  was  an 
eminent  orator  and  spoke  off-hand,  as  they  say  in  the  West,  with  all  the  preci- 
sion you  would  expect  in  a  written  production.  The  same  quality  was  exhibited 
in  the  extemporaneous  prayer  of  Father  Cameron,  who  blended  with  the  richest 
evangelical  thoughts  the  hallowed  tenderness  and  devout  elevation  of  a  heart 
deeply  penetrated  with  an  unction  from  on  high.  With  the  thousand  labourers 
in  the  vineyard  who  have  gone  before,  and  are  now  following  him,  his  reward  is 
in  Heaven  and  his  record  is  on  high. 

I  remain  yours  in  affectionate  bonds, 

C.  S.  TODD. 


JOSEPH,  OALDWUhL.  ];73 


JOSEPH  CALDWELL,  D.  D  * 

1796—1835. 

Tlie  fether  of  Joseph  Caldwell  was  a  physician,  settled  at  Laming- 
ton,  N.  J.  He  died  in  coDsequence  of  the  rupture  of  a  blood  vessel  in  his 
lungs,  on  the  19th  of  April,  1773,  was  buried  on  the  20th,  and  on  the  2l8t 
his  son  Joseph  was  bom.  His  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Kachel 
Harker,  was  the  daughter  of  a  Presbyterian  clergyman,  and  the  grand- 
daughter of  a  Mr.  Level,  a  Huguenot,  who  fled  from  France,  on  the  Revo- 
cation of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  After  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  war, 
the  family  removed  to  Bristol,  Pa.,  where  the  education  of  this  son  was 
commenced ;  and  subsequently  to  Amwell,  N.  J.  The  mother  was  a  woman 
of  devoted  piety,  and  attended  faithfully  to  the  religious  culture  of  her  son. 
His  studies  preparatory  to  entering  College  were  commenced  at  Princeton ; 
were  continued  at  Newark,  (to  which  place  again  his  mother  had  removed,) 
under  the  instruction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  McWhorter ;  and  were  completed  at 
Princeton.  As  the  pecuniary  circumstances  of  the  family  were  somewhat 
straitened.  Dr.  Witherspoon,  who  had  met  his  mother  at  Elizabethtown, 
kindly  proffered  his  aid,  as  far  as  the  matter  of  expense  was  concerned,  in 
furnishing  a  liberal  education  to  her  son.  He  accordingly  entered  the 
Freshman  class  in  the  autumn  of  1787,  and,  during  his  whole  collegiate 
course,  maintained  the  highest  rank  as  a  scholar.  He  graduated  in  1791, 
on  which  occasion  he  delivered  the  Salutatory  Oration  in  Latin. 

After  his  graduation,  he  engaged  in  the  business  of  teaching,  first  in  his 
native  place,  and  afterwards  in  Elizabethtown,  where  he  applied  himself  t'O 
the  study  of  Divinity,  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  David  Austin,  at 
that  time  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  that  place.  In  April,  1796, 
he  became  Tutor  in  Princeton  College,  and  continued  to  hold  the  office 
somewhat  more  than  a  year.  In  the  summer  of  1796,  he  received  and 
accepted  the  appointment  of  Professor  of  Mathematics  in  the  University 
of  North  Carolina.  On  the  22d  of  September  following,  he  was  licensed 
to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick  ;  and  immedi- 
ately after  entered  on  the  duties  of  his  Professorship,  being  then  only 
twenty-three  years  of  age.  A  spirit  less  determined  than  his  might  have 
been  broken  by  the  difficulties  against  which  he  continually  struggled  for 
many  years.  He  found  the  College  in  a  feeble  state,  unsettled  in  its  course 
of  studies,  without  discipline,  poorly  manned  with  officers,  low  in  funds, 
and  nearly  destitute  of  buildings,  librTiry,  and  apparatus.  The  Board  of 
Trustees  was,  with  few  exceptions,  composed  of  uneducated  men,  who  had 
little  skill  in  either  organizing  or  sustaining  such  an  institution.  In  its 
early  history,  it  was  subject  to  numerous  vicissitudes,  which  more  than  once 
threatened  its  very  existence ;  and  to  Dr.  Caldwell  is  justly  ascribed  the 
merit  of  having,  in  each  case,  saved  it  from  ruin,  and  of  having  laid  the 
foundation  of  that  high  respectability  which  it  has  attained  among  the  lite- 
rary institutions  of  our  country. 

In  1804,  he  was  transferred  from  his  Professorship  to  the  Presidency  of 
the  University.     This  latter  office  he  continued  to  hold  till  1812,  when  ho 

*  MSS.  from  Her.  E.  Mitchell,  D.  D.,  and  R«t.  W.  Hooper,  D.  D.— Foote'e  Sketches  of 
V.C. 


174  PEBSBYTBBIAN. 

resigned  it,  and  retnrned  to  the  mathematical  chair, — ^beiDg  sncceeded  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Chapman.  In  1816,  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was 
conferred  upon  him  by  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  In  1817,  Dr.  Chap- 
man retired  from  the  Presidency,  and  Dr.  Caldwell  was  chosen  President 
again.  In  1824,  he  went  to  Europe  for  the  purchase  of  apparatus  and 
books  for  the  University,  and  returned  the  following  year.  His  time  was 
spent  mostly  in  Great  Britain ;  but  he  passed  over  to  the  Continent,  and 
visited  Paris,  thence  went  to  Lyons  and  Switzerland,  and  down  the  Rhine 
to  Frankfort,  whence  he  returned  to  England.  The  first  access  of  the  dis- 
ease that  terminated  his  life  was  in  1828  or  1829,  after  which,  till  the  time 
of  his  decease,  (January  24,  1835,)  he  was  never  well,  and  often  suffered 
severely.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  E.  Mitchell, 
then  Senior  Professor  in  the  University,  and  at  the  ensuing  Commencement, 
a  Eulogium  commemorative  of  his  abilities,  virtues,  and  public  services, 
was  pronounced  by  Professor  Anderson,  subsequently  Judge  Anderson  of 
Florida.  A  monument  to  his  memory  was  erected  in  the  grove  surrounding 
the  University  buildings,  by  the  Trustees.  This  is  to  be  torn  down,  as  not 
corresponding  to  the  high  standing  of  the  man  whose  virtues  it  commemo- 
rates ;  and  another  of  greater  cost  and  elegance  is  to  be  substituted  for  it. 
It  is  now  (1854)  in  the  hands  of  the  artist.  The  funds  devoted  to  its  erec- 
tion, have  been  contributed  by  his  pupils  and  other  friends. 

About  1803,  he  was  married  to  Susan  Rowan  of  Fayetteville,  sister  to 
William  Barry  Grove,  formerly  Member  of  Congress  from  North  Carolina. 
She  became  the  mother  of  one  child,  that  died  in  infancy ;  and  she  did  not 
herself  long  survive.  In  1809,  he  was  a  second  time  married  to  Mrs. 
Helen  Hooper,  (a  Scotch  lady  whose  maiden  name  was  Hogg,)  widow  of 
a  son  of  the  Signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  She  was  the 
mother  of  three  sons  at  the  time  of  her  marriage,  but  had  no  children  after- 
wards. One  of  the  sons  is  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hooper,  for  many  years  Professor 
in  the  University  of  North  Carolina.  She  survived  her  second  husband 
several  years. 

Besides  two  or  three  occasional  Sermons,  Dr.  Caldwell  published  a  Math- 
ematical work  with  the  following  title : — A  Compendious  System  of  Ele- 
mentary Geometry,  in  Sevei^  Books:  to  which  an  eighth  is  added,  contain- 
ing such  other  propositions  as  are  Elementary.  Subjoined,  is  a  Treatise  of 
Plane  Trigonometry.  He  published  also,  in  one  of  the  Raleigh  newspa- 
pers, a  series  of  articles,  called  "Letters  of  Carlton,"  which  were  designed 
to  awaken  a  spirit  of  internal  improvement  in  the  State  of  North  Carolina; 
and  another  series  on  Popular  Education  or  Free  Schools.  These  were 
republished  in  a  volume  about  the  year,  1825. 

FROM  DENISON  OLMSTED,  LL.  D. 

New  Havkn,  May  8, 1854. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  President  Caldwell  commenced  in  the 
year  1818,  when  he  was  about  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and  being  a  Professor  in 
the  same  institution,  I  was  on  terms  of  daily  intercourse  with  him  for  the  seven 
years  following.  I  loved  him  as  a  man  and  a  Christian,  respected  him  for  his 
talents  and  learning,  and  admired  him  for  the  dignity  and  skill  with  which  he 
presided  over  the  College.  Dr.  Caldwell  was  in  stature  below  the  average 
height,  but  of  a  compact  and  elegant  form,  and  of  handsome  features.  His 
bodily  activity  and  athletic  vigour  were  remarkable^  and  his  ordinary  bearing, 


JOSEPH  CALDWELL.  J 75 

though  graceful  and  dignified,  bespoke  the  resolute  determination  of  his  char- 
acter. 

On  my  first  acquaintance  with  him, — ^as  his  intellect  did  Hot  appear  to  me 
remarkable,  and  his  oratorical  powers  were  but  small,  I  was  somewhat  at  a  loss 
to  account  for  that  extraordinary  influence  which  he  exercised  over  men's  minds, 
especially  in  a  country  where  nothing  is  so  much  admired  as  splendid  talents, 
and  nothing  commands  such  sway  as  popular  eloquence.  A  more  intimate 
acquaintance  with  him  revealed  the  secret  of  his  might.  He  was  a  man  of 
remarkably  sound  judgment — this  was  his  most  commanding  trait  of  character. 
He  was  self-denying — every  one  felt  that  he  was  ready  to  make  any  sacrifices 
within  his  power,  of  personal  ease,  pi-operty,  or  private  advantage,  for  the  good 
of  the  College.  He  was  generotis — his  charities  to  the  poor,  his  aid  to  the  unfor- 
tunate, his  hospitality  and  his  contributions  to  the  cause  of  benevolence,  were 
disproportioned  to  his  income,  and  left  him  little  more  than  a  frugal  support.  He 
was  fearless — in  the  unsettled  state  of  society  in  which  he  lived,  when  he  first 
took  up  his  residence  in  that  country,  he  had  frequently  to  encounter  the  spirit 
of  violence,  especially  among  the  insubordinate  youth  who  became  members  of 
the  College;  but  he  established,  and  ever  afterwards  maintained,  both  in  Col- 
lege and  out,  a  reputation  for  undaunted  courage.  Finally,  he  was  one  of  the 
most  persevering  of  men — his  perseverance,  however,  was  not  the  obstinacy 
which  adheres  to  its  measures,  merely  because  it  has  taken  them,  irrespective  of 
right  or  wrong,  but  that  firmness  which  refuses  to  relax  its  grasp,  because  it 
believes  them  to  be  right.  If  any  measure  was  in  agitation,  afiecting  the  inter- 
ests of  the  College,  of  sufficient  importance  to  arouse  his  energies,  the  Board  of 
Trustees  had  learned  to  feel  that  it  must  certainly  succeed,  or  the  alternative 
would  be  the  loss  of  his  services.  The  same  qualities  which  gave  him  such  influ- 
ence over  men  of  mature  minds,  exercised  in  a  different  way  a  similar  ascendancy 
over  the  minds  of  youth;  and  no  man  whom  I  have  ever  known,  appeared  to  me 
to  have  equal  power  of  controlling  the  disobedient  and  refractory.  His  watch- 
fulness over  the  student  was  constant  and  unwearied.  There  was  no  hour  of 
the  night,  when  those  engaged  in  unlawful  proceedings  might  not  expect  to  see 
him  suddenly  in  the  midst  of  them;  yet  very  few,  if  any,  of  the  graduates  of 
the  University,  ever  failed  to  remember  him  with  admiration  and  affection. 

In  early  life.  Dr.  Caldwell  was  said  to  have  been  distinguished  for  great  vivacity 
of  disposition  and  manners,  although  always  under  the  control  of  a  studious  pro- 
priety. In  later  life,  his  manners  were  more  grave,  but  they  were  still  enlivened, 
at  suitable  times,  by  a  current  of  good  humour,  although  ho  seldom  descended 
to  the  facetious.  The  society  of  men  or  women  of  high  intelligence  was  ever 
delightful  to  him,  as  every  look,  and  word,  and  action,  demonstrated.  His  natu- 
ral benevolence,  as  well  as  his  social  disposition,  fell  in  very  fully  with  the  ancient 
habits  of  hospitality  of  the  South,  and  no  one  of  any  degree  of  respectability, 
who  chose  to  make  his  house  a  resting  place,  failed  to  receive  a  most  courteous 
welcome. 

In  his  studies  Dr.  Caldwell  was  patient,  laborious  and  exact.  He  was  a  sound 
scholar,  rather  than  a  man  of  superior  genius.  Having,  during  the  various 
vicissitades  of  the  College,  been  obliged  at  different  times  to  give  instruction  in 
Dearly  ererj  department  of  the  academic  course,  his  acquaintance  with  all  was 
uncommonly  familiar,  although  his  taste  led  him  to  prefer  the  exact  sciences  to 
classical  literature. 

I  have  been  told  that  this  eminent  man  dated  the  commencement  of  his  reli- 
gious experience  at  a  period  subsequent  to  his  entering  the  ministry.  A  severe 
and  dangerous  fit  of  sickness,  which  he  suffered  in  middle  life,  presented  eternal 
things  in  a  new  light,  and  from  that  time  to  his  death,  he  grew  constantly  in 
spirituality.  Ilis  earlier  sermons,  of  which  we  occasionally  had  specimens,  were 
rharacterized  by  a  vagueness  of  expression,  and  by  barren  generalities,  from 


][76  FBSSBTTEBIAN. 

which  his  later  discsourses  were  generally  free,  although  I  never  thought  his  style 
of  writing  particularly  luminous.  His  delivery  was  grave,  earnest  and  affection- 
ate, thongh  somewhat  monotonous.  But  he  occasionally  touched  a  tender  chord, 
and  awakened  considerable  emotion,  although  the  general  character  of  his  preach- 
ing was  intellectual  and  preceptive,  rather  than  impassioned.  On  the  whole,  it 
may  be  trnly  said  that  he  was  an  instructive,  faithful  and  useful  preacher  of  the 
Gospel,  and  he  left  on  the  minds  of  his  hearers  a  strong  impression  that  they 
had  been  listening  to  words  of  truth  and  soberness. 

North  Carolina  reveres  his  memory.  Her  most  distinguished  sons  were  his 
pupils,  and  cherish  for  him  a  truly  filial  affection;  and  the  advance  which  that 
State  made  in  intelligence  and  virtue,  through  the  instrumentality  of  his  labours, 
is  the  highest  monument  of  his  power  and  wisdom. 

Yours  with  great  regard, 

D.  OLMSTED. 

FROM  THE  KEY.  SHEPARD  K.  KOLLOCK,  D.  D. 

Greenwich,  N.  J.,  8th  February,  1865. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  You  wish  me  to  give  you  some  of  my  recollections  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Joseph  Caldwell.  I  do  it  cheerfully;  for  the  remembrance  of  the  six 
years  in  which  I  was  associated  with  him  at  the  University  of  North  Carolina  is 
exceedingly  pleasant  to  me. 

Soon  after  I  was  licensed  to  preach.  Dr.  Caldwell  called  upon  me,  when  I  was 
in  Carolina,  and  asked  me  if  I  would  take  a  situation  in  the  College,  if  one  were 
offered  me  by  the  Trustees.  I  frankly  told  him  that,  at  first  view,  I  was  disin- 
clined to  do  so;  not  merely  on  account  of  my  youth  and  inexperience,  but  also 
because  ray  preferences  were  for  the  pastoral  office,  and  because  I  was  licensed 
to  preach.  He,  at  once,  replied,  **  That  is  what  we  want — more  preaching  on 
the  Sabbath  and  in  the  week;  and  if  a  small  congregation  in  the  country  be 
united  to  the  college  pulpit,  you  may,  with  a  good  conscience,  secure  the  end  of 
your  education  and  licensure."  He  then  proceeded  to  speak  for  some  time  on  the 
absolute  necessity  of  religion  in  the  government  of  a  College,  observing  that,  with- 
out such  influence,  literary  institutions  must  sooner  or  later  become  the  foun- 
tains of  corruption;  that  nothing  so  effectually  as  this  imposes  a  check  upon 
youthful  folly  and  wickedness;  that  without  religious  principles,  no  system  of 
discipline,  however  wisely  formed,  or  faithfully  executed,  can  save  a  Seminary 
from  moral  deterioration,  or  prevent  the  highest  talents  or  the  richest  attain- 
ments from  being  perverted  to  the  worst  of  purposes — that  every  seat  of  science 
should  therefore  be  the  seat  of  Christian  piety.  These  remarks,  coming  from 
one  who  had  been  more  than  twenty  years  connected  with  a  College,  made  an 
impression  on  me  that  was  never  lost.  One  of  the  Trustees  informed  me  that 
about  a  week  after  this,  he  addressed  the  Board  on  this  subject,  and  spoke  an 
hour,  in  a  manner  most  convincing  and  persuasive.  He  concluded  his  address 
in  this  manner — "  Let  the  Gospel  be  fully  preached  at  your  seat  of  learning,  by 
any  faithful  minister  of  any  denomination — ^I  will  add,  oven  *  through  strife  and 
envy,*  and,  like  the  great  Apostle,  *I  will  rejoice.'  '*  After  the  Professorship  was 
established,  I  accepted  the  office, — influenced  chiefly  by  his  arguments,  and 
entered  upon  my  duties — I  gave  instruction  in  Rhetoric  and  Logic,  and  devoted 
much  of  my  time  to  the  appropriate  work  of  a  minister. 

You  doubtless  have  all  the  information  you  need  concerning  Dr.  Caldwell,  as 
a  scholar,  an  instructor  of  youth,  a  President  of  a  College,  and  a  liberal  friend 
of  education.  I  shall  therefore,  in  what  I  am  now  to  say  of  him,  confine  myself 
to  his  religiout  character,  as  I  had  the  opportunity  of  observing  it.  His  piety 
was  enlightened  and  consistent.  On  the  subject  of  personal  and  experimental 
religion,  he  was  usually  reserved;  but  I  can  recall  instances  in  which  he  unbo- 


JOSEPH  CALDWELL.  177 

somed  himself  freely,  and  eyinced^  not  onlj  a  decided  attachment  to  the  truths 
of  the  Bible,  but  also  a  deeply  personal  interest  in  them. 

As  a  preacher,  I  cannot  say  that  I  should  place  him  in  the  very  first  rank. 
His  discourses  were  not  greatly  elaborated,  nor  had  he  an  animated  and 
gloiriDg  manner.  This,  however,  should  not  excite  our  wonder,  considering  how, 
at  different  periods,  he  was  obliged  to  give  instruction  in  every  branch  taught  in 
College^  and  how  little  time,  therefore,  he  could  devote  to  preparation  for  the 
pulpit. 

But  though  not  eminently  distinguished  in  the  pulpit,  he  did  much  to  promote 
the  cause  of  religion.  On  Sabbath  afternoon,  he  gave  instruction  to  the  Senior 
class  in  the  Bible;  diligently  preparing  for  the  recitation,  by  the  study  of  Dod- 
dridge, his  favourite  commentator.  I  was  often  told  that  in  that  exercise  he  was 
peculiarly  happy,  explaining  and  enforcing  the  Scripture  in  a  manner  most  inter- 
esting and  impressive.  It  may  in  truth  be  said  that  he  countenanced  every  means 
to  promote  the  interests  of  piety,  regularly  attended  the  weekly  meeting  for 
prayer,  and  encouraged  similar  associations  among  the  pious  students.  One  cir- 
cumstance I  can  never  forget.  When  the  Circular  from  one  of  the  Northern 
institutions  reached  us,  recommending  a  day  of  '*  Fasting  and  Prayer  for  Col- 
leges,'' I  called  upon  the  Doctor,  and  asked  him  if  we  should  observe  it.  His 
immediate  reply  was, — "  By  all  means — I  know  of  nothing  more  encouraging 
than  thus  humbling  ourselves  before  God,  and  praying  for  the  visitations  of  his 
presence  in  our  seats  of  learning.  We  must  unite  with  our  brethren  in  observ- 
ing the  day,  and  observing  it  properly — it  is  a  glorious  object, — the  consecration 
of  all  our  literary  institutions  to  the  Divine  service."  A  few  days  before  the 
appointed  time,  he  announced  it  at  evening  prayers;  explained  the  nature  of  reli-' 
gious  fasting;  alluded  to  the  Circular,  and  spoke  of  the  pleasure  of  such  a  bond 
of  union;  showed  our  duty  in  thus  publicly  attesting  our  dependance upon  Qod, 
and  concluded  with  the  announcement  that,  on  the  following  Thursday,  the  Col- 
lege exercises  would  be  suspended,  and  the  chapel  opened.  The  day  was  pro- 
perly observed  by  two  public  discourses,  and  a  meeting  for  prayer  in  the  evening. 
Good  was  done;  the  gracious  influences  of  the  Spirit  were  granted;  the  people  of 
God  were  quickened;  and  two  or  three  students  were  deeply  affected,  who  after- 
wards made  a  public  profession  of  religion. 

In  one  part  of  Theology  Dr.  Caldwell  was  as  well  versed  as  almost  any  man 
that  I  have  known — that  relating  to  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  and  the  Divine 
authority  of  the  Scriptures.  His  mind  had  been  peculiarly  directed  to  this  sub- 
ject, on  account  of  the  opposition  he  met  with,  when  he  first  went  to  the  South. 
It  was  a  time  when  French  infidelity  was  pervading  almost  every  part  of  the 
oonntry ;  when,  in  Carolina,  not  a  small  part  of  the  rich  and  educated  disbelieved 
the  Bible,  and  regarded  Christianity  a  delusion;  and  when,  even  in  the  Univer- 
sity, infidelity  had  been  earnestly  inculcated.  As  soon  as  he  entered  the  College, 
he  became  the  bold  champion  of  Christianity.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
more  prominent  infidel  writers, — from  Shaftesbury  and  Bolingbroke  to  Paine; 
nnderstood  all  their  arguments,  and  knew  well  how  to  refute  them.  At  meet- 
ings of  Presbytery,  when  he  was  called  upon  to  examine  candidates  for  the  min- 
istry, it  was  truly  gratifying  to  see  how  perfectly  familiar  he  was  with  this  sub- 
ject, and  how  bravely  and  skilfully,  and  successfully,  he  had  borne  his  part  in 
this  struggle.  He  relied  much  upon  the  Bible,  and  laboured  to  lead  his  pupils 
to  make  it  the  man  of  their  counsel.  From  the  time  they  came  under  his 
instruction  to  the  completion  of  their  course,  he  constantly  urged  that  this  should 
be  tbeir  guide,  and  then,  when  taking  their  degree,  a  handsome  copy  of  the  Scrip- 
tures was  presented  with  their  diploma,  implying  that  the  latter  would  be  of  lit- 
tle serrice  without  the  use  of  the  former. 

The  last  time  I  saw  Dr.  Caldwell  was  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia, — I  think  in 
1834,  when  he  was  under  medical  treatment, — undei^ing  a  painful  surgical 

Vol.  IV.  23 


178  PRESBYTERIAN. 

operation.  He  spoke  much  of  his  disease,  and  of  the  bodily  agony  which  he  suf- 
fered,— saying  '*  it  is  almost  too  much  for  human  nature  to  bear;  but  the  grace 
of  God  is  sufiScient."  He  continued  conversing  for  some  time  on  the  nature  of 
Christian  consolation  and  support,  compared  with  what  is  termed  philosophical 
fortitude, — and  showed  that  he  was  calmly  submissive  to  the  Divine  will,  what- 
ever it  might  be;  ready  to  recover  and  live  longer,  or  to  suffer  still  more  from  his 
disease  and  die.  I  found  him  the  same  warm-hearted  friend  that  he  had  always 
been,  and  if  there  was  any  change,  it  was  this — the  kindness  of  his  nature  and 
the  tenderness  of  his  piety  seemed  to  have  increased  under  his  sufferings,  and  in 
view  of  his  departure. 

All  who  were  acquainted  with  his  labours  must  acknowledge  that  he  was  an 
eminent  benefactor  of  youth,  and  did  much  for  the  cause  of  education;  and  those 
who  knew  him  intimately,  will  testify  that  he  was  an  ornament  to  the  Church 
with  which  he  was  connected,  and  in  many  ways  a  blessing  to  the  generation  in 
which  he  lived. 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

SHEPARD  K.  KOLLOGK. 


-♦♦■ 


JOHN  LYLE  * 

1797—1825. 

John  Lyle,  the  son  of  John  and  Flora  (Reed)  Lyle,  was  bom  in  Rock- 
bridge County,  Ya.,  Ootober  20,  1769.  Both  his  father  and  grandfather 
were  elders  of  the  Timber  Ridge  Church,  and  the  latter  emigrated  from  the 
North  of  Ireland  before  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  was  one 
of  the  original  settlers  of  Rockbridge  County.  His  father,  though  not 
afHuent,  was  in  comfortable  circumstances,  and  owned  a  farm,  which  he  and 
his  sons  cultivated,  as  he  was  in  principle  opposed  to  holding  slaves.  The 
subject  of  this  notice  made  a  profession  of  religion  in  September,  1789, 
when  he  was  a  month  less  than  twenty  years  of  age ;  and  from  this  time  he 
became  very  desirous  of  devoting  himself  to  the  Christian  ministry.  His 
father,  however,  endeavoured  to  dissuade  him  from  it, — ^partly  on  the  gronnd 
that,  having  educated  an  elder  son  already,  it  would  be  inoonvenient  to  him 
to  meet  the  expenses  of  his  education,  and  partly  because  he  thought  he 
was  in  some  respects  constitutionally  disqualified  to  bo  a  public  speaker. 
But  the  young  man  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  abandon  his  purpose,  and 
he  accordingly  entered  a  school  in  that  neighbourhood  taught  by  his  brother 
Andrew,  a  young  man  of  great  promise,  who  had  graduated  at  Liberty 
Hall,  and  was  at  that  time  preparing  for  the  ministry.  Here  he  continued 
until  the  death  of  his  brother,  which  took  place  in  1791.  He  then  commenoed 
teaching  an  English  school  himself,  and,  at  the  same  time,  was  vigorouBly 
engaged  in  preparing  to  enter  College.  In  due  time  he  became  a  student 
at  Liberty  Hall,  where,  in  the  more  advanced  stage  of  his  education,  he 
was  employed  as  a  Tutor  to  the  younger  classes.  He  graduated  about  the 
year  1794. 

«  Davidfon'f  Hist.  Pntb.  Oh.  K7.— Foo(e*f  Sketdhw  of  Va.,  2d  Seri«f .— MSB.  firam  Ber. 
Joel  K.  Lyle,  R«t.  Dr.  J.  C.  Barnw  and  Rev.  Dr.  Robert  Stuart. 


JOHW  LYLB.  ]  79 

Immediately  after  leaving  College,  be  \ra8  employed  in  teaching  a  school 
in  Rockbridge  Connty,  while  he  pursued  his  theological  studies  under  the 
direction  of  the  Rev.  William  Graham.  He  was  received  as  a  candidate 
for  licensure,  by  the  Lexington  Presbytery,  April  21,  1796,  and  Si  just  a 
year  from  that  day  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel.  During  the  suc- 
ceeding autumn  and  winter,  he  was  employed  as  a  missionary  on  the  frontier 
of  Virginia  proper ;  and  in  the  summer  of  1798,  he  was  in  Kentucky  in 
the  same  capacity.  Sometime  in  the  &11  of  1799,  he  was  received  and 
ordained  by  the  West  Lexington  Presbytery.  In  1800,  he  took  charge  of 
the  Churches  of  Salem  and  Sugar  Ridge,  in  Clark  County,  where  he 
remained  several  years.  As  these  churches  yielded  him  an  inadequate  sup- 
port, he  was  obliged,  during  the  period  of  his  connection  with  them,  to 
teach  a  school  in  order  to  meet  his  necessary  expenses. 

During  the  great  religious  excitement  that  commenced  in  the  Southwest, 
in  the  year  1800,  accompanied  by  violent  bodily  exercises,  Mr.  Lyle,  though 
for  a  time  greatly  tried  by  the  extraordinary  demonstrations  which  he  wit- 
nessed, very  soon  became  satisfied  that  they  were  not  the  effects  of  a  Divine 
impulse,  but  were,  to  say  the  least,  evidences  of  human  infirmity,  and  served 
only  to  mar  what  he  considered  as  otherwise  a  genuine  revival  of  religion. 
With  this  conviction,  he  felt  himself  called  upon  to  resist  the  strong  current 
that  was  sweeping  through  the  churches,  though  he  did  it,  as  might  be 
expected,  at  the  expense  of  being  regarded  by  many  as  at  best  a  cold  friend 
to  the  revival.  At  Paris,  Ky.,  he  preached  a  Sermon  on  the  text — **  Let 
all  things  be  done  decently  and  in  order,"  which  is  said  to  have  been  very 
effective  to  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  intended.  At  Danville,  while  he 
waa  preaching  from  the  words — **  Bodily  exercise  profiteth  little,"  he  was 
interrupted  by  sounds  resembling  the  barking  of  a  dog,  but  by  a  few  words 
uttered  in  an  earnest  and  decided  tone,  he  arrested  the  disorder. 

In  1805,  he  was  appointed  by  the  Synod  to  ride  two  months  within  the 
bounds  of  the  Cumberland  Presbytery,  and  afterwards  to  sit  as  one  of  the 
Commissioners  on  the  difficulties  of  that  Body.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
General  Assembly,  when  the  subject  came  up  for  adjudication  in  1809,  and 
represented  the  case  with  such  fervour  and  ability,  that  his  audience  were 
not  only  convinced  by  his  statements,  but  powerfully  affected  by  his 
appeals. 

In  May,  1807,  Mr.  Lyle  removed  to  Paris,  Bourbon  County,  Ey.,  whither 
also  he  removed  his  school;  but  subseqtiently  established  an  Academy, 
which  flourished  greatly  under  his  superintendence.  At  the  same  time,  he 
preached  to  the  Churches  of  Cane  Ridge  and  Concord.  About  1810,  he 
withdrew  from  the  Academy,  in  consequence  of  a  determination  on  the  part 
of  the  Trustees  to  discard  the  Bible  and  all  religious  instruction.  He  also, 
owing  to  various  circumstances,  ceased  to  labour  with  the  above  named 
Congregations,  and  soon  after  commenced  preaching  to  Mount  Pleasant 
Church,  near  Cynthiana,  Harrison  County.  In  the  summer  of  1814,  he 
spent  four  months  in  the  Counties  of  Bourbon,  Harrison,  Nicholas,  and 
Fayette,  preaching  chiefly  to  the  coloured  people. 

Having  been  instrumental,  between  the  years  1815  and  1818,  in  the  set- 
tlement of  two  ministers — one  in  the  Mount  Pleasant  Church,  and  the  other 
in  the  Churches  of  Concord  and  Carlisle, — both  within  the  field  in  which 
he  bad  himself  laboured, — he  gave  up  the  stated  labours  of  a  pastor,  and 
devoted  the  rest  of  his  life  to  missionary  service. 


280  PSESBmSIAK. 

Mr.  Lyle  eontinaed  earnestly  and  moicetBsMlj  engaged  in  hifl  work,  till 
he  was  taken  off  by  the  disease  whieh  terminated  hb  life.  He  died  at  his 
residence  in  Paris,  Ky.,  July  22,  1825,  in  the  fifty-sixth  year  of  his  age, 
from  an  attack  of  dysentery,  which  run  its  course  in  fourteen  days.  He 
was  buried  in  his  garden,  in  a  spot  selected  by  himself,  under  the  shade  of 
a  fayourite  tree. 

Mr.  Lyle  was  married,  June  18,  1798,  to  Mrs.  Margaret  Lapsley,  widow 
of  Capt.  Samuel  Lapsley,  a  lady  of  most  exemplary  Christian  character, 
who  surnved  him  seventeen  years.  He  had  three  children, — all  of  them 
sons. 

Mr.  Lyle's  only  publications,  with  the  exception  of  his  contributions  to 
periodicals,  are  the  New  American  English  Grammar,  1804 ;  and  a  Sermon 
on  the  qualifications  and  duties  of  Gospel  ministers,  delivered  at  the  opening 
of  the  first  Session  of  the  Presbytery  of  Ebenezer,  1821. 

FROM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  STUART,  D.  D. 

NiCHOLABTiLLE,  Ey.,  September  16, 1854. 

Dear  Sir :  I  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  Rev.  John  Lyle,  having  been 
contemporary  with  him,  and  a  co-agent  in  most  of  the  deeply  interesting  eccle- 
siastical scenes  through  which  he  was  called  to  pass.  My  first  personal  know- 
ledge of  him  was  at  the  time  he  entered  College.  A  Mr.  Ramsay  and  myself  at 
that  time  occupied  a  room  in  College,  and  were  students  of  Theology  under  Pre- 
sident Graham.  The  arrangement  of  the  Trustees  was  that  all  the  students 
should  live  in  College  and  board  with  a  steward;  and  among  them  was  Mr.  Lyle. 
Some  dissipated  youth  from  the  Eastern  part  of  Virginia,  having  fallen  into  the 
habit  of  gambling  in  Lexington,  and  the  Professors,  being  informed  of  the  fact, 
having  called  them  to  an  account  for  their  conduct,  they  accused  Mr.  Lyle, — 
whether  truly  or  falsely,— of  being  the  informer,  and  set  themselves  to  revenge 
upon  him  by  persecuting  him  in  every  way  in  their  power.  He  at  length  came 
to  our  room  to  ask  our  opinion  as  to  what  he  ought  to  do;  and  our  judgment  in 
the  case  was  that  he  had  better  arm  himself  with  a  club,  and  assume  a  stern  and 
threatening  aspect  and  manner,  and  we  doubted  not  that  they  would  quail 
before  him.  He  took  our  advice,  and  it  turned  out  as  we  predicted — the  perse- 
cutions from  that  time  ceased.  Shortly  after  this,  I  obtained  license  to  preach, 
came  to  Kentucky,  and  received  an  appointment  to  a  Professorship  in  Transyl- 
vania University,  where  I  renewed  my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Lyle,  firom  which 
time  a  fraternal  intimacy  subsisted  between  us  till  his  death. 

Mr.  Lyle  was  of  a  tall  and  slender  figure,  and  his  manners,  though  not  studied 
or  artificial,  were  kind  and  agreeable.  He  had  naturally  a  warm  and  genial 
spirit,  and  made  himself  very  pleasant  in  circles  in  which  he  wasw^l  acquainted, 
though  in  his  intercourse  with  strangers  he  was  inclined  to  be  reserved, — 
owing,  I  doubt  not,  to  the  fact  of  his  being  somewhat  deaf. 

He  was  pre-eminently  a  benefactor  to  the  cause  of  education  in  the  West. 
Having  an  ardent  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  being  a  thorough  scholar,  especially 
in  the  languages,  he  was  intent  on  doing  his  utmost  for  the  intellectual  as  well 
as  moral  and  religious  improvement  of  the  rising  generation.  His  Academy  at 
Paris,  which  he  continued  for  years,  under  very  favourable  auspices,  he  made 
the  instrument  of  preparing  several  indigent  young  men  ibr  the  ministry,  by 
employing  them  as  teachers,  and  at  the  same  time  instructing  them  in  Divinity, 
with  a  view  to  their  entering  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton.  To  him 
belongs  the  honour  of  establishing  the  first  school  txelusively  for  the  education 
of  females  in  the  West,  or  so  far  as  my^own  knowledge  extends,  in  any  part  of 
the  country. 


JOHN  LTLS.  IgX 

He  WB  alao  one  of  the  first, — ao  far  as  I  know,  the  very  first,  to  Boggest  the 
{dan  of  circulating  the  Scriptures  by  means  of  colporteurs.  In  a  conversatioii 
with  myself,  he  lamented  that  he  found  the  ignorance  of  the  people  so  great 
through  the  country,  that  they  could  not  receive  the  legitimate  benefit  of  the 
preaching  of  the  Gospel.  He  therefore  resolved  to  establish  a  press,  for  the  spe- 
dal  purpose  of  publishing  plain  practical  tracts  on  religious  subjects,  and  circu- 
lating them  among  the  people,  in  the  hope  of  thereby  creating  and  cherishing  a 
taste  for  religious  reading.  He  had  the  pleasure  ere  long  of  seeing  this  purpose 
successfully  carried  out. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  ardent,  sealous,  and  highly  evangelicaL  He  avoided 
vain  speculations,  and  kept  his  audience  constantly  within  sight  of  the  Cross. 
During  much  the  greater  portion  of  his  ministry,  he  laboured  as  an  evangelist. 

He  was  an  earnest  and  vigorous  defender  of  the  order,  discipline,  and  doo* 
trineSy  of  the  Presbyterian  Church*  In  the  different  schisms  which  occurred 
daring  his  ministry,  almost  every  doctrine  and  principle  of  discipline  in  the  Con- 
fession of  Faith  was  called  in  question;  and  no  man  came  more  promptly  and 
efficiently  to  the  defence  than  Mr.  Lyle.  Indeed  I  have  no  hesitation  in  ranking 
him  among  the  foremost  of  his  day  in  preserving  the  unity  and  prosperity  of  the 
Church  under  trying  circumstances. 

Yours  with  respect, 

ROBERT  STUART. 


FROM  THE  REV.  HUBBARD  HINDE  KAYANAUGH,  D.  D., 

BISHOP  or  THB  MBTH0DI8T  JIPIBOOPAL  OHUXOH  S017TH. 

YiBSAiLLXSy  Ky.,  Febmsry  6, 1866. 

My  dear  Sir:  Though  I  had  my  home  for  a  considerable  time  in  Mr.  Lyle's 
dwdling,  yet  it  was  at  so  early  a  period  of  my  life,  that  I  am  not  sure  that  my 
estimate  of  his  character  is  so  perfect  as  you  might  obtain  from  some  one  who 
was  longer  contemporary  with  him.  I  think,  however,  I  cannot  be  deceived  in 
regard  to  his  more  prominent  traits;  and  such  as  my  recollections  are,  I  cheer- 
fully give  them  to  you,  leaving  it  to  others  to  furnish  you  a  more  finished  por- 
trait. 

Mr.  Lyle  undoubtedly  made  a  strong  impression  upon  the  Southwest,  as  a 
Christian,  a  Teacher,  and  a  Preacher. 

He  was  a  man  of  excellent  Judgment,  of  very  good  classical  acquirements, 
aad  of  earnest  and  consistent  piety.  His  views  and  his  spirit  were  eminently 
evangelical — he  made  much,  in  both  his  teachings  and  his  experience,  of  the  dif- 
ference between  the  righteousness  of  the  law  and  the  righteousness  of  faith. 
His  heart  was  evidently  warmed,  and  his  life  controlled,  by  the  truths  which  he 
beUsTed. 

As  a  Preacher,  he  showed  that  he  had  a  dear  and  comprehensive  view  of  the 
Gospel  of  the  blessed  God.  He  never  attempted  elegance  of  style  or  graceful- 
ness of  manner;  though  I  do  not  mean  to  intimate  that  he  was  particularly  defi- 
dent  in  either.  He  spoke  out  of  a  mind  richly  stored  with  Divine  truth,  and 
fiom  a  heart  fully  in  sympathy  with  his  exalted  themes.  His  object  evidently 
was  to  bring  out  and  enforce  the  very  mind  of  the  Spirit;  and  it  was  always 
done  with  the  dignity  of  enlightened  earnestness,  and  not  linfVeqnently  with 


In  the  discipline  of  his  fkmily  and  school,  he  was  conscientiously  'rigid.  So 
fnqiient  were  his  appeals  to  Solomon  for  authority  to  use  the  rod,  that  he  got 
that  ancient  sage  into  rather  bad  odour  among  the  subjects  of  his  discipline. 
His  eondoct  towards  those  who  were  apprentices  under  him,  (for  he  carried  on 
ibrawhile  Che  printing  and  book  binding  business,)  was  kind  and  respectful; 
and  both  he  and  his  excellent  wife  laboured  for  their  temporal  and  spiritual 


182  PRESBTTEBIAN. 

good,  more  in  the  spirit  of  the  parental  relation  than  of  that  which  they  actn- 
ally  sustained.  They  were  all  allowed  to  eat  at  the  same  tahle  with  the  family, 
were  uniformly  called  to  the  family  devotions,  and  each  was  furnished  with  a 
Ilymn  Book  to  ging  at  prayers,  and  with  a  Bible  which  he  was  required  to  read 
r^ularly;  and  his  seat  in  the  church  might  never  be  vacant,  except  from  neces- 
sity. Three  of  his  apprentices  became  ministers  of  the  Gospel;  and  all  but 
one  are  members  of  some  branch  of  the  Church;  and  that  one  is  a  man  of  such 
steady  habits  that  he  has  been  styled  "  a  lobby  member  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  "  for  many  years. 

Mr.  Lyle  was  generally  a  man  of  much  more  than  common  gravity — still  he 
was  not  without  a  vein  of  humour,  to  which  he  sometimes  gave  play  in  a  very 
agreeable  manner.  I  remember  one  instance  in  which  I  was  myself  personally 
interested.  At  the  age  of  thirteen,  I  was  indentured  to  him  to  learn  the  art  of 
printing.  Before  my  time  had  expired,  he  had  determined  to  give  up  the  busi* 
ness.  The  terms  of  the  contract  which  bound  me  to  him  had  not  been  fulfilled 
on  either  part.  Meanwhile,  in  attending  him  on  one  of  his  preaching  tours, 
I  had  sought  and  embraced  religion.  After  some  two  months'  deliberation, 
I  attached  myself  to  the  Methodist  Church.  Mr.  Lyle  was  inclined  to  let 
me  go  free;  but  then  he  was  legally  liable  to  a  prosecution  for  not  fulfilling 
his  contract.  He  asked  me  whether,  if  he  would  release  me  from  all  obligation 
to  him,  I  would  ever  sue  him.  I  assured  him  that  I  would  not.  He  then, 
smiling,  said,  '*  Will  you  ever  sue  me  until  you  fall  from  grace?'' — ^tbus  giving  a 
pleasant  thrust  at  my  doctrine  of  the  possibility  of  such  an  event.  I  promised 
I  would  not;  and  on  this  bargain  we  parted. 

Mr.  Lyle's  usefulness  has  survived  him  in  many  distinguished  individuals, 
whose  characters  his  influence  has  helped  to  mould. 

I  am,  dear  Sir,  truly  yours, 

H.  H.  KAVANAUGH. 
FBOM  THE  KEY.  W.  H.  HcGUFFET,  D.D.,  LL.D., 

PRBSIDIHT  or  TBI  UKIVIBSITT  Of  VIRQIiriA. 

UxrviBsiTT  Of  YiBGiHiA,  March  19, 1866. 

My  dear  Sir :  Though  I  knew  Mr.  Lyle  well,  I  was  at  the  time  young  and  ill 
qualified  to  form  right  impressions  of  such  a  man.    My  acquaintance  with  him, 
too,  was,  for  the  most  part,  at  a  distance — ^as  a  preacher  rather  than  as  a  neigh- 
bour, though  towards  the  last,  as  a  friend.     Still  I  will  very  cheerfully  give  you 
both  my  convictions  and  impressions  respecting  him. 

To  begin  with  his  appearance — ^he  was  one  of  the  most  venerable  and  dignified 
looking  gentlemen  I  ever  saw.  Much  above  the  ordinary  stature, — erect  in  form, 
with  an  expanded  chest  and  a  remarkably  fine  head,  surrounded  by  a  profusion 
of  hair  entirely  white,  and  which  he  wore  long,  flowing  down  to  his  shoulders, — 
with  an  elastic  step  and  commanding  mien,  he  could  not  have  been  mistaken  in 
any  company  or  by  the  most  careless  observer  for  an  ordinary  man.  He  was 
dignified,  but  not  forbidding;  of  commanding  presence,  but  not  austere;  yet 
the  vicious  or  even  the  frivolous  might  well  feel  ill  at  ease  before  him.  Dignified 
humility,  in  the  minister  of  Christ,  is,  by  the  shallow  and  flippant  worldling, 
frequently  mistaken  for  arrogance  or  pride.  A  more  affable  and  courteous 
Christian  gentleman  than  was  the  Rev.  John  Lyle,  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
known. 

As  a  preacher,  my  recollections  of  him  are  less  distinct.  He  was  always 
instructive,  frequently  impressive,  and  sometimes,  (when  I  had  the  privilege  of 
hearing  him,)  persuasive  in  a  very  high  degree.  His  most  prominent  trait  as  a 
preacher,  I  should  think,  was  an  earnest  fidelity  to  the  souls  of  his  audienoo 
upon  all  occasions.    Often  have  I  seen  his  whole  frame  tremulous  with  emotion, 


JOHN  LTLE.  J^83 

«Bd  the  tears  flowing  profusely  down  his  venerable  face,  while  in  tones  of  tender- 
ness he  expostulated  with  infatuated  sinners,  in  the  name  of  his  Master — "  Why 
will  je  die?     JVhy  vAU  ye  die  ?" 

His  fidelity  to  the  cause  of  truth  in  all  its  bearings,  deserves  to  be  noticed  par- 
ticularly. I  can  never  forget  the  courage  which  he  evinced,  when  warning  and 
rebuking  the  open  scoffer  or  the  sneering  sceptic,  and  with  what  Christian  hero- 
ism he  ventured,  at  times,  to  denounce  the  wickedness  of  the  departed,  even 
over  their  coffins,  when  profligate  conventionalities  strove  to  force  him  to  become 
the  panegyrist  of  that  which  his  pious  heart  abhorred.  The  experiment  was  not 
often  repeated.  The  same  fidelity  to  his  Master  marked  his  conduct  at  Church 
Courts,  when  occasion  demanded.  No  candidate  for  the  ministry  failed  to  hear 
of  the  doublings  of  the  human  heart  in  matters  of  self-deception,  if  Father  Lyle 
was  on  the  committee  of  examination.  No  necessary  warning  was  withhold  to 
look  well  to  the  motives  which  prompted  the  young  brother  to  desire  the  work 
of  the  ministry.  No  false  delicacy  was  ever  allowed  to  prevent  the  honest 
expression  of  doubt,  when  the  venerable  man  was  not  satisfied ;  and  when  he 
woM  satisfied,  the  vote  of  approval  was  apt  to  be  unanimous.  Yet  he  was  the 
farthest  possible  from  being  censorious.  His  sagacity  has  more  than  once  been 
vindicated  by  the  subsequent  career  of  those  concerning  whose  admission  or 
licensare  he  had  been  led  to  doubt. 

His  theological  attainments,  as  far  as  I  was  then  able  to  judge,  were  accurate 
and  extensive,  at  least  for  that  day;  and  I  am  far  from  being  sure  that  the  clergy 
of  our  Church  at  the  present  day  would  gain  by  an  honest  comparison  with  the 
ministers  of  thirty  years  ago.  His  talents  must  have  been  much  above  medi- 
octiij,  though,  on  that  point  too,  I  am  led  to  distrust  my  early  estimates. 

I  remain  very  sincerely  yours, 

W.  H.  McGUFFET. 


FBOH  THE  HON.  CHILTON  ALLAN, 

XIHBBa  Of  OOHOaSSS. 

WiNCHESTXB,  Ky.,  August  16, 1866. 

D«ar  Sir:  The  Rev.  John  Lyle,  concerning  whom  you  ask  for  my  recollections, 
had  a  school  in  this  County,  which  I  attended  about  the  year  1806.  I  boarded 
in  his  family,  and  of  course  had  an  opportunity  of  becoming  well  acquainted  with 
him.  He  had  a  well  defined  Caucassian  face,  that  I  think  resembled  a  marble 
bust  I  have  seen  of  Mr.  Jefferson.  His  hair  was  prematurely  gray,— -which  ren- 
dered his  appearance  more  venerable.  His  manner  was  thoughtful  and  dignified, 
and  he  would  have  been  noticed  any  where  by  strangers  as  a  remarkable  man. 

As  a  teacher,  he  was  singularly  devoted  to  the  improvement  of  his  pupils,  and 
had  an  admirable  talent  at  communicating  knowledge  in  an  easy  and  impressive 
manner.  I  think  that  his  labours  in  this  way  accomplished  more  than  those  of 
any  other  teacher  whom  I  have  known  in  this  part  of  the  country.  We  used  to 
have  great  exhibitions  at  his  school,  that  called  hundreds  of  people  together; 
and,  on  these  occasions,  we  declaimed,  and  acted  tragedies  and  comedies, — in  all 
which  he  seemed  to  take  a  great  interest.  This,  besides  contributing  to  the 
improvement  and  gratification  of  his  scholars,  helped  to  make  his  schools  attrac- 
tive and  popular. 

As  a  preacher,  he  addressed  himself  more  to  the  understandings  of  his  hearers 
than,  to  their  passions.  His  aim  was  to  reach  the  common  mind;  and  in  order  to 
this,  be  thought  it  necessary  not  only  to  be  clear,  but  to  a  considerable  extent 
dementary — no  one,  I  may  safely  say,  had  any  difficulty  in  understanding  his 
sermons.  His  appearance  in  the  pulpit  was  uncommonly  dignified  and  impres- 
sive. He  mingled  freely  in  the  revivals  of  1803  and  1804;  but  my  impression 
iSy  thoogh  I  would  not  speak  too  confidently,  that  he  found  a  good  deal  in  them 


234  PBESBTTERIA17. 

to  disapprove.    The  Rer.  J H ,  one  of  the  hest  men  in  the  world,  became 

80  enthusiastic,  that  he  he  never  knew  when  to  stop  preaching  or  praying;  and 
some  of  the  members  of  his  church,  catching  his  burning  zeal,  would  pray  by  the 
hour.  He  held  a  great  camp  meeting  at  Springfield,  that  lasted  for  many  days; 
and  Mr.  Lyle,  being  present,  bore  with  their  prayers  as  long  as  he  could ;  but  one 
morning  he  broke  out  upon  them  in  one  of  the  most  eloquent  and  impressive 
exhortations  I  ever  heard — ^it  gave  great  satisfaction  to  all  the  calm  Christian 
men  and  women  who  were  present,  and  on  the  whole  produced  a  decidedly 
happy  effect.  Mr.  Lyle  had  not  only  no  tendency  to  enthusiasm,  but  very  little 
patience  with  it — in  religion  as  well  as  in  other  matters,  his  feelings  were  very 
much  under  the  control  of  his  judgment. 

He  was  greatly  respected  while  he  lived,  and  left  behind  him  an  honoured 
name* 

Yours  respectfully, 

CHILTON  ALLAIC. 


FROM  GEORGE  W.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

Paris,  Ky.,  November  26, 1856. 

Dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  John  Lyle,  during  the  time  I  was  a 
student  at  Law  with  Judge  Mills,  which  was  in  the  years  1824-25,  was  inti- 
mate. I  was  but  a  young  man  then,  and  was  associated  with  his  son,  Joel  A. 
Lyle,  a  class  mate  in  study.  The  father  was  an  old  man,  whose  hair  was  white 
with  the  frosts  of  many  winters,  and  whose  demeanour  was  dignified  and  affa- 
ble. I  had  known  him  from  my  boyhood,  but  I  had  not,  before  the  period  alluded 
to,  been  permitted  to  enjoy  his  society; — ^my  knowledge  of  him  being  such  only 
as  would  be  received  by  a  boy  of  an  old  man,  who  looked  upon  all  young  men 
with  peculiar  kindness,  and  whose  bearing  towards  them,  and  especially  to  well- 
behaved  boys,  was  marked  by  that  sort  of  condescending  affability  which  often- 
times forms  so  agreeable  a  link  between  youth  and  old  age.  I  first  saw  him,  to 
remember  him,  in  the  year  1816,  perhaps  1817,  at  a  book  store  containing  rather 
an  ill-assorted  collection,  but  among  which  were  many  valuable  books,  of  some 
of  which  he  was  the  publisher  and  printer,  and  of  all  of  which  he  was  the  pro- 
prietor. My  Mother  had  given  me  a  dollar  to  be  expended  in  the  purchase  of  a 
book.  His  was  the  only  book  store  in  Paris,  and  I  cannot  now  think  of  the 
patience  he  exercised  with  me, — ^for  I  was  a  long  time  in  selecting  a  book, — ^and 
the  gratification  expressed  by  him  at  the  choice  I  made,  without  surprise, — so 
very  different  was  the  kindness  of  his  manner  to  me,  from  that  which  I  after- 
wards sometimes  found,  as  a  boy,  fk-om  others,  not  as  aged  as  he,  under  similar 
circumstances. 

When  his  son  Joel  and  I  were  afterwards  thrown  together  as  Law  students, 
I  was  at  his  house  weekly,  and  oftentimes  daily,  for  two  years.  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  I  won  his  best  regards.  We,  T  may  say,  became  intimate.  An 
amusing  incident  occurred  between  us,  that  placed  us  upon  a  footing  of  as  per- 
fect equality  as  could  possibly  be,  between  persons  with  whom  there  was  so  great 
disparity  of  age.  It  was  winter.  The  day  was  a  cold  one.  1  was  seated  alone 
by  a  cheerful  fire  in  his  son  Joel's  study,  having  entered  without  the  knowledge 
of  any  one,  as  it  happened.  This  was  an  upper  room  in  the  house  of  his  &ther. 
I  heard  some  one  on  the  stairway  which  led  directly  to  the  room  where  I  was.  The 
person  who  was  ascending  the  stairs,  was  whistling  a  lively  air,  and  could  not 
be  seen  by  me.  I  thought  it  was  my  class  mate,  and  I  determined  to  play  a  prac- 
tical joke  on  him.  I  placed  myself  so  as  to  be  concealed  behind  the  door,  when 
open,  and  waited  until  the  advancing  individual  opened  the  door  and  came  into 
the  room,  when  I  sprang  from  my  hiding  place,  seized  him  by  the  shoulders,  his 


JOHN  LYLB.  185 

back  being  towards  me,  and  gave  him  as  yigorous  a  shake  as  I  could.  The  act 
vas  done  in  an  instant,  and  it  was  all  over  before  I  saw  mj  mistake.  What 
was  my  surprise,  and  even  fright,  when  I  diseoTered  I  had  my  hands  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  father  instead  of  the  son!  He  was  as  greatly  surprised  as  I 
waA,  and  for  a  moment  seemed  to  regard  me  in  the  light  of  a  rude  and  unman- 
nerly intruder;  but  as  soon  as  he  had  time  for  thought,  and  before  I  could  begin 
to  stammer  an  apology,  the  whole  truth  flashed  upon  his  mind,  and  I  am  sure  I 
neY'er  in  my  life  witnessed  a  more  hearty  laugh  from  any  man,  upon  any  occa* 
sion,  than  was  given  by  him.  The  scene  was  ludicrous  in  the  extreme,  and  he 
gave  himself  up  to  a  sense  of  its  fun  with  an  absolute  abtmdon.  From  this  time 
there  was  no  reserve  between  us,  and  our  intercourse  was  jfrequent  and  &mi- 
Uar, — ^nearly  as  much  so  as  between  his  son  and  myself. 

At  this  distant  day,  I  recur  to  these  scenes,  and  indulge  these  reminiscences  of 
the  Man,  the  Philosopher,  and  the  Christian  Minister,  with  the  liveliest  emotions. 
The  only  drawback  to  a  full  enjoyment  of  his  society  was  a  slight  loss  of  his 
hearing,  but  his  social  turn  made  more  than  ample  amends  for  this.  In  person  he 
was  over  six  feet  in  height,  and  when  standing  erect,  there  was  more  about  him 
to  command  the  respect  of  every  beholder  than  commonly  pertains  to  men  of  his 
age  and  figure.  His  appearance  was  in  the  highest  degree  venerable.  In  his 
manners  he  was  dignified  without  reserve  or  stiffness;  although  from  his  accessi- 
bility in  conversation,  and  the  readiness  with  which  he  unbent  himself  to  an 
interchange  of  social  feelings  and  sentiments  with  his  fellow  citizens,  he  would 
not  be  thought  to  be  so  by  many.  In  speech,  there  was  rather  a  quiet  bluntness 
with  him,  which  was  the  effect  of  his  natural  candour. 

These  are  my  impressions  about  him  now.  I  have  not  spoken,  as  you  perceive, 
of  his  position  as  a  preacher,  nor  of  his  learning,  nor  piety.  All  these,  I  doubt 
not,  are  in  the  hands  of  others,  more  competent  to  do  him  justice  than  I  can  pos- 
sibly be,  inasmuch  as  in  our  religious  opinions  we  differed  very  widely. 

I  cannot  close  this  hadty  sketch  of  the  father  without  a  passing  tribute  to  the 
son.  I  have  never  seen  a  man,  with  whom  I  became  acquainted,  who  was  in 
intellect  the  superior  of  Joel  A.  Lyle.  He  learned  the  most  abstruse  principles 
of  Law  without  labour,  and  to  me  apparently  by  intuition.  Had  he  lived,  he 
would  have  been  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of  the  Bar.  His  career  of  great- 
ness and  of  usefulness,  however,  was  closed  on  earth  at  its  beginning.  He  was 
the  soul  of  honour  and  the  impersonation  of  virtue. 

Very  truly  yours, 

GEO,  W.  WILLIAMS. 
Vol.  IV.  24 


ISg  PSESBTTBRIAV. 


JOSHUA  WILLIAMS,  D.  D  * 

1797—1838. 

Joshua  Williams,  a  son  of  Lewis  and  Mary  Williams,  was  born  in 
Chester  County,  Pa.,  about  twenty  miles  from  Philadelphia,  August  8, 1767. 
The  parents  of  his  father  were  from  Wales — they  were  Presbyterians,  and 
as  long  as  they  lived,  worshipped  God  in  their  native  language.  The 
parents  of  his  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Hadson,  were  emigrants 
from  Ireland,  and  were  also  Presbyterians.  His  father  was  originally  a  car- 
penter  by  trade,  but  in  1769  he  purchased  a  farm  in  York  County,  Pa., 
whither  he,  at  that  time,  removed,  and  after  that  made  farming  his  employ- 
ment  as  long  as  he  was  able  to  labour.  He  was  an  uncommonly  amiable 
man,  an  exemplary  Christian,  and  an  elder  in  the  Presbyterian  Church. 
His  mother  also  was  remarkable  for  her  good  sense,  eminent  piety,  and 
great  energy  of  character.  Her  son  always  retained  the  highest  estimate  of 
both  her  intellectual  and  moral  qualities,  and  could  never  speak  of  her  but 
in  terms  of  the  warmest  filial  veneration.  The  subject  of  this  sketch  was 
one  of  a  family  of  eleven  children,  all  of  whom  were  members,  and  three 
of  them  ruling  elders,  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

Young  Williams  was  taught  the  languages  in  Gettysburg,  Pa.,  by  the 
Rev.  Alexander  Dobbin.  He  was  at  that  time  probably  twenty- three  or 
four  years  of  age,  and  his  faculties  were  proportionably  matured.  He  was 
distinguished  even  then  for  uncommon  skill  in  debate,  and  great  fluency  in 
extemporaneous  speaking.  He  subsequently  became  a  member  of  Dickin- 
son College,  Carlisle,  where  he  graduated  in  the  autumn  of  1795.  After 
leaving  College,  he  studied  Theology  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Robert  Cooper,  of  Middle  Spring,  near  Shippensburg, — ^bcing  associated  in 
his  studies  with  Mr.  Francis  Herron,  now  (1850)  the  Rev.  Dr.  Herron  of 
Pittsburg.  He  was  received  on  trial  for  the  Gospel  ministry  by  the  Pres- 
bytery of  Carlisle,  October  6,  1796,  and  was  licensed  to  preach  October  4, 
1797. 

His  earliest  efibrts  in  the  pulpit  gave  promise  of  an  able  and  successful 
ministry.  He  was  invited  to  supply  several  vacant  congregations,  and 
received  two  calls  to  settle  at  nearly  the  same  time :  that  which  .he  deter- 
mined to  accept  was  from  the  united  Congregations  of  Derry  and  Paxton. 
Here  he  was  ordained  and  installed  on  the  2d  of  October,  1799.  Within  a 
short  time  after  his  settlement,  some  difficulty  arose  in  one  of  his  congrega- 
tions, which  led  him  to  seek  a  release  from  his  pastoral  charge  ;  and,  accord- 
ingly, on  the  30th  of  June,  1801,  the  Presbytery  met  at  his  request,  and 
dissolved  the  pastoral  relation.  On  the  8th  of  October  following,  he 
received  a  call  from  the  Congregation  of  Big  Spring,  in  the  same  Presby- 
tery,— which  he  immediately  accepted,  and  was  installed  on  the  14th  of 
April,  1802.  Here  he  continued  diligently  and  faithfully  employed  for 
twenty-seven  years ;  during  which  period,  as  appears  from  his  Church  Regis- 
ter, he  admitted  to  Communion  four  hundred  and  twenty-six  persons.  In 
April,  1829,  on  account  of  increasing  bodily  infirmities,  he  resigned  bis 
charge.     From  the  day  of  his  installation  till  that  of  his  resignation,  he 

MS.  from  hii  ion.— Nerin'i  Churefaet  of  the  Valley. 


JOSHUA  WILLIAMS.  187 

lived  and  laboured  among  his  people  with  the  utmost  hannonj,  and  with  a 
ooBstantlj  increasing  interest. 

After  redring  from  his  pastoral  charge,  he  still  continued  to  preach,  as 
his  health  permitted,  and  opportunity  offered, — serying  vacant  congregations 
in  the  neighbourhood,  and  assisting  his  brethren  on  special  occasions.  In 
January,  1837,  he  experienced  a  sore  affliction  in  the  fracture  of  one  of  his 
limbst  which  confined  him  to  his  couch  for  about  eight  months^  He  was, 
however,  during  this  period,  cheerful  and  happy,  and  occupied  most  of  his 
time  in  useful  reading  and  devout  meditation.  Within  about  a  year  after  he 
received  the  injury,  he  had  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  ride  out ;  but 
his  voice  had  failed  so  much  that  he  could  scarcely  bear  his  part  in  ordinary 
c<mversation.  He  attempted  to  preach  after  this,  but  it  was  with  great  dif- 
ficoitj  that  he  could  go  through  the  service.  '  About  three  weeks  before  his 
death,  he  was  present  at  a  meeting  of  Presbytery,  and  manifested  his  accus- 
tomed interest  in  its  proceedings.  His  last  illness,  which  was  dysentery,  was 
of  only  four  days'  continuance ;  and  from  its  commencement  he  predicted 
that  it  would  end  in  death.  The  disease  affected  his  head,  so  that  he  com- 
plained that  he  had  not  the  command  of  his  thoughts,  and  it  was  apparent 
that  his  mind  was  occasionally  flighty  and  wandering.  He  died  in  the 
utmost  tranquillity,  and  without  any  experience  of  the  painful  struggle 
which  he  had  always  feared,  on  the  morning  of  the  21st  of  August, 
1838.  His  Funeral  was  attended  the  next  day  by  a  large  assemblage,  among 
whom  were  eight  or  ten  of  his  brethren  in  the  ministry ;  and  a  Sermon  was 
preached  on  the  occasion  by  the  Bev.  James  Williamson,  then  of  Silver 
Spring.  His  remains  repose  in  the  Big  Spring  burial  place, — the  spot  being 
nearly  within  view  from  the  pulpit  where  he  had  so  long  stood  to  dispense 
the  glorious  Gospel  of  the  blessed  God. 

He  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Jefferson  College  in 
the  antumn  of  1837. 

The  only  publication  of  Dr.  Williams,  beside  occasional  contributions  to 
periodicals,  was  a  Sermon  on  the  Sinner's  inability,  preached  in  the  Pres* 
byterian  Church  in  Buffalo,  Pa.,  about  the  year  1832. 

Dr.  Williams  was  married,  on  the  15th  of  June,  1800,  to  Eleanor,  daugh- 
ter of  James  Campbell,  who  lived  and  died  within  the  bounds  of  the  Church 
of  Derry.  They  had  nine  children, — six  sons  and  three  daughters.  James 
Campbell^ — the  eldest  child,  was  graduated  at  Union  College,  Schenectady, 
in  1821,  and  afterwards  commenced  the  study  of  the  Law,  but  was  soon 
obliged  to  relinquish  it  on  account  of  ill  health,  and  returned  to  his  father's 
house,  where,  after  lingering  about  three  months,  he  died  in  the  hope  of  a 
better  life.  He  was  distinguished  for  high  intellectual  and  moral  qualities. 
Dr.  Williams'  widow  still  (1850)  survives. 

The  following  is  the  inscription  upon  his  tombstone,  written  by  the  Bev. 
Dr.  J.  W.  Ncvin,  Professor  at  Mercersburg  : — 

"In  memory  of  Joshua  Williams,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  at  Big 
Spring,  from  A.  D.  1801  to  A.  D.  1829;  called  home,  August  21,  A.  D.  1888.  in  the 
71st  year  of  bis  age. 

'*  A  roan  of  vigorous  and  comprehensive  mind;  in  thought  acute,  original,  and  pro- 
found; learned  and  able  in  bis  profession;  firm,  enlightened,  and  independent  in  his 
views  of  truth;  as  a  preacher,  sound,  evangelical  and  instructive:  and  in  his  general 
walk  and  character  a  consistent  Christian,  whose  life,  systematically  ordered  by  prin- 
dpie,  rather  than  by  impulse,  adorned  the  Gospel  which  he  proclaimed  to  others. 
Though  formed  to  tsJce  rank  with  the  conspicuous  of  the  age,  he  shrank  from  observa-> 
iioB,  while  living,  and  courted  no  Ikme  beyond  the  sphere  of  his  own  pastoral  charge 


Igg  PRESBTTERIAK. 

Here  hid  memory  is  embalmed  in  many  hetfts;  and  fai«  Toiee  wiB  long  contlnne  to  be 
beard  from  the  grave  where  he  sleeps :  may  it  find  an  echo  in  every  spirit,  and  be  aa 
the  *  still  small  voice '  from  Heaven,  that  leads  to  righteousness  and  to  God.'' 

FROM  THE  HON.  ROGER  B.  TANEY,  LL.  D., 

OHUf  JUSnOI  Of    THI  SUPREXB  COUKT  Or  THB  VXITED  STATES. 

Washikgtov  Gitt,  May  20,  1850. 

Dear  Sir:  Tea  ask  for  my  recollections  of  my  class  mate  Joshaa  Williams. 
More  than  fifty  years  have  passed  since  we  graduated  together  at  Dickinson 
College;  bat  my  recollection  of  him  seems  as  fresh  as  the  day  after  we 
parted, — for  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  forgotten  by  his  companions. 

It  is  not  in  my  power  to  give  yoa  any  particular  incidents  in  his  life  worth 
r^wating.  Indeed*  in  the  calm  and  quiet  life  of  a  student,  faithfully  perf<»-ming 
his  oollfige  duties,  and  preparing  himself  for  future  usefulness,  there  is  scarcely 
ever  any  striking  event,  worth  recordii^  in  his  biography.  Such,  according  to 
my  recollection,  was  Mr.  Williams. 

He  was,  I  believe,  a  few  years  older  than  myself.  His  standing  as  a  scholar 
was  equal  to  the  highest  in  the  class.  He  was  studious,  yet  cheerful,  social,  and 
a  general  favourite.  His  life  was  pure  and  unsullied,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
recall  him  to  memory,  such  as  he  then  was.  We  all  thought  him  eloquent;  and, 
although  he  and  I  never  met  after  we  left  College,  I  have  often  inquired  after  him, 
and  heard  of  him,  and  have  been  gratified  to  find  that  his  future  life  did  not  dis- 
appoint the  anticipations  of  those  who  were  his  companions  and  fellow-students. 
I  have  ever  cherished  for  him  a  high  and  cordial  regard. 

With  great  respect  and  esteem,  I  am,  dear  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

R.  B.  TANEY. 

FROM  THE  REV.  DAVID  McCONAUGHY,  D.  D.,  LL.  D. 

Washihqtok,  Pa.,  July  8,  1850. 

Dear  Sir:  The  Rev.  Doctor  Joshua  Williams,  concerning  whom  you  ask  for 
my  recollections,  was  among  my  very  early  and  most  esteemed  acquaintances. 
My  first  knowledge  of  him  was  at  the  classical  school  of  the  Rev.  A.  Dobbin  at 
Gettysbuig.  I  was  then  a  boy  without  maturity  of  mind,  though  considerably 
advanced  in  classical  studies.-  He  was  older  by  several  years,  and  in  general 
knowledge  much  my  superior.  I  admired  his  talents,  though  I  could  not  think 
profoundly,  discourse  fluently,  and  argue  ingeniously,  as  he  did.  He  had  even 
then,  as  the  result  of  considerable  reading,  and  other  well  employed  means, 
much  acquired  knowledge,  and  much  of  that  spirit  of  investigation,  discrimina- 
ting  judgment,  and  love  of  intellectual  conflict  and  learned  discussion,  which  emi- 
nently characterized  him  through  life.  His  talents  and  his  taste  found,  at  Mr. 
Dobbin's  school,  a  favourable  opportunity  of  indulgence  and  development,  espe- 
cially in  the  society  of  Mr.  D C ,  a  fellow-student  of  like  habits  and  mental 

endowments,  who  was  afterwards,  for  many  years,  an  eminent  lawyer  in  York, 
Pa.  I,  with  many  others,  was  often  delighted  as  well  as  profited,  b}*-  their 
earnest  but  kind  and  pleasant  debates  on  various  important  subjects. 

Some  years  after,  we  were  fellow-students  and  class  mates  in  Dickinson  Col- 
lege. Here  also  he  was  a  devoted,  successful  and  highly  respected  student.  As 
I  was  not  a  member  of  the  same  literary  Society  in  College  with  him,  I  had  less 
opportunity  of  witnessing  the  manifestations  of  his  logical  acumen,  and  power- 
ful discursive  fiiculty.  In  future  life  we  were  not  brought  into  circumstances  of 
long  continued  and  intimate  association;  although  as  licentiates,  and  subse- 
quently settled  Pastors  of  Churches  of  the  same  Presbytery,  and  Trustees  of  our 
Alma  Mater,  our  interviews  were  not  unfrequent. 


JOSHUA  WILLIAMS.  289 

M7  early  attachment  to  liiiiiy  and  admiration  of  his  character  and  talents,  vere 
increased,  as  years  passed  away,  and  he  still  lives  in  my  affectionate  remem- 
brance.    And  it  is  a  pleasant  reflection  to  me  that,  in  various  ways,  he  gave  me 
reason  to  think  that  I  shared  his  friendship  and  kind  regard. 
Accept  the  assurance  of  my  esteem,  and  believe  me 

Your  faithful  friend, 

DAVID  MoCONAUGHT. 

FROM  THE  REV.  DAVID  ELLIOTT,  D.  D. 

Allkohant,  June  27,  I860. 

Dear  Sir:  It  has  afforded  me  pleasure  to  learn  that  you  contemplate  a  notice 
of  the  late  Rev.  Joshua  Williams,  D.  D.,  and  that  you  have  been  furnished  from 
reliable  sources  with  the  leading  facts  of  his  life.  My  gratification,  in  this  case, 
is  the  greater,  as  he  was  one  of  my  theological  instructors,  during  my  course  of 
preparation  for  the  Gospel  ministry,  at  a  period  when  Theological  Seminaries, 
consecrated  specially  to  that  object,  were  not  in  existence  in  our  Church.  I 
therefore  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request,  and  shall  endeavour  to  furnish 
you  with  some  of  the  leading  traits  of  his  character,  as  they  presented  them- 
selves to  my  mind,  from  an  intercourse  of  nearly  thirty  years  of  intimate  and 
unbroken  iHendship.  Shortly  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Williams,  I  wrote  an  obi- 
tuary notice  of  him  which  was  published  in  some  of  the  Religious  Journals,  ftom 
which  I  beg  leave  to  make  the  following  extract,  as  expressing  in  a  brief  form 
my  Tie  ws  of  his  character : — 

"  Dr.  Williams  was  no  common  man.  His  intellect  was  of  a  high  order,  and 
distinguished  by  great  acuteness  and  power  of  discrimination.  He  seemed  to  be 
endowed  with  an  intuitive  promptness  in  detecting  sophistry,  and  exposing  its 
subtleties.  The  facility  with  which  he  communicated  was  equal  to  his  quickness 
of  perception.  His  conversational  powers  rendered  him  a  most  instructive  and 
agreeable  companion.  And  those  who  have  ever  been  drawn  into  debate  with 
him,  will  not  fail  to  recollect  him  as  an  antagonist  of  no  ordinary  grade,  both  in 
intellectual  power  and  logical  skill.  With  the  science  of  Mental  Philosophy  he 
was  fiimiliar.  He  adopted  the  doctrine  of  Edwards  on  the  subject  of  moral 
necessity,  and  was  master  of  the  argument  of  that  profound  metaphysician  on 
the  whole  subject. 

'*  In  Theology  he  was  well  read.  In  addition  to  an  accurate  acquaintance  with 
Didactic,  he  had  a  very  considerable  knowledge  of  Polemic,  Theology,  and  Bibli- 
cal Criticism.  In  the  early  part  of  his  ministry,  he  was  somewhat  speculative. 
The  particular  structure  of  his  mind  led  him  in  this  direction.  But  at  a  later 
period,  he  restrained  this  speculative  tendency,  and  in  his  preaching  dwelt  much 
on  the  great  leading  doctrines  and  duties  of  the  Gospel.  He  acted  with  the  Old 
School  from  the  commencement  of  the  unhappy  controversies  in  our  Church,  and 
when  occasion  required  and  Providence  offered  the  opportunity,  ably  defended 
bis  own  views  of  Christian  doctrine;  and  his  repeated  testimony  to  the  writer 
of  this  article  was,  that  the  longer  he  lived,  the  more  he  admired  and  loved  the 
old  Calvinistic  doctrines  contained  in  our  Confession  of  Faith  and  Catechisms. 

<'  As  a  preacher.  Dr.  Williams  was  highly  instructive  and  evangelical.  His 
style  was  more  philosophical  than  colloquial.  His  manner  was  grave,  dignified, 
and  solemn.  Though  never  vehement,  he  was  always  earnest,  especially  in  the 
application  of  his  discourses.  His  piety  was  not  of  that  fitful  character,  which 
rises  and  falls  according  to  incidental  circumstances,  but  was  constant  and  uni- 
form in  a  high  degree.  It  bore  the  character  of  solidity  and  intelligence  as  well 
as  spirituality  and  practical  power.  In  his  social  intercourse,  there  was  some- 
times a  tincture  of  severity,  especially  towards  those  whose  pretensions  were 
obtmsiv»  beyond  their  real  merits.    But  notwithstanding  this,  he  wasconstitu- 


igO  PBESBTTERIAN. 

tionallj  kind  and  Affectionate,  and  in  his  friendships  ardent  and  constant.  The 
society  of  his  friends  seemed  to  be  a  cordial  to  his  spirits  under  his  heaviest 
afflictions;  and  Tery  often,  in  the  midst  of  weakness  and  dejection,  have  we  seen 
his  countenance  suddenly  lighted  np,  and  the  elasticity  of  his  mind  restored,  by 
the  appearance  of  those  whose  friendship  he  prized,  and  whose  tastes  and  habitj$ 
of  thought  were  congenial  with  his  own. 

*'  Of  the  state  of  his  mind  during  his  last  illness  we  cannot  speak,  as  we  were 
at  a  distance  from  him.  But  during  an  afflictive  visitation  of  ProTidence,  about 
eighteen  months  before  his  death,  and  from  which  he  almost  despaired  of  reco- 
very, his  mind  was  calm  and  peaceful  in  the  prospect  of  dissolution.  To  the 
writer,  who  visited  him  at  that  time,  he  expressed  a  strong -and  settled  confi- 
dence in  the  Saviour.  He  renounced  all  dependance  on  any  thing  he  had  ever 
done,  and  rested  his  hope  of  acceptance  with  God  entirely  upon  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ.  He  was  much  afraid  that  his  protracted  affliction  might  render 
him  impatient,  and  lead  him  to  dishonour  religion.  And  his  great  desire  was 
that  he  might  honour  Christ,  in  his  death,  as  he  had  sought  to  do  in  his  life.'* 

To  the  foregoing  I  would  add  that  Dr.  Williams  had  the  happy  faculty,  beyond 
most  men,  of  giving  to  conrersation  a  proper  direction.  While,  with  his  inti- 
mate friends,  he  would  occasionally  indulge  in  miscellaneous  anecdotes,  his  com- 
mon practice  was  to  turn  the  conversation  into  a  higher  channel.  With  his  min- 
isterial brethren  especially,  he  was  in  th^  habit  of  introducing  such  topics  of  a 
religious  or  literary  character  as  would  lead  to  profitable  investigation.  And  he 
rarely  failed  to  place  the  subject  of  conversation  in  such  a  form,  as  most  effect- 
ually to  elicit  friendly  discussion,  and  a  free  interchange  of  opinions  on  the  part 
of  those  present.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  those  social  colloquies,  which 
afforded  opportunity  for  debate,  and  which,  by  drawing  forth  the  mental  powers 
and  resources  of  the  parties,  secured  for  the  subject  under  discussion  a  more 
thorough  analysis.  His  controversial  tactics  on  these  occasions  have  often  been 
witnessed  with  admiration.  Sometimes  strangers  who  knew  nothing  of  his  men- 
tal acumen  and  skill  in  debate,  would  be  drawn  into  collision  with  him,  on  some 
question  of  Theology  or  Mental  Philosophy, — ^but  not  rarely  found  that  they 
must  capitulate  or  suffer  certain  defeat.  And  if,  in  the  progress  of  the  debate, 
he  discovered  that  his  opponent  was  puffed  up  with  a  vain  opinion  of  his  learn- 
ing or  his  abilities,  he  was  sure  to  make  him  feel,  before  the  conversation  ended, 
that  he  had  little  of  which  to  be  vain. 

In  these  discussions  in  the  social  circle,  he  appeared  to  greater  advantage  than 
in  the  more  set  forms  of  public  debate  in  our  Ecclesiastical  Courts.  This  was 
probably  owing  in  part  to  his  not  having  been  accustomed  in  early  life  to  extem- 
poraneous efforts  of  this  kind.  If  the  period  of  his  collegiate  course  be  excepted, 
he  had  few  opportunities  of  formal  or  public  disputation.  The  method  of  pri- 
vate study,  then  prevalent,  did  not  connect  with  it  this  sort  of  training.  And 
after  he  entered  the  ministry,  owing  to  his  nervous  temperament,  he  rarely 
attempted  any  thing  like  a  set  speech  in  any  of  the  judicatories  of  the  Church, 
especially  in  the  larger  ones.  Indeed,  I  have  beard  him  remark  that  it  cost  him 
a  great  effort  to  attempt  to  speak  in  a  public  body,  and  that  the  embarrassment 
which  he  experienced  greatly  impaired  his  self-possession,  and  disqualified  him 
for  successful  exertions  in  this  way.  But  at  the  fireside,  and  in  the  social  circle, 
his  mind,  free  from  these  disturbing  causes,  never  seemed  to  falter  or  to  fail  in 
meeting  the  heaviest  drafts  which  were  made  upon  it.  With  promptness  and 
vigour  it  seized  upon  the  most  difficult  points,  and  moulded  them  into  whatever 
form  the  nature  of  his  argument  required,  or  the  exigencies  of  the  occasion 
demanded. 

It  was  not  very  often  that  he  consented  to  take  the  direction  of  the  studies  of 
young  men  preparing  for  the  ministry;  and  when  he  did,  he  modestly  declined 
being  considered  in  the  light  of  an  instructor.    Hence,  he  neither  delivered  writ- 


JOSHUA  WILLIAMS.  19^ 

ten  lectures,  nor  propounded  formal  interrogatories,  on  the  subjects  of  study. 
But  having  suggested  suitable  works  for  their  perusal,  he  frequently,  as  inclina- 
tion or  conyenienoe  led  him,  visited  bis  students  at  their  room,  and  in  a  free  and 
full  conversation,  brought  into  view  and  discussed  every  topic  embraced  in  their 
course  of  reading.  During  these  conversations,  in  which  he  placed  himself  in 
the  position  of  a  friend  and  companion,  rather  than  that  of  a  teacher,  much  valua- 
ble information  was  communicated  on  the  one  part,  and  received  on  the  other. 
Doctrines  and  principles  were  examined  and  analyzed  by  him,  with  a  clearness 
and  precision  beyond  what  is  generally  found  in  text  books.  Suggestions  were 
made,  and  thoughts  presented,  which  gave  freshness  to  the  subjects  under  exam- 
ination, and  stimulated  and  quickened  inquiry.  And  I  owe  it  to  his  memory  to 
say,  that  to  these  free  and  unreserved  conversations  I  feel  myself  largely  indebted 
lor  assistance  and  progress  in  my  theological  studies.  Every  interview  of  this 
kind  gave  a  fresh  impulse  to  my  mind,  and  excited  to  more  careful  and  extended 
research  in  reference  to  the  various  subjects  of  investigation. 

He  had  high  notions  of  the  dignity  and  sacredness  of  the  ministerial  office,  and 
of  the  necessity  for  ample  preparation  for  entering  upon  its  duties.  And  he  had  but 
little  patience  with  those  weak  and  conceited  young  men,  who,  with  crude 
notions  and  superficial  attainments  in  Theology,  sought  to  thrust  themselves  pre- 
maturely into  the  sacred  office. 

His  taste  for  reading  continued  to  the  close  of  life.  On  my  visits  to  him,  after 
he  had,  through  infirmity,  resigned  his  pastoral  charge,  I  always  found  him 
engaged  on  some  solid  work,  and  as  clear  and  cogent  in  his  remarks  upon  its  con- 
tents, as  he  was  accustomed  to  be  in  earlier  life.  His  mind  seemed  to  have  lost 
nothing  of  its  vigour,  nor  his  thirst  for  knowledge  to  have  sufi^ered  any  abate- 
ment. No  doubt,  by  this  constant  employment  of  his  mental  faculties,  he  did 
much  to  preserve  them  f^om  decay,  and  from  the  debilitating  influence  of  dimin- 
ished bodily  activity. 

In  stature,  Dr.  Williams  was  about  middle  size,  and  was  erect  and  dignified 
in  his  demeanour.  He  had  a  dtrk  and  penetrating  eye,  deeply  set  in  his  head,  a 
face  of  regular  proportions,  and  a  well-developed  forehead, — ^the  whole  indicating 
deep  and  serious  though tfulness,  and  great  discrimination  and  force  of  intellect. 
By  his  death,  the  Church  lost  an  able  and  faithful  minister  of  Christ,  whose 
talents  and  acquirements,  sanctified  by  the  grace  of  God,  fitted  him  to  take  rank 
with  the  most  gifted  minds  of  the  denomination  to  which  he  belonged,  and  to 
dignify  and  adorn  its  ministry. 

With  great  respect,  yours  very  truly, 

DAYID  ELLIOTT. 


192  PRESBTTBBIAir. 


GEORGE  ADDISON  BAXTER,  D.  D  * 

1797—1841. 

Gbobqe  Addison  Baxter  was  bom  in  Rockingliam  County,  Ya.,  July 
22,  1771.  His  parents,  Col.  George  Baxter  and  Mary  Love,  wero  both  of 
Scotch  Irish  Presbyterian  families,  and  both^  came  to  this  country  while 
children.  They  were  exemplary  members,  and  the  father  a  ruling,  elder,  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church.  He  was  also  a  man  of  no  inconsiderable  influence 
in  civil  life.  It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  all  their  children,  and  a  large 
number  of  their  grandchildren,  who  lived  to  adult  age,  were  found  walking 
in  the  footsteps  of  their  faith  and  piety. 

The  childhood  and  youth  of  the  subject  of  this  sketch  were  passed  in  his 
native  county.  A  somewhat  singular  circumstance  threw  him,  at  an  early 
period,  under  the  influence  of  one  well  fitted  to  awaken  and  cherish  a  taste 
for  literary  pursuits.  It  was  at  that  time  common  for  persons  in  humble 
circumstances  to  emigrate  from  Ireland  and  Scotland  to  this  country,  and 
hire  themselves  for  a  term  of  years  to  pay  their  passage.  Col.  Love,  the 
father  of  Mrs.  Baxter,  engaged  one  of  these  indented  servants  as  a  labourer 
on  his  farm.  The  young  man  performed  the  stipulated  work,  but  avoided 
all  intercourse  with  his  companions,  and  his  abstracted  and  melancholy 
appearance,  and  a  habit  that  he  had  of  talking  to  himself,  gave  rise  to  the 
report  that  he  was  insane.  Mr.  Baxter  (the  father)  was,  at  this  time, 
absent  from  home  ;  but,  hearing,  on  his  return,  of  the  peculiarities  of  the 
young  Irishman,  sought  him  out,  and  entered  into  conversation  with  him, 
and  found,  to  his  surprise,  that  he  was  a  man  of  liberal  education  and  uncom- 
mon talents.  Satisfied  that  the  stranger  was  far  superior  to  the  situation 
in  which  he  found  him,  he  went  at  once  to  Col.  Love,  bought  the  indentures 
of  the  Irishman,  and  gave  them  to  him,  telling  him  that  he  was  at  perfect 
liberty  to  do  as  he  pleased,  but  offering  him,  at  the  same  time,  the  place  of 
a  teacher  in  his  family.  He  accepted  the  place,  and  proved  to  be  a  man  of 
rare  attainments.  While  living  in  Rockingham,  he  went  on  one  occasion 
to  Richmond,  and  though  he  evidently  endeavoured  to  keep  aloof  from  his 
own  countrymen,  he  unexpectedly  met  one  who  instantly  recognised  him, 
and  who  stated  that  he  was  the  son  of  an  eminent  merchant  in  Cork.  This 
person,  probably  by  request  of  the  young  man,  subsequently  refused  to 
give  any  further  information  concerning  him.  The  young  man  himself, 
however,  who  was  known  only  by  an  assumed  name,  afterwards  told  hb  bene- 
factor, Mr.  Baxter,  that  he  was  obliged  to  fly  from  Ireland  in  consequence 
of  having  become  involved  in  difficulties ;  that  he  embarked  for  America  in 
the  expectation  of  meeting  a  near  relative  in  Baltimore,  but,  on  his  arrival, 
was  disappointed  ;  and,  being  quite  destitute  of  money,  and  withal  an  entire 
stranger  in  the  country,  he  was  sold  to  pay  his  passage.  The  cause  of  his 
flight  from  home  he  did  not  state ;  but,  from  the  wild  republican  sentiments 
he  expressed,  it  was  believed  to  be  a  connection  with  the  political  disturb- 
ances with  which  Ireland  was  then  rife.  After  this  meeting  with  his  coun- 
tryman in  Richmond,  he  went  back  to  Ireland,  telling  his  friends  in  Rock- 
ingham  that,  if  successful   in   an   enterprise  in  which   he  was  about  to 

•  MS.  from  Ikia  danghier.—Fooie'i  Sketohei  of  Ya.,  2d  leriM. 


6E0BGE  ADDISON  BAXTER.  193 

embark,  thej  would  hear  of  hkn  under  his  real  name;  but  if  he  failed,  thej 
would  never  hear  of  him  again.  *fie  did  not  again  communicate  with  them , 
and  some  years  later,  a  name  which  was  supposed  to  be  the  true  name  of 
this  young  man,  appeared  in  a  list  of  those  who  were  executed  as  rebels. 

Young  Baxter  made  a  profession  of  religion  previous  to  leaving  home  for 
College,  and  united  with  the  Church  of  which  his  parents  were  members, 
and  the  Rev.  Benjamin  Erwin*  was  Pastor.  Ho  entered  Liberty  Hail  iu  the 
year  1789,  but  was  soon  obliged,  from  the  failure  of  health,  to  suspend  his 
studies  and  return  home.  The  next  year,  he  resumed  his  studies  at  Lexing- 
ton, but  was  interrupted  a  second  time  from  a  similar  cause.  During  a 
part  of  the  year  1793,  he  seems  to  have  had  charge  of  the  New  London 
Academy.  He  graduated  in  the  year  1796,  having,  during  part  of  his 
course,  acted  as  Tutor. 

Mr.  Baxter  prosecuted  his  theological  studies  under  the  direction  of  the 
Rev.  William  Graham,  Rector  of  Liberty  Hall.  He  is  supposed  to  have 
commenced  the  study  of  Theology  before  he  graduated,  and  to  have  con* 
tinned  it  during  the  succeeding  winter.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the 
Lexington  Presbytery,  April  1,  1797. 

When  he  first  began  to  prepare  for  public  life,  he  suffered  not  a  little  incon- 
venience from  an  impediment  in  his  speech ;  but  this  he  overcame  by  accus- 
toming himself  to  declaim,  after  the  manner  of  the  great  Grecian  model,  with 
pebbles  in  his  mouth,  and  in  the  noise  of  waterfalls.  So  completely  was 
this  difficulty  removed  that,  in  later  life,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  things 
in  his  delivery  was  its  perfect  ease  and  freedom ;  and  so  far  from  feeling 
the  fatigue,  after  preaching,  of  which  most  ministers  are  wont  to  complain, 
he  actually  found  himself  invigorated  by  that  kind  of  effort  for  a  journey  or 
any  other  unusual  exertion. 

At  the  time  of  his  introduction  to  the  ministry,  so  low  was  the  state  of 
religion,  and  so  inadequately  appreciated  were  the  ordinances  of  the  Gospel, 
in  Virginia,  that  it  was  a  matter  of  necessity  with  most  of  the  ministers  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church  to  connect  with  the  appropriate  duties  of  their 
profession  some  other  employment,  by  which  they  might  make  out  what  was 
otherwise  wanting  to  their  support.  Accordingly,  Mr.  Baxter^  after  he  was 
licensed  to  preach,  travelled  for  six  months  through  Yirginiaand  Maryland, 
preaching  as  a  missionary,  and  at  the  same  time  making  collections  for  the 
New  London  Academy.  On  his  return  from  this  tour,  he  again  took  charge 
of  that  Academy,  and  remained  there  until  the  spring  of  1799. 

In  January,  1798,  he  was  married  to  Annie,  daughter  of  Col.  William 
Fleraming,  of  Bottetourt  County, — a  gentlemair  of  high  standing,  whose 
name  is  intimately  associated  with  both  the  military  and  civil  history  of 
Virginia  during  the  Revolution.  On  the  19th  of  October,  1798,  the  Trus- 
tees of  Liberty  Hall  offered  to  Mr.  Baxter  the  Professorship  of  Mathe- 
matics, with  which  was  connected  Natural  Philosophy  and  Astronomy.  He 
accepted  the  invitation  and  removed  to  Lexington.  As  Mr.  Graham, ^e 
Principal  of  the  Academy,  died  the  next  year,  Mr.  Baxter,  by  request  of 
the  Trustees,  pronounced  a  Eulogy  upon  him,  and  the  same  day  was 
chosen  aa  his  successor.     The  Academy  was  so  connected  with  the  Congre* 

*  BKVJAtfiH  Bbwiv  wm  flradnated  at  Princeton  College  in  1776;  wai  reoeired  tm  a  candi- 
date bj  tba  PveAjUrj  of  fiaaoTor,  April  30, 1778;  was  ordaiiied  and  itaitalled  June  20, 1780, 
M  Patter  pf  Momj  Creek  and  Coojk'i  Ci;efi1i^  Coo(T^gatki&.  Hi  died,  wiiile  in  onaMUan  with 
bb  ifst  and  only  chatge. 

Vou  IV.  25 


194  PRESBYTERIAN. 

gations  of  New  Monmouth  and  Lexington,  that  it  became  almost  necessarj 
that  the  Principal  of  the  School  should  aleo  be  the  minister  of  these  Congre- 
gations :  accordingly,  Mr.  Baxter,  after  having  served  them  as  a  snpplj 
for  a  few  months,  was  regularly  constituted  their  Pastor. 

There  were  in  the  Academy,  when  Mr.  Baxter  came  to  it,  but  seven 
students — ten  accompanied  him  from  New  London,  and  others  quickly 
followed.  Meanwhile,  the  name  of  the  institution  had  been  changed  from 
Liberty  Hall  to  Washington  Academy,  in  consequence  of  a  donation  from 
General  Washington  ;  but,  as  this  donation  was,  for  many  years,  unproduct- 
ive, and  the  school  was  nearly  destitute  of  available  funds,  Mr.  Baxter, 
with  a  view  to  make  up  the  deficiency,  spent  his  vacations  in  making  collec- 
tions for  the  Academy ;  and,  in  order  to  secure  the  aid  of  other  teachers,  he 
relinquished  his  salary  from  the  school  for  several  years,  and  lived  upon  the 
stinted  salary  that  was  paid  him  by  his  congregation,  drawing  at  the  same 
time  upon  his  own  private  resources. 

He  continued  his  connection  with  this  institution,  which  was,  some  years 
after,  chartered  as  a  College,  until  the  autumn  of  1829;  filling,  during  the 
whole  time,  the  Professorships  of  Mathematics  and  Belles  Lettres,  and  pan 
of  the  time,  that  of  Languages  also.  At  the  same  time,  he  discharged 
regularly  the  duties  of  a  Pastor,  conducting  the  public  services  on  the  Sab- 
bath, and  preaching  once  in  the  week.  His  sermons  were  extemporaneous, 
in  the  sense  of  not  being  written,  but  were  nevertheless  carefully  premedi- 
tated. In  seasons  of  revival,  his  labours  were  greatly  increased;  and  he 
has  been  known,  at  such  times,  besides  spending  five  hours  of  each  day  in 
his  college  duties,  to  preach  every  night  for  several  weeks  together.  Had 
he  not  possessed  an  uncommonly  vigorous  constitution,  and  withal  been 
relieved  from  the  whole  weight  of  domestic  care  by  the  watchful  and 
unceasing  activity  of  his  wife,  he  never  could  have  performed  such  an 
amount  of  labour  in  his  public  relations. 

In  1812,  he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  University 
of  North  Carolina. 

During  his  connection  with  Washington  College,  he  was  invited  to  the 
Presidency  of  several  other  similar  institutions,  with  an  offer  of  increased 
salary  ;  but  he  uniformly  declined  to  listen  to  the  invitations.  He  had,  for 
many  years,  greatly  desired  to  give  up  teaching,  and  devote  himself  exclu- 
sively to  the  work  of  the  ministry ;  but  had  been  prevented  from  doing  so 
by  the  consideration  that,  owing  to  the  inadequacy  of  the  college  funds,  it 
would  be  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  find  a  competent  person  to  under- 
take the  service  which  he  had  performed.  He  retired  from  the  College  in 
the  autumn  of  1829,  but  still  retained  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Congre- 
gation. 

In  the  autumn  of  1831,  he  removed  to  the  Union  Theological  Seminary, 
and  was  inaugurated  Professor  of  Theology  in  that  institution,  April  11, 
1832.  At  the  time  he  accepted  the  appointment,  the  Seminary  was  in  an 
embarrassed  state,  and  he  spent  several  vacations  in  soliciting  pecuniary  aid 
in  its  behalf.  Besides  performing  the  duties  of  his  Professorship,  he 
preached  regularly  to  vacant  congregations  in  the  neighbourhood,  and,  for 
four  years  before  his  death,  supplied  a  church,  twenty-five  miles  from  his 
residence :  the  first  two  years  he  preached  two  Sabbaths,  afterwards  one 
Sabbath,  in  each  month, — going  to  the  place  on  Saturday,  and  returning  on 
Monday. 


GEOROE  ADD-ON  BAXTER.  295 

Dr.  Baxter  was  a  member  of  the  General  Assembly  in  18B7,  and  is 
miderstood  to  have  had  an  important  agency  in  originating  the  plan  by 
which  the  division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  took  place  that  year.* 

He  continued  to  labour  without  interruption  almost  to  the  day  of  his 
death.  In  the  early  part  of  March,  1841,  he  was  confined  to  his  house 
with  a  cold,  but  was  apparently  recovering,  and  until  the  close  of  the 
session  on  the  10th  of  April,  he  continued  to  attend  to  his  classes  as  usual. 
On  the  evening  of  the  23d  of  April,  he  sat  up  until  nine  o'clock,  his  usual 
hour  for  retiring,  and  was  engaged  with  some  friends  in  animated  conversap 
tioD,  chiefly  on  the  subject  of  unfulfilled  prophecy.  He  slept  quietly  until 
daylight,  when  he  arose,  and  almost  immediately  was  heard  to  fall:  his 
friends,  coming  to  his  assistance,  laid  him  upon  the  bed,  and,  after  a  few 
■lioates  of  intense  suffering,  he  expired  without  a  groan.  The  diseaae 
which  terminated  his  life  was  pronounced  by  the  physicians  to  be  apoplexy 
of  the  lungs. 

His  wife  survived  him  more  than  nine  years,  and  died  August  8,  1850. 
They  lost  one  son,  the  eldest  of  nine  children,  in  infancy.  The  second  son 
ehose  tho  profession  of  Law,  and,  after  distinguishing  himself  at  the  Bar, 
£ed  in  18B5.  The  youngest  son  became  a  minister,  but  was  soon  called 
from  his  earthly  labours.  He  died  in  1845.  His  only  surviving  son  has 
been  for  many  years  Attorney  General  of  the  State  of  Virginia. 

Besides  various  contributions  to  periodicals.  Dr.  Baxter  published  the 
following  Sermons  and  Essays  : — A  Sermon  at  the  installation  of  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Caldwell,  1825.  A  Pastoral  Letter,  1827.  Inaugural  Address  at 
the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  1832.  An  Essay  on  Baptism,  1883.  An 
Essay  on  Slavery,  1836.  A  Semi-centenary  Sermon,  1840.  A  Sermon 
on  Ministerial  Parity,  1840. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  LETBURN,  D.D. 

Philadblphia,  June  20, 1849. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  Tou  have  requested  me  to  give  you  my  recollections  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Baxter.  These  commence  with  the  very  earliest  of  any  imprea- 
iions  on  my  mind.  Of  his  church  my  father  was  a  ruling  elder;  by  his  hands  I 
vas  baptized;  I  was  received  by  him  into  full  communion ;  and  from  him  derived 
lastmction  in  preparing  for  the  ministry.  I  knew  him  from  the  first  of  my  life, 
ind  I  knew  him  to  the  last  of  his. 

On  all  sides  Dr.  Baxter  seems  to  have  been  admitted  to  be  a  truly  great  man. 
In  his  day  there  were  giants  in  the  Virginia  Synod, — men  much  above  the  ordi- 
nary intellectual  stature.  Conrad  Speece,  and  John  H.  Rice,  and  James  Turner, 
and  other  such  were  there;  but  I  have  never  heard  either  of  these  mentioned  as 
superior  in  original  powers  to  Dr.  Baxter.  He  bad  not  indeed  the  wit,  nor 
the  propensity  to  devour  books,  nor  perhaps  the  mere  naked  force,  which  belonged 
to  Speece;  nor  the  application,  and  varied  scholarship,  and  practical  available 
talent  of  Rice;  nor  exactly  the  soul-stirring,  tear-drawing  eloquence  of  Turner; 
but  he  had  an  understanding  vast  in  its  powers  of  comprehension,  eminently 
profound,  logical  and  lucid;  a  judgment  which  seldom  erred;  a  memory  which 
never  forgot;  and  an  amount  of  fervent  emotion,  which  sent  forth  his  great 
thoughts  in  burning  and  melting  masses. 

Perhaps  if  any  one  mental  quality  could  be  considered  as  having  the  prece- 
dence of  the  rest,  it  was  clearness.     He  had  the  capacity  of  discerning  distinctly 

•  8m  «  Spirit  of  the  Nineteenth  Ceniaiy,'*  for  Jane  1837;  edited  1^  Rev.  Robert  Breekea- 
lidge,  B.  D. 


290  F&B8BTTBBIAK. 

vhatoY^r  was  to  be  seen,  in  unj  field  he  explored,  and  Ihen  of  making  his  dis* 
ooveries  equally  clear  to  oibers.  Many  things  incomprehensible  to  most  othen, 
were  plain  to  him,  and  seemed  to  be  so  naturally.  His  mind  appeared  incapable 
of  any  other  than  intelligent  and  lucid  views.  Others  might  be  struggling  in 
vain  to  see  the  light — ^tbo  obscurity  may  have  been  to  them  impenetrable;  but  he 
was  like  one  who  had  bpen  all  the  while  sitting  above  the  region  of  the  clouds,-^ 
whose  habitation  was  amidst  perpetual  sunlight,  and  who  had  only  to  open  his  lips 
to  explain  to  those  below  the  entire  range  of  objects  which  to  them  were  so  obscure. 
This  faculty  was  displayed  to  great  advantage  in  the  theological  lecture-room : 
his  pupils  here  heard  abstruse  and  difficult  subjects  unravelled  so  clearly  that 
they  could  but  marvel  that  all  had  not  seen  them  as  did  their  venerated  instructer. 
la  deliberative  bodies,  other  and  able  minds  may  have  given  forth  powerful  and 
•onflicting  -views,  leaving  the  subject,  however,  at  last,  apparently  more  difficult 
tecause  of  their  opposing  arguments;  but  when  Baxter  spoke,  any  one  might  see 
what  portion  of  all  that  had  been  brought  forth  was  irrelevant,  what  arguments 
were  really  weighty,  what  were  the  strong  points  of  the  case;  and  his  simple, 
Incid  statements  seemed  in  themselves  arguments  conclusive. 

Then  in  the  Rhetorical  Society  of  the  Seminarj^  he  shone  with  no  common 
lustre.  This,  it  is  true,  was  a  comparatively  humble  sphere;  but  to  him  it  was 
none  the  less  interesting.  It  was  a  weekly  debating  Society  of  the  students, 
and  amongst  their  number  were  minds  of  no  mean  order.  Logic  and  eloquence 
were  not  unfrequently  arrayed  on  opposing  sides,  until  it  seemed  doubtful  where 
the  truth  lay.  But  when  the  Doctor  came  to  his  *' summing  up,"  the  shadows 
instantly  flew  away,  and  the  truth,  clear  as  the  sun,  stood  forth,  in  all  its  native 
majesty. 

Yet)  with  this  remarkable  faculty  of  disoeming  whatever  was  within  the  legiti- 
mate boundary  of  human  knowledge,  no  man  knew  better  than  he  where  that 
boundary  lay,  or  was  more  ready  practically  to  recognise  it  in  his  inveistigationa. 
He  had  no  empty  ambition  to  seem  to  know  every  thing,  nor  did  he  aspire  to  be 
wise  above  that  which  is  written.  Herein  he  was  eminently  useful  as  a  guide  to 
his  pupils.  He  brought  clearly  before  them  the  known;  he  showed  them  with 
equal  clearness  where  was  the  unknown ;  and  thus  gave  them  good  solid  ground 
to  stand  upon. 

:  His  power  of  condensation  also  was  remarkable.  A  few  words  availed  with 
him  more  than  many  with  most  other  speakers  or  writers.  His  prayers  were 
in  this  respect  extraordinary.  They  were  always  brief, — sometimes  very  brief; 
but  never  so  much  so  but  that  every  thing  appropriate  seemed  to  be  embraced. 
He  probably  never  made  a  long  speech  in  a  Church  judicatory.  What  he  had  to 
say  pertained  directly  to  the  subject  in  hand;  he  advanced  at  onoe  to  the  point 
in  discussion,  and  stopped  when  he  was  done.  His  sermons,  while  he  was  a 
pastor,  rarely  exceeded  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  which,  in  the  South,  is  con- 
sidered very  moderate  length.  Indeed,  after  his  removal  to  the  Seminary, 
whilst  supplying,  during  a  portion  of  his  time,  the  pulpit  in  the  adjacent  church, 
I  have  understood  that  he  was  formally  waited  on  by  the  Session  of  the  Church 
with  a  request  that  he  would  preach  longer; — a  request  seldom  made  to  min- 
isters. 

In  his  theological  exercises  in  the  Seminary,  Dr.  Baxter  may  not  have  been  so 
methodical  as  some  others.  He  wrote  but  few  lectures — he  needed  not  to  write 
any  thing.  He  could  extemporise  great  thoughts  in  logical  order  and  in  proper 
language.  His  style  of  teaching,  indeed,  was  to  a  great  extent  catechetical. 
His  object  seemed  to  be  to  set  the  minds  of  his  pupils  at  work, — to  teach  them 
to  investigate  and  digest  for  themselves,  and  train  them  for  intelligent  and  inde- 
pendent mental  effort.  He  announced  his  subject,  pointed  out  authorities  for 
consultation,  and  in  due  season  called  for  the  opinions  of  the  class  in  a  free  and 
thorough  oonferenoe,  and  required  each  member  to  commit  to  writing  a  oon- 


6E0RGB  APDISOK  BAXTER.  }gi|^ 

neeted  view  of  thtf  whole  «iil>jocl.  Theae  leotur^^xxmi  ooUfcrenoes  were  the  ixsea^ 
sion  of  TftBt  improvement  to>  the  piipil>  and  appaa^ntlj  great  pleasure  to  the 
instructer.  He  revelled  amidst  thinga  intdlectual,  and  was  seldom  more  pleased 
than  when  watchtqg  youthful  mind  struggling  in  the  wide  fields  of  thoug^ht* 
And  never  probably  did  Professor  more  enjoy  the  logical  or  theological  dilemmas 
into  which  his  catechetical  method  would  not  unfreqoently  betray  the  student. 
He  had  no  desire  to  mortify  his  pupil — for  that  his  nature  was  too  kind;  nor  did 
be  seek  to  show  off  himself  by  gaining  a  victory  over  a  younger  and  weaker 
adversary — ^for  this  he  was  at  once  too  humble  and  too' noble.  His  object  was 
perhaps  twofold; — primarily  the  improvement  of  the  pupil, — afterwards  a  sort 
of  tniellectual  entertainment  for  himself.  He  would  often  beghi  his  st^atagear 
by  propounding  a  question  very  remote  from  his  ultimate  end;  graduatty  he 
would  make  neaier  approaches  with  his  cateehisii^,  until  at  last  the  pupil  was 
uwittingly  committed  to  what  he  was  soon  himself  to  see  was  an  inextricttblo 
dilemma;  and,  as  the  crisis  came  on,  the  Doctor's  benevolent  fooe  would  glow, 
and  his  large  sides  shake,  in  innocent  enjoyment. 

Although  this  intellectual  trapping  was  of  very  frequent  occurrence,  and 
almost  always  wound  up  with  catching  the  student,  and  with  a  good-natured 
laugh  from  the  Doctor,  yet  I  never  knew  any  offence  token  in  a  single  instance. 
He  was  indeed  one  of  the  last  men  to  give  offence  intentionally.  His  remarka- 
ble kindness  and  leniency  were  seen  in  his  criticisms  on  the  performances  of  the 
students.  One  of  the  severest  critiques  he  ever  made,  was  upon  a  sermon 
preached  by  a  student  in  which  there  was  but  little  of  the  savour  of  piety,—* 
about  the  weightiest  of  all  &ults  in  the  Doctor's  estimation — *'  It  might  be 
remarked  of  that  sermon,"  said  he,  ''as  it  was  of  Dr.  Blair's,  it  would  be' the 
better  for  eonveririon."  The  stroke  too  was  probably  a  doubU-tniendre  ;  for 
though  no  other  person  present  knew  the  &ct,  it  was  afterwards  discovered  that 
the  sermon  was  stolen  almost  bodily  from  Dr.  Blair. 

Dr.  Baxter's  habits  of  study  were  peculiar.  He  had  but  a  small  salary,  and 
I  do  not  think  he  could  be  called  a  great  reader;  but  whatever  he  read  he  always 
remembered.  He  very  seldom  forott  any  thing, — a  circumstance  much  to  be 
regretted,  now  that  he  is  gone.  A  clerical  friend  who  looked  over  his  manu- 
scripts after  his  decease,  said  that  he  thought  the  whole  stock  was  not'as  large 
as  he  himself  had  when  he  had  been  preaching  six  months,  although  that  six 
months  was  spent  in  missionary  life.  Some  might  infer  that  such  habits  would 
induce  complete  mental  stagnation;  but  so  it  was  not.  The  same  friend  who 
mode  this  remark  about  his  manuscripts,  when  recently  in  conversation  with 
another,  who  had  well  known  Dr.  Baxter,  and  had  also  had  some  opportunity 
for  seeing  and  hearing  distinguished  men  on  both  sides  of  the  water,  said, — 
"  Well,  you  have  been  a  good  deal  over  the  world,  and  heard  a  good  many  great 
men, — have  you  ever  met  any  where  as  great  a  man  as  Dr.  Baxter  ?" — and  then 
added  in  regard  to  the  Doctor's  habits  of  study — *'  it  is  true  that  he  did  not 
appear  to  study  as  other  men,  but  his  way  was  the  best  for  him.  I  never  found 
him  but  that  he  had  been  pursuing  some  train  of  thought  so  lofty  or  profound  as 
to  be  beyond  the  range  of  ordinary  men."  It  may  be  mentioned,  as  another 
peculiarity,  that  he  often  studied  reclining  upon  his  couch,  and  it  has  been  said 
that  in  this  posture  his  mind  worked  to  the  best  advantage. 

After  what  has  just  been  stated,  it  seems  almost  superfluous  to  say  that  Dr, 
Baxter  was  what  is  usually  termed  an  txt^mport  preacher.  He  probably  never 
hod  a  manuscript  sermon  in  the  pulpit  in  his  life;  and  in  all  the  preaching  which 
I  ever  heard  from  him,  I  never  saw  him  with  even  the  briefest  outline  committed 
to  paper.  His  pulpit  preparations  were  nevertheless  thorough.  He  advised  his 
students  always  to  put  into  words  their  extempore  sermons,  at  least  twice, 
before  preaching  them ;  and  he  observed  that  when  they  came  to  be  delivered, 
the  language  of  either  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  rehearsals  would  most  pro- 


198  PRESBYTERIAK. 

bftblj  recar.  It  is  not  improbable  that  this  was  his  own  method  of  preparation : 
oertainiy  he  repeated  his  sermons  to  himself,  and  often  audibly;  for  few  of  the 
students  of  Washin^n  College,  who  were  ever  much  in  the  old  building  for- 
merly nearest  the  President's  house,  could  have  Ikiled  to  hear  him  preaching  his 
sermons,  as  he  walked  to  and  from  his  recitation  rooms  in  the  more  distant 
bhilding.  He  had  the  power,  too,  of  preaching  the  sermon  almost  word  for  word 
as  he  had  rehearsed  it. 

In  speaking  of  him  as  a  preacher,  it  may  be  proper  to  say  something  of  tho 
physical  man.  In  this  respect,  as  well  as  intellectually,  he  was  great.  In  his 
youth  he  had  been  rather  tall  and  slender,  but  from  at  least  middle  life  he  was 
oorpulent.  His  head  was  large,  with  an  expanded,  massive  brow,  in  which  tho 
▼ery  majesty  of  mind  seemed  enthroned.  By  means  of  an  accident,  one  of  his 
limbs  was  somewhat  shortened,  occasioning  a  very  slight  limp  in  his  gait.  His 
peculiar  footstep,  with  the  striking  of  his  cane,  and  his  manner  of  clearing  his 
throat,  were  sounds  with  which  no  student  of  Washington  College  at  least  was 
erer  unacquainted :  they  were  too  often  alarm  signals  to  those  who  might  hare 
been  better  employed. 

His  voice  was  good, — ^perhaps  somewhat  monotonous;  but  in  his  whole  man- 
ner there  was  an  air  of  unpretending  majesty  in  keeping  with  the  elevation  of  his 
thoughts.  His  sermons  were  always  AiU  of  solid  evangelical  instruction.  Ho 
was  not  always  descanting  on  social  evils,  and  evils  of  the  body  politic.  He  came 
to  the  pulpit,  feeling  that  he  had  a  momentous  message  to  deliver,  and  evidently 
burdened  with  its  weighty  import.  He  was  deeply  solemn,  impressive  and 
affectionate.  He  had  imagination,  and  he  had  pathos;  and,  while  he  never 
preached  any  other  than  a  good  sermon,  he  was  often  truly  and  highly  eloquent. 
He  was  remarkable  for  tenderness  of  feeling :  I  think  I  have  never  known  any 
minister  who  had  such  frequent  and  powerful  struggles,  whilst  preaching,  to 
suppress  strong  emotion.  This  was  most  common  when  dwelling  on  the  mise- 
ries of  the  lost,  or  thjB  compassion  and  sufferings  of  the  Saviour,  or  the  unfaith- 
fulness and  unworthiness  of  God's  professed  people.  This  also  was  very  pecu- 
liar,— ^that  his  mind  moved  faster  than  his  words,  and  the  sentiment  had  often 
melted  his  own  heart,  while  it  was  yet  unrevealed  to  his  hearers.  He  saw  the 
spectacle  in  the  distance,  and  as  it  continued  to  approach,  his  emotion  increased, 
till  Jie  was  finally  melted  to  tears. 

Few  pastors  ever  entered  more  heartily  into  revivals  of  religion.  His  ardent 
piety,  and  his  kind,  affectionate  nature,  too,  fitted  him  eminently  to  mingle  to 
advantage  in  such  scenes.  Who  that  witnessed  it,  can  ever  forget  the  fervour 
with  which  he  entered  into  the  revival  in  Lexington,  and  the  country  adjacent,  in 
1823;  especially  who  can  forget  the  Sacrament  Sunday  at  the  romantic  old  stons 
church  at  Monmouth?  And  the  great  revival  of  1831, — how  his  large  heart  was 
cheered  by  what  he  then  saw,  and  heard,  and  felt.  That  was  about  the  last  of 
his  ingatherings  from  the  field  he  had  been  so  long  cultivating;  for  scarcely  had 
it  come  to  a  close,  before  he  was  called  to  part  with  his  long  loved  and  devoted 
people,  and  go  up  to  the  vacant  chair  in  the  School  of  the  Prophets. 

If  Dr.  Baxter  was  so  remarkable  a  person,  some  may  inquire  why  he  was 
not  more  universally  known  in  the  Church  and  in  the  country.  Principally, 
because  he  was  one  of  the  most  modest  of  men.  He  not  only  shrunk  from  every 
thing  that  was  even  remotely  allied  to  the  appearance  of  display,  but  his  desire 
for  keeping  himself  in  the  back  ground  seemed  to  amount  almost  to  a  passion. 
Indeed  it  may  be  doubted  whether  he  did  not  carry  his  sensitiveness  on  this 
point  to  an  extreme  which  limited  his  usefulness.  For  this  reason  partly,  he 
seldom,  if  ever,  preached  so  well  abroad  as  in  his  own  pulpit.  He  was  almost 
as  easily  embarrassed  as  the  humblest  and  plainest  student,  fresh  from  the  Semi- 
nary.    But  while  he  disliked  to  occupy  a  conspicuous  position,  no  man  was  more 


GEORGE  ADDISOK  BAXTER.  |9g 

ready  to  do  honour  to  others,  and  no  one  rejoiced  more  in  the  prosperity  and 
usefulness  of  his  brethren. 

I  am  very  truly  and  fraternally  yours, 

JOHN  LEYBURN. 


'«»• 


DAVID  McCONAUGHY,  D.  D.  LL.  D  * 

1797—1852. 

Datid  McGonauoht  was  born  in  Menallen  township,  York  County, 
(BOW  Adams)  Pa.,  September  29,  1775.  His  grandfather,  David  McCon'^ 
anghy,  had  settled  in  that  region  previous  to  the  Revolution,  and  held 
the  office  of  Sheriff  of  Lancaster  County,  under  the  Royal  government.  His 
son  Robert,  the  father  of  David,  was  actively  engaged  in  the  service  of  his 
country,  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution ;  but  whether  as  an  officer  or  private 
soldier,  is  not  now  known.  During  his  absence  with  the  army,  his  son  David, 
then  about  two  years  old,  wandered  off  in  company  with  another  child  to  a 
mill  race  in  the  neighbourhood,  fell  into  it,  and  remained  there  a  consid* 
arable  time.  When  he  was  taken  out,  it  was  supposed  that  life  was  extinct ; 
but,  after  yigorous  applications  had  been  made  for  some  time,  suspended 
animation  was  restored. 

The  rudiments  of  his  education  were  received,  under  the  tuition  of  a  Mr. 
Monteith,  in  the  vicinity  of  his  father *s  residence.  At  the  age  of  about 
ten,  he  was  sent  to  a  grammar  school  in  the  neighbourhood,  taught  by  a  Mr. 
Boggs,  which  was  among  the  earliest  classical  schools  established  in  the  inte- 
rior of  the  State.  As  this  school,  however,  was  soon  discontinued,  he  was 
removed  to  a  classical  school  in  Gettysburg,  about  six  miles  from  his  paternal 
home,  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Alexander  Dobbin,  an  accomplished 
teacher,  and  a  minister  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Church.  Here  he  con- 
tinued till  he  was  prepared  to  enter  College. 

He  received  his  collegiate  education  at  Dickinson  College,  Carlisle, 
where  he  was  graduated  in  September,  1795.  He  had  the  Latin  Saluta- 
tory assigned  him,  which  was,  at  that  time,  considered  the  highest  honour. 
Among  his  class  mates  were  the  present  Chief  Justice  Taney,  of  the  Fed- 
eral Court  of  the  United  States,  the  late  Justice  Kennedy  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Pennsylvania,  and  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Joshua  Williams  of  Penn- 
sylvania, distinguished  as  an  able  and  profound  theologian. 

Shortly  after  he  graduated,  he  commenced  his  theological  studies  under 
the  direction  of  the  Rev  Nathan  Grier,  of  Brandywine,  well  known  as  a 
popular  preacher,  and  an  able  teacher  of  Theology.  After  having  con- 
tinued his  studies  for  two  years,  he  ^iras  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel,  on 
the  5th  of  October,  1797,  by  the  Presbytery  of  Newcastle.  The  next 
spring  he  received  permission  from  the  Presbytery  to  spend  six  months  as 
a  sort  of  missionary  without  their  bounds,  and  particularly  within  the  limits 
of  the  Carlisle  and  Philadelphia  Presbyteries.  Accordingly,  he  preached 
frequently  both  in  Philadelphia  and  in  New  York  ;  and  he  was  detained  a 
considerable  time  in  the  latter  city,  in  consequence  of  the  prevalence  of 

*  Br.  ElUott't  Fim.  Senn.— Kerina'  Chnrcliei  of  the  Yalley. 


200  PRESBTTERIAH. 

Ihe  yellow  fever  in  Philaflelphift.  In  April,  1799,  lie  took  bis  dismission 
from  the  Presbytery  of  Newcastle,  and  immediately  after  placed  himself 
under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery  of  Carlisle. 

HaviDg  received  and  accepted  a  call  from  the  nnited  Churches  of  Upper 
Marsh  Creek  and  Great  Conewago,  within  the  bounds  of  that  Presbytery, 
be  was  ordained  and  installed  their  Pastor,  on  the  8th  of  October,  1800. 
The  Congregation  of  Upper  Marsh  Creek  ultimately  determined  to  remove 
their  edifice  to  Gettysburg,  which  had  become  the  County  seat,  and  was 
about  three  miles  from  the  site  of  the  building  which  they  then  occupied. 
This  removal  took  place  in  1813,  but  it  was  not  till  1816  that  the  new 
ehurch  was  finished  and  ready  for  occupancy.  The  Congregation  still 
retained  its  original  chartered  name  of  '^  Upper  Marsh  Creek,"  and  still 
remained  in  union  with  Great  Conewago.  In  these  united  Congregations, 
he  continued  in  the  faithful  and  acceptable  discharge  of  his  ministerial 
duties  till  the  spring  of  1832,  when  he  reragned  his  pastoral  charge  to  enter 
on  another,  and  in  some  respects  a  more  important,  field  of  labour. 

Mr.  McConaughy,  was  greatly  devoted  not  only  to  the  spiritual  but  the 
temporal  interests  of  his  flock.  A  few  years  before  his  removal  from  Get- 
tysburg, a  large  debt  which  had  been  suffered  to  accumulate  upon  the 
Church  in  that  place,  threatened  it  with  absolute  bankruptcy ;  and  it  was 
only  through  the  indefatigable  exertions  of  the  Pastor  that  this  disastrous 
issue  was  averted.  In  addition  to  his  efiforts  at  home,  he  visited  the  cities 
of  Baltimore,  Philadelphia,  and  New  York,  for  the  purpose  of  procuring 
pecuniary  aid ;  and  the  result  was,  that,  before  his  death,  (for  the  debt  was 
not  entirely  extinguished  till  after  his  removal  from  Gettysburg,)  he  had 
the  satisfaction  to  see  the  congregation  entirely  relieved,  and  able,  without 
assistance,  to  support  a  pastor  the  whole  of  his  time. 

Mr.  McConaughy  interested  himself  much,  at  an  early  period,  in  the  Tem- 
perance reform,  and  may  be  said  to  have  taken  the  lead  in  it  in  his  native 
county.  He  appointed  meetings  to  be  held  at  the  Court  House  in  the 
evenings,  at  which  he  read  from  the  works  of  various  distinguished  men, 
with  a  view  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  formation  of  a  Society.  In  due  time 
a  Society  was  formed, — the  first  of  the  kind  in  Adams  County  ;  and  he  was 
elected  its  first  President.  In  aid  of  the  cause  he  preached  a  Sermon  on 
Intemperance,  distinguished  for  its  truthful  and  eloquent  delineations, — 
which  was  published,  and  extensively  circulated  throughout  that  region. 

In  the  year  1807,  he  commenced  a  grammar  school  in  Gettysburg,  for 
the  purpose  of  preparing  young  men  to  enter  College;  but,  after  fivQ  yean, 
he  relinquished  it  in  favour  of  a  county  organization.  As  a  teacher,  as 
well  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  he  rendered  most  important  service  to  his 
native  county.  His  pupils  were  generally  distinguished,  in  the  Colleges  to 
which  they  resorted,  for  the  extent  and  accuracy  of  their  attainments. 

After  Dr.  Wylie  had  resigned  the  Presidency  of  Washington  College,  the 
attention  of  the  Trustees  was  directed  towards  Mr.  McConaughy,  as  a  suit- 
able person  to  fill  the  vacant  chair ;  and,  accordingly,  he  was  elected  Pre- 
sident of  that  institution,  on  the  12th  of  March,  1830.  This  appointment 
he  would  have  immediately  accepted,  had  not  the  unexpected  death  of  a 
near  relative  produced  a  state  of  things  in  his  family  relations  that  rendered 
it,  in  his  judgment  and  that  of  others,  improper  for  him  to  remove.  He 
was,  however,  re-elected,  at  the  close  of  the  year  1831,  (the  operations  of 
the  College  having  in  the  mean  time  proceeded  under  a  temporary  arrange- 


DAYID  MoGONAUGHT.  ^1 

ment,)  and  his  «iretimstane&a  had  now  so  far  cbanged,  that  he  felt  Mmself 
flt  liberty  to  accept  the  appointment.  He  accordingly  removed  to  Wash- 
ington,  and  was  inaugurated  as 'President  of  the  College  on  the  9th  of  May, 
1832.  BuriBg  his  whole  administration,  which  embraced  a  period  of  seven* 
teen  years  and  six  months,  three  hundred  and  eighty-eight  young  men 
received  the  honours  of  the  institution.  The  first  class  that  graduated  tinder 
his  Presidency,  consisted  of  four,  the  last  of  thirty-six.  The  College, 
daring  the  whole  period,  enjoyed  a  constantly  increasing  prosperity. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Jefferson 
College  in  the  year  1833. 

Dr.  McConaughy  tendered  his  resignation  as  President  of  •  the  College, 
on  the  1st  of  October,  1849 ;  and  it  was  accepted  at  a  special  meeting  of 
the  Board  a  few  days  after, — it  being  understood  that  his  purpose  to  retire 
waa  immovably  fixed.  He  consented,  however,  as  a  matter  of  aocommoda* 
lioD,  to  retain  a  sort  of  unofficial  connection  with  the  College  until  a  sue* 
eeaaor  could  be  procured ;  and  this  he  did  until  the  arrival  of  the  President 
daci, — ^muoh  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Board  and  the  advantage  of  the  insti- 
tution. The  Board,  on  accepting  his  resignation,  passed  resolutions  expres- 
sive of  their  high  sense  of  his  worth  and  of  the  value  of  his  services  to  the 
College,  and  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws. 

Dr.  McConaughy *8  labours  did  not  cease  when  his  connection  with  the 
College  closed.  During  the  next  year  after  hb  resignation,  he  published 
a  volume  of  Discourses,  chiefiy  biographical,  which  does  honour  to  the 
religious  literature  of  our  country. 

On  Sabbath,  the  11th  of  January,  Dr.  McConaughy  preached  his  last 
aermon  ia  the  Church  at  Washington,  from  Proverbs  i.  22.  It  was  a 
sermon,  of  great  interest,  and  his  manner  was  unusually  animated  and 
impressive.  The  next  Sabbath  he  was  confined  to  his  bed  with  a  severe  cold, 
which,  however,  at  first,  occasioned  no  apprehension  in  respect  to  the  result. 
But  his  strength,  from  that  time,  gradually  failed,  and  it  soon  became  appa- 
rent that  the  current  of  life  was  ebbing  away.  His  extreme  weakness 
and  difficulty  of  breathing  prevented  him  from  saying  much,  but  the  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance  uniformly  betokened  a  heavenly  serenity.  He  died 
at  his  residence  at  Washington,  on  the  29th  of  January,  1852,  in  the 
seventy-seventh  year  of  his  age,  and  the  fifty-fifth  of  his  ministry.  A  Ser* 
moQ  commemorative  of  his  life  and  character  was  preached  in  the  Presbyte- 
rian Church  at  Washington,  on  the  21st  of  March  following,  at  the  request 
of  the  Faculty  of  Washington  College,  and  of  the  Session  of  the  Church, 
by  the  Bev.  Dr.  Elliott,  Professor  in  the  Western  Theological  Seminary, 
AUcghaoy. 

In  the  spring  of  1802,  he  was  married  to  Mary,  daughter  of  David 
Mahon,  Esq.,  of  Shippensburg,  Pa.,  —  a  lady  with  whom  he  lived  most 
happUy  for  fifty  years,  and  who  survives  (1858)  to  mourn  his  departure. 
They  had  no  children. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  McGonaughy's  publications : — Drunkenness 
excludes  from  Heaven  :  A  Sermon,  1827.  An  Inaugural  Address  delivered 
on  his  Induction  to  the  office  of  President  of  Washington  Collie,  18&2. 
Christ  the  Lord  our  Bighteousness :  A  Sermon,  1838.  Bemember  the 
Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy :  A  Sermon,  1835.  A  Brief  Summary  and 
Outline  of  Uie  principal  Subjects  comprehended  in  Moral  Science,  design i>d 
for  the  use  of  the  Senior  Class  in  Washington  College,  1838.     A  i^uruuu 

VcL.  IV.  26 


202  PRESBYTERIAN. 

on  the  necessity  of  a  high  tone  of  piety  in  the  Qospel  ministry :  Preached 
by  appointment  of  the  Synod  of  Wheeling,  1844.  A  Baccalaureate  deliv- 
ered to  the  graduating  class  in  Washington  College,  1848.  Discourses 
chiefly  Biographical,  of  persons  eminent  in  Sacred  History,  (an  octayo 
volume,)  1850.  Two  Tracts  published  by  the  Presbyterian  Board,  on  the 
Doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  and  Infant  Baptism* 

FROM  THE  REV.  DAVID  ELLIOTT,  D.  D. 

Allsohavt  Gitt,  July  7, 1852. 

Dear  Sir :  At  the  risk  of  appearing  too  frequently  among  the  number  of  your 
contributors,  I  send  you,  at  your  request,  my  impressions  of  the  character 
of  my  late  venerable  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  McConaughy,  whom  I  have  known  for 
upwards  of  forty  years.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Presbytery  of  Carlisle,  when 
I  entered  upon  my  trials  in  that  Presbytery,  and  delivered  the  Charge  to  me  at 
my  ordination.  We  were  members  of  the  same  Presbytery  for  upwards  of 
seventeen  years,  during  which  period  I  had  many  opportunities  for  becoming  well 
acquainted  with  him,  both  in  public  and  private.  After  his  removal  to  Washingtony 
we  were  again  co-presbyters  for  more  than  four  years,  resided  in  the  same  town, 
and  were  in  habits  of  the  closest  intimacy,  which  intimacy  continued  to  the  end  of 
his  life.  What  I  have  to  communicate,  therefore,  in  respect  to  him,  is  the  result 
of  personal  observation,  and  that  made  under  circumstances  which  afforded  the 
best  opportunity  to  form  a  correct  judgment  in  the  case. 

If  there  was  a  man  within  the  entire  circle  of  my  acquaintance,  who  was  enti- 
tled to  the  character  of  "  a  good  man,"  it  was  David  McCox aught.  Although, 
from  literary  institutions  of  high  reputation,  be  had  received  the  honorary  dis- 
tinctions of  *'  Doctor  of  Divinity"  and  "  Doctor  of  Laws,"  the  still  higher  and 
nobler  title — that  of  ''aooodxan,"  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  united 
suffrage  of  the  whole  community.  Nor  was  this  title  ever  conferred  in  the  sense 
of  disparagement,  unless  it  may  have  been  by  some  thoughtless  charlatan,  or 
b}'  some  transient  observer,  who  knew  but  little  of  his  character.  But  Eh*. 
McConaughy  was  reputed  a  good  man  in  the  most  favourable  sense  of  the  phrase. 
The  high  qualities  of  his  character  which  lay  transparent  on  the  surface  of  his 
acts,  commanded  the  respect  and  won  the  admiration  of  all  who  had  the  capacity 
to  discern,  or  disposition  to  appreciate,  true  moral  excellence. 

There  was  a  sincerity  and  honesty  in  all  his  words  and  actions,  which  put  to 
flight  every  shadow  of  suspicion  that  he  was  not  what  he  appeared  to  be.  What 
he  said  he  thought, — his  words  being  ever  the  faithful  transcript  of  the  thoughts 
and  intents  of  his  heart. 

There  was,  moreover,  a  completeness  of  character  belonging  to  him,  beyond 
that  of  most  men.  That  he  was  free  from  defects  I  do  not  affirm;  but  by  the 
number  and  strength  and  vitality  of  his  constitutional  gifts  and  Christian  graces, 
these  defects  were  so  overshadowed  as  scarcely  to  be  seen;  or  if  seen,  but  little 
regarded  by  those  whose  moral  vision  was  not  jaundiced  by  prejudice.  And 
this  living  assemblage  of  excellent  properties  seemed  all  to  be  under  the  control 
of  a  gravitating  power,  giving  regularity  to  their  movements,  and  impelling  them 
to  a  common  centre,  for  the  fuller  and  clearer  manifestation  of  the  whole.  Hence 
his  character  was  one  of  great  moral  power,  and  his  example  was  such  as  those 
within  the  sphere  of  its  influence  might  safely  and  honourably  imitate. 

The  religious  character  of  Dr.  McConaughy  was  not  only  decided,  but  strongly 
marked.  His  piety  was  eminently  intelligent — the  fulness  of  his  faith  in  refer- 
ence to  the  great  truths  of  the  Gospel  imparted  a  distinctness  and  definiteness 
to  all  his  devotional  acts.  It  was  also  of  a  confiding  character — ^he  had  not  only 
an  intelligent  discernment  of  the  God  of  grace,  as  reconciled  through  the  blood 
of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  but  he  approached  and  leaned  upon  Him  with  all  the 


DAYID  MoCONAUGHT.  205 

aflectioDate  confidence  of  a  child.  His  was  a  cheerful  pletj  also— though  highly 
reyerential,  it  was  not  the  piety  of  a  hermit  or  a  monk;  but,  in  the  exercise  of 
an  intelligent,  confiding  faith,  he  found  materials  to  impart  animation  and  cheer- 
falness  to  his  mind,  in  its  approaches  to  God  and  in  its  aspirations  after  Heaven. 
His  piety,  moreover,  was  eminently  spiritual — ^there  were  occasions  on  which, 
forgetting  apparently  the  things  of  earth,  he  seemed  to  rise  in  rapt  devotion  to 
the  yery  throne  of  God. 

One  of  these  occasions  I  now  distinctly  call  to  mind.  We  had  gone  together 
on  a  summer's  Sabbath  day,  to  preach  and  administer  the  Lord's  Supper  in  the 
Church  of  Mount  Nebo,  in  the  vicinity  of  Washington,  in  this  State.  The  morn- 
ing service,  including  that  of  the  Communion,  being  over.  Dr.  McConaughy 
preached  in  the  afternoon.  By  the  time  he  closed  his  sermon,  the  Western  sky 
was  overcast  with  dark  clouds,  from  the  midst  of  which  sheets  of  lightning  burst 
upon  the  eye,  the  roar  of  distant  thunder  and  the  heavy  sighing  of  the  wind  fell 
upon  the  ear,  portending  a  fearful  storm.  The  church,  (a  building,  as  I  now 
recollect,  of  no  great  strength,)  was  in  the'  woods,  and  the  impulse,  probably, 
of  almost  ertry  mind  in  the  house,  was,  that  the  service  should  close,  to  afford 
the  people  an  opportunity  to  reach  the  neighbouring  farm  houses,  where  they 
and  their  horses  might  find  a  shelter  from  the  impending  tempest.  With  Dr. 
McConaughy,  however,  all  seemed  to  be  clear  sky.  He  raised  his  hands  and  his 
voice  in  prayer.  He  became  deeply  engaged.  Pious  thoughts  seemed  to  crowd 
upon  his  mind;  devout  aspirations  swelled  his  heart;  time  passed  on,  and  still 
he  prayed,  while  the  indications  of  the  approaching  storm  became  more  alarm- 
ingly distinct.  And  while  others  of  weaker  faith  and  less  spiritual  affections 
were  anxiously  observing  the  troubled  atmosphere,  our  stronger  and  more  devout 
brother  had  ascended  from  Nebo  ''tq  the  top  of  Pisgah,"  and  there,  far  above 
the  reach  of  conflicting  elements,  and  in  view  of  the  promised  land,  was  holding 
sweet  fellowship  with  his  God.  At  length  he  ceased,  and  descending  from  the  . 
Mount,  dosed  the  services  with  a  hymn.  We  retired  from  the  church,  but  before 
we  reached  the  nearest  house,  the  storm  was  upon  us. 

But  it  would  be  impossible  to  form  a  correct  judgment  of  his  character,  with- 
out taking  into  view  the  manner  of  its  development  in  the  various  relations 
which  he  sustained  to  his  fellow  men.  As  a  public  man,  the  most  important 
relations  which  he  held  to  others  were  those  of  Pastor  of  a  Church  and  Presi- 
dent of  a  College. 

As  a  Pastor,  he  undoubtedly  filled  up  the  measure  of  his  obligations  with 
approved  fidelity.  His  discourses  were  the  product  of  much  thought,  and  of 
close  mental  application.  Both  as  to  matter  and  style,  they  bore  marks  of  very 
careful  preparation.  They  were  characterized  by  an  uncommon  richness  and 
folness  of  evangelical  truth,  and  by  a  chaste  and  classical  elegance,  and  were 
delivered  in  an  earnest  and  persuasive  manner.  I  cannot  say  that  his  delivery, 
especially  to  those  not  accustomed  to  it,  was  altogether  attractive;  and  yet  I 
think  it  will  scarcely  be  questioned  that  when  his  mind  was  roused  and  bis  heart 
warmed,  there  was  often  a  commanding  power  in  his  manner  which  bowed  the 
judgments  and  won  the  hearts  of  his  hearers. 

In  the  less  public  duties  of  his  pastoral  office,  also, — in  his  catechetical 
instructions,  in  his  visits  to  the  chamber  of  sickness,  and  in  his  social  intercourse 
with  the  people  of  his  charge,  he  was  not  only  the  faithful  and  affectionate  pastor, 
but  the  kind  and  obliging  friend,  the  object  of  universal  love,  esteem,  and 
confidence.  Hence  when  he  revisited  his  former  chai^,  he  was  always  met  with 
the  warm  greetings  of  unextinguished  love,  and  the  people  vied  with  each  other 
in  testifying  towards  him  their  unabated  regard  and  veneration. 

In  the  public  judicatories  of  the  Church,  he  was  a  wise  and  judicious  counsel- 
lor»  although  he  spoke  but  seldom.  When  he  did  speak,  his  remarks  were 
always  brief  and  to  the  point.    And  when  thrown  into  a  leading  position  on 


204  PSBSBTTEBIAir. 

committees,  where  importsnt  reports  or  other  docaments  had  to  he  dnirn»  he 
neyer  failed  to  do  justice  to  his  subject,  and  credit  to  himself  and  the  bodj  of 
which  he  was  the  organ.  It  is  hardlj  necessary  to  say  that  he  was  a  thorough 
Presbyterian,  and  amidst  scenes  of  agitation  as  well  as  of  quietude,  always 
maintained  an  un wavering  attachment  to  the  doctrines  and  order  of  the  Church 
to  which  he  belonged. 

But  I  must  speak  of  him  as  the  presiding  officer  of  Washington  College. 
Here  he  exhibited  the  same  elevated  traits  of  character,  and  made  good  his  title 
to  the  same  public  approval,  which  he  had  done  as  the  pastor  of  a  church,  llis 
commanding  talents,  his  extensive  and  accurate  scholarship,  his  unswerving 
integrity,  his  purity  of  motive,  his  paternal  care  and  affectionate  regard  for  his 
pupils,  the  uniform  dignity  of  his  deportment,  and  the  captivating  benevolence 
of  his  disposition — ^in  a  word,  the  concentrated  force  of  the  many  rare  qualities 
which  constituted  his  character,  gave  him  a  power  and  control  over  the  public 
mind,  and  over  the  hearts  of  the  young  men,  against  which  any  few  incidental 
defects  in  the  management  of  the  College,  which  might  perhaps  be  justly  imputed 
to  him,  presented  but  slight  resistance.  The  history  of  the  College  during 
his  administration  is  a  sufficient  certificate  to  the  ability  and  fidelity  with  which 
he  presided  over  it. 

I  only  add  that,  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  duties  growing  out  of  his  relations  to 
the  community  in  which  he  dwelt,  his  character  developed  itself  with  equal  dis- 
tinctness. He  was  ever  ready  to  bear  his  part  in  any  project  of  benevolence,  to 
raise  his  voice  and  open  his  hand  in  aid  of  any  scriptural  movement  which  had 
for  its  object  the  relief  of  human  suffering,  the  advancement  of  the  happiness  of 
man,  or  the  promotion  of  the  glory  of  God.  According  to  his  means,  he  was 
distinguished  for  his  liberality.  And,  although  characteristically  retiring  and 
unobtrusive,  whenever  the  moral,  or  religious,  or  social  interests  of  the  commu- 
nity required  his  influence,  and  the  calls  of  duty  demanded  his  efforts,  he  never 
hesitated  to  bestow  them.  His  sense  of  obligation  overcame  bis  constitutional 
modesty,  and  in  his  public  advocacy  of  the  various  benevolent  enterprises  of  the 
day,  no  one  could  fail  to  perceive  the  strength  of  his  convictions,  nor  to  fed  the 
power  of  his  eloquence.  In  a  word,  I  am  sure  that  I  do  not  exceed  the  truth 
when  I  say  that  he  was  one  of  the  most  benev4>lent,  most  amiable,  and  very  best 
of  men. 

Very  faithfully  and  truly  your  friend, 

DAVID  ELLIOTT. 


JOBX  wATSoy  205 


JOHN  WATSON- 

1798— 1802, 

FROM  THE  KEY.  JAMES  CARNAHAN,  D.  D. 

Puxonoir,  N.  J.,  November  )6, 1847. 

Dear  Sir :  The  Rev.  John  Watson  cooceming  whom  yon  inquire,  was 
undonhtedly  an  extraordinary  man,  and  well  deserving  of  an  honourable 
and  enduring  record.  I  knew  him  well,  and  am  happy  to  communioate  to 
you  some  notices  of  his  life,  together  with  my  impressions  concerning  his 
ekaraoter. 

He  was  born  of  poor  but  respeotable  parents,  West  of  the  Mountains  of 
Pemsylvania.  His  parents  taught  him  to  read  at  an  early  age,  and  my 
imprMsioD  is  that  he  never  went  regularly  to  school ;  or  if  he  did,  it  was 
only  for  a  very  short  period.  He  did  not  recollect  that  he  had  any  uncom- 
mon attachment  to  books,  until,  when  about  six  or  seven  years  old,  his 
&ther  presented  to  him  some  work  of  fiction — if  I  mistake  not,  it  was  Gold- 
smith's Vicar  of  Wakefield.  He  immediately  commenced  reading  it,  and 
became  so  interested  in  the  story,  that,  if  permitted,  he  would  have  read 
all  night.  From  that  period  his  desire  to  read  and  to  obtain  knowledge  was 
insatiable.  His  father  cherished  his  desire  of  improvement  by  furnishing 
books,  chiefly  of  Geography  and  History. 

When  he  was  about  nine  years  of  age,  he  was  deprived  of  his  father,  who 
lost  his  life  by  a  fall  from  his  horse.  Whether  his  mother  died  before  this 
period,  or  was  left  in  such  destitute  clrcumstanoes  that  she  was  unable  to 
provide  for  the  support  of  her  son,  I  do  not  now  remember.  Young 
Watson  had  no  relatives  West  of  the  Mountains.  His  mother's  relatives 
resided  near  Cranberry,  in  this  State. 

The  orphan  boy  was  taken  into  the  family  of  one  of  his  father's  friends, 
fed,  and  clothed,  and  required  to  perform  such  services  as  he  was  capable 
of  rendering.  The  lady  with  whom  he  lived  had  a  handsome  collection  of 
books,  and  especially  of  novels,  of  which  she  was  a  great  reader.  She  soon 
discovered  that  Watson  was,  at  every  leisure  moment,  reading  these  books. 
Whether  she  thought  they  were  not  suited  to  his  age,  or  that  his  reading 
oocopied  too  much  of  his  time,  I  do  not  know ;  but,  at  any  rate,  she 
peremptorily  forbade  him  the  use  of  them.  He  wished  to  be  obedient  to  a 
lady  who,  in  every  other  respect,  treated  him  kindly,  but  he  could  not  resist 
his  desire  to  read.  He  secretly  took .  her  books,  and  concealing  them  in 
private  places,  read  them  by  stealth.  This  stratagem  being  discovered,  the 
book*case  was  locked,  and  the  key  securely  laid  away.  Mortified  and 
miserable,  Watson  lay  awake  whole  nights,  thinking  about  the  books,  and 
devising  means  to  obtain  them.  His  mistress,  (for  so  she  may  be  called,) 
he  knew  was  inexorable  on  this  subject.  To  resort  to  stratagem  again  he 
thought  both  wrong  and  dangerous.  While  in  this  state  of  mind,  he  found 
a  key,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  might  possibly  open  the  book-case. 
In  her  absence,  agitated  by  fear  lest  he  should  not  succeed,  and  by  a  sense 
of  guilt,  from  being  conscious  that  he  was  doing  a  wicked  thing,  he  made 
the  experiment  and  was  snooessful.  He  took  out  a  volume,  read  and 
retumed  it,  when  he  found  the  lady  was  absent,  and  then  took  another- 


206  PBKSB7TBBUIX. 

Thus  practice  he  coDtinaed  until  he  had  read  every  book  in  the  library. 
Watson  was  one  of  the  most  conscientiously  honest  men  that  ever  breathed ; 
and  he  said  (and  I  fully  believe  his  declaration)  that  this  was  the  only  dis- 
honest act  of  which  he  was  ever  guilty.  I  do  not  distinctly  recollect 
whether  he  remained  in  the  same  family  where  this  incident  occurred,  or 
removed  to  another  place.  But  I  am  sure  that  the  statement  which  follows 
is  substantially  correct.  • 

The  gentleman  with  whom  he  lived,  keeping  a  tavern  and  retail  store, 
taught  him  writing  and  arithmetic,  in  order  that  he  might  be  a  useful 
assistant  in  his  business.  As  soon  as  he  was  capable  of  service,  Watson 
was  employed  in  the  store,  and  in  the  bar-room,  as  circumstances  required. 
Still  his  beloved  books  occupied  his  attention  at  every  leisure  moment. 
Addison's  Spectator  fell  into  his  hands,  and  was  read  with  great  delight. 
But  prefixed  to  each  number,  he  usually  found  a  Latin  sentence  which  he 
could  not  understand.  This  was  a  source  of  great  mortification,  and  excited 
an  intense  desire  to  learn  Latin.  About  this  time,  when,  perhaps,  he  was 
eleven  or  twelve  years  old,  he  got  possession  of  a  copy  of  Horace,  and  an 
old  broken  Latin  Dictionary,  and  with  these  helps,  without  a  Grammar  or 
any  other  aid,  he  commenced  learning  Latin.  By  unremitted  diligence  and 
vast  labour,  he  became  able  to  understand  a  great  part  of  that  difficult 
author. 

While  he  was  thus  employed,  Alexander  Addison,  then  President  of  the 
Court  of  Common  Pleas  in  the  Western  District  of  Pennsylvania,  lodged 
at  the  public  house  where  Watson  lived,  and  returning  to  his  lodgings  one 
uight  at  a  late  hour,  after  the  family  had  retired  to  rest,  he  found  the  young 
bar  keeper  reading  Horace  by  fire  light.  Entering  into  familiar  conversa- 
tion with  Watson,  he  learned  with  surprise  the  study  in  which  he  was 
engaged,  and  the  progress  he  had  made  in  it.  Addison  expressed  his 
delight  at  finding  him  so  laudably  employed,  and  his  regret  that  he  was  not 
furnished  with  better  means  of  obtaining  a  classical  education ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  promised  to  bring  him  suitable  books  at  the  next  session  of  the 
Court.  This  was  the  first  wcouraging  word  the  orphan  boy  had  heard 
respecting  his  studies,  since  the  death  of  his  father.  Its  effect  was  transport- 
ing. In  imagination  he  saw  himself  a  learned  man,  able  to  read  Latin  and 
Greek,  and  every  thing  he  wished.  The  ardently  desired  time  arrived,  and 
the  Judge  rode  up  to  the  tavern  door.  Watson,  anticipating  the  hostler, 
seized  the  horse's  bridle,  and,  at  the  same  time,  cast  an  impatient  look  at 
the  portmanteau.  *'  I  have  brought  you  the  books,  my  good  lad,"  said  the 
Judge.  '*  Never,"  said  Watson,  when  relating  this  incident,  ''did  I 
experience  a  more  joyful  moment.  My  heart  was  so  full  I  could  not  utter 
a  word."  A  Latin  Grammar,  GSsop's  Fables,  Selectso  Yeteri  Testamento, 
and  a  good  Latin  Dictionary,  formed  the  treasure. 

Having  given  some  general  directions  in  respect  to  the  manner  of  study- 
ing the  Latin  Grammar,  and  of  applying  its  rules  in  the  course  of  reading, 
the  Judge  promised  to  furnish  such  books  as  would  be  suitable  at  future 
periods.  This  pledge  he  faithfully  redeemed.  He  furnbhed  him  not  only 
with  the  Latin  and  Greek  classics,  but  also  with  such  works  as  he  judged 
useful  on  History,  Belles  Lettres,  Natural  and  Moral  Philosophy,  Meta- 
physics, &c.  His  own  library,  which  was  extensive  and  well  selected, 
as  well  as  those  of  his  professional  brethren,  were  at  the  service  of  young 
Watson  until  his  death. 


JOHN  WATSON.  207 

After  he  bad  made  considerable  progress  in  learning  Latin  by  bis  own 
unaided  efforts,  be  became  acquainted  with  a  boy  of  tbe  same  age  with  him- 
self, and  of  similar  ardour  in  acquiring  knowledge.  This  boy  was  a  regular 
scholar  at  a  grammar  school  in  the  village  where  Watson  lived.  When  out 
of  school,  he  came  to  Watson,  and  read  over  to  him  the  lesson  of  the  pre- 
ceding day,  and  they  put  their  heads  together  to  learn  the  lesson  for  the 
day  which  followed.  After  some  time  spent  in  this  manner,  the  teacher  of 
the  school  invited  Watson,  whenever  he  had  a  leisure  hour,  to  come  and 
recite  with  his  young  friend.  Of  this  privilege  he  availed  himself  as  oppor- 
tunity offered.  In  this  way,  be  became  one  of  the  most  thorough  Latin 
and  Greek  scholars  that  I  ever  knew.  I  must  not  here  omit  to  mention  an 
act  of  imprudence  which  he  often  lamented,  and  which  was  probably  the 
cause  of  his  premature  death.  He  and  his  companion  became  so  deeply 
interested  in  their  studies,  that  three  or  four  hours  during  the  night  was  the 
longest  time  they  usually  allowed  to  themselves  for  sleep.  And  in  order  to 
prevent  drowsiness  they  agreed  to  eat  sparingly  and  of  light  food.  .  Under 
ihb  severe  regimen  and  intense  application  to  study,  at  unseasonable  hours, 
their  strength  began  to  fail.  Having  read  in  some  book  that  the  cold  bath 
would  invigorate  weak  constitutions,  they  rose  at  daybreak  and  showered 
each  other  with  cold  water  immediately  from  the  pump.  On  Watson  the 
effect  was  fatal.  He  was  seized  with  a  chill.  A  pain  in  bis  breast  and  a 
cough  succeeded,  from  which  he  was  never  wholly  exempt  during  the 
remunder  of  his  life. 

Until  he  was  about  nineteen  years  of  age,  he  remained  in  his  place  at  the 
counter,  and  in  the  bar  room,  improving  himself  at  every  leisure  moment 
in  the  ancient  classics,  and  in  various  branches  of  literature  and  science.  At 
this  period,  his  attainments  and  worth  became  known,  and  through  the 
influence  of  the  Bev.  John  McMillan,  D.  D.,  he  was  appointed  assistant 
teacher  in  the  Academy  of  Cannonsburg.  Here,  in  the  autumn  of  1793,  I 
first  became  acquainted  with  him.  He  was  my  first  tutor  when  I  com- 
menced the  study  of  the  Latin  language.  In  this  occupation  he  remained 
eighteen  months.  And  his  venerable  patron,  believing  him  worthy  of  the 
best  advantages  our  country  afforded,  procured  him  a  place  on  the  Leslie 
{and  in  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  The  sum  received  from  this  fund  not 
being  fully  sufficient  to  pay  boarding  and  college  charges,  the  balance,  and 
what  was  necessary  for  clothing,  books,  and  contingent  expenses.  Father 
McMillan  generously  offered  to  pay  from  his  own  resources.  In  order  to 
relieve  his  benevolent  and  liberal  patron  from  this  expense,  Watson  took 
charge  of  the  grammar  school  in  the  College,  and  at  the  same  time  recited 
in  his  class.  During  his  college  course  he  was  distinguished  for  his  excel- 
lent standing  as  a  scholar,  for  his  amiable  disposition,  conciliatory  manners, 
nnblemished  morals,  and  unaffected  piety.  Although  he  had  made  high 
attainments  in  literature  and  science  before  he  entered  College,  I  doubt 
whether  any  individual  has  derived  more  advantage  than  he  from  a  college 
life.  He  was  prepared  to  receive  the  benefits  which  the  institution  afforded. 
He  formed  regular  and  systematic  habits  of  study.  He  became  well 
acquainted  with  his  own  powers.  He  learned  perfectly  many  things  of 
which,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  say,  he  had  previously  only  a  smattering. 
On  returning  to  his  native  State,  he  was  immediately  chosen  Principal  of 
tbe  Academy  at  Cannonsburg;  and  soon  after,  by  an  able  and  powerful 
i^peal  to  the  Legislature,  he  obtained  the  Charter  of  Jefferson  College. 


208  PiUBSBTTEBIAN. 

His  flcientifio  and  Utenrj  altainments  were  eqaall j  eztensiTe  and  exact. 
Without  going  into  any  details  in  the  way  of  illustration,  I  may  say  that 
he  was  a  good  French,  Spanish,  and  Italian  scholar,  and  was  familiar  also 
with  the  Hebrew  and  the  Arabic*  He  had  collected  copious  materials  for  a 
large  work  which,  if  his  life  had  been  spared,  it  was  his  intention  to  pre- 
pare for  the  press. 

In  the  mental  constitution  of  John  Watson  there  always  appeared  to  me 
to  be  something  very  peculiar.  Although  his  early  education  was  so  irregn* 
lar,  and  he  had  read  so  many  and  such  various  books,  there  was  nothing 
confi^sed  or  heterogeneous  in  his  mind,  on  any  subject.  His  knowledge  was 
not  a  mere  historical  detail  of  the  opinions  of  others.  His  own  sentiments, 
which  were  definite  and  fixed,  he  could  present  in  language  simple,  clear, 
forcible,  and  not  unfrequently  elegant.  He  often  spoke  of  having  a  defect- 
ive memory.  And  if  by  a  good  memory  we  understand  the  power  of 
recoUectiDg  words  that  have  little  or  no  connection,  or  of  repeating  the 
precise  language  of  a  speaker  or  writer,  his  remark  was  in  some  degree  true : 
it  must  be  acknowledged  that  in  these  respects  he  possessed  no  uncommon 
facility.  But  in  remembering  facts,  arguments,  or  the  substance  of  any 
thing  he  had  read  or  heard,  X  never  knew  his  superior.  His  intellectual 
furniture  seemed  to  be  arranged  and  classed  in  a  manner  so  orderly,  that 
he  could  seize  analogies  fit  to  illustrate  his  meaning,  and  recur  to  principles 
and  facts  necessary  to  complete  his  argument,  without  the  least  apparent 
effort. 

Mr.  Watson  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Oospel  in  1798,  one  year  or  less 
after  he  left  College.  As  he  had  for  years  made  the  Sacred  Scriptures  in 
the  original  languages  the  subject  of  study,  and  had  also  read  the  most 
distinguished  authors  on  Practical  and  Polemic  Theology,  as  well  as  on 
Ecclesiastical  History,  a  longer  period  of  theological  study  in  his  case  was 
not  necessary. 

Soon  after  his  licensure,  he  was  invited  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  a  small 
church  and  congregation  about  three  miles  from  Cannonsburg.  He  accepted 
the  call,  and  continued  to  preach  regularly  to  this  people  on  the  Sabbath, 
and  occasionally  on  week  days,  until  a  short  time  before  his  deaths  which 
occurred  on  the  Slst  of  November,  1802.  Very  few  of  his  sermons  were 
fully  written  out ; — first,  beoause  his  feeble  health  and  his  laborious  duties 
in  the  College  would  not  permit  him  to  do  so ;  and  secondly,  he  was  so 
familiar  with  the  Bible,  and  had  so  thoroughly  digested  and  arranged  in  his 
mind  all  subjects  proper  to  be  discussed  in  the  pulpit,  that  to  write  sermons 
to  be  delivered  to  a  plain  people  would  have  been  lost  labour.  He  had  also 
at  his  command  a  ready  flow  pf  simple,  chaste,  andsonaetimes  elegant,  lan- 
guage, which  enabled  him  to  express  hi^  thoughts  without  effort  in  the  most 
intelligible  manner. 

In  conversation  and  in  public  speaking,  I  never  knew  him  to  hesitate  a 
moment  for  want  of  a  word  to  express  his  meaning.  His  utterance  was  so 
clear  and  distinct  that,  although  his  voice  was  feeble,  he  could  be  heard 
and  understood  by  a  large  audience.  He  made  no  i^peals  to  the  passions, 
aiming  solely  to  enlighten  the  understanding  and  touch  the  conscience.  In 
these  two  points,  he  was  very  successful.  For  his  language  was  so  simple 
and  natural  that  it  could  be  understood  by  a  child,  and  his  aim  so  honest 
and  direct  that  it  brought  oonyiction  to  the  heart. 


JOHN  WATSON.  209 

Tbe  fiivt  time  ha  attended  the  General  Assembly  was  in  1801»  and  ho 
aeeepted  the  appointment  with  great  reluctance.  He  was  selected  expressly 
for  the  purpose  of  defending  his  Presbytery  against  a  complaint  made  by 
the  Bev.  T.  L.  Birch,  a  minister  from  Ireland.  Mr.  B.  applied  to  the  Pres- 
bytery of  Ohio  to  be  admitted  as  a  member.  The  Presbytery  proceeded  to 
examine  him  as  to  his  acquaintance  with  experimental  religion^  and  with 
entire  unanimity  they  refused  to  sustain  this  preliminary  trial.  Mr.  Birch 
complained  to  the  General  Assembly  of  this  refusal.  And  when  this  com- 
plaint was  called  up,  the  sympathy  of  the  Assembly  was  greatly  excited, 
as  Birch  had  been  pastor  of  a  large  chnrch  in  his  native  country,  and  was 
well  advanced  in  years.  Some  of  the  oldest  and  ablest  members  of  the 
Assembly  espoused  his  cause  with  great  zeal,  and  in  no  measured  terms 
denounced  the  injustice  and  nncharitableness  of  the  Presbytery.  The 
Axsembly  was  on  the  point  of  passing  a  vote  of  censure  on  the  Presbytery, 
and  of  requiring  them  to  receive  the  applicant.  Thus  far  Mr.  Watson, 
leaving  the  defence  of  his  Presbytery  to  his  colleague,  and  to  other  mem- 
bers who  volunteered  in  its  cause,  was  silent.  Before  any  action  was  taken, 
feeble  and  emaciated  as  at  that  time  he  was,  he  addressed  the  House  in  a 
brief  and  lucid  speech,  the  amount  of  which  was,  that  the  whole  proceed- 
ing of  the  Assembly  in  the  case  was  wrong ; — that  it  had  no  right  to  review 
or  reverse  the  decision  of  the  Presbytery, — much  less  to  pass  a  vote  of 
censure ; — that  to  judge  whether  or  not  a  candidate  for  the  Gospel  ministry 
was  acquainted  with  experimental  religion  was  a  matter  belonging  exdu- 
idvely  to  each  Presbytery ; — that  the  Assembly  could  not  take  that  business 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  Presbyteries ; — that  in  the  case  before  the  House, 
the  Presbytery  might  have  decided  erroneously,  but  if  they  had,  they  were 
responsible  only  to  God  and  their  own  consciences ; — that  no  decision  or  cen- 
sure of  the  Assembly  could  change  the  opinion  of  his  Presbytery ; — that 
they  had  acted  conscientiously,  and  had  done  nothing  more  than  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  Presbyterian  Church  directed  them  to  do; — that  if  this 
complaint  should  be  sustained,  and  the  Presbytery  condemned,  it  would  be 
a  restndnt  on  the  freedom  of  Presbytery,  and  a  temptation  to  decide  in  simi- 
la<'  cases,  not  according  to  the  dictates  of  conscience  and  the  Word  of  God, 
hut  according  to  the  supposed  opinion  of  the  General  Assembly,  when  a 
complaint  was  brought  before  it ; — that  Presbyteries  were  more  likely  to 
err  by  too  great  laxity  than  by  too  great  rigour,  in  judging  of  experimental 
religion  in  candidates  for  the  Gospel  ministry ; — ^that  Presbyteries  had  a 
better  opportunity  of  judging  respecting  the  piety  of  men  whose  daily  con- 
duct they  had  witnessed,  than  the  Assembly  who  could  hear  only  a  verbal 
statement  made  in  public ; —  and  finally,  that  the  statement  made  before  the 
Assembly  might  be  very  different  from  that  before  the  Presbytery. 

This  address,  delivered  with  great  modesty  and  in  a  feeble  voice,  pro- 
duced a  wonderful  change  in  the  views  of  the  Assembly ;  so  that  it  was 
resolved  "  that  no  evidence  of  censurable  procedure  in  the  Presbytery  of 
Ohio  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Birch  has  appeared  to  this  House,  inasmuch  as  there 
is  a  discretionary  power  necessarily  lodged  in  every  Presbytery  to  judge  of 
the  qualifications  of  those  whom  they  receive,  especially  with  respect  to 
experimental  religion." 

After  passing  this  vote,  the  friends  of  Mr.  Birch  insisted  that  he  should 
he  examined  by  the  Assembly  on  his  acquaintance  with  experimental 
religion;  and  he  was  examined,  and  the  following  record  made  on  the 

YoL.  IV.  27 


210  PKESBYTERIAK. 

Iliii^tes — that  '*  they  find  no  obstraction  against  any  Presbytery  to  wbich 
be  may  apply,  taking  bim  up  and  proceeding  with  him  agreeably  to  the 
rales  and  regulations  in  this  case  made  and  provided/'  (Minutes  of 
1801.) 

In  this  minute,  there  is  at  least  an  implied  censure  of  the  Presbytery  of 
Ohio,  which,  in  my  opinion,  was  not  deserved.  The  whole  decision  was 
a  compromise  intended  to  satisfy  the  two  parties  into  which  the  House 
was  divided  on  this  subject.  Subsequent  events  proved  that  the  Presby- 
tery of  Ohio  did  not  err  in  their  judgment  respecting  the  qualifications  of 
this  man  for  the  Gospel  ministry.  He  applied  to  the  Presbytery  of  Balti- 
more and  was  received,  although  he  resided  and  continued  to  reside  until 
his  death,  in  Western  Pennsylvania. 

This  is  the  first  case  of  elective  affinity  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  with 
which  I  am  acquainted.  In  this  trial,  Mr.  Watson  exhibited  his  true  char- 
acter. Naturally  diffident  and  retiring,  he  was  calm,  collected  and  fearless, 
when  duty  required  him  to  speak  in  behalf  of  what  he  believed  to  be  truth 
and  righteousness. 

I  remain,  with  great  respect,  yours, 

JAMES  GARNAHAX. 


-•♦- 


JOHN  BLAIR  LINN,  D.  D  * 

1798—1804. 

John  Blair  Linn  was  the  great-grandson  of  William  Linn,  who  emi- 
grated from  Ireland  at  an  early  period  in  the  history  of  the  country,  settled 
in  what  was  then  the  wilderness  of  Pennsylvania,  and  lived  more  than  a 
hundred  years.  His  father  was  the  Eev.  Dr.  William  Linn,  who  was,  for 
some  time,  minister  in  Pennsylvania,  and  afterwards  became  one  of  tbe 
Pastors  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Collegiate  Churches  in  the  city  of  New 
York.  His  mother  was  a  daughter  of  the  Rev.  John  Blair,  a  distinguished 
minister  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

The  eldest  son,  John  Blair ^  was  born  in  Shippensburg,  Pa.,  March  14, 
1777,  near  the  birth  place  of  his  father,  and  the  spot  where  his  great-grand- 
father settled  on  his  first  coming  to  the  country.  He  evinced  an  early 
attachment  to  books,  and  commenced  the  study  of  the  Latin  language  while 
he  was  yet  a  child.  When  he  was  nine  years  old,  his  father  removed  to  the 
city  of  New  York,  where  he  enjoyed  the  best  opportunities  for  improve- 
ment. He  was  at  school  for  two  or  three  years  at  Flatbush  on  Long  Island; 
and  he  has  been  heard  to  say  that  these  were  the  happiest  years  of  his  life.  In 
1791,  when  he  was  a  little  less  than  fourteen,  he  entered  Columbia  College. 
Here  he  was  distinguished  chiefiy  by  his  love  of  elegant  literature,  and 
especially  of  poetry.  He  not  only  composed  several  pieces,  both  in  prose 
and  verse,  which  were  considered  as  indicating  uncommon  genius,  but 
actually  published  some  of  them,  before  he  had  reached  his  seventeenth 
year.     He  was  also,  at  this  period,  passionately  fond  of  dramatic  exhibitions ; 

•  Memoir  preflz«d  lo  liii  Poem>  entitled  ''Ytleriaa."— MS.  from  hli  liiter. 


.^' 


JOHN  BLAI^l^lra.  211 


and,  as  some  performers  of  eminence  had\^faijjtoht4my,c4r*^  ^te/eogntrj^, 
he  was  not  an  unfrequent  attendant  at  the  th^iff^  ^tu«<[<!^j;irot  appear, 
however,  that  he  ever  experienced  any  of  the  corrupCtng  Tafluences  of  the 
stage,  as  his  morals  seem  to  have  heen  at  all  times  irreproachable. 

He  was  graduated  in  the  year  1795,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  in  the  same  class 
with  Dr.  Roroeyn  of  New  York,  and  Dr.  Inglis  of  Baltimore.  Having 
determined  to  make  the  Law  his  profession,  he  placed  himself  under  the 
direction  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  who  was  a  friend  of  his  father,  and  took 
a  deep  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  son.  But  the  Law  was  far  from  being 
congenial  with  his  taste.  He  had  cultivated  a  passion  for  the  poetic  and 
the  dramatic,  and  had  actually  brought  out  one  play  that  had  been  acted  on 
the  stage ;  and  this  was  a  poor  preparation  for  his  becoming  enamoured  with 
legal  technicalities.  After  a  short  trial  in  Hamilton's  office,  he  abandoned 
the  study  altogether ;  and,  from  this  period,  his  mind  seems  to  have  taken 
a  more  serioas  turn,  and  he  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  the  Christian 
ministry.  Accordingly,  he  left  New  York  and  went  to  Schenectady,  where 
he  prosecuted  his  theological  studies  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Dirick  Bomeyn, 
an  eminent  clergyman,  and  a  Professor  of  Thefology  in  the  Eeformed  Dutch 
Church. 

As  he  advanced  in  the  study  of  Theology,  he  seems  to  have  become  more 
deeply  impressed  with  the  vanity  of  the  world,  and  the  importance  of  the 
ChHstian  ministry.  The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  written  to 
his  father  during  his  residence  at  Schenectady,  and  shortly  after  a  visit  to 
his  family : — 

"  When  I  was  in  New  York,  I  saw  more  clearly  than  I  have  ever  yet  seen  the  road 
of  preferment  which  I  have  forsaken.  I  saw  more  clearly  than  ever  that  worldly 
friendship  and  favour  follow  the  footsteps  of  pomp  and  ambition.  I  hope,  however, 
never  to  have  cause  to  regret  the  choice  I  have  made.  I  hope  to  see  more  and  more 
the  little  worth  of  earthly  things,  and  the  importance  of  those  which  are  eternal.  As 
I  have  no  treasures  on  earth,  may  I  lay  up  treasures  in  Heaven. 

"  The  disgust  which  I  contracted  for  the  Law  might  perhaps  chiefly  arise  from  a 
sickly  and  over-delicate  taste.  The  pages  of  Coke  and  Blackstone  contained,  to  my 
apprehension,  nothing  but  horrid  jargon.  The  language  of  the  science  was  discord, 
and  it«  methods  the  perfection  of  confusion  to  me;  and  this, — whether  a  fault  in  me 
or  not  I  cannot  tell,  but  certain  I  am  it  was  past  remedy.  But  my  aversion  to  the . 
Bar  had  something  else  in  it  than  the  mere  loathing  of  taste.  I  could  not  bear  its 
tricks  and  artifices;  the  enlisting  of  all  one's  wit  and  wisdom  in  the  service  of  any  one 
that  could  pay  for  them. 

**  My  mind,  which  has  been  for  a  long  time  restless  and  uneasy  and  continually  on 
the  wing,  feels  already,  in  a  state  of  comparative  solitude, — in  the  enjoyment  of  that 
sober  and  quiet  peace  to  which  it  has  been  long  a  stranger.  I  regret  not  the  gay  objects 
of  New  York,  which  I  have  exchanged  for  the  now  dreary  scenes  of  Schenectady. 
The  plcsasures  of  my  former  life  were  often  the  pleasures  of  an  hour ,  leaving  behind  them 
the  anxieties  of  days  and  of  years.  A  very  few  excepted,  I  regret  not  those  friends 
of  my  early  youth,  from  whom  I  have  removed.  Friendship  is,  in  most  cases,  only  a 
weathercock,  shifting  with  the  lightest  gale,  and  scarcely  stable  long  enough  to  be 
viewed.  The  applause  of  men  I  no  longer  prize,  and  self-approbation  becomes  every 
day  of  greater  value." 

During  his  residence  at  Schenectady,  he  pursued  his  theological  studies 
with  great  ardour,  though  he  occasionally  indulged  his  taste  for  poetry,  and 
wrote  some  essays  in  prose  which  were  published  in  a  newspaper  in  that 
place.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Olassis  of  Albany,  in  the  year 
1798,  having  just  entered  his  twenty-second  year. 

The  popularity  which  his  first  efforts  in  the  pulpit  secured  to  him,  was 
such  as  fells  to  the  lot  of  very  few  young  ministers.  He  was  immediately 
sought  after  by  some  of  the  most  prominent  congregations  in  the  United 
Stotes.    The  First  Presbyterian  ChTirch  in  Philadelphia  soon  gave  him  % 


212 


PRESBYTERIAN. 


<^U  to  settle  as  oo-pastor  with  the  Bev.  Dr.  Ewing ;  and,  though  he  shrank 
from  the  responsibility  incident  to  so  important  a  charge,  yet  the  advanta- 
ges of  being  associated  with  a  man  of  snch  high  intellectual  and  moral 
qualities,  finally  determined  him  to  aoeept  the  inyitation.  He  was  accord- 
ingly ordained  and  installed  in  June,  1799. 

Shortly  after  this,  he  was  married  to  Hester,  daughter  of  Colonol  John 
Bailey,  a  respectable  inhabitant  of  Pougfakeepsie,  N.  Y.  They  had  three 
children — all  sons,  the  two  youngest  of  whom  survived  their  &ther. 

During  the  first  two  years  of  his  ministry,  there  was  a  large  demand  made 
npon  his  time  and  strength,  particularly  by  reason  of  the  increasing  infirmi- 
ties of  his  venerable  colleague.  He,  however,  besides  performing  to  great 
acceptance  the  duties  of  his  ofEce,  found  time,  in  this  interval,  to  compose 
two  Poems,  the  latter  of  which  was  highly  elaborated  and  of  considerable 
length.  The  first  was  occasioned  by  the  death  of  Washington,  and  waa 
written  in  imitation  of  the  style  of  Ossian,  of  which  he  was  a  great  admirer. 
The  second  was  entitled  *'The  Powers  of  Genius."  It  was  received  with 
no  small  favour  in  this  country,  soon  passed  to  a  second  edition,  and  was 
republished  in  a  style  of  great  elegance  in  England.  Several  smaller  pieces 
were  included  in  the  same  volume. 

Mr.  Linn  was,  from  his  infancy,  subject  to  attacks  of  severe  illness, 
which  were  the  greater  affliction  on  account  of  his  uncommonly  sanguine 
temperament.  His  imagination  always  magnified  the  disease  whenever  it 
recurred ;  and  he  seemed  to  have  the  fullest  conviction  that  it  was  destined 
to  brinjg  him  to  an  early  grave.  It  was  not,  however,  till  the  year  1802, 
that  his  constitution  received  any  serious  injury.  In  the  summer  of  that 
year,  he  set  out  on  a  journey  to  New  York ;  and  when  he  had  reached 
Woodbridge,  N.  J.,  owing  to  the  excessive  heat,  he  fell  into  a  swoon,  which 
was  followed  by  a  fever.  He  was  conveyed  to  the  house  of  the  Eev.  Dr. 
Roe,  the  Presbyterian  clergyman  of  that  place ;  and,  after  remaining  there 
a  few  days,  was  able  to  return  home,  though  his  system  never  afterwards 
fully  recovered  its  former  tone.  After  he  resumed  his  public  labours,  he 
often  found  it-  difficult  to  speak,  from  a  sudden  affection  of  the  brain  ;  and 
would  sometimes  be  obliged  to  support  himself  by  holding  to  the  raiU  of 
the  pulpit,  when  he  was  preaching  with  his  usual  energy  and  eloquence. 

In  the  year  1802,  Dr.  Priestley,  who  had  then  been  in  this  country  several 
years,  published  a  short  Treatise,  instituting  a  comparison  between  Jesns 
Christ  and  Socrates,  in  which  he  maintained  the  doctrine  that  our  Saviour 
is  a  mere  man. 

Mr.  Linn,  though  very  young  to  engage  with  such  a  distinguished  and 
veteran  combatant,  wrote  a  book  in  reply,  which,  while  it  was  considered  bj 
some  as  lacking  somewhat  in  polemic  courtesy,  was  acknowledged,  both  by 
friends  and  foes,  to  indicate  vigorous  intellect  and  extensive  research. 
This  work  was  published  in  the  year  1803  ;  and  shortly  after,  he  received 
the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

His  health  continued  to  decline,  though  his  malady  seemed  to  have  firmer 
hold  of  the  mind  than  of  the  body.  He  had  all  sorts  of  gloomy  fancies ; 
and  the  objects  of  nature  which  used  to  delight  him  so  much,  now  served 
only  to  increase  the  sadness  of  his  spirit.  He  often  half  resolved  to  resign 
his  charge, — sometimes  on  the  ground  that  he  was  totally  inadequate  to 
perform  his  duties  as  a  minister,  and  sometimes  from  a  conscientious  con- 
viction that  he  had  no  right  to  his  salary  for  such  services  as  he  was  able 


JOHN  BLAIR  LINK. 


213 


to  render ;  but  hb  friends  dissuaded  him  from  such  a  step.  He  made  repeated 
journeys  for  his  health,  and  tried  the  effect  of  complete  cessation  from  puh« 
lie  labour ;  but  it  was  all  to  no  purpose.  He  had  always  had  an  impression 
that  he  should  die  young,  and  had  always  had  a  great  horror  of  dying  of 
consumption.  The  frequent  raising  of  blood  he  regarded  as  an  infallible 
token,  not  only  that  he  was  to  die  of  this  dreaded  malady,  but  that  it  had 
actually  well  nigh  done  its  work. 

In  the  winter  and  spring  of  1804,  his  disease  seemed  to  be  making  rapid 
progress,  though  his  physician  did  not  yet  pronounce  it  incurable.  Though 
Dr.  Linn  himself  had  no  idea  that  he  should  receiTO  any  benefit  from  a 
journey,  yet,  by  the  persuasion  of  his  friends,  he  was  induced  to  make  the 
experiment.  Haying  obtained  leave  of  absence  from  his  congregation  for 
two  or  three  months,  he  set  out  for  New  England,  and  travelled  as  far  as 
Boston.  But  the  hopes  of  his  friends  were  disappointed,  while  hb  own 
expectations  were  realbed — neither  his  bodily  health  nor  hb  spirits  seem  to 
have  been  materially  benefitted.  Before  leaving  Boston,  on  his  return,  he 
wrote  a  letter  to  his  &ther,  of  which  the  following  b  an  extract : — 

"Never  was  a  traveller  less  qualified  for  giving  or  receiviDg  pleasure.  I  cannot  dis- 
cover that  I  have  received  the  least  benefit  from  my  voyage  or  travel,  nor  have  my 
ipirits  ascended  the  smallest  degree  above  their  customary  pitch. 

*'  I  am  convinced  that  unless  I  undergo  a  total  renovation,  I  must  leave  the  pulpit, 
and  endeavour  to  earn  my  bread  in  some  other  way.  If  my  present  impressions  are 
true, — if  appearances  deceive  me  not,  I  shall  need  *  but  little  here  below,  nor  need 
that  little  long.'  But  as  all  my  hopes  of  the  world  are  clouded  and  ruined,  could  I 
only  subdue  some  rising  apprehensions,  and  leave  my  family  provided  for,  I  should 
not  regret  the  blow,  however  speedy,  that  crumbled  me  to  dust.  I  write  not  to  afflict 
yoQ,  but  to  relieve  myself.  It  is  a  strange  consolation,  but  it  is  one  of  the  few  conso- 
lations I  know.  You  will  therefore  please  to  pardon  me  for  this,  and  for  all  other 
offences  towards  you  of  which  I  may  be  guilty.  They  are  inseparable  from  my  cruel 
disease. 

"  I  feel  the  ruin  of  an  intellect  which,  with  health,  would  not  have  dishonoured  you, 
my  family,  or  my  country.  I  feel  the  ruin  of  a  heart,  which  I  trust  was  never  defi- 
cient in  gratitude  towards  my  God  or  my  worldly  benefactors.  This  heart  has  always 
fervently  cherished  the  social  affections,  but  now  broods*  over  the  images  of  despair, 
and  wars  ineffectually  with  the  pang  that  bespeaks  my  dissolution.  But  I  must  be 
■iient.    I  believe  I  have  gone  too  far." 

After  stopping  for  a  short  time  in  New  York  and  its  neighbourhood,  he 
returned  to  Philadelphia.  During  the  ensuing  six  weeks,  he  was  attacked 
with  some  other  form  or  forms  of  disease,  which  strengthened  his  conviction 
that  his  ca^  was  hopeless  ;  and  he  wrote  a  letter,  from  his  bed  of  sickness, 
to  the  Session  of  his  Church,  tendering  the  resignation  of  his  pastoral  charge. 
This  letter,  however,  after  a  few  days,  he  was  persuaded  to  recall ;  and  some 
■light  mitigation  of  his  disease  inspired  a  trembling  hope  that  posi^ibly  the 
dark  clond  which  had  so  long  overshadowed  him  might  pass  away.  Bat 
alas !   such  hope,  so  far  as  it  existed,  was  soon  to  prove  delusive. 

On  the  morning  of  the  30th  of  August,  he  seemed  more  comfortable  than 
nsoal ;  and  in  the  coarse  of  the  day  wrote  a  letter  to  his  father,  querying 
with  him  whether  it  was  not  his  duty  to  resign  his  charge  without  further 
delay.  In  the  evening  of  that  day,  he  occasionally  raised  blood  in  very 
small  quantities ;  but  it  was  enough  to  produce  a  manifest  effect  upon  his 
spirits.  He  retired  about  half- past  ten  o'clock,  but  scarcely  had  his  head 
touched  the  pillow,  when  he  said  to  his  wife, — '*I  feel  something  burst 
within  me — call  the  family  together — I  am  dying."  Instantly  his  utterance 
was  choked  by  a  stream  of  blood.  Kecovering  a  little  strength,  he 
exelaimed,  with  hands  clasped  and  eyes  uplifted, — *'  Lord  Jesus,  pardon  my 


214  PRBSBTTERIAK. 

iranagresflions,  snd  receive  mj  sonl!'*  And  wlien  lie  Lad  said  this,  his 
spirit  had  fled.  Hb  Fnneral  Sermon  was  preached  hy  the  ReT.  Dr.  Samacl 
Blair. 

Beside  the  works  already  noticed,  Dr.  Linn  puhlished  a  Sermon  occasioned 
hy  the  death  of  Dr.  Ewing,  in  1802.  He  left  hehind  him  a  Narrative  Poem 
entitled  "Valerian,"  descriptive  chiefly  of  the  early  persecutions  of  Chris- 
tians, which  was  published,  with  a  sketch  of  his  life  and  character  hy  Charles 
Brockden  Brown,  in  1805. 

FBOM  THE  BEY.  ALEXAJfDER  PH(£NIX. 

Haslbm,  K.  T.,  2d  Mareh,  1852. 

Bev.  and  dear  Sir:  You  were  right  in  supposing  that  I  was  intimately- 
acquainted  with  Dr.  John  Blair  Linn.  He  was  my  class  mate  in  Columbia  Col- 
lege, and  during  the  whole  of  our  college  course,  we  maintained  the  most  friendly 
and  intimate  relations.  After  he  left  the  office  of  General  Hamilton,  with  whom 
he  had  commenced  the  study  of  the  Law,  to  take  up  his  abode  in  the  family  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Romeyn  of  Schenectady,  and  especially  after  his  settlement  in  Phil- 
adelphia, I  saw  very  little  of  him ;  and,  except  the  interchange  of  an  occasional 
letter,  our  intercourse  was  limited  to  a  few  interviews,  during  his  visits  in  New 
York,  which,  however,  were  of  rare  occurrence. 

Instead  of  complying  literally  with  your  request  by  furnishing  you  with  my 
own  recollections  of  Dr.  Linn,  I  prefer  to  send  you  the  following  testimony  of 
two  of  his  very  intimate  friends  concerning  him — both  highly  distinguished  indi- 
viduals, who  had  a  much  better  opportunity,  from  their  pecidiar  relations  to  him, 
of  marking  the  development  of  his  religious  character  than  I  had  myself — I 
refer  to  the  late  Doctors  Romeyn  and  McLeod,  of  New  York. 

Dr.  Romeyn  writes  thus ; — 

*'  I  need  scarcely  mention  that  his  talents  were  of  the  first  order.  His  imagi- 
nation was  glowing,  and  yet  it  was  chaste.  Even  his  earliest  attempts  at 
writing  display  a  soundness  of  judgment  rarely  united  with  fervidness  of  &ncy, 
especially  in  young  people.  His  taste  was  formed  on  pure  models.  He  was 
capable  of  deep  research,  though  constitutionally  indisposed  to  it.  His  genius 
was  poetic.  He  always  preferred  a  poem  or  criticisms  on  polite  literature,  to  any 
other  species  of  composition.  His  constitution  was  sanguine.  This  caused  a 
precipitancy  in  some  of  his  actions,  which  prudence  condemned.  He  had  a  bias 
to  pleasure,  a  taste  for  it;  so  much  so,  that  I  have  often,  in  reflecting  on  past 
scenes,  wondered  how  he  escaped  its  pollutions  as  he  did.  His  reading  in  early 
life  contributed  very  much  to  increase  this  taste.  He  was  disposed  to  be  roman- 
tic in  his  views  and  conduct.  His  temper  was  quick,  his  sensibility  exquisite. 
He  had  all  the  capricious  feelings  peculiar  to  a  poet.  Though  hasty,  and  some- 
times rash,  yet  was  he  generous;  h«  scorned  meanness.  He  was  warm  in  his 
attachments^  benevolent  in  his  propensities  to  mankind.  His  anticipated  plea- 
sures generally  exceeded  his  actual  enjoyments.  He  was  accustomed  to  dwell 
more  on  the  dark  than  on  the  bright  side  of  the  picture  of  life.  He  was  prone 
to  melancholy, — the  melancholy  of  genius.  Ofttimes  he  appeared  its  victim, 
sitting  for  days  silent,  sad  and  gloomy.  He  felt,  even  to  madness,  the  slightest 
disrespect,  and  as  sensibly  enjoyed  attention  paid  to  him.  He  was  not  calcu- 
lated to  move  in  a  moderate,  common  course  with  the  generality  of  mankind;  he 
was  either  in  the  valley  of  gloom  or  on  the  mount  of  transport — rarely  did  ho 
enjoy  temperate,  calm  pleasure.  With  years,  this  sensibility  was  corrected.  I 
myself  perceived  a  change  in  him,  in  this  respect,  the  last  time  we  were  together- 
In  short,  his  system  was  like  a  delicate  machine,  composed  of  the  finest  mate- 
rials, which  was  liable  to  derangement  from  the  slightest  and  most  trifling  cir- 


JOHK  BLAIR  LINK. 


214 


eansUnoey  and  the  continual,  diversified  action  of  whose  parts  tended  gradual!  j, 
though  certainly,  to  a  speedj  destruction  of  the  whole." 

Dr.  McLeod  writes  thus : — 

"  About  the  time  of  his  beginning  to  preach  the  Gospel,  ho  was  greatly  agita- 
ted about  two  of  the  most  important  points  in  the  Christian  life — ^What  are  the 
characteristics  of  gracious  exercises  of  heart  toward  God.^  and  what  is  the  con- 
nectioa  between  the  speculatiTO  truths  of  reyealed  reltgion  and  those  exercises? 

''I  advised  him  to  read  Dr.  Owen's  Treatise  on  Communion  with  God.  He 
did  80.  He  was  satisfied  with  it.  He  entered  fully  into  the  Doctor's  views  of 
that  interesting  subject.  Of  the  state  of  his  mind  I  have  received  from  him- 
self explicit  information.  Opposed  to  enthusiasm,  and  naturally  delicate,  he 
was  not  very  communicative  on  such  subjects.  He  did  not  think  it  prudent  to. 
unbosom  himself  to  many,  because  he  had  himself  such  a  low  opinion  of  his 
Christian  experience,  that  he  thought  it  probable  a  fair  statement  would  dispose 
the  censorious  to  conclude  he  was  entirely  destitute  of  piety,  and  render  the 
nominal  professor  satisfied  with  his  own  attainments;  and  consequently  have  a 
tendency  to  hinder  his  public  usefulness,  and  to  encourage  inattention  to  experi- 
mental religion.  He  therefore  scarcely  ever  alluded  to  his  own  experience  in 
conversation,  even  with  his  most  intimate  religious  friends.  He  was  not,  how- 
ever, absolutely  opposed  to  conversation  upon  such  subjects.  He  could  throw 
aside  reserve,  and  enter  upon  it  with  freedom,  when  he  was  under  no  apprehen- 
sion that  this  freedom  would  be  abused. 

He  was  much  under  the  iufiuence  of  the  fear  of  death,  and  a  reluctance  to 
dying.  But  he  was  not  in  terror  of  future  punishment;  for,  although  he  con- 
lessed  himself  worthy  of  it,  he  trusted  in  that  Saviour  which  the  Gospel  ofiers 
to  sinners,  and,  firmly  persuaded  of  the  safety  of  believers,  cheerfully  hoped 
that  his  own  faith,  although  weak,  was  really  sincere.  The  frame  of  his  mind, 
in  relation  to  spiritual  things,  was  almost  uniform;  never  extremely  gloomy, 
never  extremely  joyous.  It  difibred  surprisingly  from  the  natural  temperament 
of  his  mind.  In  the  concerns  of  common  life,  he  was  the  slave  of  sensibility, 
the  mere  child  of  circumstances.  He  knew  this.  His  religious  life  appeared  to 
himself  a  third  estate,  supernaturally  called  into  existence  in  the  empire  of  his 
soul,  which  created  a  disdnct  interest  to  which  all  his  affections  were  drawn ;  and 
which,  gradually  progressing  in  strength  and  in  influence,  checked  the  dangerous 
efforts  of  the  opposite  principles  of  his  constitution,  rendering  his  joys  less  vivid 
and  more  lasting,  and  rendering  his  sorrows  more  easy  to  endure  and  over- 


come.*' 


The  above  testimony  is  so  full  and  so  entirely  in  accordance  with  my  own 
nnpressions  concerning  Dr.  Linn,  that  I  will  only  add  that 

I  am  very  sincerely  yours, 

ALEXANDER  PHCEKIX. 


216  PBESBTTERIAir 


JOHN  BRODHEAD  ROMEYN,  D.  D  * 

1798—1825. 

John  Brodhsad  Rometn  wm  the  only  son  of  the  Rev  Dirick  Romeyn, 
D.  D.,  and  was  bom  at  Marbletown,  Ulster  County,  N.  Y.,  November  8, 
1777.  His  mother's  maiden  name  was  Elizabeth  Brodhead.  HLs  father 
was,  at  that  time,  Pastor  of  the  united  Reformed  Dutch  Congregations  of 
Hackensaok  and  Schraalenburgh  in  New  Jersey ;  but,  previous  to  the  birth 
of  the  son,  he  had  removed  his  &mily  from  Hackensack, — their  usual  place 
of  residence,  to  Marbletown,  to  avoid  the  dangers  to  which  they  were 
exposed  from  the  predatory  incursions  of  the  British  troops,  during  the 
war  of  the  Revolution. 

When  he  was  seven  years  old,  his  father,  who  was  among  the  most  emi- 
nent ministers  of  the  denomination  to  which  ho  belonged,  took  the  pastoral 
charge  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  in  Schenectady.  There  the  son 
oommenced  his  classical  studies,  in  an  Academy  which  his  father  had  been 
a  chief  instrument  in  founding,  and  which  was  the  germ  of  what  is  now 
Union  College.  So  rapidly  did  his  faculties  unfold,  and  so  great  was  hi» 
proficiency  in  the  various  branches  of  knowledge,  that,  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen, he  joined  the  Senior  class  in  Columbia  College,  in  the  city  of  New 
York;  and,  notwithstanding  the  class  was  eminent  for  talent  and  scholar- 
ship, and  he  was  among  the  youngest  of  its  members,  he  immediately  took 
rank  with  the  best  scholars,  and  graduated  with  high  honour  in  1795. 

*It  is  not  known  that  any  record  remains  of  his  early  religious  exercises, 
or  of  the  process  of  thought  and  feeling  by  which  he  was  ultimately  deter- 
mined to  devote  himself  to  the  Christian  ministry.  In  1796,  he  became 
a  communicant  in  the  Church  at  Schenectady,  of  which  his  father  was 
Pastor,  and,  shortly  after,  commenced  his  theological  studies  under  the 
instruction  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  John  H.  Livingston.  He,  however,  after 
some  time,  returned  to  Schenectady,  and  completed  his  course  under  the 
direction  of  his  own  venerable  father,  having  for  his  associate  in  study  his 
intimate  friend  and  class  mate,  John  Blair  Linn,  whose  career  was  alike 
brief  and  brilliant.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Classis  of  Albany, 
June  20,  1798,  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-one. 

His  first  appearance  in  the  pulpit  awakened  great  interest  and  high  expec- 
tation ;  and  there  were  several  congregations  that  would  have  been  glad  to 
secure  at  once  his  permanent  services.  He,  however,  owing  to  a  naturally 
frail  constitution,  which  had  been  enfeebled  still  more  by  constant  and 
intense  study,  did  not  think  favourably  of  an  immediate  settlement ;  and 
nearly  a  year  passed  before  he  consented  to  listen  to  any  proposal  on  the 
subject.  On  the  17th  of  May,  1799,  he  was  examined  at  New  Paltx  by 
the  Classis  of  Poughkeepsie,  with  reference  to  ordination,  and  before  the 
close  of  the  month  was  regularly  set  apart  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the 
Reformed  Dutch  Church  in  Rhinebeck,  Dutchess  County,  N.  Y.,  whose 
call  he  had  previously  accepted.  Here  he  laboured  more  than  four  years 
with  great  popularity  and  success ;  and  he  was  accustomed,  during  the  rest 
•of  his  life,  frequently  to  visit  this  field  of  his  early  labours,  and  in  conver- 

•Bowan't  Fan.  Senn.^MS.  from  Dr.  T.  B.  Beek. 


JOHN  BBODHEAD  BOM£TK«  217 

tttion  with  his  friends  to  revert  to  this  period  of  his  ministry  with  the  high- 
est satisfaction. 

In  November,  1803,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Presbyterian  Church  in 
the  city  of  Schenectady.  On  resigning  his  charge  at  Rhinebeck,  the 
Classis  of  Poughkeepsie  rendered  a  very  decided  testimony  to  his  high 
qualifications  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and  expressed  deep  regret  at  his 
removal  beyond  their  bounds.  The  considerations  which  influenced  him  to 
this  step,  were  chiefly  two — the  peculiar  state  of  the  congregation  to  which 
he  was  called, — he  being  the  only  individual  upon  whom  they  could  unite, 
after  a  protracted  season  of  division,  and  the  declining  health  of  his  father, 
to  whom  he  felt  that  he  owed  the  best  filial  attentions. 

&e  continued  at  Schenectady  but  a  single  year.  In  November,  1804,  he 
reoeived  a  call  from  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Albany,  which,  on 
the  whole,  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  accept.  The  Church  at  Schenectady 
had  become  harmonious  under  his  ministry,  and  the  pre-existing  difficulties 
had  so  far  passed  away  as  no  longer  to  jeopard  its  welfare.  His  father  had 
been  taken  to  his  rest,  so  that  hb attentions  to  him  were  no  longer  required. 
The  Church  to  which  he  was  invited  opened  a  much  more  extended  field  of 
usefulness  than  the  one  of  which  he  then  had  the  charge.  And  his  breth- 
ren in  the  ministry  whom  he  consulted,  generally  depressed  an  opinion  in 
favour  of  the  change.  Under  these  circumstancesT,  he  accepted  the  call, 
delivered  his  Farewell  Sermon  on  the  2d  of  December,  and  was  installed 
Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Albany  a  few  days  after. 

There  were  circumstances  connected  with  the  congregation  with  which  he 
now  became  connected,  that  would  have  rendered  the  situation  of  almost 
any  clergyman  who  might  have  been  settled  over  it  doubtful,  not  to  say, 
perilous.  As  it  was  the  only  Presbyterian  Congregation  in  the  Capital  of 
the  State  of  New  York,  it  had  gathered  into  it  a  large  amount  of  cultivated 
intellect  and  professional  eminence ;  and,  during  the  sessions  of  the  Legis- 
lature particularly,  the  church  was  thronged  with  strangers, — many  of  them 
persons  of  distinction,  from  various  parts  of  the  country.  In  addition  to 
this,  his  two  immediate  predecessors  had  been  men  of  remarkable  powers, 
and  varied  attainments,  and  under  their  preaching  the  congregation  had 
become  sufficiently  fastidious  not  to  be  satisfied  with  pulpit  efforts  of  a  mere 
ordinary  character.  Mr.  Eomeyn,  however,  fully  sustained  himself  in  his 
delicate  position,  and  continued,  for  four  years,  labouring  with  great  zeal 
and  acceptanee  in  this  important  field. 

When  the  new  Church  in  Cedar  Street,  New  York,  was  established,  in 
1808,  the  great  popularity  which  Mr.  Romeyn  had  acquired,  led  that  infant 
but  highly  promising  congregation  to  think  of  him  at  once  as  a  suitable  per- 
son to  become  their  pastor ;  and  in  the  month  of  May  they  presented  him 
a  regular  call.  What  his  feelings  were  in  reference  to  it,  and  what  the 
motives  which  finally  influenced  him  to  accept  it,  may  be  learned  from  the 
following  record  on  the  subject  found  among  his  papers : — ^'  I  discouraged 
the  idea;  but  they  made  out  the  call,  and  prosecuted  it,  notwithstanding 
that  discouragement.  It  was  offered  to  me,  because  they  knew  I  was  not 
in  good  health,  and  a  change  might  be  of  service.  The  Cedar  Street  Church 
bids  fair  to  be  large  and  respectable ;  and,  from  the  character  of  the  sub- 
scribers, a  Gospel  ministry,  if  successful  among  them,  will  have  the  most 
salutary  effects  upon  a  large  portion  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city.  The 
members  are  unanimous  in  the  call  made  on  me.    My  wife's  health  will,  I 

Vol.  IV.  28 


^l^  PBSSSTTBBIAV. 

belieye,  he  benefitted  by  sea  air.  My  mother  aad  ebter  approye  of  a 
removal.  These  considerations,  added  to  my  health,  seem  to  make  it  my 
duty  to  remove." 

In  September  previous  to  his  remoyal  to  New  York,  he  preached  two 
Sermons  on  occasion  of  a  Fast  appointed  by  the  General  Assembly  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church  of  the  United  States,  designed  to  exhibit  some  of  the 
peculiar  aspects  of  the  then  existing  crisis.  The  Discourses  discover  aa 
extensive  knowledge  of  both  History  and  Prophecy,  and  a  great  dread  of 
the  influence  upon  our  national  institutions,  of  Komanism  and  Infidelity. 
They  were  published  by  request  of  the  ''members  of  the  Session  and  Cor- 
poration" of  the  Church,  and  were  introduced  by  an  appropriate  Dedica- 
tion to  the  Congregation  of  which  he  was  about  to  take  leave,  and  a  gnde- 
ful  recognition  of  the  interesting  relation  which  he  had  sustained  to  them. 
They  were  regarded,  at  that  time,  as  among  the  ablest  published  Discourses 
of  the  class  to  which  they  belonged. 

The  previous  arrangements  having  been  consummated,  he  removed  to  New 
York,  and  early  in  November,  (1808,)  was  inducted  to  his  new-charge. 

In  1809,  the  year  after  his  removal  to  New  York,  when  he  was  only 
thirty-two  years  old,  the  College  of  New  Jersey  conferred  upon  him  the 
degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity. 

He  found  every  thing  quite  to  his  mind  in  his  new  field  ef  labour,  and 
within  a  short  period  he  had  gathered  around  him  one  of  the  largest  and 
most  respectable  congregations  in  the  city.  In  1813,  his  health  had  become 
so  much  impaired  that  it  was  deemed  expedient  that  he  should  relax  from 
his  labours,  and  try  the  effect  upon  his  constitution  of  a  temporary  resi- 
dence in  other  climes.  Accordingly,  in  November  of  that  year,  he  embarked 
at  New  Bedford,  with  his  wife  and  nephew,  Dr.  John  B.  Beck,  for  Lisbon. 
He  spent  the  next  winter  upon  the  Continent,  and  early  in  the  spring  passed 
over  to  England.  He  was  particularly  interested  in  his  visit  to  Holland, 
the  land  of  his  fathers*  sepulchres,  where  he  was  met  with  every  expression 
of  hospitality  and  good  will.  This  tour  brought  him  in  contact  with  many 
of  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  age,  and  no  one  was  better  able  than  he 
to  appreciate  such  society.  He  availed  himself  also  of  the  opportunity 
which  was  furnished  him  of  adding  greatly  to  his  library ;  and  hb  exten- 
sive knowledge  of  books  qualified  him  to  make  the  most  judicious  selection. 
He  came  back  in  the  autumn  of  1814,  with  greatly  improved  health, 
and  was  welcomed  by  his  congregation  with  every  demonstration  of  affection- 
ate regard.^  His  first  sermon  after  his  return  was  preached  on  the 
9th  of  December,  from  Lamentations  iii.  21,  22,  23.  He  resumed  his 
labours  now  with  increased  alacrity  and  zeal,  and  his  church,  in  both  its 
spiritual  and  temporal  interests,  continued  in  a  state  of  undiminished  pros- 
perity. 

From  this  period  Dr.  Bomeyn  prosecuted,  without  much  interruption,  his 
ministerial  duties  till  near  the  close  of  life,  though  for  a  year  or  two 
previous  to  his  death,  his  health  was  evidently  upon  the  wane,  and  his 
friends  were  pained  to  observe  the  constantly  increasing  indications  that  his 
course  was  nearly  run.  Less  than  two  weeks  before  his  death,  he  preached 
on  the  text — *»  It  is  finished,"  and  then  administered  the  Lord's  Supper  with 
great  tenderness  and  fervour ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  service  intimated, 
as  it  proved  with  prpphetio  truth,  that  be  should  never  preside  in  the 
administration  of  the  ordinance  again.     A  large  portion  of  the  day  imme- 


JOHN  BBOZ^HBAd  ItOHETN.  219 

dttidy  preceding  hb  deatii,  was  oocapied  in  exercises  of  devotion,  and 
especlaUy  in  earnest  intercession  for  his  funily  and  his  flock.  The  last 
words  he  nttered  were — **  Blessed  Jesus,  while  passing  through  the  dark 
vallej  of  death,  do  thou  spread  underneath  me  thine  everlasting  arms. 
Come,  Lord  Jesus,  receive  me  into  thy  Kingdom,  which  thou  hast  prepared 
for  thy  chosen  ones ;  that  I  may  there  join  in  singing  hallelujahs  forever 
and  ever."  He  died  a  few  hours  after  this,  February  22,  1825,  in  the 
forty-eighth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  twenty-sixth  of  his  ministry. 

Dr.  Bomeyn  was  married  on  the  22d  of  April,  1799,  to  Harriet,  daughter 
of  John  N.  Bleeoker,  of  Albany.  They  had  but  one  child, — a  son,  who 
died  in  infancy.  Mrs.  Bomeyn  survived  her  husband  but  a  few  months, 
and  died  on  the  23d  of  October  following. 

Dr.  Bomeyn  received  numerous  and  various  expressions  of  public  regard. 
Besides  being  privately  consulted  in  respect  to  several  of  the  most 
important  stations  of  public  usefulness  in  the  country,  which,  however,  he 
prevented  from  being  formally  offered  to  him, — he  was  actually  called  to  the 
Pastorate  of  the  Beformed  Dutch  Collegiate  Churches  in  New  York,  simulta- 
neously with  his  receiving  the  call  from  Cedar  Street ;  and,  after  his  return 
from  Europe,  he  was  offered  the  Presidency  of  Transylvania  University  in 
Kentucky,  and  subsequently  that  of  Dickinson  College  in  Pennsylvania. 
He  had  an  important  agency  in  establishing  the  Theological  Seminary  at 
Princeton,  and  was  one  of  its  Directors  from  its  commencement  till  his 
death.  He  was  also  a  Trustee  of  Princeton  College  from  1809  till  the  last 
year  of  his  life,  when  he  resigned  the  office.  He  occupied  various  important 
posts,  at  different  periods,  under  the  General  Assembly, — such  as  being  on 
the  Standing  Committee  of  Missions,  on  the  Committee  to  revise  the  Book 
of  Psalmody,  &c.;  and  in  1810,  when  he  had  only  reached  the  age  of  thirty- 
three,  the  Assembly  appointed  him  their  Moderator. 

Dr.  Bomeyn 's  published  works,  though  highly  respectable,  will  scarcely  sus- 
tain the  reputation  which  he  enjoyed  as  a  preacher.  Some  of  the  discourses  to 
which  his  energetic  and  impassioned  manner  gave  an  effect  which  his  hearers 
can  never  forget,  are  found,  in  the  reading,  to  be  bereft  of  much  of  their 
life  and  power.  They  certainly  possess  in  themselves  no  small  degree  of 
merit;  but  his  manner  was  so  uncommonly  impressive  as  necessarily  to 
render  them  quite  a  different  thing  to  the  reader  from  what  they  were  to 
the  hearer.  The  greater  part  of  his  printed  works  are  comprised  in  two 
Tolaroes  of  Sermons,  published  in  1816,  and  shortly  after  republished  in 
Scotland.  Beside  these,  he  published  the  following  in  pamphlet  form,  some 
of  which  have  generally  been  regarded  as  among  the  best  of  his  printed 
productions : — 

An  Oration  on  the  death  of  Washington,  1800.  A  Sermon  on  resigning 
his  pastoral  charge  at  Bhinebeck,  1803.  A  Sermon  delivered  by  appoint- 
ment of  the  Committee  of  Missions  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  the  United  States,  in  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Philadelphia,  1808.  Two  Sermons  delivered  in  the  Presbyterian  Church 
in  Albany  on  the  day  recommended  by  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  for  Fasting,  Humiliation  and  Prayer,  1808.  An  Introduc- 
tory Sermon  delivered  in  the  new  Presbyterian  Church  in  Cedar  Street, 
New  York,  the  first  Sabbath  after  being  installed  Pastor  of  said  Church, 
1808.  The  good  Samaritan:  A  Sermon  delivered  in  the  Presbyterian 
Church  in  Cedar  Street,  New  York,  for  the  benefit  of  the  New  York  Dis- 


220  .  PKESBTTEBIAK. 

pensarj,  1810.  The  danger  and  duty  of  young  people:  A  Sermon 
delivered  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Cedar  Street,  New  York,  1810. 
An  Exhortation  to  the  people  at  the  ordination  of  the  Rev.  Gardiner 
Spring,  1810.  A  Sermon  delivered  at  the  opening  of  the  General  Assem- 
bly of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  1811.  Report  of  a  Committee  of  the 
General  Assembly  appointed  to  draft  a  plan  for  disciplining  baptized  child* 
ren,  1812.  A  Sermon  delivered  in  the  Middle  Dutch  Church,  New  York, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  New  York  Marine  Missionary  Society,  1819.  The 
duty  and  reward  of  honouring  God :  A  Sermon  delivered  in  the  Presby 
terian  Church  in  Cedar  Street,  New  York,  on  the  Anniversary  of  the  Land- 
ing of  the  Pilgrims  of  New  England,  1821. 

I  became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Romeyn  first  in  June,  1816,  and  knew 
him  quite  well  till  the  close  of  his  life.  On  my  introduction  to  him,  I  was 
struck  with  his  friendly  and  earnest  manner,  and  it  was  at  hb  suggestion, 
and  through  his  influence,  that  I  became  a  member  of  the  Princeton  Theo- 
logical Seminary.  I  had  heard  him  preach  in  his  own  church,  in  the  pre- 
ceding autumn,  a  very  impressive  discourse  on  that  beautiful  passage  in 
Job — ''Canst  thou  bind  the  sweet  influences  of  Pleiades,  or  loose  the  bands 
of  Orion?" — on  the  Sabbath  immediately  succeeding  a  terrific  and  deso- 
lating gale,  still  remembered  as  the  "  September  gale  ;"  and  the  deep  interest 
with  which  I  had  listened  to  that  discourse  made  me  the  more  desirous  of 
obtaining  an  introduction  to  him.  Before  my  course  in  the  Seminary  was 
closed,  I  spent  a  Sabbath  with  him  at  Elizabethtown,  on  a  Communion 
occasion  in  Dr.  McDowell's  Church,  when  nearly  one  hundred  new  members 
were  admitted ;  and  I  was  exceedingly  struck  on  that  occasion  with  the 
appropriateness  as  well  as  the  impressiveness  of  his  public  exercises.  The 
last  public  occasion  on  which  I  met  him,  was  the  ordination  of  the  Rev. 
A.  Phcenix  at  Springfield,  (Chickopee  parish,)  Mass.,  a  few  months  before 
his  death.  Mr.  Phosnix  and  himself  had  been  class  mates  in  Columbia 
College,  and  intimate  friends  in  after  life ;  and,  though  Dr.  Romeyn's  health 
was  then  considerably  reduced,  he  could  not  resist  the  desire  to  assist  in 
putting  bis  old  friend  into  the  ministry ;  and  the  sermon  which  he  preached  on 
the  occasion,  evinced  the  great  interest  which  he  felt  in  it,  while  it  was 
altogether  a  manly  and  vigorous  effort.  The  most  remarkable  thing,  how- 
ever, in  connection  with  the  occasion,  was  his  asking  a  blessing  at  the  table, 
where  the  Council  dined  afiter  the  ordination.  Within  the  compass  of  a 
minute  or  two,  he  seemed  to  bring  all  the  peculiar  circumstances  of 
the  people  and  the  pastor,  and  the  newly  formed  relation  between  them, 
combining  them  in  the  most  impressive  and  beautiful  manner;  and  yet 
there  was  every  thing  to  indicate  that  it  was  entirely  an  unpremeditated 
service.  The  next  afternoon,  I  heard  him  preach  a  Communion  lecture  for 
Dr.  Osgood  at  Springfield,  after  which  he  crossed  the  river,  and  preached  for 
me  in  the  evening  at  West  Springfield,  one  of  his  most  eloquent  discourses, 
on  the  text — •♦  I  am  the  first  and  the  last,"  &c.  Though  I  saw  evidences 
that  his  health  was  upon  the  wane,  the  freedom  and  vigour  of  his  manner, 
and  his  power  to  impress  an  audience,  seemed  to  me  to  have  'suffered  no 
abatement.  I  parted  with  him  the  next  morning,  and  never  met  him  after- 
wards. 


JOHN  BBOPHEAD  BOMETN.  221 


FKOM  THEODORIC  ROMETN  BECK,  LL.  D. 

Albaht,  September  1, 1862. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  will  not  dissemble  that  a  principal  reason  of  my  having  been 
somewhat  dilatory  in  complying  with  your  request,  has  been  that  my  relation- 
ship to  Dr.  Romeyn  has  seemed  to  me  to  make  it  a  matter  of  some  delicacy  for 
me  to  render  such  a  public  testimony  concerning  him  as  your  request  contem- 
plates. I  will,  however,  as  a  token  of  my  good  will,  state  a  few  things  that 
occur  to  me, — ^not  doubting  that  you  will  obtain  from  others  a  more  full  and 
satisfactory  account  of  him.  The  fact  that  he  was  my  maternal  uncle  brought  me 
near  to  him  from  my  childhood;  and,  during  a  part  of  the  four  years  that  I  was 
engaged  in  the  study  of  my  profession,  I  was  a  member  of  his  family.  I  have 
therefore  had  distinct  impressions  of  his  character,  however  they  may  have 
somewhat  faded  under  the  influence  of  time. 

I  recollect  him  as  a  young  man  of  fine  personal  appearance,  frank  in  his  man- 
ners, ardent  in  his  feelings,  quick  in  his  temper,  and  little  disposed  to  yield  his 
opinions  or  prejudices  to  any  thing  that  bore  the  semblance  of  dictation  or  con- 
straint, lie  appears  to  me  to  have  been  singularly  fortunate  in  his  early  friend- 
ships— among  the  most  intimate  friends  of  his  youth  were  John  Blair  Linn  and 
Alexander  McLeod — the  former  of  whom  survived  only  to  a  ripe  manhood, — 
the  latter  died  some  years  after  his  friend.  They  joined  in  several  literary 
undertakings  which  met  the  public  notice  either  in  periodicals  or  in  distinct 
pttblications.  Each  was  united  to  the  others  by  the  strongest  ties  of  affection, — 
ties  which  were  severed  only  by  the  stroke  of  death. 

Dr.  Bomeyn,  until  his  constitution  was  broken  by  disease,  was  indefatigable 
in  his  weekly  preparations  for  the  pulpit.  The  great  mass  of  sermons  that  ho 
left  in  manuscript,  and  which  have  come  into  my  possession  as  his  executor, 
bear  ample  testimony  to  this.  I  would  not  venture  to  assign  to  him  the  very 
highest  rank  among  pulpit  orators;  but  he  was  certainly  a  highly  impressive 
and  animated  speaker,  and  always  spoke  out  of  the  depths  of  an  earnest  and 
solemn  conviction.  His  discourses  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  ministry  were 
generally  written  out;  but  in  later  years  he  was  accustomed  to  leave  large 
chssme  in  his  manuscript  to  be  filled  up  by  the  suggestions  of  the  moment;  and 
these  extemporaneous  parts  of  his  sermon  often  produced  the  greatest  effect. 
The  fact  that  he  gathered  around  him,  in  so  short  a  time,  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  80  large,  intellectual  and  cultivated  a  congregation,  and  held  it  till  his 
death,  shows  that  his  talents  in  the  pulpit  must  have  been — to  say  the  least— of 
a  superior  order. 

Of  his  intellectual  habits  I  can  speak  with  an  abiding  remembrance;  for  I  had 
abundant  opportunities  of  observing  them.  He  preserved  a  good  knowledge  of 
the  languages,  having  been  thoroughly  grounded  in  them  at  Columbia  College; 
yet  he  pursued  the  study  of  them  only  as  auxiliary  to  those  studies  which  were 
strictly  professional.  He  was  one  of  the  greatest  readers  I  ever  knew;  and  his 
own  library  supplied  him  with  the  best  works  not  only  connected  with  his  pro- 
fession, but  in  almost  every  department  of  literature.  At  the  time  of  his  death, 
there  were  few  private  libraries  in  the  country  that  compared  with  his,  either  in 
extent  or  in  value.  It  was  particularly  rich  in  books  of  Travels ;  and  I  remem- 
ber well  how  he  used  to  revel  over  the  pages  of  Elphinstone,  Pottinger,  and  other 
kindred  authors. 

Dr.  Romeyn  had  no  aversion,  certainly  in  his  later  years,  to  reading  occasionally  a 
work  of  fiction,— especially  one  from  the  hand  of  a  master,  and  in  which  some  great 
principle  of  human  nature  was  successfully  evolved.  I  remember  his  telling  me 
that,  when  he  was  in  Edinburgh,  he  had  the  pleasure  of  making  the  acquaintance 
of  Mrs.  Grant,  the  writer  of  "  Letters  from  the  Mountains,"  &c.,  and  in  one  of 


'222  PRESfiTTSBIAX. 

his  interTiewB  with  her,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  new  novel,— one  of 
the  series  of  the  Waverly  novels,  then  in  the  course  of  publication,  while  it  was 
not  yet  known  who  was  the  author  of  them;  and  Mrs.  Grant  unhesitatingly 
ascribed  them  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  on  the  ^ound  that  he  was  the  only  man  in 
the  world  who  was  capable  of  writing  them. 

Since  Dr.  Romeyn's  death,  great  changes  have  occurred  in  connection  with  the 
former  field  of  his  labours.  The  spirit  of  commercial  enterprise  has  swept  over 
the  spot  where  he  ministered,  and  a  block  of  stores  have  succeeded  to  the  place  of 
worship.  The  congr^ation  that  he  gathered  has  passed  through  a  succession  of 
changes,  till  its  identity ,^K»rtainly  as  far  as  respects  members,  is  nearly  gone. 
The  great  benevolent  institutions  that  he  helped  to  foster  in  their  infancy,  and  that 
were  only  beginning  to  develop  their  mighty  resources  when  he  died,  have  now 
reached  to  a  vigorous  manhood.  But  the  influence  of  his  ministry  still  survives; 
and  now  and  then,  as  I  pass  about  the  country,  or  meet  people  from  a  distance, 
I  fall  in  with  a  man  whose  voice  and  manner  take  on  an  unwonted  tenderness, 
as  he  speaks  of  his  former  pastor.  Dr.  Romeyn. 

I  remain  very  truly. 

Your  obedient  servant, 

T.  R.  BECK. 

PROM  THE  REV.  THOMAS  E.  VERMILYE,  D.  D. 

New  York,  December  8, 1856. 

My  dear  Doctor :  My  recollections  of  Dr.  John  B.  Romeyn  commence  almost 
with  my  earliest  years,  when  he  was  in  the  vigorous  exercise  of  his  powers,  and 
at  the  meridian  of  his  popularity  and  usefulness,  and  they  continue  until  his 
death.  While  pursuing  my  collegiate  and  theological  studies,  however,  and 
when  I  was  becoming  in  some  measure  fitted  to  form  an  estimate  of  his  qualities, 
as  a  man  and  a  preacher,  I  was,  for  the  most  part,  absent  from  the  city.  I  had 
hoped  that,  as  my  pastor,  he  would  have  introduced  me  to  the  sacred  desk:  but, 
although  my  first  sermon  was  preached  in  the  pulpit  he  had  long  adorned,  it  was 
draped  in  sable  to  mourn  his  recent  loss.  What  I  can  say  of  him  must  relate 
chiefly  to  the  impressions  produced  upon  my  mind  during  my  boyhood,  there- 
fore, and  it  is  very  likely  it  will  not  be  very  discriminating,  nor  convey  any 
adequate  idea  of  his  individuality  to  those  who  had  no  knowledge  of  the  man. 

In  person,  Dr.  Romeyn  was  about  the  medium  height,  of  a  compact,  well  pro- 
portioned frame,  rather  spare  habit,  and  of  a  very  nervous  temperament,  which 
shy>wed  itself  in  the  animation  of  his  fine,  intelligent  eye,  and  expressive  coun- 
tenance, in  ready  utterance,  and  in  graceful,  but  rapid  and  decisive,  motions  of 
the  body.  This  ran  through  every  thing  he  did.  There  was  nothing  uncertain 
or  vacillating  in  his  manner;  no  hesitation  apparently  in  his  mind;  nothing  slug- 
gish or  slow  in  his  composition.  His  opinions  were  clearly  conceived  and  boldly 
expressed.  His  purposes  were  promptly  formed  and  executed  with  energy.  He 
seemed  to  enter  with  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind,  and  strength,  into  whatever  he 
undertook :  literally  what  he  found  to  do  he  did  with  all  his  might.  This  was 
60  in  and  out  of  the  pulpit.  I  suppose  a  stranger  would  not  be  long  iu  his  com- 
pany without  saying  to  himself, — **  this  man  has  all  his  faculties  about  him,  and 
is  all  awake.''  And  yet  he  was  not  a  bustler,  but  most  efficient  in  forming  and 
executing  his  plans.  He  was  a  cheerful  companion,  frank  and  unreserved,  and 
very  genial  with  the  young.  Yet  there  was  no  frivolity  or  want  of  proper  dignity. 
I  do  not  recall  a  single  jest  or  witticism  ascribed  to  him.  But  I  remember  him, 
at  the  period  of  his  greatest  success,  as  earnest  and  even  intense  in  the  perform- 
ance of  his  appropriate  duties,  seeming  to  feel  deeply  his  responsibilities,  and  as 
much  as  any  man  I  ever  knew,  to  aim  at  making  full  proof  of  his  ministry.  His 
quick  step,  downcast  eye,  and  deeply  serioiu,  absorbed  air,  as  he  passed  up  the 


JOHN  BRODHEAD  BOHEYN.  223 

brcmd  aisle,  and  took  his  position  in  the  pulpit,  and  prepared  for  the  service, 
illustrate  this  remark  very  well,  and  were  perfectly  characteristic  of  the  man. 

Dr.  Romeyn's  mind,  I  should  judge,  was  of  a  high  order.  The  peculiarities, 
however,  to  which  I  have  adverted,  would  necessarily  disqualify  him,  in  a  great 
measure,  for  becoming  a  patient  and  profound  investigator,  while  they  added 
greatly  to  his  power  as  a  ready,  effective  speaker,  and  fitted  him  the  better  for 
the  sphere  he  was  called  to  occupy.  But  there  was  no  particular  originality  or 
independence  of  thought:  no  metaphysical  aptness  certainly;  and  no  apparent 
disposition  or  ability  to  subject  his  themes  to  any  very  rigid  analysis,  and  rarely 
an  e£fort  to  build  up  and  compact  a  logical  train  of  argumentation,  by  which  truth 
might  be  demonstrated,  doubt  dispelled,  and  gainsayers  convinced.  I  presume 
he  had  never  subjected  his  mind  in  any  high  degree  to  the  discipline  of  close  and 
consecutive  thinking.  He  was  rather  a  reader, — a  great  reader.  His  admirable 
library  supplied  him  abundantly  with  the  means  of  indulging  his  tastes  in  this 
respect,  and  likewise  with  the  materials  which  he  brought  into  his  pulpit  prepa- 
rations, and  he  used  it  very  diligently.  He  had  acquired  a  large  store  of  general 
information,  therefore,  if  he  had  not  become  deeply  learned.  And  a  suggestive 
memory  enabled  him  to  hold  very  much  at  command  what  he  had  read.  He 
was  reputed  to  be  a  very  good  theologian;  but,  from  his  conversations,  I  think 
history  was  his  favourite  branch  of  reading;  and  he  was  regarded  by  his  clerical 
friends,  I  recollect,  as  being  exceedingly  well  versed  in  that  department. 

Dr.  Romeyn  was  made,  however,  for  the  pulpit.  All  his  natural  tastes  and 
mental  training  seemed  to  have  peculiar  reference  to  that  sphere.  As  a  preacher, 
you  know,  he  stood  eminent, — in  some  respects  *'  primus  inter  pares,"  among 
the  great  lights  our  city  could  boast  at  that  day.  And  in  Mason,  McLeod,  Mille- 
doler,  and  others,  it  then  enjoyed  a  ministry  rarely  equalled,  and  perhaps 
never  surpassed.  The  substance  of  his  preaching  was  sound,  edifying  Gospel 
truth;  although  he  was  very  apt  to  seize  on  passing  events.,  and  turn  them  with 
very  great  effect  to  a  spiritual  use.  His  sermons  were  usually  well  arranged  and 
well  expressed,  as  was  requisite  to  suit  the  taste  of  one  of  the  most  intelligent 
and  refined  congregations  in  the  country.  But  there  was  no  subtle  process  of 
reasoning :  and  what  was  singular,  when  you  consider  the  marked  effects  of  his 
ministrations,  he  dealt  very  sparingly  in  figures  of  speech  or  fine  writing.  There 
were  few  delicate  touches  of  fancy,  or  bold  fiights  of  imagination:  there  was  no 
splendid  diction  nor  carefully  wrought  and  sustained  rhetoric.  In  fact  he  was 
very  littlo  of  a  rhetorician.  But  there  was  most  momentous  truth,  and  there 
was  life  and  vivacity,  pathos  and  downright  energy,  and  perfect  naturalness  and 
sincerity,  which  gave  the  preacher  the  victory,  and  made  him,  what  he  was,  for 
several  years,  to  say  the  least,  not  inferior  in  popularity  and  success  to  any  of 
his  compeers.  His  ordinary  animation,  and  his  sweet,  full,  flexible  voice,  though 
managed  with  no  art,  were  always  pleasant.  But,  at  times,  every  line  of  his  face, 
even  his  whole  frame,  became  instinct  with  passion,  and  then  the  eye  kindled  or 
te&rful, — the  very  soul  speaking  through  the  body  that  trembled  with  emotion  or 
erected  itself  to  an  attitude  of  authority, — the  torrent  of  feeling  often  subdued 
and  carried  away  his  hearers  with  responding  emotion.  I  can  hardly  tell  why — 
but  Dr.  Romeyn  and  young  Spencer  of  Liverpool  have  always  been  associated  in 
my  mind,  as  having  strong  points  of  resemblance.  Certainly,  I  think  that,  so 
Ult  as  the  pulpit  is  concerned,  Dr.  Romeyn,  in  his  prime,  was  entitled  to  be  called 
one  of  the  very  first  preachers  of  his  day. 

His  SQooess  corresponded  with  this  description.  The  Cedar  Street  Church 
was  a  new  enterprise,  commenced  by  men  of  high  social  position  in  various  walks 
of  life, — many  of  them  New  England  men,  and  I  have  an  idea  that  its  origin  was 
in  some  way  connected  with  politics,  as  I  recollect  it  used  to  be  called  the  Federal 
Church— althoagh  Dr.  Romeyn  was  never  a  political  preacher.  But  for  years 
this  house  overflowed.    Prayer  meetings  and  evening  lectures  were  well  sustained. 


224  FBESBTTBEIAH. 

He  WA8  aided  by  a  most  efficient  Board  of  elders;  and  the  accessions  to  the 
church  were  numerous  at  almost  every  Communion  season.  Especially  were  his 
labours  blessed  among  the  young.  Uis  catechetical  classes  on  Wednesday  after- 
noons were  crowded.  Ho  threw  such  attraction  around  them,  that  we  longed 
for  the  day:  and  among  this  class,  and  through  this  instrumentality,  very  much 
of  his  useful  labour  was  performed.  Of  a  very  large  Bible  class  of  young  ladies, 
every  one,  I  think  he  told  me,  became  a  professor  of  religion.  More  young  men 
became  ministers  from  his  congregation  than  from  any  other.  And  the  churches 
in  the  city  from  that  day  to  this  have  drawn  a  large  proportion  of  elders  and 
deacons,  and  our  benevolent  societies  many  of  their  most  active  members  and 
officers,  from  among  the  'men  who  were  trained  under  him.  I  think  the  warm 
affection  with  which  his  memory  is  cherished  by  those  who  enjoyed  his  puljnt 
and  pastoral  services,  and  the  tender  tones  in  which  they  are  wont  to  speak  of 
the  Cedar  Street  Church  of  those  bright  da3's,  are  proof  conclusive  of  the  excelr 
lence  of  the  man,  and  the  usefulness  of  his  ministry.  During  the  last  years  of 
his  life,  as  I  have  said,  I  was  absent,  and  had  little  part  there.  But  for  the 
period  of  which  I  have  mainly  spoken,  it  was  very  much  of  a  model  Church;  and 
its  character  and  success  were  owing,  under  God,  very  much  to  the  ability  and 
zeal  of  its  Pastor. 

If  this  meagre  outline  of  Dr.  Romeyn's  qualities,  rather  than  of  his  life,  can 
be  made  serviceable  in  any  way,  I  shall  be  very  glad.  I  have  endeavoured  to 
give  the  fair  transcript  of  my  memory,  and  perhaps  have  been  too  eulogistic,  as 
writers  under  such  circumstances  are  certainly  in  great  danger  of  being.  But 
such  as  it  is,  Dear  Doctor,  it  is  at  your  disposal. 

With  brotherly  regards,  I  am  yours, 

THOMAS  B.  YERMILYE. 


-♦♦■ 


HENRY  DAVIS,  D.  D  * 

1798—1852. 

The  ancestors  of  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  who  came  to  this  country, 
were  from  Kidderminster,  England,  and  were  parishioners  of  Hichard  Bax- 
ter, and  it  is  supposed,  members  of  his  Church.  They  resided  awhile  in 
Lynn,  near  Boston ;  then  in  New  Haven,  Conn.;  and  finally  took  up  their 
permanent  residence  in  East  Hampton,  L.  I.  They  were  two  brothers — 
one  of  them,  who  was  a  lawyer,  was  never  married :  the  other,  who  was  the 
grandfather  of  Henry  Davis,  had  two  children, — a  son  and  a  daughter.  The 
son  {John)  was  twice  married — first  to  Catharine  Talmadge,  and  afterwards 
to  Mary  Conkling.  By  the  first  marriage  he  had  six  children ;  by  the 
second  five  ;  all  of  whom  lived  to  be  more  than  seventy-three  years  of  age. 
Henry  was  a  son  by  the  second  marriage.  Both  parents  were  exemplary 
members  of  Dr.  Buell's  Church,  and  both  attained  to  nearly  fourscore 
years. 

Henry  Davis  was  bom  at  East  Hampton,  September  15,  1771.  The 
next  year  his  father  removed  from  East  Hampton  to  Stonington,  Conn.  In 
both  places  he  carried  on  the  business  of  farming  on  a  somewhat  extended 
scale,  and,  in  connection  with  it,  that  of  tanning  and  shoe  making.  In  1784, 

•  MS.  ftorn  UmMlf.^Br.  North'i  Fun.  Stim. 


HSNRT  DATIS.  225 

tke  war  being  now  over,  he  remaved,  with  the  younger  members  of  his 
&mily,  back  to  East  Hampton.  Clinton  Academy  being  established  there 
aboat  this  time,  under  yery  favourable  auspices,  he  proposed  to  his  son 
Henry  to  prepare  for  College,  with  several  other  young  men  who  were  then 
in  a  course  of  preparation,  and  go  with  them  to  Princeton.  But,  at  that 
time,  the  son  preferred  the  medical  profession,  and  declined  his  father's  pro* 
posal.  He  was,  for  some  time,  a  member  of  the  Academy, — occasionally 
leaving  it  for  a  few  months  to  teach  a  school :  the  last  of  his  teaching,  pre- 
vious to  his  going  to  College,  was  at  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  where  he  was  engaged 
the  greater  part  of  two  years.  Having  changed  his  purpose  as  to  a  pro- 
fession, he  commenced  his  immediate  preparation  for  College  without  the 
aid  of  a  teacher,  and  continued  to  study  in  this  way,  except  for  about  three 
months, — during  which  time  he  was  a  student  in  Clinton  Academy, — 
until  October,  1793,  when  he  entered  the  Sophomore  class  in  Yale 
College. 

He  graduated,  an  excellent  scholar,  in  the  year  1796 ;  and  immediately 
after  accepted  a  Tutorship  in  Williams  College,  which  he  held  till  January, 
1798.  He  then  went  to  Somers,  Conn.,  and  studied  Theology  for  some 
months  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  Backus,  and  was  licensed 
to  preach  the  Gospel,  in  July  following,  by  the  Association  of  Tolland 
County.  At  the  ensuing  Commencement  in  Yale  College,  he  was  appointed 
a  Tutor  in  that  institution.  He  accepted  the  appointment,  and  continued 
in  the  office  till  1803.  At  the  Commencement  in  1801,  he  was  appointed 
Professor  of  Divinity;  and  was  requested,  provided  he  was  unwilling  to 
enter  immediately  on  the  office,  to  continue  in  the  Tutorship,  while  he  was 
making  the  requisite  preparation  for  it.  But,  before  he  considered  himself 
as  qualified  for  the  duties  of  the  Professorship,  his  health  became  so  feeble 
that  he  was  unable  to  preach.  With  a  view  to  recruit  his  health,  he 
made  several  journeys,  and  spent  one  season  on  the  coast  of  Labrador. 

In  September,  1806,  he  was  called  to  the  Professorship  of  the  Greek  lan- 
guage in  Union  College,  Schenectady  ;  and,  as  he  was  still  unable  to  preach, 
he  gave  up  all  idea  of  undertaking  the  Theological  Professorship  at  Yale, 
and  accepted  the  place  which  was  offered  him  at  Union.  Here  he  continued 
for  about  three  years. 

In  December,  1809,  he  entered  on  the  Presidency  of  Middlebury  College, 
and  at  the  same  time  was  ordained  to  the  ministry, — the  Sermon  on  the 
oecajiion  being  preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Proudfit.  In  1810,  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Union  College.  In  1814, 
the  Professorship  which  he  had  left  at  Union,  was  again  offered  to  him,  but 
he  declined  it.  In  January,  1817,  he  was  appointed  to  the  Presidency  of 
Hamilton  College,  as  successor  to  Dr.  Backus ;  and  a  month  after,  before 
he  had  had  time  to  give  his  answer,  was  appointed  President  of  Yale  Col- 
lege, as  successor  to  Dr.  D wight.  But  such  were  the  circumstances  of  Mid- 
dlebury College  at  the  time,  and  so  deeply  was  he  interested  in  its  fortunes, 
that  he  felt  constrabed  to  return  a  negative  to  both  invitations.  Subse- 
quently to  this,  however,  circumstances  occurred  which  led  him  to  suppose 
that  if  he  were  to  leave  Middlebury,  the  College  at  Burlington  which  was 
then  in  an  exceedingly  depressed  state,  might  be  given  up,  on  condition  that 
its  President  should  be  called  to  Middlebury;  and,  as  he  considered  it  aa 
evil  that  there  should  be  two  Colleges  in  the  same  immediate  neighbonr- 
Ikood,  he  thought  itr  hiaduty  even,  to  maka  some  sacrifice  to  have  bat  one 

Vol.  IV.  29 


226  PRESBYTERIAN. 

institation.  He  accordingly  intimated  to  the  Trustees  of  Hamilton  College 
that,  in  view  of  this  change  of  circumstances,  he  should  not  decline  their 
invitation,  if  it  were  repeated.  It  was  repeated  in  the  month  of  July; 
but  about  this  time  the  aspect  of  things  in  regard  to  Middlebury  and  Bur- 
lington 80  far  changed,  that  President  Davis  would  gladly,  if  he  had  not 
already  committed  himself  to  Hamilton,  have  remained  at  his  post.  He 
even  made  an  attempt  to  get  released  from  his  engagement  at  Hamilton,  but 
it  was  ineffectual;  and,  accordingly,  before  the  close  of  the  year  1817,  he 
was  inaugurated  as  President  of  that  College.  Here  he  continued  till  1833, 
when,  in  consequence  of  difference  of  opinion  between  him  and  the  Trustees 
of  the  College,  in  respect  to  various  matters,  he  resigned  his  office  as  Pre- 
sident, though  he  was  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  until  1847. 

Dr.  Davis  still  continued  to  reside  at  Clinton,  and  was  greatly  respected 
by  the  whole  community.  His  health  now  grew  very  infirm,  and  on  this 
account  he  spent  one  or  two  winters  in  the  Southern  States.  Tor  several 
of  the  last  years  of  his  life,  he  was  confined  chiefly  to  his  house  by  an  affec- 
tion of  the  lungs  ;  and  it  was  wonderful  how  he  lived,  year  after  year,  appa- 
rently on  the  verge  of  the  grave.  He  retained,  during  all  this  time,  the 
utmost  equanimity  of  mind,  and  was  evidently  waiting  all  the  days  of  his 
appointed  time  till  his  change  should  come.  At  length  the  vital  energy 
was  gone,  and  he  died  in  perfect  tranquillity  at  his  residence  at  Clinton, 
March  8, 1852.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  North, 
his  successor  in  the  Presidency,  and  was  published. 

Dr.  Davis  was  married,  shortly  after  he  was  appointed  to  the  Professor- 
ship of  Divinity  in  Yale  College,  to  Hannah  Phoenix,  daughter  of  the  Hon. 
Thomas  Treadwell  of  Plattsburg,  N.  Y.,  and  previously  of  Smithtown,  L. 
I.,  who  was  the  last  surviving  member  of  the  Convention  which  framed  the 
Constitution  of  New  York,  in  1777.  They  had  four  children, — two  sons  and 
two  daughters.  One  of  his  sons  was  graduated  at  Williams  College  in  1824, 
and  the  other  at  Hamilton  College  in  1831.  Both  studied  Law  and  devoted 
themselves  to  its  practice  at  Syracuse,  N.  Y. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Davis'  publications : — An  Inaugural  Ora- 
tion at  Middlebury  College,  1810.  A  Baccalaureate  Sermon  at  Middlebury 
College,  1810.  An  Election  Sermon  at  Montpelier,  1815.  A  Sermon 
before  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  1816. 
A  Baccalaureate  Sermon  at  Hamilton  College.  1828.  A  Farewell  Address 
at  the  Exhibition  of  the  Junior  class  in  Hamilton  College,  1833.  A  Nar- 
rative of  the  embarrassments  and  decline  of  Hamilton  College,  1833. 

The  first  time  I  ever  saw  President  Davis,  I  heard  him  preach  in  Yale 
College  Chapel,  in  my  Freshman  year.  I  remember  distinctly  the  general 
character  of  the  sermon — it  was  clear,  logical  and  forcible ;  and  the  man- 
ner was  dignified,  and  perhaps  a  little  professorial.  In  the  year  1816,  I 
attended  Commencement  at  Middlebury,  where  I  had  the  privilege  of 
making  his  acquaintance.  I  found  him  exceedingly  sociable  and  communi- 
cative, without  any  official  airs  in  private,  while  yet  he  left  upon  my  mind 
a  strong  impression  of  personal  dignity.  He  presided  at  the  Commence- 
ment exercises  with  all  due  grace,  and  seemed  to  be  entirely  at  home  in 
every  situation  in  which  I  saw  him.  After  1830,  I  became  quite  intimate 
with  him,  and  had  an  opportunity,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  of  witnessing 
his  inflexible  adherence  to  what  he  believed  was  truth  and  right,  against  the 
pressure  of  very  powerful  influences.     On  two  occasions,  after  he  was  eon- 


HEHBT  DAVIS.  227 

fined  chiefly  to  his  house,  I  had  the  priyilege  of  visiting  him,  and,  tboogh  he 
was  bowed  under  the  infirmities  of  age  and  the  power  of  disease,  I  could 
not  discoTor  the  least  waning  of  his  noble  intellect,  and  certainly  there  waf> 
nothing  that  indicated  any  decline  of  his  religious  fer^'our,  or  his  generous 
sensibilities.  Though  he  was  alive  to  the  present,  he  seemed  to  live  more 
in  the  past,  and  was  a  fine  example  of  a  serene.  Christian  old  age.  I  had 
occasion  more  than  once  to  make  proof  of  his  friendship,  and  the  result  in 
every  case  was  such  as  it  is  grateful  to  me  to  recall,  now  that  my  earthly 
intercourse  with  him  is  closed. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JEREMIAH  DAY,  D.  D., 

PKE8IDENT  OF  TALE  OOLLEOE. 

New  Haven,  March  25,  1862. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  My  particular  acquaintance  with  President  Davis  was  in 
early  life.  For  nearly  fifty  years  past,  I  have  had  only  occasional  opportunities 
of  personal  intercourse  with  him.  We  were  two  years  members  of  College 
together;  and  afterwards  fellow-tutors  at  Williamstown  and  Yale. 

As  an  undergraduate,  he  was  among  the  most  distinguished  for  scholarship 
and  elevated  character  in  the  first  class  taught  by  President  D wight.     He  then 
exhibited  those  prominent  moral  and  intellectual  traits,  which  have  since  been 
more  fully  developed  in  his  public  life.     They  appeared  even  then  to  be  marking 
him  out  and  preparing  him  for  some  such  distinguished  stations,  as  those  which 
he  afterwards  occupied.     His  powers,  his  inclinations,  and  his  habits,  were  emi- 
nently of  a  practical  character,— especially  adapted  to  the  instruction  and  gov- 
ernment of  youth.     To  this  employment  he  was  called  immediately  after  he  was 
graduated;  and  to  this  he  devoted  his  time  and  strength,  in  five  different  Col- 
leges successively,  till  he  resigned  the  Presidency  of  Hamilton  College.     Ilis 
unvarying  firmness  of  moral  and  religious  principle  led  him  to  employ  his  talents 
and  attainments  exclusively  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty.     His  literary  and 
scientific  investigations  were  conducted,  not  with  a  view  to  display,  or  to  obtain 
credit  for  originality,  but  to  qualify  him  for  the  instruction  which  he  was  provi- 
dentially called  to  impart.     His  natural  temperament,  though  ardent,  was  well 
balanced  by  strength  of  intellect  and  sound  practical  judgment.     He  had  a  rare 
energy  and  firmness  of  purpose, — a  native  intrepidity  which  fitted  him  to  main- 
tain a  steady  collegiate  government,  and  to  encounter  difficulties  and  obstacles, 
an  ample  share  of  which  was  allotted  him.    He  evidently  aimed  to  be  faithful  to 
the  trust  committed  to  him.    His  application  to  business  and  study  was  so 
intense  that  his  constitution,  originally  vigorous,  early  received  a  shock  from 
which  it  never  recovered.    His  slender  and  debilitated  frame  ever  after  impeded 
the  execution  of  his  ardent  and  widely  reaching  purposes.     His  performances  in 
the  desk  I  have  had  no  opportunity  of  witnessing  for  many  years  past.     His 
preaching  and  literary  and  religious  character  were  in  such  estimation  that  he, 
early  in  life,  was  elected  to  the  Professorship  of  Divinity  in  Yale  College, — an 
appointment  which  his  then  prostrated  health  prevented  him  from  accepting. 
His  disposition  was  open,  frank  and  affectionate;  his  manners  simple  and  grave, 
dignified  and  kind;  his  friendship  ardent  and  lasting. 
Believe  me,  dear  Sir,  with  very  great  regard, 

Your  friend  and  servant, 

JEREMIAH  DAY. 


228  FSMMTTMUAS, 


FROM  THE  HON.  SAMUEL  NELSON, 

JUOOB   OF  THK  8UFREMB  OOU&T  OF  TBS  UVmSD  KATMB. 

WASHUfOTON,  January  11,  1867. 

Dear  Sir :  Dr.  Davis  was  President  of  Middlebury  College  while  I  was  a 
student  there,  from  the  beginning  of  the  last  term  of  the  Sophomore  year,  1811, 
till  August,  1813,  when  I  graduated.  He  was  then,  I  should  think,  under  fifty 
years  of  age;  his  head  slightly  grey,  but  apparently  the  effect  of  infirm  health, 
and  long  sedentary  habits.  In  person  he  was  tall, — over  six  feet,  slender,  erect 
and  of  noble  and  manly  appearance;  a  face  strongly  marked,  indicating  the  true 
character  of  his  mind, — strength  and  vigour,  but  polished  and  graceful  from 
varied  and  extensive  acquirements,  and  association  with  men  of  his  class  and 
position  in  society.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  in  the  truest  sense 
of  that  term,  without  its  characteristic  costume.  His  disposition  was  cheer- 
ful,— even  playful,  kind  and  generous,  deeply  sympathizing  with  all  his  friends 
and  acquaintances,  and  especially  with  the  concerns  of  all  in  any  way  under  his 
care,  or  subject  to  his  advice  or  direction.  He  had  a  warm  heart,  directed  by  a 
strong  sense  of  right,  and  what  was  due  to  religion  and  virtue,  and  the  decencies 
and  proprieties  of  life;  a  true  and  reliable  judgment,  and  hence  firm  and  steady 
in  his  principles,  and  consistent  in  his  conduct. 

The  impression  made  upon  the  students  was  that  Dr.  Davis  possessed  high 
qualities  and  endowments  for  the  head  of  a  College.  He  was  not  disposed  to 
take  severe  notice  of  trifling  irregularities,  or  the  thoughtlessness  of  youth,  but 
was  generous  and  forbearing,  and  if  noticed  at  all,  it  was  with  the  affection  and 
admonition  of  a  friend.  But  in  a  case  of  transgression  indicating  a  perverse 
mind,  or  bad  heart,  and  which  necessarily  called  for  the  interposition  of  the 
authorities,  and  the  use  of  discipline,  he  was  stern  and  inflexible,  and  nothing 
short  of  unconditional  submission  and  assurance  of  future  good  conduct,  or 
separation  from  the  institution,  would  be  listened  to.  Indeed,  perhaps  the  lead- 
ing characteristic  of  the  life  of  the  Doctor  was  deliberation  and  forecast  in 
making  up  his  judgment  as  to  right  and  duty  in  any  given  case,  and  when  made 
up  and  settled,  a  firmness  and  courage  to  stand  by  it  which  no  consideration 
personal  to  himself  could  shake. 

The  influence  of  this  characteristic  of  his  life  was  felt,  and  had  its  natural 
effect  in  the  government  of  the  College;  but  with  this  sturdy  feature  was  min- 
gled a  strong  sense  of  right  and  justice,  benignity  of  feeling,  and  a  sensibility  in 
meeting  the  stern  necessities  of  the  case,  as  creditable  to  his  heart,  as  the  firm 
will,  under  the  circumstances,  was  to  the  head. 

In  his  intercourse  with  the  students,  he  invariably  treated  them  as  gentlemeuj 
thereby  inspiring  and  elevating  their  self-respect,  seeking  through  that  element 
of  character,  and  the  wholesome  influences  consequent  thereon,  to  regulate  their 
conduct;,  and  encourage  proficiency  and  scholarship,  rather,  than  by  the  mere 
rigour  of  authority.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  he  was  universally  beloved  by 
the  students. 

It  was  understood,  soon  after  I  left  College,  that  he  had  been  invited  by  the 
authorities  of  Yale  College  to  succeed  Dr.  D wight  as  President  of  that  institu- 
tion. I  believed  at  the  time,  if  he  should  accept  the  place,  and  be  blessed  with 
the  enjoyment  of  health,  that,  properly  supported  as  he  would  be  in  the  discharge 
of  his  duties,  he  would  become  one  of  the  most  eminent  heads  of  a  collegiate 
institution  which  the  country  has  ever  known.  The  invitation,  it  was  understood 
at  the  time,  was  declined  on  account  of  infirm  health. 

I  have  thus,  my  dear  Sir,  at  your  urgent  request,  hastily,  and  under  the 
pressure  of  other  duties,  thrown  together  my  ideas  of  the  character  of  President 


HSMSTDATia.  229 

Dftvis  B&  th^y^ vereiapicssed  upon  me  wbile  I  was  bk  pupil.  If  iHis  ittiperfciet 
tribute  of  my  respect  And  gratitude  is  worthy  ol  a  place  in  jour  proposed  sketch 
of  hi  ID,  it  is  quite  at  your  service. 

With  g;reat  respect  and  regard, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

S.  NELSON. 


-♦♦- 


JOHN  GLENDY,*  D.  D. 

1799—1882. 

John  Glsndt,  a  scm  of  Samuel  Glendy,  was  bom  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Londonderry,  Ireland,  on  the  24th  of  June,  1755.  His  parents  are  said 
to  have  been  eminent  for  piety ;  and  his  mother,  particularly,  to  have  been 
distinguished  for  an  uncommonly  vigorous  intellect.  Being  destined,  in  the 
intention  of  his  parents,  to  the  ministry,  he  was  early  sent  to  a  Latin 
School,  where  he  remained  till  the  age  of  fourteen.  He  subsequently  went 
to  the  University  of  Glasgow,  and  there  passed  through  the  regular  curri* 
eulum;  and,  after  devoting  some  time  to  Theology,  was  licensed  to  preach, 
and  ordained  to  the  ministry  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  On  hb  return 
to  Londonderry,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Lord  Bishop  who  resided 
there,  and  who  became  so  much  interested  in  him,  as  to  propose  that  he 
should  accompany  him  as  Chaplain  on  a  tour  that  he  was  about  to  make 
upon  the  Continent.  This  proposal,  however,  was  accompanied  by  a  condi- 
tion to  which  young  Glendy  was  unwilling  to  accede, — namely,  that  he 
should  join  the  Episcopal  Church.  In  view  of  this,  he  unhesitatingly 
declined  what  both  himself  and  his  friends  regarded  as  rather  a  brilliant 
offer. 

Shortly  after  this,  he  accepted  a  call  from  a  Church  in  Londonderry ;  and 
at  the  same  time,  his  father,  who  seems  to  have  been  in  circumstances  of 
affluence,  gave  him  a  house  and  grounds  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  city. 
He  BOW  became  united  in  marriage  with  Eliza  Cirswell,  a  native  of  Lon- 
donderry, an  only  daughter,  and  a  young  lady  of  fine  qualities  of  mind  and 
heart,  as  well  as  of  great  personal  attractions.  For  a  few  years,  he  was 
subject  to  no  disturbing  influence,  and  was  eminently  happy  in  all  his  rela- 
tions. But  at  length  he  found  there  was  a  storm  gathering,  which  threatened 
destruction  to  his  dearest  earthly  interests.  While  the  great  questions  of 
British  policy  in.  respect  to  Ireland,  iuTolving  her  condition  and  prospects, 
were  agitating  the  public  mind,  and  the  whole  population  of  the  country 
were  ranging  themselves  on  the  one  side  or  on  the  other,  Mr.  Glendy  openly 
and  earnestly  protested  against  the  aggressive  measures  of  the  government, 
and  thus  made  himself  particularly  obnoxious  in  high  places.  As  his 
talents  and  standing  were  such  as  to  render  his  influence  somewhat  formi- 
dable, he  became  a  marked  man  to  the  emissaries  of  government,  and  a 
purpose  was  quickly  formed  to  arrest  his  influence  by  taking  his  life.  At 
the  suggestion,  and  through  the  instrumentality,  of  Lord  Castlercagh,  with 

*  M8.  from  bii  daughter,  Mn.  Sproston. — Obituary  notices  in  the  Baltimore  paper?,  Ac., 
Ibiaiahed  by  Dr.  Cobeo. 


230  PRESBTTERIAK. 

whom  he  had  been  intimate  in  his  earlier  years,  a  troop  of  horse,  com- 
manded by  Capt.  Leith,  surrounded  Mr.  Glendy's  house,  and  set  fire  to  it; 
and  the  order  was  given  that,  if  he  should  attempt  to  escape  by  door  or 
window,  they  should  despatch  him  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 

Through  the  vigilant  attention  of  some  of  his  friends,  however,  Mr. 
Glendy  became  apprized  of  the  approach  of  the  soldiers,  but  had  only  time 
to  effect  his  own  escape  and  that  of  his  family  before  they  were  on  the 
ground.  On  finding  that  he  was  not  in  the  house,  they  tracked  him  to  a 
small  cottage  owned  by  a  poor  widow  who  had  often  been  the  recipient  of 
his  bounty, — whither  he  had  fled,  after  consigning  his  family  to  the  care 
of  a  relative  who  lived  several  miles  distant.  His  preservation  here 
seemed  scarcely  less  than  miraculous.  The  soldiers  rushed  into  the 
house  in  pursuit  of  him ;  but  he  had  concealed  himself  under  a  large  sack 
which  had  been  spread  over  a  bedstead,  and  though  they  were  within  a  few 
feet  of  him,  he  actually  eluded  their  search.  They  left  the  place,  impreca- 
ting vengeance  upon  him,  and  went  forth  to  prosecute  their  search  in  the 
surrounding  country.  As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  si^t,  Mr.  Glendy  fled 
in  an  opposite  direction ;  and,  after  a  walk  of  several  miles,  arrived  at  the 
house  of  his  brother,  thinking  that,  for  a  time  at  least,  he  might  hope  to 
be  unmolested.  It  was  but  a  short  time,  however,  before  the  soldiery  heard 
where  he  was,  and  forthwith  directed  their  course  to  his  brother's  house ; 
but  were  not  more  successful  in  their  search  than  they  had  been  before.  Find- 
ing that  he  could  not  remain  there  with  safety,  he  exchanged  clothes  with 
his  brother,  and  in  other  ways  disguised  his  appearance,  and  actually  passed 
undetected  through  the  crowd  who  were  seeking  his  destruction. 

After  remaining  concealed  in  another  place  a  few  days  longer,  and  having 
become  wearied  and  dejected  from  his  perilous  adventures,  he  finally  resolved 
to  surrender  himself  and  demand  a  trial,  though  at  the  hands,  as  he  believed, 
of  a  prejudiced  and  perjured  jury.  This,  accordingly,  took  place;  and 
though,  through  the  intercession  of  some  influential  friends,  his  life  was 
spared,  he  was  condemned  to  perpetual  exile  from  his  native  country.  A 
few  days  only  were  given  him  to  take  leave  of  his  friends,  and  then  he  was 
compelled  to  embark  in  an  old,  unseaworthy  vessel,  crowded  with  emigrants, 
who,  with  the  crew,  were  obliged  to  work  almost  incessantly  at  the  pump  to 
keep  her  afloat.  She  finally  put  in  at  Norfolk,  Ya.,  in  distress;  and  there 
Mr.  Glendy,  by  request  of  the  Captain,  preached  a  Sermon  in  the  Court 
House,  (for  there  was  no  Presbyterian  Church  there  at  that  time,)  in  behalf 
of  the  poor  emigrants.  The  novelty  of  the  occasion  drew  together  a  large 
audience,  among  whom  were  several  distinguished  lawyers,  who  were  so  much 
impressed  by  the  service  that  they  made  particular  inquiries  in  respect  to 
the  preacher;  and,  having  learned  something  of  his  history,  they  extended  a 
hospitable  welcome  to  both  himself  and  his  wife,  and,  during  a  sojourn  there 
of  some  months,  these  exiles  were  treated  with  marked  respect  and  kindness. 
Mr.  Glendy  arrived  in  this  country  in  the  year  1799. 

The  climate  of  Norfolk  proving  unfavourable  to  Mrs.  Glendy's  health, 
they  were  compelled  to  seek  a  different  locality,  and,  by  advice  of  her  phy- 
sician, they  took  up  their  abode  in  Staunton,  Ya.  As  they  had  letters  to 
some  influential  persons  there,  they  were  introduced  at  once  to  the  best 
society ;  and  it  was  but  a  short  time  before  Mr.  Glendy's  services  were  pat 
in  requisition  by  the  two  Congregations  of  Staunton  and  Bethel,  in  Augusta 
County, — both  of  which  he  supplied  for  nearly  two  years.     Having  made 


JOHN  GLEKDT.  231 

the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  then  President  of  the  United  States,  he 
was  invited  by  that  distinguished  man  to  visit  Washington ,  as  his  guest ; 
and  he  accepted  the  invitation.  During  his  visit  he  delivered  a  discourse  in 
the  Capitol,  which  is  said  to  have  awakened  great  interest,  and  to  have  drawn 
from  the  President  a  strong  expression  of  admiration.  On  a  short  visit  to 
Baltimore,  he  was  invited  to  preach  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  then  vacant 
bj  the  death  of  the  Kev.  Dr.  Allison.  He  did  so,  and  his  preaching  was 
very  favourably  received.  He  subsequently  consented  to  be  considered  as 
a  candidate,  in  connection  with  the  Bev.  (afterwards  Dr.)  James  Inglis; 
but  the  election  resulted  in  favour  of  the  latter.  * 

In  the  year  1803,  a  number  of  gentlemen  in  Baltimore,  specially  friendly 
to  Mr.  Glendy,  associated  for  the  purpose  of  building  a  new  church  edifice, 
with  a  view  to  secure  permanently  his  services.  The  building  being  com- 
pleted, the  Second  Presbyterian  Congregation  was  formed,  and  in  due  time 
Mr.  Glendy  was  regularly  inducted  as  its  Pastor.  But  scarcely  had  this 
agreeable  settlement  been  effected,  when  he  was  cast  into  the  depths  of 
affliction  by  being  bereaved  of  his  beloved  wife.  She  died  at  the  age  of 
thirty-five,  on  the  13th  of  June,  1804.  The  following  is  the  private  record 
which  he  made  of  the  event.  After  mentioning  the  time  of  her  death  and 
her  age,  he  says, — 

"Then  commenced  her  glorious  career  of  life  that  shall  never  end. 
Though  merciless  death,  for  ten  long  moons,  was  gradually  sapping  all  that 
was  mortal  in  her  constitution,  yet  not  one  murmuring  sigh  escaped  her 
bosom — not  one  repining  wish  agitated  her  soul.  Peaceful,  patient,  tran- 
quil, resigned, — her  conscience  clear,  her  faith  unwavering,  her  hopo 
triumphant,  her  Heaven  in  prospect, — she  bad  adieu  to  all  her  heart  most 
dearly  prized  on  earth, — her  infant  family,  and  her  loved  compeers,  and  in 
accents  sweeter  far  than  angels^  notes,  she  gently  raised  her  voice,  saying, 
*Come,  Lord  Jesus,  oome  quickly.'  As  daughter,  wife,  mother,  friend, 
Christian,  she  was  all  that  beauty,  truth,  and  friendship ;  all  that  religion, 
purity,  and  love,  could  render  estimable  and  precious.  Yes,  she  has  gone 
to  her  Father's  House,  to  realize  all  that  piety  can  hope,  humanity  wish,  or 
Heaven  bestow." 

At  a  later  period,  he  was  visited  by  other  domestic  afflictions  in  the  death 
of  an  intelligent  and  lovely  daughter  of  fifteen,  and  a  very  promising  son, — 
both  of  whom  fell  victims  to  consumption. 

Mr.  Glendy  was  chosen  Chaplain  to  the  House  of  Bepresentatives  in 
Congress  in  1806,  and  to  the  Senate  in  1815  and  1816.  He  numbered 
among  his  acquaintances  and  friends  many  of  the  most  distinguished  men 
of  his  day,  among  whom  were  Jefferson,  Madison,  Monroe,  and  John  Quincy 
Adams,  from  each  of  whom  he  received  marked  attentions.  His  popular 
address  and  general  intelligence,  in  connection  with  the  important  place  he 
occupied,  and  the  fact  of  his  being  an  exile  from  his  native  land,  gave  him 
eaay  access  to  the  highest  classes  of  society. 

About  the  year  1822,  he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
the  University  of  Maryland. 

Dr.  Glendy  continued  sole  Pastor  of  his  Congregation  about  twenty- 
three  years,  when,  on  account  of  the  infirmities  of  advancing  age,  he 
expressed  a  wish  that  he  might  be  provided  with  a  colleague.  Accordingly, 
in  1826,  the  Bev.  (afterwards  Dr.)  John  Breckenridge  became  associated 
with  him  in  this  relation ;  and  in  a  short  time  he  yielded  to  his  colleague 


282  PRfiSBTTERIAS. 

the  entire  charge.  About  two  yean  faeibre  hifi  deatii,  he  went  to  reside 
temporarily  with  a  married  daughter  in  Philadelphia,  in  the  hope  of  bene- 
fitting his  health ;  and  he  was  about  making  his  arrangements  to  return  to 
Baltimore,  when  he  was  found  to  be  in  too  precarious  a  state  to  warrant  it. 
He  died  at  Philadelphia,  after  a  protracted  and  painful  illness,  on  the  4th  of 
October,  1832,  aged  seven ty-seven  years.  His  remains  were  removed  to 
Baltimore  for  interment. 

The  following  account  of  his  Funeral  at  Baltimore  is  extracted  from  a 
letter  addressed  by  Dr.  John  Wilson,  an  elder  in  Dr.  Glendj's  Chitrch,  to 
his  daughter  at  Philadelphia : — 

*'  It  must  be  a  subject  of  sincere  gratification  to  you  to  hear  of  the  strong 
sensation  produced  in  Baltimore,  when  the  news  of  your  beloved  father's 
death  was  received.  Mr.  M.'s  letter  reached  me  at  too  late  an  hour  on 
Saturday  evening  to  have  it  noticed  in  the  public  papers.  I  mentioned  it 
at  our  prayer  meeting  on  Sunday  morning,  and  before  two  o'clock  the  ladies 
had  the  pulpit  neatly  dressed  in  mourning, — the  sight  of  which  through  the 
day,  and  the  tender  recollections  it  called  up,  melted  many  into  tears. 

**  I  addressed  circulars  on  Sunday  morning  to  the  different  ministers  in 
our  more  immediate  connection,  including  Messrs.  Helfenstein  and  Duncan, 
the  latter  of  whom,  after  reading  the  notice,  pronounced  an  eloquent  euio- 
gium  on  the  deceased,  and  all  of  them  arranged  the  hour  of  their  afternoon 
service  so  as  to  give  their  congregations  an  opportunity  of  joining  in  the 
procession.  At  an  early  hour  in  the  afternoon,  the  wharf  was  crowded, 
and  the  people  waited  patiently  and  respectfully  the  arrival  of  the  steam- 
boat, which  did  not  get  in  till  it  was  nearly  dark.  At  the  same  early  hour, 
the  church  was  filled  to  overflowing — even  the  enclosure  to  the  gate  was 
one  dense  mass  of  people.  They  opened  a  way  for  us,  and  Mr.  Gibson 
made  a  very  appropriate  address  from  the  pulpit,  and  good  old  Mr.  Williams 
an  excellent  prayer.  The  procession,  which  was  long  and  solemn,  w^as  then 
formed,  and  an  appropriate  prayer  over  the  tomb  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Phelps 
closed  the  impressive  exercises.  It  w.as  affecting  to  see,  on  the  sidewalks, 
dear  little  girls  and  boys,  and  even  women  with  children  in  their  anns, 
walking  out  such  a  distance  by  moonlight,  to  testify  their  respect  for  the 
memory  of  the  deceased." 

In  1800,  Dr.  Glendy  published  an  Oration  which  he  delivered  at  Staun- 
ton on  the  twenty-second  of  February,  in  commemoration  of  General  Wash- 
ington. This  was  republished  in  1835,  in  connection  with  a  Prayer  which 
he  offered  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1821.  The  Oration  is  a  glowing  pro- 
duction, and  indicates  the  writer's  common  nationality  with  Curran  and 
Phillips. 

Dr.  Glendy  had  six  children, — four  daughters  and  two  sons.  One  son 
and  two  daughters  still  (1857)  survive. 

In  the  spring  of  1816,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Dr.  Glendy,  and 
hearing  him  preach  two  sermons  in  Dr.  Muir's  pulpit  in  Alexandria.  He 
was  there  to  assist  Dr.  M.  on  a  Communion  occasion ;  and  the  unusually 
large  congregation  which  was  secured  by  the  announcement  that  he  was  to 
preach,  was  sufficient  evidence  of  his  great  popularity.  I  well  remember 
that,  at  the  close  of  the  morning  service  in  which  he  had  officiated,  the  good 
old  Doctor,  who  seemed  to  value  the  popularity  of  his  brethren  a  little  more 
than  his  own,  said, — doubtless  with  a  view  to  bring  back  as  many  as  he  could 


10  tbe  a^nfobn,-'*— "  Oar  brother  f^pom  Baltimore  mil  conduct  the  remaining 
services  of  the  day.*'  It  was  nttered  with  such  an  air  of  pure  benignity, 
and  withal  in  such  an  intensely  Scottish  accent,  that  the  sound  seems  still 
to  vibrate  upon  my  ears.  My  impression  in  regard  to  the  two  discourses 
of  that  day,  is  that  they  were  distinguished  chiefly  by  a  lively  fancy  and 
great  opulence  of  diction.  Some  of  his  sentences,  which  I  still  distinctly 
remember,  were  strikingly  bold  and  beautiful.  His  utterance  was  rapid,  his 
gesture  abundant,  and  a  sort  of  Irish  glow  pervaded  his  whole  manner.  It 
was  oYtdent  that  his  style  of  preaching  had  not  been  formed  ob  this  side  of 
the  Atlantic.  I  saw  but  little  of  him  in  prirate,  but  enoc^h-  to  satisfy  me 
thai  his  powers  of  conversatioa  were  of  a  high  order. 

FROM  THE  B£y.  THOMAS  B.  BALGH. 

Wabuinoton,  April  IS,  1857. 

Dear  Sir:  I  am  every  way  disposed  to  comply  with  your  request  in  furnishing 
yon  my  recollections  of  Dr.  Glend}';  and  yet  I  am  afraid  they  are  too  meagre  to 
he  of  much  use  to  you.  I  had  the  opportunity  of  frequently  seeing  him  in  my 
earlier  days,  and  hearing  him  both  in  the  pulpit  and  out  of  it;  but,  though 
the  impression  he  made  upon  me  is  very  distinct  and  vivid,  I  do  not  seem  to 
have  treasured  any  of  those  striking  incidents  which  serve  perhaps  better  than 
any  thing  else  to  illustrate  character.  You  are  of  course  aware  that  he  came  to 
this  country  in  consequence  of  the  troubles  in  his  own.  I  have  always  under- 
stood, however,  that  he  denied  any  other  agency  in  the  Rebellion,  than  was 
implied  in  frankly  expressing  his  opinion,  and  in  showing  kindness  to  those  who 
were  directly  engaged  in  it.  But,  whatever  may  have  been  the  measure  of  his 
participancy,  it  was  made  the  occasion  of  driving  him  into  perpetual  banishment 
from  his  loved  Erin  Isle. 

My  first  recollection  of  Dr.  Glendy  dates  back  to  the  year  1806,  when,  after 
his  removal  to  Baltimore,  he  served  as  Chaplain  to  Congress.  In  the  course  of 
that  winter,  he  officiated  one  Sabbath  afternoon  for  my  father  at  Georgetown. 
I  do  not  remember  the  subject  of  his  discourse;  but  my  impression  of  his  appear- 
ance, his  manner,  and  the  general  character  of  the  service,  has  scarcely  yet  begun 
to  fade.  He  was  singularly  neat,— even  elegant,  in  his  dress.  His  hair  was 
thrown  into  artificial  curls,  and  powdered  as  white  as  the  snows  of  Mont  Blanc. 
His  complexion  was  pale;  his  eye  intensely  blue;  his  gesticulation  animated  and 
graceful,  but  somewhat  profuse.  Ho  read  the  Hymns  with  an  eye-glass,  but 
the  Scriptures  with  spectacles;  and  in  due  time  dashed  off  into  his  discourse 
with  a  rapidity  of  utterance  which  would  have  distanced  the  King  of  Pylos  or 
John  C.  Calhoun.  The  sermon  was  a  perfect  torrent  of  Irish  eloquence,  and 
much  more  like  Phillips  than  Grattan.  His  voice  was  as  sweet  as  the  harp  of 
David,  but  as  unlike  as  possible  to  the  horns  that  demolished  the  walls  of  Jeri- 
cho. The  whole  impression  produced  by  his  preaching  was  at  the  time  per- 
fectly delightful,  though  I  cannot  say  that  it  was  very  enduring.  I  heard  him 
subsequently  in  the  same  pulpit  two  or  three  times,  and  each  of  the  discourses 
possessed  the  same  general  characteristics  with  the  first. 

Dr.  Glendy  had,  I  think,  a  strongly  marked  Irish  idiosyncrasy.  He  was 
uncommonly  fascinating  in  his  private  intercourse, — was  fond  of  saying  agree- 
able things,  and  never  lost  the  opportunity  of  doing  so  up  to  the  full  measure  of 
a  good  conscience.  He  was  duly  mindful  of  his  own  rights,  and  not  insensible 
to  any  infHngement  of  them,  or  to  any  omission  of  what  he  deemed  propriety  or 
courtesy  towards  him.  He  was  regular  in  his  attendance  on  meetings  of  Pres- 
bytery, when  his  health  was  good;  but  when  he  thought  himself  too  unwell  to 

Vol.  IV.  30 


284  PBEfiBTTEBIAK. 

be  there,  he  would  sometimes  write  so  apologetic  note,  snd  once  humorously 
told  them  that  he  was  in  a  state  of  suspended  animation. 
Regretting  that  I  have  so  little  to  say  in  reply  to  your  request, 

I  am,  as  ever,  your  friend, 

T.  B.  BALCH. 

FROM  THE  REV.  ELIAS  HARRISON,  D.  D. 

Alezandbia,  Hay  14, 1867. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request 'for  some  reminis- 
cences of  Dr.  Qlendy,  though  I  cannot  say  that  my  personal  knowledge  of  htm 
was  ever  very  extensive,  and  some  of  my  impressions  concerning  him  have  lost 
in  a  degree  their  yividness  from  the  lapse  of  years. 

My  first  interview  with  him  took  place  in  August,  1817,  at  the  First  Presby- 
terian Church  in  Baltimore.  It  was  immediately  after  he  had  preached  a 
sermon, — to  which  I  had  listened  with  rapt  attention, — preparatory  to  the  Com- 
munion on  the  approaching  Sabbath.  I  was  exceedingly  struck  with  both  the 
matter  and  manner  of  the  performance;  and  the  favourable  impression  which  the 
discourse  had  made  was  by  no  means  diminished,  when,  at  the  close  of  the 
service,  with  true  Irish  warmth,  he  grasped  my  hand,  and  gave  me  a  most 
cordial  welcome.  He  was  then,  I  should  suppose,  not  far  either  w^ay  from  fifty 
years  of  age.  He  was  exceedingly  elegant  in  his  appearance  and  manners,  and 
altogether  one  of  the  most  polished  gentlemen  I  had  ever  seen.  He  was  about 
the  medium  height,  his  step  was  firm,  though  elastic,  and  his  gait  that  of  a  man 
who  had  studied  Chesterfield  most  thoroughly,  in  the  '*  waving  line  of  beauty 
and  of  grace."  With  all  his  politeness  there  was  not  the  semblance  of  affecta- 
tion— on  the  contrary  his  manner  seemed  natural  and  frank,  and  was  adapted 
to  put  a  stranger  entirely  at  his  ease. 

After  this  interview, — becoming  as  I  did  a  member  of  the  same  Presbytery 
with  him,— our  meetings  were  frequent,  and  our  friendly  intercourse  continued 
until  about  the  time  that  he  retired  from  the  active  duties  of  the  ministry.  He 
was,  however,  never,  after  that  period,  in  very  firm  health,  and  was  often 
incapacitated  by  his  extreme  nervous  debility  for  both  the  labours  of  the  pulpit 
and  pastoral  visitation.  During  these  seasons,  a  heavy  cloud  would  sometimes 
settle  over  him,  his  naturally  warm  feelings  would  seem  chilled,  and  he  would 
imagine  that  he  was  in  the  last  stage  of  his  earthly  existence.  And  yet,  at  those 
very  times,  if  you  could  interest  him  so  much  as  to  induce  him  to  take  a  stroll 
with  you  along  the  streets,  it  is  quite  likely  that  he  would  return  as  cheerful  and 
buoyant  as  if  he  had  been  all  the  time  in  bright  sunshine. 

I  never  saw  him  in  this  depressed  state  but  once;  and  the  interview  then  was 
of  such  a  character  as  to  make  an  enduring  impression  upon  me.  The  occasion 
was  this — The  people  whom  he  served  were  desirous,  in  consequence  of  his 
enfeebled  health,  of  securing  for  him  a  colleague,  or  at  least  an  assistant;  but 
reluctant  to  break  the  matter  to  him  themselves, — not  doubting  that  it  would  be 
an  unwelcome  subject, — they  applied  through  their  representative  for  the  advice 
of  the  Presbytery.  Knowing  that  the  Doctor  had  ever  manifested  a  ver}'  kind 
regard  for  me,  and  supposing  that  he  would  perhaps  be  as  likely  to  listen  to  me 
as  to  any  one,  they  were  pleased  to  designate  me  to  the  delicate  office  of  convers- 
ing with  him.  I  found  him  seated  in  his  chair, — the  very  picture  of  w^o.  Though 
the  day  was  unusually  warm,  every  window  was  down,  and  every  door  closed; 
while  his  hat  upon  his  head  was  stuffed  half  full  of  cotton  or  wool,  and  about  his 
person  was  closely  wrapped  his  heavy  winter  cloak.  If  I  had  judged  from  his 
own  statement  of  his  case,  or  indeed  from  the  first  view  of  his  countenance,  T 
should  have  supposed  that  he  was  in  the  very  last  stage  of  decline.  A  very  cauti- 
ous allusion  to  the  object  of  my  visit,  restored  him  at  once  to  both  animation  and 


JOHN  6LENDT.  235 

ThoQgh  not  losing  his  politeness, — ^he  seemed  iDca{>able  of  that, — ^he  was 
nerertheless  truly  angry;  and  he  made  it  manifest  by  both  looks  and  words. 
He  said  the  Presbytery,  in  bis  bumble  opinion,  had  transcended  the  limits  of  its 
allotted  functions,  and  he  must  confess  himself  somewhat  surprised  that  his 
Houng  and  greatly  eaUtmed  brother,  generally  ao  very  judicious,  had  consented 
to  have  any  agency  in  so  small  a  concern  !  I  was  completely  dumbfounded;  but, 
at  length,  rallying  a  little,  and  changing  the  subject,  (for  I  was  not  disposed  to 
press  the  matter  further  at  that  time,)  I  proposed  to  him  to  lean  upon  my  arm, 
and  go  to  the  door,  and  look  out  upon  the  glorious  sunshine  around  him ;  and 
I  succeeded  in  so  disengaging  his  mind  from  his  infirmities  that,  almost  before  he 
was  aware  of  it,  he  had  taken  a  walk  of  seyeral  squares;  and,  on  returning  to 
his  house,  he  declared  himself  better  than  he  had  been  for  several  weeks.  I  said 
no  more  to  him  on  the  subject  of  my  mission;  but  recurring  to  it  himself,  as  I 
was  taking  my  leave,  he  apologized  in  his  usual  bland  manner  for  any  seeming 
rudeness  he  might  have  exhibited,  and  promised  to  take  the  matter  of  which  I 
had  spoken  into  serious  consideration.  He  did  so;  and,  after  reflecting  upon  it 
lor  some  months,  he  consented — ^I  believe  cordially — to  receiye  as  a  colleague,  my 
much  esteemed  friend,  the  Rev.  John  Breckenridge.  Before  that  relation  was 
constituted,  however,  I  was  set  off  to  another  Presbytery,  and  my  intercourse 
with  Dr.  Glendy  measurably  ceased. 

As  a  preacher » the  Doctor  was,  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the  word,  highly 
popular^-that  is,  the  masses  not  only  loved  to  hear  him,  but  until  they  had 
become  entirely  familiar  with  his  manner,  they  would  not  readily  forego  au 
opportunity  of  hearing  him.  He  had  a  certain  grace  and  elegance  of  bearing  in 
the  pulpit,  that  predisposed  every  body  to  listen;  and  this,  combined  with  the 
distinctness  of  his  voice,  the  ease  and  rapidity  of  his  utterance,  the  appropriate- 
ness of  his  language,  the  vivacity  of  his  style, — not  unfV'equently  sparkling  with 
ornaments,  and  the  glowing  animation  of  his  manner,  often  rendered  him, 
especially  to  a  stranger,  exceedingly  fascinating.  He  was  never  noisy,  never 
tame  or  dry.  I  believe  he  was  accustomed  always  to  write  his  sermons  for  the 
Sabbath,  but  I  never  saw  him  with  a  manuscript  of  any  kind  before  him  in  the 
pulpit.  His  preaching  was  always  fully  in  accordance  with  the  standards  of  our 
Church,  and  sometimes  it  was  marked  by  such  clearness  and  force  of  statement, 
and  such  earnestness  and  impress! veness  of  manner,  as  to  produce  a  visible 
effect  upon  a  large  congregation;  though  I  think  it  was  more  commonly  distin- 
guished for  gracefulness  and  elegance.  He  was  rarely  profound — rarely  very 
logical ;  and  was  not  much  given  to  novelties  either  in  matter  or  manner,  lie 
was,  however,  fond  of  a  shrewd  remark,  and  occasionally  you  would  see  some- 
thing like  a  flash  of  his  Irish  wit.  He  was  rather  profuse  in  epithets,  but  they 
were  generally  well  selected,  and  I  believe  he  rarely,  if  ever,  weaned  his  audience 
by  an  excessively  long  sermon. 

His  manner  of  giving  out  notices  from  the  pulpit  was  very  peculiar, — some- 
times bordering  a  little  upon  the  ludicrous.  I  once  heard  him  announce  to  his 
aadience,  after  preaching  in  the  morning,  that  there  would  be  preaching  in  the 
afternoon  by  a  backwoodsman,  who  was  on  his  way  to  the  Gei|(eral  Assembly. 
The  notice  of  course  brought  out  a  large  congregation;  and  a  more  lucid,  solemn, 
impressive  discourse  I  had  rarely,  if  ever,  listened  to.  The  Doctor  was  himself 
much  impressed  by  it;  and,  after  conversing  in  a  whisper  with  the  preacher  for 
a  moment,  he  arose  and  announced  that  there  would  also  be  preaching  at  night 
bj  the  same  eloquent  and  greatly  beloved  brother,  who  had  just  addressed 
them.  Both  the  Doctor  and  the  Congr^ation  were  taken  by  surprise  by  the 
masterly  performance.  On  another  occasion,  when  the  resident  clergy  were  in 
the  habit  of  taking  turns  to  preach  to  the  convicts  in  prison,  I  heard  him,  after 
the  morning  service,  express  his  earnest  desire  that  he  might  find  all  his  people 
that  afternoon  at  the  penitentiary  !    Then,  pausing  for  a  moment,  he  added  that 


236-  PSESBtTBRIAira 

it  was  his  turn  to  preadi  there)  and  that  oonsequentlj  there  would  lie  nb  serHto 
at  the  charcfa.  If  his  design  had  heen — as  I  doubt  not  it  was^^to  put  his  een- 
gregation  for  the  moment  into  good-humour,  he  oould  scarcely  ha^e  done  it  more 
effectually:  indeed  he  accomplished  more  than  this — the  oircumstanee  gave  rise 
to  a  rumour  that  floated  rapidly  through  the  city,  that  be  bad  said  that  his 
people  were  fit  only  for  the  penitentiary. 

There  was  another  notice  of  his  wbich  has  often  been  related  to  me,  on  good 
authority,  and  I  am  not  quite  sure  but  that  I  heard  it  from  the  Doctor  himself— 
to  the  people  it  was  amusing  enough,  but  to  the  individual  more  immediately 
concerned  it  was  not  a  little  vexatious.  A  certain  brother  minister  in  Balti- 
more— ^himself  also  an  Irishman,  and  withal  a  great  stickler  for  orthodoxy — had 
engaged  to  preach  for  Dr.  Glendy  on  a  certain  Sabbath  afternoon.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  this  brother  was  at  the  church  in  tSie  moratng,  and  heard  a  sermon 
from  a  stranger,  which  he  considered  as  not  only  wanting  in  evangdieal  tone, 
but  as  decidedly  latitudinarian.  Very  early  in  the  interval  of  servioe,  the  Doctor 
received  a  note  from  him,  stating  that  his  mind  had  become  Bf^  deranged  by  the 
discourse  of  the  morning  as  utterly  to  incapacitate  him  for  ivlfilling  bis  after- 
noon's engagement.  Now,  being  thus  unexpectedly  left  to  supply  the  pulpit 
himself,  the  Doctor  was  somewhat  vexed  also;  and,  apologising  to  his  people, 
before  he  commenced,  for  want  of  suitable  preparation,  he  remarked  that  he 
regretted  to  be  obliged  to  inform  them  that  his  good  brother  who  was  to  have 
preached,  had  been  suddenly  afflicted  with  a  paroxysm  of  mental  derangement^ 
so  as  to  be  entirely  incapacitated  for  the  service  which  he  had  promised^-empha- 
sizing  the  very  words  of  his  note.  Without  a  word  of  explanation,  he  then 
proceeded  to  perform  the  usual  services.  The  news  ran  like  wild  fire  all  over  the 
city  that  this  minister  was  deranged,  awakening  both  surprise  and  sympathy 
wherever  it  went.  And  when,  after  the  matter  was  explained,  the  Doctor  was 
reproved  for  his  unbrotherly  conduct,—**  Upon  my  word,"  said  he,  "  I  always 
took  that  brother  to  be  a  gentleman,  and  a  man  of  truth;  and  if  my  statement 
was  not  correct— here  is  the  note—- let  it  speak  for  itself — ^I  have  adhered  not 
only  to  the  sentiment,  but  to  the  very  language."  It  was  even  so;  but  it  planted 
a  thorn  in  the  bosom  of  his  friend,  that  left  a  festering  wound,  notwithstanding. 

On  one  occasion  when  I  was  in  the  pulpit  with  him  in  Georgetown,— the 
Presbytery  being  in  session  there, — ^he  was  not  a  little  annoyed  on  finding  that 
there  was  no  footstool ;  and  he  could  not  appear  in  the  service  to  his  usual  advan- 
ta^  without  one.  As  the  only  expedient  that  occurred  to  him  at  the  moment, 
he  took  the  large  folio  Bible  that  he  found  in  the  pulpit,  and  secured  the  desired 
elevation  by  placing  it  under  his  feet.  Being  taken  to  task  for  it  the  next  morn- 
ing by  one  of  the  members  of  the  Presbytery,— not  very  seriously  to  be  sure, 
for  nobody  supposed  that  he  really  intended  to  show  any  want  of  reverence  for 
the  Bible, — he  rose  with  an  unusual  gravity  of  countenance,  and  made  quite  a 
long  speech  in  the  way  both  of  apology  and  of  justification.  The  amount  of 
what  he  said  was  that  he  had  stood  upon  the  Bible  from  his  early  years, — 
almost  from  his  cradle;  that  it  was  the  basis  of  all  his  hopes;  and  that  thus 
standing  upon  the  Prophets  and  Apostles,  in  the  higher  sense,  it  was  not  very 
likely  that  he  intended  to  insult  them  )>y  standing  upon  them  in  a  difierent  senses 
He  maintained  that,  however  the  act  might  be  interpreted  by  the  ignorant  and 
weak-minded,  it  could  not,  upon  any  fair  construction,  render  him  liable  to  the 
charge  of  presumption  or  irreverence. 

Among  his  own  countrymen  in  Baltimore,-— and  there  were  a  multitude  of 
them, — ^no  minister  was  more  popular;  and  I  think  he  was  admired  by  the  popu- 
lation at  large.  He  attracted  attention  not  more  by  his  eloquence  in  the  pulpit, 
than  by  his  genial  spirit  and  gentlemanly  bearing  out  of  it.  Though  generally 
dignified  in  manner,  he  could  at  pleasure  let  himself  down  with  the  most  grace- 
ful ease,  and,  without  seeming  at  all  to  compromit  his  self-respect,  tell  an  Irish 


jomi  OJUBUT.  237 

aloii^in  a  miAiiiMr  iluit  wm  alike  ininitable  and  irremstible.  He  is'sUU  remem- 
bered bj  many  with  a  feeling  of  strong  affection;  and  he  certainly  possessed 
qualities  which  will  be  likely  to  perpetuate  his  name. 

Very  truly  yours, 

ELIAS  HARBISON. 


-••- 


MATTHEW  LA  RUE  PERRINE,  D.  D  * 

1799—1836. 

Matthxw  La  Bus  Pebrine  was  born  in  Freehold,  Monmouth  County, 
N.  J.,  on  the  4th  of  May,  1777.  While  he  was  yet  quite  young,  he  went 
to  reside  in  the  family  of  hb  uncle,  the  Be  v.  Dr.  Ira  Condict,  at  Newton, 
N.  J.;  and  while  there,  began  his  studies  preparatory  to  entering  College, 
and  about  the  same  time  had  his  attention  strongly  and  permanently  directed 
to  the  subject  of  religion.  When  Dr.  Condict  removed  to  New  Brunswick, 
young  Perrine  accompanied  him;  and,  having  completed  his  preparatory 
studies,  he  entered  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  one  year  in  advance,  in 
1704,  and  graduated  in  1797.  He  studied  Theology  under  the  direction  of 
the  Bev.  Dr.  John  Woodhull,  the  minister  of  the  congregation  in  which  he 
was  born  ;  and  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick, 
on  the  18th  of  September,  1799. 

In  May,  1800,  he  was  appointed  by  the  General  Assembly  a  missionary 
for  four  months,  with  instructions  to  commence  his  mission  at  Wilkesbarre 
on  the  Susquehanna  Biver,  and  proceed  up  that  river  and  the  Tioga  to 
Painted  Post  and  Bath,  and  thence  through  the  Genesee  country  and  Mili- 
tary Tract  to  Fort  Stanwiz.  He  was  ordained  as  an  Evangelist  on  the  24th 
of  June,  and  immediately  after  entered  upon  his  mission. 

On  the  28th  of  April,  1802,  he  was  dismissed  from  the  Presbytery  of 
New  Brunswick;  on  the  4th  of  May  following,  was  received  by  the  Presbytery 
of  New  York ;  and,  on  the  15th  of  June,  was  installed  by  that  Presbytery 
as  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian'  Church  at  Bottle  Hill,  N.  J.  In  1804, 
he  performed  a  second  missionary  tour  of  three  months,  mostly  in  Western 
New  York,  under  a  commission   from  the  General  Assemblv. 

When  the  division  of  the  Presbytery  of  New  York  took  place  in  1809, 
Mr.  Perrine  was  thrown  within  the  bounds  of  the  Presbytery  of  Jersey. 
H«  remained  at  South  Hanover  till  1811,  when  he  received  a  call  from  the 
Spring  Street  Church  in  New  York.  He  was  diamissed  by  the  Presbytery 
of  Jersey,  on  the  16th  of  October,  1811,  and  was  received  by  the  Presby* 
tery  of  New  York  the  next  day,  and  on  the  31st  of  the  same  month  was 
installed  Pastor  of  the  Spring  Street  Church.  Here  he  continued  until  the 
26th  of  July,  1820,  when,  by  his  own  request,  his  pastoral  relation  was 
dissolved. 

He  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Alleghany  College, 
Meadville,  in  1818. 

*  MSS.  from  Rev.  R.  W.  HUl^  Bar.  B.  K.  Bodgen^  D.  P.,  and  Rev.  M.  L.  P.  Thompioo, 
P.  D. 


238  PBKSBTTIRIAK. 

On  the  2d  of  May,  1821,  he  was  elected  to  the  Professonhip  of  S«^ 

siastical  History  and  Church  Polity,  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at 
Auburn  ;  and,  on  the  22d  of  the  same  month,  was  dismissed  by  the  Presby- 
tery of  New  York  to  the  Presbytery  of  Cayuga,  with  a  view  to  his  entering 
on  the  duties  of  his  Professorship.  For  two  years  he  performed  the  duties 
of  not  only  his  own  Professorship,  but  that  of  Theology  also.  He  fre- 
quently preached  in  the  chapel  of  the  Seminary,  and  in  the  churches  in  the 
surrounding  country,  besides  occasionally  taking  a  short  agency  in  collect- 
ing funds  for  the  infant  institution.  He  continued  actively  engaged  in  the 
discharge  of  his  various  duties  till  near  the  close  of  life.  His  last  illness  was 
short,  but  was  attended  with  much  suffering.  He  was  perfectly  tranquil 
in  the  prospect  of  death,  and  felt  that  he  knew  in  whom  he  had  believed. 
He  died  February  11,  1836,  in  his  fifty-ninth  year.  His  Funeral  Sermon 
was  preached  by  his  Colleague,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Richards.  His  death  produced 
a  great  sensation  not  only  in  Auburn,  but  in  the  whole  surrounding  region, 
and  especially  among  those  who  had  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  his  instruction. 

Dr.  Perrine  published  Letters  concerning  the  Plan  of  Salvation  addressed 
to  the  members  of  the  Spring  Street  Presbyterian  Church,  New  York, 
1816 ;  a  Sermon  before  a  Female  Missionary  Society  in  New  York,  1817 ; 
and  an  Abstract  of  Biblical  Geography,  1835. 

Dr.  Perrine  was  married,  about  the  year  1800,  to  Anne,  daughter  of  John 
Thompson,  then  of  New  Brunswick,  N.  J.  They  had  no  children  of  their 
own,  but  adopted  and  educated  several  of  their  nephews  and  other  relatives, 
some  of  whom  have  since  become  distinguished  in  the  walks  of  honourable 
usefulness.     Mrs.  Perrine  died  in  Indiana  about  the  year  1851, 

FROM  THE  REV.  A.  E.  CAMPBELL,  D.  D. 

New  York,  December  15,  1852. 

Dear  Sir :  I  had  a  good  opportunity  of  knowing  Dr.  Perrine  during  several  of 
the  last  years  of  his  life.  I  first  became  acquainted  with  him  in  1826,  while  he 
was  Professor  at  Auburn,  and  from  that  time  till  his  death,  my  intercourse  with 
him  was  frequent  and  somewhat  intimate.  We  were  members  of  the  same  Pres- 
bytery, and  I  was  accustomed  also  frequently  to  meet  him  at  the  examinations 
in  the  Seminary.  His  character  was  a  transparent  one,  and  there  was  little 
difficulty  in  forming  a  correct  estimate  of  it. . 

Dr.  Perrine's  personal  appearance  was  altogether  agreeable.  In  stature,  I 
should  think  he  did  not  vary  much  from  five  feet,  nine  inches;  his  countenance 
was  indicative  of  great  mildness  and  benignity,  mingled  with  thoughtfulness  and 
intelligence.  His  manners,  though  not  highly  polished,  were  urbane  and  win- 
ning, and  as  far  as  possible  from  any  thing  that  had  the  semblance  of  affectation. 
In  his  ordinary  intercourse,  he  never  showed  himself  a  great  talker,  though,  with 
his  intimate  friends,  there  was  never  any  complaint  of  his  being  unduly  reserved. 
He  was  not  wanting  in  cheerfulness  on  what  he  deemed  proper  occasions;  and 
yet  you  could  never  be  in  his  presence  without  being  sensible  of  the  dignity  of  the 
Christian  minister. 

Dr.  Perrine  possessed  what  his  countenance  indicated, — ^an  uncommonly  amia- 
ble and  benevolent  temper.  He  was  remarkably  considerate  of  the  feelings  of 
those  with  whom  he  was  brought  in  contact,  and  never  inflicted  a  wound  unless 
a  conviction  of  duty  absolutely  required  it.  He  was  discreet  in  his  general 
movements,  and  yet  I  should  not  say  that  he  was  distinguished  for  what  is  com- 
monly called  tact;  he  was  not  the  man  who  would  have  been  most  likely  to  be 
selected  for  an  enterprise  that  required  high  executive  powers.    I  recollect  his 


MATTHEW  LA  KU£  PERRIKE.  289 

onoe  coming  into  my  congregation  to  raise  money  to  aid  in  endowing  the  Semi- 
nary; and  I  was  struck  with  the  fact  that,  though  he  went  with  me  to  call  upon 
the  various  persons  to  be  applied  to,  he  left  it  to  me  almost  entirely  to  urge  the 
claims  of  his  object.  He  was  much  better  fitted  to  be  the  pastor  of  a  church 
where  er&'y  thing  was  established  and  orderly,  than  of  one  that  required  to  be 
built  up  or  carried  through  severe  struggles. 

Dr.  Perrine's  mind  was  well  fitted  for  close  investigation.  He  was,  natu- 
rally, I  think,  somewhat  of  a  speculative  and  metaphysical  turn,  and  perhaps  the 
reasoning  faculty  was  predominant  in  his  intellectual  constitution.  In  his  theo- 
logical speculations,  I  suppose  he  harmonized  very  nearly  with  Dr.  Emmons; 
and  though  his  peculiar  views  doubtless  gave  a  tinge  to  his  preaching,  yet  I  do  not 
think  that  he  was  accustomed  to  bring  them  forward  very  distinctly,  especially 
in  a  controversial  manner.  There  is  no  doubt  that  a  considerable  number  of  the 
eariier  students  of  the  Seminary  had  their  theological  views  moulded  by  his 
influence  in  conformity  with  Dr.  Emmons'  system. 

As  a  preacher,  he  could  not  be  ranked  among  the  most  popular  of  the  day,  and 
yet  he  was  always  instructive, — always  interesting.  From  my  general  recollec- 
tion of  the  discourses  that  I  have  heard  from  him,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  he 
delighted  most  in  topics  immediately  connected  with  Christian  experience;  though 
I  tliink  he  rarely  preached  a  sermon  that  did  not  contain  some  pungent  appeal  to 
the  conscience  of  the  sinner.  His  style  was  correct  and  perspicuous,  but 
in  a  great  measure  unadorned.  His  manner,  though  it  was  simple  reading,  with- 
out gesture,  and  far  from  being  vehement  or  highly  impassioned,  was  neverthe- 
less characterized  by  no  inconsiderable  power;  the  secret  of  which,  I  think,  lay 
chiefly  in  this, — that  he  did  not  leave  it  at  your  option  whether  or  not  to  give 
him  credit  for  sincerity:  he  made  you  feel  that  every  sentence  that  he  uttered 
came  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  There  was  a  sort  of  subduing  charm,  too, 
in  his  voice — I  never  could  listen  to  its  mellow  and  gentle  tones,  either  in  or  out 
of  the  pulpit,  without  emotion. 

lie  was  hot  fond  of  public  business,  and  was  never,  as  far  as  I  know,  a  very 
active  member  of  ecclesiastical  bodies.  He  was  highly  respected  as  a  Professor 
in  the  Seminary,  and  had  the  affection  of  his  classes,  I  believe,  in  an  uncommon 
degree.  He  had  the  reputation  of  being  an  accurate  and  thorough  scholar,  though 
I  do  not  suppose  that  his  studies  took  a  very  wide  range.  He  was  a  most 
respectable  man,  and  enjoyed  the  universal  confidence  of  the  Churches. 

Yours  truly, 

A.  E.  CAMPBELL. 

FROM  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  H.  COX,  D.  D. 

La  Rot,  N.T.,  March  15, 1867. 

My  dear  Dr.  Spragne:  The  Reverend  Matthew  La  Rue  Perrine,  D.  D.,  was  my 
predecessor  in  the  Spring  Street,  afterwards  the  Laight  Street,  Church  in  New 
York,  and  was  subsequently  my  honoured  Colleague  in  the  Theological  Seminary 
of  Auburn,  and  was,  for  many  years,  my  intimate  friend.  I  feel,  therefore,  quite 
competent  to  comply  with  your  request,  though  I  shall  limit  myself  to  a  few 
remarks  on  his  character,  and  the  moral  scenery  of  his  death-bed. 

For  meekness  and  docility,  for  modest  and  unselfish  regards  in  every  thing, 
he  had  few  equals.  He  was  eminently  the  ''  beloved  disciple."  His  spirit  was 
refined  and  tender  in  every  degree  that  could  consist  with  manliness  and  a  pro- 
per sense  of  the  true  and  the  right.  His  mind  was  peculiarly  ruminant  and 
clear;  his  manners  consistent  and  correct.  With  a  vein  of  wit  that  sometimes 
comiscated  with  effblgenoe,  he  was  distinguished  for  avoiding,  as  many  do  not, 
to  wound  or  strike  with  it,  so  as  to  show  unkindness.  All  the  aspirings  of  ambi- 
tioDy  all  the  management  and  tactics  of  politicians,  in  the  Church  or  out  of  it,  he 


249  rsssBYTeuAv. 

practicatty  ignored;  while  MubUmioru peto  •eemed  to  be  anlbignedlj  the  motio  of 

it  all.  He  habitually  looked  '*  at  the  thinge  which  are  unseen  and  eternal.'* 
Hence  the  purity  and  the  ripeness  of  his  very  iauUless  character,  and  his  death 
was  gloriously  appropriate  to  it.     That  rich  scene  I  often  witnessed,  and  found  it 

*<  Privileged  bejond  the  oommon  walk  of  rlrtooaB  life,  qaite  m  the  rerge  of  HearoD.'* 

On  the  11th  of  February  I  was  with  him  nearly  all  the  evening,  perhaps  till 
after  eleven  o'clock,  when  I  left  him,  hoping  to  sec  him  again,  in  the  morniiig — 
but  just  about  an  hour  or  less  after,  he  fell  asleep!  Had  I  suspected  his  great 
proximity  to  death,  I  should  never  have  left  him  till  the  crisis  was  passed.  He 
expired  Just  about  midnight.  I  regretted  that  my  departure  was  so  soon ; 
but  he  was  bright,  calm,  clear,  communicative — all  himself;  and  we  rather 
thought  it  a  revival  of  strength  than  its  termination.  But  thus  it  often  is. 
Just  before  its  exit,  the  expiring  wick  burns  with  a  livelier  flame;  and  it  requires 
skill  in  the  pathology  of  suffering  nature,  rightly  to  interpret  the  harbinger  of 
extinction, — the  herald-trumpeter  of  death ! 

I  consider  the  death-bed  of  Perrine  a  glorious  demonstration  of  the  truth  of 
Christianity.  He  seemed  perfectly  cognizant  of  his  true  condition.  He  had 
studied  the  nature  of  his  disease,  watched  its  progress,  expected  its  consumma^ 
tion,  and  panted  for  the  reunion  of  his  soul  with  Christ  and  his  redeemed  in 
glory.  There  was  no  hesitancy  or  reluctance — he  knew  whom  he  had  trusted, 
and  wtfs  persuaded  that  He  was  able  to  keep  that  which  he  had  committed  to 
Him  against  that  day.  All  his  secular  affairs  were  settled.  He  took  leave  of 
friends  and  attendants,  with  simple  but  deeply  emotional  tenderness,  exhorting 
them  and  advising  them  in  the  Lord,  and  with  their  love  and  veneration  matured 
in  the  scene. 

Gratitude  to  them  all,  even  the  poorest  senrant  that  had  been  near  him,  for 
their  kind  offices,  was  quite  distinguishing  and  distinguished.  He  seemed  to 
have  no  conception  that  they  could  think  he  deserved  their  love  and  service,  as 
he  could  not  think  it:  while  a  sense  of  the  abounding  grace  of  God  in  him,  which 
no  desert  of  his  had  anticipated,  seemed  to  pervade  his  soul,  his  features,  his 
manners,  and  the  tones  of  his  voice. 

"  My  dear  brother,"  said  he  to  me,  "  I  thank  you  more  than  I  can  tell,  for  all 
your  affection  and  good  offices  to  me.  We  have  always  been  friends,  and  I  have 
loved  you  more  and  more.  God  makes  you  the  witness  of  my  concluding  scenes 
of  life.  Shall  I  tell  you  of  my  hope? — oh!  how  wonderful  that  hope  is!  How 
passing  wonder  that  it  should  be  mine !  Nothing  of  the  kind,  nothing  like  it  in 
the  universe!  It  makes  more  than  a  prince  of  worse  than  a  pauper.  My  hope 
is  all  Christian.  It  is  all  Christ — our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  our  hope.  The 
same  God  that  brings  me  to  Heaven,  will  keep  me  there— or  I  should  never  keep 
myself,  even  there!  It  is  the  grace  of  the  Father,  the  prevalent  mediation  of  the 
Son,  the  energy  of  the  Eternal  Spirit,  that  I  shall  forever  need,  and  also  forever 
enjoy.  It  is  here  I  find  the  Rook  of  Ages.  My  sins  (wonderful  to  tell  or  to 
know!)  are  not  too  great  to  be  forgiven;  not  so  great  as  his  grace;  not  so  ensla- 
ving as  He  is  absolving.  What  wonderful  deliverance!  What  I  want  is  to  have 
grace  to  the  end,  that  I  may  not  dishonour  such  a  Saviour,  that  I  may  glorify 
Him  before  I  disappear  to  the  living,  that  I  may  recommend  Him  to  all  others 
when  they  see  what  He  enables  me  to  suffer  and  vanquish  and  to  enjoy  in  Him! 
The  glory  all  his  own  forever!  " 

Thus  lucid  was  his  death-bed,  where  he  was  ''  languishing  into  life."  His  last 
frail  powers  were  rallied  to  honour  his  God  and  Saviour,  and  win  others  to  the 
faith  of  his  name.  All  his  language  seemed  absorbed  with  one  theme,  all  his 
thoughts  concentrating  in  one  direction^  His  beloved  wife,  (they  had  never  a 
child,)  he  most  affectionately  blessed,  con  mended  her  to  God-,  and  «|»ake  of  m 
better  meeting — soon!  And  now  he  desired  me  to  pray  with  him.  '*¥es,iny 
dear  brother,"  he  said,  ^'fyr  your  sake  and  yeurlmily's^I  am  unwilling  to 


MATTHEW  LA  BITE  PSRRINE.  241 

detain  jou  longar  at  picsent.  In  payer  for  ob,  let  me  aay  to  yon — ^not  all  prayer! 
Praise — give  a  great  place  to  praise!  Thanksgiving — thanks  to  Qod  for  his 
unspeakable  gifl — thanks  for  what  He  has  done  for  us,  for  me — ^poor  unworthy 
me!  I  know  my  unworthiness!  It  is  not  cant  when  I  say  it.  I  know  it — I 
feel  it — and  the  Son  hath  made  me  free!  "  Again :  '*  Ask  Him  for  more,  for  ail 
we  want!  Tet  not  as  if  He  was  nnwilUcg  or  parsimonious  to  grant  it — that  is 
not  the  way!  Believe,  ask  believing — knowing  that  He  will  do  'exceeding 
abundantly  above  all  that  we  can  ask  or  think.' " 

Prayer  and  praise,  in  which  several  of  us  united,  were  offered  to  his  Father 
and  oar  Father.  I  grasped  his  hand  in  silence  then,  and  left  him  for  home — in 
less  than  an  hour  after,  he  left  us  all  for  a  better  home.  Bleased  man  of  Qod ! 
Oh!  who  would  die  or  live — an  infidel! 

Ever  yours  in  the  glorious  Qospel, 

S.  H.  COX. 


-♦♦■ 


ELISHA  MACURDT.* 

1799—1845. 

Elibha  Maoubdt,  a  son  of  John  and  Mary  (Fox)  Hacurdy,  was  bom 
in  Carlisle,  Pa.,  October  15,  1763.  His  paternal  grandfather  emigrated 
from  Ireland,  and  his  maternal  great-grandfather  from  England.  Of  his 
early  life  little  is  known,  except  that  he  enjoyed  such  advantages  for  educa- 
tion as  were  common  at  that  time  in  his  native  place.  He  had  just  com- 
nenoed  the  study  of  the  Latin  language,  when  the  school  which  he  attended 
waa  broken  up  by  the  commencement  of  the  war  of  the  Revolution. 

He  is  sud  to  have  been  distinguished  for  his  facility  of  both  acquiring 
and  communicating  knowledge.  It  is  not  known  that  he  had,  at  this  early 
period,  any  decided  religious  impressions,  but  it  is  known  that  he  had  a 
strong  antipathy  to  intoxicating  drinks,  and  from  his  youth  up,  never 
indulged  in  the  use  of  them. 

His  father,  having  become  embarrassed  in  his  worldly  circumstances, 
remoTcd  with  his  family  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Taney  town,  Md.,  in  the 
hope  of  improving  them ;  but,  after  continuing  there  a  year,  he  returned  to 
Pennsylvania,  and  settled  in  York  County,  where  he  remained  nearly  four 
years.  Not  succeeding  in  his  efforts  to  repair  his  losses,  he  finally  removed 
to  Ligonier  Valley,  Westmoreland  County,  Pa. 

At  the  period  last  mentioned,  Elisha  was  about  twenty-one  years  of  age. 
As  the  support  of  the  family  now  devolved  chiefly  on  him,  he  engaged  in 
the  transportation  of  freight  to  and  from  Baltimore,  and  continued  the  busi* 
ness  with  very  liberal  profits  for  about  eighteen  months.  By  this  means  he 
was  enabled  to  purchase  a  farm,  which,  under  his  prudent  management, 
yielded  a  comfortable  support  to  the  family.  It  is  doubtful  whether  his 
aasociatioiiB,  during  the  period  above  referred  to,  proved  the  most  favoura- 
ble to  hiB  moral  character  at  the  time ;  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  his  employ- 
meni  aerted  to  increase  bis  knowledge  of  human  nature,  as  well  as  his  reso- 
Ivtioii  and  power  of  endurance. 

•Memoir  by  Ihe  Ber.  Dr.  Bllioll. 

Vol.  IV.  81 


242  PBSSBTTERIAK. 

At  Ligonier  he  had  the  opportunity  of  hearing  various  ministers,  who 
either  volunteered,  or  were  sent  by  the  Presbytery,  to  preach  to  the  people 
in  that  neighbourhood.  The  one  from  whom  he  received  his  firsit  religious 
impressions,  was  the  Rev.  James  Hughes.  A  sermon  which  he  heard  from 
him  threw  the  things  that  are  unseen  and  eternal  into  a  new  light;  and  he 
was  led  to  purchase  a  Bible — which,  until  now,  he  had  not  possessed, — and 
to  examine  it  with  a  view  to  ascertain  how  far  it  sustained  the  alarming 
statements  he  had  then  lately  heard  from  the  pulpit.  The  result  of  his 
inquiry  was  a  full  conviction  that  Mr.  H.  had  said  nothing  that  was  not 
entirely  in  accordance  with  the  Word  of  Ood;  and  he  now  formed  the  por^ 
pose  that  he  would  change  his  course,  and  seek  a  better  portion  than  he 
could  find  in  this  world.  In  the  fulfilment  of  this  purpose,  he  endeavored 
to  correct  the  errors  of  his  external  conduct,  attended  diligently  on  the 
means  of  grace,  and  was  in  all  respects  so  exemplary  in  his  deportment  that 
a  good  old  lady  expressed  her  confidence  in  his  piety  by  saying, — **  If  Mr. 
Macurdy  has  no  religion,  God  help  the  world."  He,  however,  became  sub- 
sequently convinced  that  he  had  no  religion  of  which  self-righteousness  was 
not  the  leading  element,  It  was  a  sermon  preached  by  the  Rev.  John 
McPherrin,*  on  the  text— "What  think  ye  of  Christ ?"— that  satisfied  him 
that  he  had  never  been  the  subject  of  a  truly  evangelical  experience.  After 
this,  being  brought,  as  he  believed,  to  repose  in  the  gracious  provisions  of 
Christianity,  he  made  a  public  profession  of  his  fiuth,  in  the  Church  of 
Salem,  of  which  Mr.  McPherrin  was  Pastor. 

From  the  time  that  he  experienced  this  change  of  character,  his  grand 
object  seemed  to  be  to  bring  all  around  him  to  the  knowledge  and  love  of 
true  religion ;  and  his  labours  in  this  way  were  attended  with  no  common 
blessing.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  his  mind  began  to  be  directed 
to  the  work  of  the  ministry ;  and  many  of  his  friends,  observing  the  uncom- 
mon spirituality  and  Christian  activity  which  he  evinced,  urged  him  strongly 
to  such  a  course.  Among  those  who  manifested  the  deepest  interest  on  the 
subject  was  the  Rev.  George  Hill,t  who,  about  this  time,  was  invited  to 
become  the  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Ligonier.     The  result  was  that  Mr. 

*  John  MoPhbbbin  wm  born  in  Tork,  now  Adamf  Goimtj,  Pa.,  Norember  17, 1757.  lie 
was  fitted  for  College  by  the  Rev.  Robert  Smith,  D.  D.,  of  Pequea,  and  was  graduated  in  1788, 
at  Dickinson  College,  under  the  Presidency  of  Uie  Rev.  Dr.  Nisbet.  He  was  licensed  to  preach 
the  Qoapel  by  the  Presbytery  of  Redstone,  Angosi  20,  1789,  and  was  ordained  and  installed  by 
the  same  Presbytery,  PtLtioTot  the  united  Congregations  of  Salem  and  UnitT,  in  Westmoreland 
Oonnty,  Pa.,  September  22, 1790.  On  the  25th  of  June,  1800,  he  resigned  toe  charge  of  Unity, 
and  on  the  20th  of  April,  1803,  that  of  Salem;  and,  having  accepted  a  call  from  the  united 
Congregations  of  Concord  and  Muddy  Creek,  within  the  bonnds  of  the  Erie  Presbytery,  be 
removed  with  his  family  to  Butler  County,  in  which  his  congregations  were  situated.  A  few 
years  afterwards,  Conoord  and  Harmony  appear  as  his  charge  on  the  Records  of  the  Presbyteir, 
and  still  later,  Butler  and  Conoord.  He  is  said  to  hare  been  the  founder  of  the  Chnreh  in  the 
town  of  Butler,  and  was  its  Pastor  for  ten  or  twelve  years.  He  died  February  10,  1822,  in  Uie* 
sixty-fifth  year  of  his  ace.  He  was  a  thorough  Latin  and  Greek  scholar,  an  earnest,  evangeU- 
oal  preacher,  and  an  able  and  devoted  minister  of  Christ. 

t  Qborob  Hill  was  bom  in  York  County,  Pa.,  March  13,  1764.  At  the  age  of  about  nine- 
teen, he  removed  with  his  father  and  ftunily  to  Fayette  County,  and  resided  within  the  bounds 
of  the  Congregation  of  George's  Creek.  His  classical  studies  were  prosecuted  chiefly,  if  not 
entirely,  under  the  Bev.  James  Dnnlap,  Pastor  of  Laurel  Hill  and  Dunlap*s  Creek  Congrega- 
tions. He  is  supposed  to  have  studieid  Theology  under  the  Rev.  Jaeob  Jennings.  He  was 
lioensed  to  preaca  by  the  Presbytery  of  Redstone,  December  22,  1791,  and  was  ordained  and 
installed  Pastor  of  the  united  Congregations  of  Fairfield,  Donegal,  and  ^Vheatfield,  on  the  13th 
of  November,  1702.  He  resigned  his  charge  of  Wheaifield  on  the  11th  of  AvrU,  1798,  and  a 
new  Congregation  called  Ligonier  having  Men  formed  between  Fairfield  and  Donegal^  he  eon- 
tinned  to  labour  in  these  three  last  namM  churches,  until  his  death,  which  took  place,  June  9, 
1822.  He  is  represented  as  having  been  remarkable  for  modesty,  sensibility,  self-denial,  and 
davotedneai  to  his  Macter^s  oania* 


ELISHA  MACIJRDT.  248 

MacQfdy  determined  to  submit  the  matter  to  the  Presbytery,  and  to  be 
governed  by  their  advice ;  and  they  nnanimonely  advised  him  to  enter  upon 
a  coarse  of  stndy  with  a  view  to  the  ministry.  He  accordingly  did  so ; 
thongh  he  was  obliged  to  sell  his  farm  in  order  to  defray  the  expense  of  his 
preparatory  conrse. 

In  1792,  Mr.  Maonrdy  became  a  member  of  the  Academy  at  Cannons- 
bnrg, — an  institution  which  was  subsequently  merged  in  Jefferson  College. 
Thongh  he  was  now  twenty*nine  years  old,  he  manifested  no  disposition  to 
dbpense  with  what  was  then  considered  full  preparation  for  the  sacred  office. 
He  remained  at  Cannonsbnrg  until  1799,  when  he  had  gone  through  both 
his  literary  and  theological  conrse.  His  studies  in  Theology  w^re  directed 
chiefly  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  McMillan,  assisted  occasionally  by  the  Rev.  John 
Watson,  one  of  the  teachers  of  the  Academy. 

In  August,  1796,  and  daring  his  connection  with  the  Academy,  Mr. 
Macnrdy  was  married  to  Sarah,  daughter  of  Thomas  Briceland,  of  Cannons- 
bnrg. However  this  may  be  regarded,  as  a  matter  of  discretion,  the  lady 
proved  herself  every  way  worthy  of  his  choice,  and  fulfilled  the  duties  of  a 
minister's  wife  in  the  most  exemplary  manner. 

Mr.  Macnrdy  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of 
Ohio,  on  the  26th  of  Jane,  1799,  at  the  Chnrch  of  Upper  Buffalo,  Wash- 
ington Connty,  Pa.  At  the  same  time  and  place,  the  Presbytery  licensed 
Mr.  Joseph  Stockton,*  afterwards  well  known  in  Western  Pennsylvania  as 
a  respectable  and  useful  minister. 

For  some  time  after  his  licensure,  Mr.  Macnrdy  was  engaged  in  mission- 
ary labour  in  the  region  bordering  on  Lake  Erie ;  bat  in  June,  1800,  he 
was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  the  united  Congregations  of  Cross 
Roads  and  Three  Springs,  by  the  Presbytery  of  Ohio.  Contemporaneous 
with  the  call  from  these  Congregations  was  one  from  the  Forks  of  Beaver 
and  Sheuango ;  and  he  had  great  difficulty  in  deciding  upon  their  relative 
claims;  bnt,  after  viewing  the  matter  in  all  its  bearings,  and  especially 
after  consnlting  his  excellent  friend  Dr.  McMillan,  in  whose  judgment  he 
reposed  great  confidence,  he  thonght  that  the  path  of  duty  was  sufficiently 
clear  to  warrant  decisive  action. 

Mr.  Macnrdy 's  ministry,  from  its  commencement  to  its  close,  was  a  scene 
of  the  most  self-denying  and  nnremitting  labour.  He  had  an  important 
ageney  in  connection  with  the  great  revival  in  Western  Pennsylvania,  that 
commenced  about  1801-02,  and  was  distinguished  in  its  progress  by  some 

*  JoBBPH  SfOCKTOif  WM  bom  near  Cbambenbarg,  Pa.,  Fobnuiy  25,  1779.  In  the  year 
17S4,  he  removed  with  his  father's  famiW  to  the  vicinitj  of  Washington,  Pa.  He  pursaed  his 
rlmnfiTrl  eoiine  at  Caanonabniv,  where  he  was  afterwards,  for  some  time,  a  teaeher;  studied 
TVeolocT  nnder  the  Rer.  Dr.  McMillan,  and  was  licensed  to  preaeh  the  Gcn)el  b^r  the  Presby- 
tery of  l>hio,  in  Jnne,  1799.  Having  received  a  call  from  the  Churches  of  MeadviUe  and  Sugar 
Creek,  he  removed  to  MeadviUe  in  the  &11  of  1800,  and  on  the  24th  of  June,  1801,  was 
ovdained  and  installed  Pastor  of  these  Congreoations.  Here  he  oontinaed  till  1810,  when  he 
rcsSgned  his  pastoral  charge.  While  at  MeadviUe,  he  acted  in  the  double  capacity  of  Pastor 
and  Teacher,  having  charge  of  the  Aeademy  in  that  place.  On  leaving  MeadviUe,  he  became 
Prineipal  of  the  Pittsburg  Academy,  which  was  subsequently  merged  in  the  <<  Western  Univer- 
rity  01  Peonsylvanta;*'  but  here  again,  ha  preached  as  well  as  taught,  and  among  other  impor- 
tant services  which  he  rendered,  was  the  founding  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Alleghany. 
He  resigned  his  place  in  the  Academy  in  1820.  From  1820  to  1829,  his  labours  were  equally 
divided  between  the  Churches  of  Pine  Creek  and  Alleghany;  but  from  1829  tUl  his  death,  he 
maehed  the  whole  time  at  Pine  Creek.  He  died  of  cholera,  October  29,  1832,  in  the  city  of 
Baltimore,  whither  he  had  gone  to  visit  a  son  who  was  lying  ill  of  a  fever.  During  his  connec- 
tion with  the  Pittsburg  Academy,  he  published  the  <<  Western  Spelling  Book,''  and  the  <<  West- 
am  Cdaalator,"  both  of  which  have  been  extensively  need  in  schools  in  Western  Pennsylvania. 
He  was  also  one  of  the  first  instmoters  in  tiie  Western  Theok^eal  Seminuyi  and  took  an  active 
part  Id  seeoring  its  location  at  Alleghany. 


244  FBX8ETfEBL4ir. 

▼cry  peonlUrf  BOi  t«  mj  dooMUl,  ofasraotmiiios.  He  wm  alwsys  ibm 
■ealoog  friand  of  musiona — ikoi  only  was  lie  emong  the  few  leeding  epirito 
that  formed  the  "Western  MiBsionary  Society,*'  designed  espeoially  to  dif- 
fose  the  knowledge  of  the  Goepel  among  the  new  settlements  and  the  Indian 
tribes,  but  he  engaged  personally  in  the  missionary  work ;  frequently  leav- 
ing bis  own  immediate  charge  for  a  eonsiderable  time  to  break  the  bread  of 
life  to  those  who  were  otherwise  entirely  destitute  of  it.  At  the  same 
time,  this  seems  to  have  ioterfered  little,  if  at  all,  with  the  religious  pros- 
perity of  his  own  congregations ;  for  the  register  which  he  kept  of  admis- 
sioDS  to  the  church,  shows  that,  with  the  exception  of  three  years,  there 
was  a  regular  annual  itierease  in  the  number  of  communicants,  during  his 
whole  ministry.  And  what  is  specially  worthy  of  notice  is  that  the  largest 
increase  was  during  those  years  in  which  he  performed  the  greatest  amount 
of  missionary  labour. 

Mr.  Macurdy,  while  his  chief  concern  was  for  the  spiritual  intereets  of 
bis  flock,  did  not  neglect  their  temporal  welfare.  The  following  ease  is  an 
illustration: — In  the  year  1818,  the  small  pox  made  ite  appearaaee  in  that 
part  of  the  country.  The  people,  being  greatly  alarmed,  looked  to  vaoci- 
nation  as  the  only  effectual  preventive ;  and  a  quack  doctor  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood undertook  to  profit  by  their  necessities,  by  administering  to  them 
at  an  enormous  price.  Mr.  Macurdy,  having  heard  of  the  imposition, 
obtained  some  vaccine  matter,  and  gave  notice  to  bis  congregation  the  next 
Sabbath  that  as  many  as  would  meet  him  at  the  church,  on  Thursday  follow- 
ing, he  would  vaccinate  without  charge.  Other  similar  appointments  were 
subsequently  made,  until  nearly  two  hundred  had  shared  his  gratuitous 
services. 

In  October  of  the  same  year,  Mrs.  Macurdy  died  in  the  forty-seventh 
year  of  her  age.  Some  time  after  this,  he  formed  another  matrimonial 
connection  with  Mrs.  Sarah  Colwell,  relict  of  Robert  Colwell,  and  daughter 
of  Captain  Oliver  Brown  of  Western  Virginia.  She  was,  equally  with  his 
former  wife,  a  fellow-helper  with  him  unto  the  Kingdom  of  God.  By  the 
first  marriage  he  had  no  children — by  the  second,  two. 

In  the  summer  of  1823,  Mr.  Macurdy  went  to  fulfil  a  missionary  appoint- 
ment at  Maumee.  His  labours  here  were  severe  and  exhausting ;  and  in 
the  midst  of  them  he  was  prostrated  by  a  fever  which,  though  at  first  of  an 
apparently  mild  type,  afterwards  assumed  a  threatening  form,  insomuch 
that,  for  some  time,  his  life  was  nearly  despaired  of.  Though  he  gradually 
recovered  his  health  in  a  good  measure,  he  found  it  necessary  to  curtail,  to 
some  extent,  his  labours,  and  accordingly  he  resigned  his  charge  of  the 
Church  of  Three  Springs,  and  confined  himself  to  that  of  Cross  Roads. 

In  the  autumn  of  1885,  Mr.  Macurdy  was  induced  by  increasing  bodily 
infirmities,  and  the  apprehension  that  he  might  be  less  useful  to  his  people 
than  a  younger  and  more  active  man,  to  resign  his  pastoral  charge.  He, 
however,  by  their  request,  continued  to  preach  to  them  through  the  winter ; 
but  in  the  spring  of  1836,  removed  to  Alleghany,  where  he  resided,  during 
the  rest  of  his  life.  Here  he  was  still  employed,  as  opportunity  offered  and 
his  strength  allowed,  in  preaching^  the  Gospel.  It  was  through  his  agency 
especially  that  the  way  was  prepared  for  the  organisation  of  a  respectable 
church  in  the  town  of  Manchester.  The  last  of  his  labours  of  love  which 
he  was  obliged  to  relinquish  on  account  of  growing  infirmity,  was  his  visits 
to  the  inmates  of  the  Western  Penitentiary.     But  even  after  this,  he  was 


ELISHA  MAOUSOT.  24& 

MMe  to  ride  oui  and  Tisii  some  of  his  most  intimate  firiekidfl*  thongk  he 
aeoounted  it  a  great  deprivation  that  he  was  no  longer  able  to  meet  his 
minbteriai  brethren  in  the  jodioatories  of  the  Church. 

In  the  antamn  of  1842,  a  Convention  of  Ministers  and  Ruling  Elders, 
belonging  to  the  Synods  of  Pittsburg,  Ohio,  and  Wheeling,  was  held  in 
Pittsbni^  for  conference  and  prayer  in  reference  to  the  state  of  the  Church, 
especially  with  a  view  to  supplicate  larger  measures  of  the  Divine  influence. 
In  the  course  of  this  meeting,  Mr.  Macurdy  paid  his  brethren  a  visit,  and 
addressed  them  with  great  simplicity,  tenderness,  and  appropriateness.  It 
proved  to  be  the  last  interview  with  them  that  he  ever  enjoyed  on  earth* 
He  attended  dburch  for  the  last  time  on  a  Communion  Sabbath,  in  January, 
1843 ;  and  at  the  close  of  the  exercise  at  the  tablci  by  request  of  the  Pastor, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Swift,  he  briefly  and  affeotionately  addressed  the  oommuni- 
cants.  This  address  formed  an  appropriate  close  of  his  public  labours,  which 
bad  been  continued  during  a  period  of  more  than  forty  years. 

Though  Mr.  Macurdy  lived  more  than  two  years  after  this,  he  was  con- 
fined to  his  house  and  his  chamber,  «nd  undergoing  a  constant,  but  very 
gradual,  process  of  decay.  But  his  mind  was  habitually  in  a  highly  spirit- 
ual state,  and  awake  to  all  the  great  interests  of  Christ's  Kingdom.  He 
had  great  satisfaction  in  the  visits  of  his  Christian  friends,  tfnd  never  failed 
to  impress  them  deeply  with  the  maturity  and  elevation  of  his  own  expe- 
rience. His  faith  had  a  complete  triumph  in  the  last  hour.  He  died  on 
the  22d  of  July,  1845,  in  the  eighty-third  year  of  his  age ;  and,  on  the  day 
following,  his  remains  were  conveyed  to  Cross  Roads,  the  scene  of  his  most 
extended  labours,  and,  in  the  midst  of  a  large  congregation,  committed  to 
their  final  resting  plaoe. 

• 

FROM  THE  RET.  WILLIAM  NEILL,  D.  D. 

Phij^delphia,  September  25, 1856. 
My  dear  Sir:  I  have  no  recollections  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Macurdy,  concerning 
whom  you  inquire,  except  those  which  reach  back  to  quite  the  earlier  part  of 
my  life.  My  acquaintance  with  him  commenced  about  1795  or  1796,  when  we 
were  both  students  of  the  Academy  at  Cannonsburg;  and  it  was  limited  chiefly 
to  the  two  years  during  which  we  were  members  of  that  institution.  I  had  a 
pretty  good  opportunity  of  gaining  a  correct  knowledge  of  his  character  at  that 
time;  and  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  there  was  nothing  in  his  subsequent 
developments  to  vary  materially  the  impression  which  he  made  at  that  early 
period.  Indeed,  for  some  of  the  statements  which  I  shall  make  concerning  him, 
I  am  indebted  to  those  who  were  familiar  with  him  in  the  later  periods  of  his 

lilb. 

In  his  personal  appearance  there  was  nothing  particularly  imposing  or  attract- 
ive. He  was  of  about  the  medium  size,  of  sandy  complexion  and  hair,  and  with- 
out any  very  strongly  marked  expression  of  countenance.  His  mind  was 
characterized  rather  by  strong  common  sense  than  by  any  brilliant  or  striking 
qualities — he  was  in  a  high  degree  a  practical  man,  and  aimed  to  make  every 
thing  that  he  did  turn  to  some  profitable  account.  He  possessed  great  decision 
of  purpose,  and  when  his  mind  was  once  made  up  in  respect  to  his  duty,  the 
terrors  of  the  lion's  den  would  not  have  been  sufficient  to  move  him.  He  had 
an  accurate  discernment  of  character,  and  knew  how  to  adapt  himself  success- 
fully to  the  different  types  of  intellect  and  feeling.  He  possessed  uncommon 
constitutional  ardour;  and  while  this  gave  him  a  great  advantage  in  carrying 
Ibrward  various  good  enterprises  in  which  he  engaged,  it  sometimes  no  doubt 


246  PRKSBTTERIAK. 

operated  prejudiciallj  by  leading  him  to  utter  himself,  eren  on  questions  of 
moment,  without  due  consideration. 

Mr.  Macurdy,  as  a  preacher,  was  distinguished  for  directness,  earnestness, 
boldness,  in  both  matter  and  manner.  He  neyer  daubed  with  untempered 
mortar.  He  never  softened  down  Qod's  truth  for  the  sake  of  conciliating  those 
who  pronounced  it  a  hard  saying.  It  is  possible  that  he  may  have  sometimes, 
in  his  uncompromising  plainness,  have  failed  to  choose  out  acceptable  words  in 
the  sense  of  the  wise  man's  direction;  but  if  he  erred  in  this  way,  it  was  evi- 
dently under  a  strong  impulse  of  fidelity  to  his  Master.  There  was  certainly 
little  refinement  in  his  manner  or  style  of  preaching;  but  there  was  a  rich  vein 
of  evangelical  thought,  and  an  air  of  deep  sincerity,  that  were  far  more  impres- 
sive and  effective  than  any  mere  rhetorical  exhibitions  could  have  been.  He  had 
a  clear,  loud  voice,  which  was  usually  brought  into  exercise  in  the  pulpit  under 
the  influence  of  intense  feeling,  and  very  often  in  the  utterance  of  the  most  terri- 
ble denunciations  of  God's  word.  It  is  probable  that  his  earnest  piety  may  be 
considered  as  having  been  the  leading  element  of  his  usefulness — ^it  kept  his 
heart  always  beating,  and  his  hand  always  busy,  for  the  promotion  of  the  great 
interests  of  Christ's  Kingdom.  He  was  undoubtedly  among  the  most  laborious 
and  useful  ministers  in  Western  Pennsylvania. 

Yours,  in  the  Beloved, 

WILLIAM  NEILL. 


-♦♦- 


CHARLES   COFFIN,  D.  D  * 

1799—1863. 

Charles  Coffin  was  bom  in  Newburyport,  Mass.,  August  15,  1775. 
His  father  was  Charles  Coffin,  M.  D.,  who  was  graduated  at  Harvard  Col- 
lege in  1759,  was  for  many  years  a  distinguished  physician  in  Newbury- 
port, and  died  in  April,  1821,  at  the  age  of  eighty.  He  kept  a  journal  in 
Latin  from  1775  till  about  the  close  of  that  century.  His  mother,  whose 
maiden  name  was  Hepzibah  Games,  was  a  native  of  Boston,  a  devoted 
Christian,  and  eminently  faithful  in  the  discharge  of  parental  duty. 

His  early  youth  was  marked  by  freedom  from  all  immoral  tendencies, 
great  precocity  of  intellect,  and  an  ardent  thirst  for  knowledge.  At  the  age 
of  ten,  he  had  read  twice  through  the  whole  Bible;  though  he  was  attracted 
to  it  rather  by  the  wonderful  things  which  it  revealed  to  his  imagination 
and  curiosity,  than  by  any  spiritual  appreciation  of  its  contents.  He  was 
fitted  for  College,  partly  at  least  under  the  instruction  of  Nicholas  Pike, — 
the  author  of  an  *' Arithmetic**  that  had  no  small  celebrity  in  its  day; 
though  he  had  also  the  advantage  of  the  careful  supervision  of  his  father, 
who  was  an  admirable  Latin  scholar,  and  every  way  competent  to  the  best 
intellectual  training  of  his  son.  In  August,  1789,  when  be  was  only  four- 
teen years  of  age,  he  became  a  member  of  Harvard  College;  and,  having 
sustained  a  high  reputation  for  both  scholarship  and  deportment,  during  his 
whole  course,  was  graduated  in  July,  1793, — on  which  occasion  he  delivered 
a  Poem  on  tKe  *'  Comparative  Beauties  of  Nature  and  Art.**     After  leaving 

•Prwbyteriui  Witnen,  1853.— MS8.  from  hii  ioii»-^.  A.  GolBii,  Baq.,  Mim  0.  M.  MelTille. 
•ad  Rev.  J.  H.  Martin. 


f 


CHARLES  COFtllN.  * 


m 


CoDege,  be  commenced  the  stndy  of  mediotne ;  %^Kg^4oMiJjp^Bi^  profea- 
Bion  of  religion,  and  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  the  nifafetry.  It  was  an 
interesting  ciroumstance  that  his  father,  though  he  had  been  for  many  years 
a  regular  attendant  on  the  Kev.  (afterwards  Dr.)  Samuel  Spring's  ministry, 
and  accustomed  to  give  religious  counsel  to  his  children,  had  never  made  a 
public  profession  of  his  faith,  and  both  the  father  and  the  son  joined  the  church 
at  the  same  time.  Of  the  early  religious  exercises  of  the  son,  the  following 
testimony  was  furnished  by  the  late  Professor  Woods,  of  Andover,  who 
was  his  intimate  friend,  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Coffin's  son,  written  shortly  after 
his  death.  He  says, — *'I  was  made  acquainted  with  his  religious  exercises 
by  Dr.  Spring,  who  told  me  that  your  father's  convictions  of  sin  were  very 
strong  and  deep,  and  that,  for  a  time,  he  was  driven  into  a  state  of  despair, — 
in  which  state  his  distress  of  mind  was  insupportable,  and  he  *  chose 
strangling  and  death,  rather  than  life.'  His  subsequent  state  was  uncom- 
monly happy." 

Having  pursued  his  theological  studies  under  the  instruction,  first  of  th^ 
Bev.  Dr.  Joseph  Dana  of  Ipswich,  and  then  of  his  own  Pastor, — the  Rev. 
Dr.  Spring, — he  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Essex  Middle  Association, 
at  Ipswich,  on  the  14th  of  May,  1799.  Previous  to  his  licensure,  he  had 
been  engaged  for  some  time  as  an  assistant  teacher  in  Exeter  Phillips 
Academy. 

His  health  having  become  impaired,  and  his  eyes  injured,  by  too  intense 
application  to  study,  he  determined  to  try  the  effect  of  a  journey  into  the 
Southern  States.  Accordingly,  he  left  Newburyport  in  December,  1799, 
and  spent  the  winter  in  Norfolk,  Ya.,  where  he  was  abundant  in  his  evan- 
gelical labours.  At  that  time  there  was  only  one  church  edifice  in  Norfolk, 
and  that  Episcopal,  and  in  a  dilapidated  and  almost  ruinous  state.  The 
Presbyterians  held  their  public  worship  in  the  Town  Hall,  or  Court 
House.  While  preaching  there  one  Sabbath,  he  alluded  very  pointedly  in 
the  course  of  his  sermon  to  this  lamentable  destitution  of  church  accommo- 
dations, and  exclaimed  with  a  pleasant  satire,  which  he  knew  so  well  how 
to  use  charitably — *'  Oh,  happy  people  of  Norfolk !  If  an  enemy  should 
come  into  your  harbour,  and  bombard  your  city,  they  could  not  batter  down 
your  churches;  for  you  have  none  to  bear  the  brunt."  A  smile  flitted  for  a 
moment  on  the  faces  of  his  congregation,  and  an  emotion  of  shame  and  regret 
instantly  followed,  which  was  shared  by  every  Presbyterian  in  the  assem- 
bly. A  subscription  was  shortly  after  commenced,  and  in  1802,  a  substan- 
tial brick  building  was  dedicated  by  them  to  the  worship  of  God. 

In  the  latter  part  of  May,  1800,  Mr.  Coffin  left  Norfolk,  where  he  had 
been,  for  several  months,  most  diligently,  usefully,  and  pleasantly  occupied, 
and  travelled  on  horseback  through  Virginia  and  North  Carolina,  to  Green- 
ville, Tenn.,  which  he  reached  in  the  month  of  June.  He  remained  in 
Tennessee,  preaching  in  different  places,  until  April,  1801,  when  he  returned 
to  New  England  with  his  health  much  improved.  While  in  Tennessee,  he 
became  much  interested  in  the  prosperity  of  Greenville  College ;  and  the 
conviction  which  he  felt  of  the  importance  of  having  the  number  of  compe- 
tent teachers,  as  well  as  ministers  of  the  Gospel,  greatly  increased  in  that 
newly  settled  Western  country,  gave  direction  to  his  future  course  in  life. 

On  the  19th  of  October,  1802,  Mr.  Coffin  was  married  to  Susan  W., 
daughter  of  James  and  Mary  (Woodbridge)  Ayer,  of  New  Milford,  Me. — 
She  was  a  lineal  descendant  of  Benjamin  Woodbridge,  whose  name  stands 


248  PBSSETTBaiAK. 

at  the  bead  of  ihe  Catalogue  of  Harvard  College.  In  November  succeeding 
his  marriage,  he  started  on  horseback  for  Tennessee,  and  arrived  at  Oreen« 
ville  in  January,  1808.  Having  remained  there  long  enough  to  make 
arrangements  for  a  permanent  residence,  he  returned  by  way  of  South  Garo- 
Una,  reaching  New  England  in  June  following.  Here  he  was  occupied 
for  a  considerable  time  in  soliciting  funds  for  the  endowment  of  Greenville 
College,  of  which  he  had  now  become  Vice  President. 

On  the  11th  of  September,  1804,  he  was  ordained  as  an  Evangelist  by 
the  Essex  Middle  Association,  the  Sermon  on  the  occasion  being  preached 
by  Dr.  Spring,  and  the  Charge  delivered  by  Dr.  Joseph  Dana  of  Ipswich. 
About  a  fortnight  after,  he  set  out  with  his  family,  consisting  of  his  wife, 
an  infant  son,  and  his  wife^s  sister,  for  their  new  and  distant  home.  They 
reached  Greenville  about  the  1st  of  January,  1805,  having  made  the  jour- 
ney— at  that  day  both  perilous  and  difficult — in  a  vehicle  drawn  by  three 
horses. 

Mr.  Coffin  now  devoted  all  his  energies  to  the  building  up  of  Greenville 
College ;  and  its  good  influence  was  felt  in  moulding  the  characters  of  not  a 
few  who  have  since  been  among  the  brightest  lights  of  the  South  West. 
But  with  his  labours  as  a  teacher  he  combined  also  a  great  amount  of 
preaching ;  for  he  could  never  forget  that  his  highest  vocation  was  that  of 
a  Gospel  minister.  It  was  common  in  that  part  of  the  country,  at  that  day, 
to  preach  in  the  open  air,  and  without  notes ;  and  Mr.  Coffin  conformed  to 
this  usage  to  the  material  injury  of  hb  health.  For  many  years  he  preached 
in  Hawkins  County,  at  Rogersville  and  New  Providence  Churches, — till 
they  were  able  to  sustain  a  pastor.  He  likewise  preached  once  in  three 
weeks  at  Jonesborough,  and  was  instrumental  in  building  up  a  Church 
there,  to  which  he  ministered  till  about  1820.  For  a  few  years  before  he 
ceased  preaching  at  Jonesborough,  he  was  greatly  encouraged  and  aided  by 
David  Nelson,  one  of  the  ruling  elders  of  the  Hebron  Church,  (Jones- 
borough,) who  afterwards  became  a  distinguished  clergyman  and  author. 
During  the  greater  part  of  the  time  that  he  was  connected  with  Greenville 
College,  he  had  charge  of  the  Harmony  Church  in  Greenville.  He  made  it 
a  matter  of  conscience  to  attend  the  meetings  of  Synod,  in  all  cases  in  which 
it  was  not  absolutely  impracticable;  though,  in  doing  so,  he  was  sometimes 
obliged  to  travel  a  distance  of  three  hundred  miles. 

In  1808,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Williams  College. 

Having  acted  as  Vice  President  of  GreenviUe  College  until  the  death  of 
its  President, — ^the  Rev.  Dr.  Hezekiah  Balch, — in  1810,  Dr.  Coffin  was 
elected  his  successor.  In  this  capacity  he  continued  to  serve  until  the  spring 
of  1827,  when  he  accepted  a  call  to  the  Presidency  of  East  Tennessee  Uni- 
versity, at  Knozville.  Here  he  remained  till  1833 ;  when,  in  consequence 
of  declining  health,  he  resigned  the  office,  and  returned  to  his  former  resi- 
dence near  Greenville,  where  he  continued  during  the  rest  of  his  life.  His 
latter  years  were  years  of  great  bodily  infirmity,  but  he  uniformly  sustained 
himself  in  the  dignity  of  Christian  submission  and  trust,  and  availed  him- 
self of  every  opportunity  to  serve  the  cause  to  which  his  life  had  been  pre- 
eminently devoted.     He  died  on  the  3d  of  June,  1853. 

Dr.  Coffin's  only  publications,  as  far  as  is  known,  are  a  Sermon  on  Dis- 
interested Benevolence ;  a  Sermon  on  the  Conclusion  of  Peace  with  Great 


GHABLBS  OCOrn.  2^0 

Britein,  1815;  and  a  Sennon  on  the  AnniveTsary  of  the  East  Tennessee 
Bible  Sooiefcy,  1817. 

Br.  Coffin  was  the  father  of  twelve  children.  Two  of  them  died  in  in&ncy , 
and  six  sons  and  foar  daughters  reached  mature  age,  all  of  whom  have  been 
highly  respected  and  useful  members  of  society.  His  widow  still  (1857) 
soryives. 

FROM  TflS  RET.  DAlf  lEL  DANA,  D.  D. 

NewbubyporTi  Has8.,  March  17, 1857. 

Rey.  and  dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Gofflu  commenced  when  we 
were  both  young,  he  being  four  or  five  years  my  junior.  As  our  parents  liyad  in 
neighbouring  towns,  and  were  intimate  friends,  1  had  early  and  frequent  oppor- 
tnnities  of  familiarity  with  him.  I  found  him  a  youth  of  amiable  dispositions, 
of  a  tender  conscience  and  of  an  accurate  and  discursive  mind.  Soon  after 
learing  Harvard  College,  he  raised  a  trembling  eye  to  the  ministry,  and  com- 
menced the  study  of  Theology  with  my  father  at  Ipswich.  The  minister  of  his 
parents  was  the  Rev.  Dr.  Spring  of  this  place,  whose  religious  views  were, 
as  yoa  know,  decidedly  and  strongly  Hopkinsian.  But  though  such  were  not 
the  early  views  of  the  young  man,  there  occurred,  afterwards,  a  great  vevolutiou 
in  his  mind.  He  finished  his  studies  with  Dr.  Spring,  and,  becoming  a  candidate 
for  the  ministry,  was  viewed  as  one  of  the  most  acute  and  able  defenders  of  the 
new  system  which  he  had  embraced.  Previously  to  this,  however,  he  became 
the  subject  of  deep  religious  dejection; — a  dejection  which,  for  a  time,  bore  the 
aspect  even  of  despair.  From  this  state  of  mind  he  gradually  emerged,  and 
became  a  successful  and  popular  preacher. 

From  the  time  that  he  went  to  Tennessee,  my  intimacy,  or  rather  my  inter- 
course,  with  Mr.  Coffin,  in  a  great  measure  ceased.  As  to  the  general  estima- 
tion in  which  he  was  held  by  the  community,  amidst  which  he  finally  settled,  I 
am  precluded,  by  my  distance,  from  giving  you  minute  information.  I  have 
always  supposed,  however,  that  both  his  literary  and  religious  character  were 
highly  appreciated;  that  he  filled  his  presidential  office  with  great  ability;  that 
he  was*an  instructive  and  evangelical  preacher;  that  his  life  was  without  a  stain; 
and  that  his  labours  were  eminently  fruitful  of  blessing  to  the  Church  and  the 
world.  I  doubt  not  that  what  exists  in  my  mind  only  in  the  form  of  a  general 
impression,  will  be  abundantly  confirmed  to  you  by  the  testimony  of  at  least 
some  surviving  witnesses  to  his  useful  career. 

Believe  mOt  with  distinguished  regard. 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

DAKIEL  DANA. 


FROM  THE  RET.  FRANCIS  A.  MoCORKLE,  D.  D. 

GasENYiixB,  Tenn.,  February  16, 1867. 

Bev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  became  personally  acquainted  with  Dr.  Coffin  in  the  sum- 
of  1822.  He  was  my  intimate  friend  from  that  time  until  his  death,  and 
my  near  neighbour  also,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  years,  while  he  was  Presi- 
dent of  the  University  at  Knoxville.  I  often  met  and  conferred  with  him  on 
Educational  and  Church  matters,  and  had  every  opportunity  to  become  tho- 
roughly acquainted  with  his  character. 

Dr.  Coffin  was  of  about  the  medium  size,  with  very  white  hair,  a  bright  eye, 
vdl-formed  features,  expressive  countenance,  and  in  his  whole  bearing  benignant, 
dig^iified  and  venerable.  He  possessed  excellent  intellectual  powers,  which 
remained  in  great  vigour  to  the  last.    With  a  great  flow  of  animal  spirits,  and  the 

Vol.  IV.  32 


260  PBBSBTTERIAN. 

most  Amiable  and  gcntlonianly  qualities  he  oombined  great  decitioii  and  iode- 
puiideiice  of  character.  lie  possessed  fine  conversational  powers,  and  was  an 
uncommonly  interesting  companion — he  had  a  boundless  fund  of  good  humour, 
and  a  great  variety  of  interesting  anecdotes,  which  were  always  at  command, 
and  always  turned  to  the  best  account.  If  there  was  any  point  at  which  he  may 
be  said  in  any  degree  to  have  failed,  perhaps  it  was  in  the  judgments  that  he 
formed  of  men's  characters.  He  was  so  perfectly  honest  and  guileless  himself, 
that  he  was  slow  to  impute  bad  motives  where  good  ones  could  possibly  be  sup- 
posed;  and  this  really  amiable  trait,  no  doubt,  often  operated  to  prevent  the 
legitimate  exercise  of  his  better  judgment,  and  sometimes  to  subject  him  to 
inconvenience  from  designing  men. 

Dr.  Coffin's  whole  professional  life  was  identified  with  the  cause  of  education. 
Knowing,  as  he  did,  its  value  by  experience,  (for  he  was  a  very  highly  educated 
man,)  he  laboured  for  its  promotion  in  the  sphere  in  which  Providence  placed 
liim,  with  untiring  assiduity.  He  was  not  only  an  excellent  teacher,  but  an 
admirable  disciplinarian — ^he  carefully  studied  the  peculiar  mental  and  moral 
constitutions  of  those  who  were  committed  to  his  care;  and  the  results  of  his 
labours  in  forming  the  minds  and  characters  of  many  of  the  most  infiuential 
men  in  the  Southwest,  are  the  best  testimony  to  bis  ability  and  fidelity. 

Dr.  Coffin,  though  engaged  so  much  in  teaching,  had  a  great  love  for  the  duties 
of  the  ministry,  and  he  scarcely  intermitted  them,  when  his  health  would  allow 
him  to  labour,  during  any  period  of  his  life.  His  sermons  were  highly  instruct- 
ive; his  style  was  sometimes  diffuse,  and  sometimes  concise  and  nervous,  accord- 
ing CO  circumstances;  his  delivery  was  natural,  and  earnest,  and  unembarrassed 
by  notes ;  and  his  whole  manner  such  as  to  leave  the  impression  that  preaching 
was  with  him  a  most  serious, business.  Ue  was  remarkably  felicitous  in  religious 
conversation,  and  in  pastoral  visits.  Rarely  did  he  enter  a  dwelling,  without  in 
some  way  dropping  a  word  designed  to  tell  upon  the  spiritual  interests  of  some 
or  all  of  the  family.  He  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  various  benevolent  enter- 
prises of  the  day,  and  had  a  heart  and  a  hand  open  to  all  the  recognised  claims 
of  charity.  If  a  minister,  a  member  of  the  Church,  or  even  a  man  of  the  world, 
had  been  guilty  of  any  marked  delinquency, — while  he  was  ready  to  admit 
every  apology  that  charity  could  suggest,  he  sought  the  earliest  opportunity  to 
endeavour  to  convince  him  of  his  error,  and  to  recover  him  to  the  sense  and  prac- 
tice of  his  duty.  As  an  instance,  I  may  mention  that  when  General  Jackson 
was  President,  the  Doctor  was  at  Washington  city,  on  an  agency  to  collect  funds 
for  the  College;  and,  calling  upon  the  Greneral  for  a  contribution,  he  told  him 
honestly  that  he  did  not  vote  for  him,  because  he  could  not  conscientiously  lend 
his  influence  to  place  a  profane  man  at  the  head  of  the  government,  and  at  the 
same  time  expressed  an  earnest  wish  that  he  might  attend  to  his  spiritual  inter- 
ests. "  But,  Sir,"  added  he,  ''I  think  you  are  a  friend  of  education,  and  I 
trust  you  will  be  willing  to  give  something  to  build  up  a  Literary  institution  in 
your  own  State."  The  result  of  the  Doctor's  plain  and  yet  respectful  and  affeo- 
tionate  dealing  with  him,  was,  that  before  he  left  the  city,  the  President  handed 
him  a  paper  containing  a  liberal  donation  to  the  College.  Is  it  not  possible  at 
least  that  that  faithful  conversation  with  that  distinguished  man  may  have  had 
its  influence  in  producing  the  happy  reformation  that  afterwards  appeared  in  him? 
Another  instance  illustrative  of  his  fidelity  in  a  different  way,  occurs  to  me — Dr. 
Coffin  had  a  coloured  servant  in  his  family, — not  his  own,  for  he  never  owned  a 
slave, — and  by  his  faithful  instructions  and  admonitions,  the  servant  was  hope- 
fully converted.  At  the  death  of  the  Doctor,  with  a  sad  countenance,  and  eyes 
suffused  with  tears,  the  poor  fellow  said — **l  have  lost  my  best  friend  upon 
earth.'' 

I  am  fraternally  yours, 

F.  A.  KcCORKLB. 


GHABLES  GOFFIK.  261 


FROM  MISS  C.  M.  MELVILLE. 

Maoom,  6a.,  February  28,  1857. 

Key.  Sir:  I  wish  that  I  could  give  you  a  pen  and  ink  likeness  of  Dr.  Coffin  at 
alJ  worthy  of  the  subject. 

The  first  time  I  saw  this  venerable  man  was  in  the  summer  of  '39  or  '40.  I 
had  often  heard  of  him, — as  who  had  not,  that  had  spent  any  length  of  time 
in  East  Tennessee  or  Western  Virginia  ?  There  is  not  a  mountain,  or  a  cove, 
throughout  that  whole  region,  in  which  the  familiar  and  honoured  name  of  Dr. 
Coffin  is  not  a  household  word.  I  remember  well  the  impression  his  clerical 
costume  and  gentlemanly  appearance  made  on  me,  at  our  first  introduction,  and 
not  less  impressed  upon  my  memory  is  the  true  Christian  urbanity,  which  at 
once  made  the  stranger  feel  at  home  in  his  presence.  I  can  see  him  now  dis- 
tinctly, when  he  gave  the  hand  of  welcome,  not  bending,  but  rather  becoming 
more  erect,  while  he  drew  you  towards  him,  making  you  feel  as  one  of  the  same 
loTing  family,  of  which  he  was  an  honoured  minister.  Thus  I  thought  as  I  shook 
hands  with  Dr.  Coffin,  in  'Souire  Eason's  parlour  at  Jonesborough ;  and 
this  impression  was  strengthened  by  a  close  intimacy  of  many  years.  Even  in 
personal  appearance,  ho  did  not  change  during  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life, 
or  so  little,  that  it  was  not  noticeable  to  his  most  intimate  friends. 

Dr.  Coffin  was  about  the  middle  height,  and  his  slight  figure  remained  unbent. 
Although  age  had  robbed  him  of  teeth,  and  stamped  many  wrinkles  upon  his 
brow,  yet  his  utterance  was  remarkable  for  distinctness,  and  the  nervous  power 
of  his  arm  was  undiminished.  His  black  eye  remained  as  lively  and  piercing, 
and  could  look  or  be  looked  into  as  steadily  in  the  latter,  as  in  the  former,  years; 
and  his  hair,  white  as  snow,  became  him  as  well  when  I  first  saw  him,  as  it  did 
when  I  received  his  last  blessing.  The  appearance  of  Dr.  Coffin  must  always 
have  commanded  respect, — not  only  for  himself,  but  for  the  Church  of  his  love. 
His  invariable  cheerfulness  threw  sunshine  into  whatever  circle  he  entered, 
unless  indeed  it  was  one  from  which  piety  must  be  repulsed.  It  will  be  many  a 
day  indeed  before  his  physical,  intellectual,  or  moral  portrait  be  forgotten  in 
Oreenville.  It  would  be  difficult  to  depict  Dr.  Coffin  happily,  without  placing 
him  in  some  situation  in  which  his  benignant  countenance,  his  clear  judgment, 
and  his  willing  hand,  could  all  be  brought  into  play.  I  think  I  see  him  now, 
riding  rapidly  in  his  open  '*  buggy"  (he  was  one  of  the  best  drivers)  into  town ; 
bowing  to  his  friends  as  he  proceeded,  and,  after  stopping  at  the  post  office, 
make  a  call  of  kindness  on  Mrs.  K.,  Mrs.  I.,  or  some  other  afflicted  friend, 
cheering  not  more  by  the  promises  of  the  Bible,  which  he  had  ready  for  every 
occasion  and  case,  than  by  the  example  of  resignation  and  cheerful  courage  to 
bear  his  own  trials  with  manly  Christian  patience.  His  health,  never  robust, 
had  been  for  many  years  very  feeble,  and  no  one  could  have  imagined,  outside  the 
room,  that  the  hearty  laugh,  and  the  gleeful  repartee,  came  from  that  prostrate 
old  man,  who  must  rest  an  hour  on  that  lounge,  before  he  can  be  enabled  to  bear 
the  fktigue  of  returning  home.  His  intimate  friends  were  aware  of  his  feeble- 
ness, and  a  place  of  rest  was  always  ready,  round  which  the  family  gathered, 
and  the  newspapers,  religious  and  secular,  and  the  books  in  which  he  might  be 
particularly  interested,  new  or  old,  all  were  brought,  and  an  hour  or  two  would 
pass  away  most  delightfully  and  profitably. 

What  a  comfort  and  help  was  Dr.  Coffin  to  the  pastor  of  the  village,  or  to  the 
teacher  who  would  fain  do  his  duty.  In  every  difficulty  he  was  ready  with  pru- 
dent advice.  If  some  church  member  acted  inconsistently,  who  like  Dr.  Coffin 
could  mildly  and  gently  tell  him  his  fault,  and  procure  a  promise  of  amendment? 

Never  was  there  one  who  carried  out  the  Bible  precept  of  charity,  which 
**  tbinketh  no  evil,"  more  perfectly  than  this  venerable  man.    No  matter  who 


^2  FBBSSTTIBIAV.  < 

the  offender,  no  matter  what  the  offence,  no  matter  whether  it  was  the  serenth, 
or  the  serenty  timet  seventh,  time,  it  had  heen  committed  against  him, — ^the 
least  sign  of  sorrow  brought  free  forgiveness,  and  in  the  most  depraved  or 
reprobate,  some  redeeming  quality  was  ever  readily  found  by  him.  Instances 
without  number  might  be  given,  to  show  these  traits  of  charaoter,  which  were 
well  known  to  all  who  even  had  but  a  slight  acquaintance  with  him. 

I  do  not  consider  myself  competent  to  an  analysis  of  Dr.  Coffin's  intellectual 
constitution  and  character;  and  therefore  I  shall  not  attempt  it*  But  that  he 
was  a  man  of  fine  judgment,  that  his  stores  of  knowledge  were  ample  and  well 
selected,  that  his  memory  was  most  wonderful,  that,  as  a  highly  intelligent  and 
social  companion,  ever  ready  with  the  illustrative  anecdote,  he  had  scarcely  his 
equal,  no  one  who  knew  him,  I  think,  wiU  doubt.  Many  a  delightful  reminis- 
cence of  the  old  times  of  New  England,  many  a  sketch  of  his  early  labours  in 
Tennessee,  many  an  anecdote  of  which  he  was  $eldom  th€  hero,  but  which  ever 
drew  out  the  brightest  traits  of  our  common  nature,  have  I  listened  to,  as  I  sat 
by  him  in  his  buggy,  while  we  whirled  rapidly  through  the  woods  to  his  simple 
but  beautifully  situated  home.  The  horse,  stone  blind,  never  stumbled,  and 
often,  as  one  hand  held  the  reins,  and  guided,  the  interest  of  the  recital,  would 
compel  the  whip  to  the  keeping  of  the  same  hand,  while  the  other  by  gesticulatioa 
gave  force  to  his  meaning.  Never  shali  I  forget  those  rides,  or  the  most  delight- 
ful evenings  which  followed  them. 

I  cannot  forbear  to  say  that  among  the  thousands  of  letters  which  his  busy 
hand  wrote,  among  the  scores  which  I  was  honoured  to  receive,  there  are  none 
which  would  not  stand  the  closest  criticism.  As  a  letter  writer,  few  could  com- 
pare with  him.  His  style  reminded  one  of  the  writings  of  Addison.  These 
were  great  favourites  of  his  youth,  and  no  one  could  read  Dr.  Coffin's  letters, 
or  hear  him  converse  in  some  of  his  happy  moods,  but  must  have  thought  of 
the  Spectator  and  "  Clio." 

I  will  close  this  hurried  communication  with  the  following  account  of  Dr. 
Coffin's  beautiAil  and  sublime  death  scene,  which  was  furnished  me  at  the  time, 
by  his  daughter-in-law: — 

*'  It  was  my  happy  privilege  io  watch  in  his  sick  chamber  from  the  evening  of 
Tuesday  until  the  hour  of  his  death.  Nothing  that  I  ever  witnessed,  equalled 
the  ffAl  submission  to  the  will  of  his  Heavenly  Father,  that  marked  those  last 
hours.  He  was  willing  to  depart,  but  would  cheerfully  have  tarried  longer. 
The  calm  faith  and  beautiftil  trust  with  which  he  met  the  announcement  from 
his  physician,  and  brother  in  the  ministry,  that  all  earthly  hope  had  passed, 
was  thus  expressed — *  I  am  well  aware  of  it,  Sir;  but  I  am  in  the  hands  of  a 
Being  who  cannot  err — He  doeth  all  things  well.'  The  natural  enthusiasm  with 
which  be  entered  into  whatever  interested  his  friends,  continued  unabated.  The 
mercies  of  God  were  recognised  in  the  smallest  matters.  He  would  say  to  his 
friends, — I  thank  God  for  this  delightful  chamber, — so  far  removed  from  noise 
and  confusion;  for  this  wide,  beautiful  view  of  mountain  and  valley,  and  for  the 
pure  air  which  breathes  upon  me,  but  more  than  all  for  the  love  and  attention  of 
the  dear  ones  who  watch  me.' 

*'  His  literary  taste  and  discriminating  criticism  did  not  seem  lessened  by  dis- 
ease, nor  was  the  strength  of  his  memory  impaired.  He  had  previously  spoken 
to  one  of  the  many  ladies, — who  came  as  daughters  to  weep  beside  him,  of  the 
history  of  Napoleon  by  Abbot,  as  then  being  published  by  the  Harpers;  and 
now  abruptly  asked,  with  his  usual  animation,  *  How  is  it  with  the  man  of  blood 
in  the  last  number?' — and  then  expressed  bis  regret  that  such  a  fascination  should 
be  thrown  around  the  character  of  Buonaparte. 

*'  Two  ladies,  who  were  particularly  overcome  with  grief,  at  the  thought  of  his 
departure,  said, — 'No<mein  Greenville  will  miss  you  as  we  shall,  Dr.  Coffin — 
you  have  been  so  like  a  lather  to  us  in  our  affiictions.'    He  replied,  '  Then  is 


a  Comforter,  who  will  «fTar  bo  near  you*  if  jovbuiBeekHiin, —  a  Friend  who  will 
nerer  loare  you.'  To  an  aged  friend  he  fiaid»  'Madam;  as  thy  days,  so  shall 
thy  strength  be/ 

"  He  frequently  spoke  with  deep  feeling  of  the  affection  of  his  ohildren,  say- 
ing,— '  If  eyer  a  man  was  blessed  in  his  children,  I  am ;  and  it  is  over  a  broken 
covenant — a  broken  covenant,  for  I  have  been  ungrateful  and  unfaithful.* 

"  At  ten  o'clock,  it  became  evident  that  the  chill  of  death  was  stealing  over 
the  fr«me,  and  making  more  pallid  the  brow  of  the  beloved  father — ^yet  there  was 
no  indication  of  bodily  suffering,  and  not  a  shadow  of  mental  disquietude.  As 
one  of  his  constant  and  faithful  nurses  was  examining  his  pulse,  he  asked, — 
'  How  do  you  find  it — how  many  does  it  beat? '  When  told  that  the  strokes 
were  few  and  feeble,  he  said,  '  All  is  well, — Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed,'  Ac- 
His  little  grandson,  who  had  for  years  been  the  olject  of  his  daily  care  and 
unwearied  attention,  came  into  the  room  to  kiss  him.  He  looked  upon  the  child 
with  inexpressible  fondness,  and  said,/ Sweet  one,  remember  the  prayers  that 
have  been  offered  for  you,  and  meet  Qrandpa  in  Heaven.'  There  was  so  little 
pain  attending  the  release  of  the  soul,  that  he  was  much  inclined  to  sleep,  and 
deaired  all  to  leave  the  room,  except  a  daughter-in-law,  saying, — ^  S.  will  watch 
me,  and  the  room  can  be  quiet  that  I  may  sleep.'  With  his  hand  clasped  in 
hers,  she  said, — *  Dear  Father,  all  we  have  now  to  ask  of  Qod  for  you  is  an  easy 
passage  through  the  valley^-for  that  we  are  praying.'  He  answered — *  I  trust 
He  will  grant  it— I  know  there  are  many  prayers  going  up  forme  now.'  Hia 
youngest  daughter,  who  had  watched  him  with  unceasing  devotion  through  his 
illness,  stood  by  the  bed.  Although  but  a  few  minutes  before  his  departure,  he 
remembered  that  she  must  necessarily  be  fatigued,  and  said, — '  My  daughter,  sit 
down — ^you  are  wearied.'  Consciousness  did  not  forsake  him,  and  the  power  of 
utterance  was  distinct,  ten  minutes  before  he  ceased  to  breathe.  After  his  pos- 
ture was  changed,  one  of  his  children  said, — '  Pa,  can  we  do  any  thing  more  for 
you?  '  He  looked  up,  with  a  grateful,  tranquil  expression,  and  answered, — '  No, 
nothing  more— I  have  been  sleeping  have  I  not? '  When  told  he  had,  he  added, 
'  I  thought  so.'     These  were  his  last  words. 

"  What  need  now  to  admit  the  half  excluded  sunbeam,  to  shed  even  so  soft  a 
light  through  the  chamber  of  the  dying  saint?  The  eloquence  of  those  un dimmed 
eyes  seems  to  have  caught  the  lustre  of  the  world,  where  there  is  neither  sun  nor 
moon.  That  form  needs  not  the  invigorating  air,  for  its  soul  finds  strength  in 
the  promises  of  Jesus.  Fear  is  overcome  by  the  fulness  of  faith.  With  folded 
hands,  and  closed  eyes,  he  remained  a  few  moments  quiet;  and  just  as  the  soul 
leaving  its  tabernacle,  his  eyes  were  opened  wide,  and  fixed  with  an  upward 
if  full  of  unearthly  joy.  I  cannot  close  more  appropriately  than  in  the  lan- 
guage of  a  beloved  son,  who  is  now  with  him  in  the  holy  city — '  0  for  the  faith 
of  mj  &ther;  he  died  with  his  eye  fixed  where  it  had  been  through  life.'  " 

I  am.  Rev.  Sir,  yours  most  respectfully, 

C.  M.  MSLYILLE. 

rROM  THE  RET.  FREDERICK  A.  ROSS,  D.  D. 

HuRTSViLLX,  Ala.,  March  24, 1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  Tou  desire  some  recollections  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Coffin,  of  East 
Tennessee.  All  my  memories  of  him  are  pictures,  very  pleasant  unto  me.  My 
wife's  father  was  a  ruling  elder  during  his  ministry  in  Jonesborough,  Tenn. 
And  Mrs.  Ross  was  baptized  by  the  Doctor,  and  always  a  great  favourite  with 
Mrs.  Coffin  and  himself  before,  as  well  as  after,  our  marriage. 

It  may  have  been  in  1820  that  the  Church  at  Kingsport,  £.  Tenn.,  was  organ- 
ized. I  resided  near  the  village, — then  an  unmarried  young  man.  Having  some 
reUtiveSy  recently  from  Virginia,  and  members  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  I 


254  PBBSBTTERIAK. 

attended,  on  that  occasion,  with  better  motives  than  mere  cnriosity,  although  the 
scene  was  attractive.  The  congregation  assembled  in  and  around  an  unfinished 
store-house,  on  the  very  edge  of  the  Holston  River.  I  recollect  that  the  surly 
carpenter,  who  had  no  love  for  religion,  hesitated  to  give  consent  to  the  use  of 
the  house,  as  it  would  derange  his  benches,  tools,  and  lumber.  However,  the 
room  was  obtained,  and  fitted  up  with  rough  planks,  on  blocks,  as  seats;  and  a 
reading  desk,  equally  hasty  in  structure  and  accommodations.  But  rude  as  that 
building  was,  being  merely  designed  as  a  depot  for  salt,  it  had  much  of  pictorial 
beauty  about  it  in  that  day.  It  stood,  as  I  have  said,  on  the  brink  of  the  Hols- 
ton,—a  clear  stream  right  from  the  mountains.  The  lower  point  of  Long  Island 
was  just  opposite  the  back  door  of  the  house,  across  a  narrow  arm  of  water, — 
the  intervening  channel  affording  a  landing  for  great  flat  boats,  to  carry  salt,  and 
every  thing  else  in  the  varied  commerce  of  East  Tennessee,  a  thousand  miles. 
There  were  no  boats  at  that  season  of  the  year.  The  deep  blue  water  only  was 
rippling  past  that  gathering  assembly.  Immediately  across  the  river.  Bay's 
Mountain  jutted  down  in  bold,  abrupt  termination.  The  house  was  overshadowed 
by  some  elms,  as  fine  as  any  in  New  Haven;  and  two  of  them  made  the  noblest 
leafy  arch  I  ever  saw. 

In  that  house  and  under  those  trees,  fifteen  persons  were  organized  into  a  Pres- 
byterian Church — the  same  to  which  I  afterwards  preached  nearly  thirty  years. 
The  officiating  ministers  on  the  occasion  were  Dr.  Coffin  and  Rev.  George  Ers- 
kine.  And  strange  as  it  may  sound  to  our  abolition  brethren,  Rev.  Mr.  Erskine 
was  an  African  negro,  as  black  as  ebony.  There  he  stands  preaching, — a  large 
man,  with  strong,  good  face,^-of  decided  talents,  giving  a  masterly  sermon  in 
the  vigorous  old  Hopkinsianism  and  manly  style  of  the  Rev.  Isaac  Anderson,  of 
Maryville,  by  whom  he  was  educated.  He  was  on  his  way  to  Liberia,  where  he 
died  very  soon,  in  the  morning  of  his  usefulness. 

I  remember  only  that  sermon,  and  one  of  Dr.  Coffin's,  the  next  day, — the 
Sabbath,  and  the  first  Communion  occasion  in  that  little  flock. 

I  see  now,  as  if  yesterday,  the  man  who  was  ever  after  so  venerated  and 
beloved  of  me.  He  is  beginning  to  speak — immediately  at  the  door — ^not  the 
door  on  the  river  side,  through  which  the  running  water  is  seen,  but  the  one  near 
the  street — it  is  open  too,  that  he  may  be  heard  by  the  crowd  outside.  His  left 
hand  is  towards  it.  A  board — the  temporary  pulpit— has  on  it  his  Bible  and 
Hymn-Book.  He  uses  no  notes.  I  sat  sufficiently  near,  on  one  of  the  benches 
in  f^ont  of  him.  His  text  was  the  whole  ten  commandments,  which  he  con- 
densed into  a  discourse  of  the  usual  East  Tennessee  length,  as  to  permission  and 
requirement  in  those  times,  when  people  went  thirty  miles  to  a  '^  Presbyterian 
Sacramental  meeting,"  and  would  have  been  dissatisfied  with  a  sermon  of  thirty 
minutes.  I  had  never  before  been  so  much  interested  in  a  sermon.  There  was 
one  passage,  particularly,  which  affected  me  greatly,  in  which  Hannah  More  was- 
represented,  training  the  women  of  England ;  and  in  that  noble  guardianship, 
worthy  of  as  high  honour  as  the  warriors  of  her  land,  to  whom  she  was  seen 
presenting  daughters  and  sisters  so  watched  over,  to  fathers  and  brothers,  return- 
ing from  fields  of  victory.  I  was  subdued  into  tears  under  this  eloquence.  The 
speaker  saw  my  tenderness.  And  although  there  was  in  my  emotion,  more  of 
response  to  his  power,  than  of  a  touched  conscience,  yet  he  became  at  once  inter- 
ested in  me,  sought  me  out,  and  on  going  away,  made  me  promise  to  visit  him  at 
his  home  some  forty  miles  distant.* 

Dr.  Coffin  had  long  been  a  teacher  of  young  men,  and  was  most  attractive  to 
them.  He  was,  to  me,  at  once.  His  personal  appearance  and  carriage,  the 
habits  of  his  body  and  mind,  had  that  not  to  be  defined  something,  which  is  the 
charm  of  impressiveness.  He  was  only  becoming  grey;  and  his  eyes  and  fea- 
tures were  full  of  that  joyous  vitality  of  soul  and  body,  which  makes  men  live  long 
and  beloved.    There  was  a  nervousness  too,  all  over  his  slight,  graceful  figure, 


OHABLES  COFFIN.  255 

which  made  his  step  most  elastic,  and  his  mind  most  mercurial,  to  correspond. 
Once  seen,  you  never  forgot  or  mistook  bis  walk.  It  had  a  springy  singularity, 
and  an  oscillatory  motion  from  side  to  side,  which  showed  he  loved  to  walk,  and 
was  thinking,  on  his  way.  I  never  saw  any  walk  in  which  the  inner  man  was  so 
perfectly  revealed  in  muscular  motion.  If  you  caught  but  a  glimpse  of  him,  or 
his  momentary  shadow,  you  knew — there  comes  Dr.  Coffin.  That  walk  and 
temperament  enabled  him  to  pay  more  pastoral  visits  in  given  time  than  most 
luiiiisters, — while  that  subtilty  of  spirit  made  him  exceedingly  attractive  in 
metaphysical  disquisition  to  the  last  days  of  his  long  life.  His  voice  was  the 
most  exhilarating,  the  most  expressive  of  felt  peace  and  joy,  and  the  most  rapid 
conductor  of  the  same  feeling,  electrically  to  others,  I  ever  heard.  And  it  did 
you  good  to  be  present  when  he  laughed, — the  tears  running  down  his  face.  His 
address,  full  of  ease  with  every  body,  and  every  where,  was  the  refined  outward 
expression  of  such  a  spirit,  and  of  a  man  who  had  mingled  freely  with  the  greatest, 
the  besty  in  every  part  of  our  varied  country. 

I  paid  the  Doctor  my  promised  visit.  He  lived  near  Greenville.  The  road 
some  three  miles — the  same  that  leads  to  the  Warm  Springs,  Buncombe  County, 
North  Carolina,  giving  fine  scenery  as  you  approach.  His  house — it  was  the 
Kew  £ngland  house,  fifty  years  ago,  in  every  part,  and  most  marked  in  contrast 
with  every  other  house  thereabouts.  It  was  nearly  square — two  stories,  a  chim- 
Jiey  in  the  middle,  giving  a  Uttle  lobby,  from  which  were  stairs  to  the  rooms 
above.  The  parlour  was  to  the  right,  the  dining  room  to  the  left,  the  kitchen, 
A«.,  Ac.,  back  of  both  rooms — all  clustering  round  that  one  big  chimney,  very 
oomfijrtably.  The  house  was  painted  some  tint  of  yellow,  with  plain  cornice, 
and  modest  porch,  both  white.  Fence  and  gate  to  correspond  ran  along  the  road 
before  mentioned,  about  twenty  steps  from  the  fronts  forming  a  small  yard  in 
which  were  some  noble  forest  oaks.  As  you  stood  in  the  porch,  the  orchard  was 
to  your  right.  An  open  green,  on  the  left,  led  down  to  the  College — the  work  of 
the  Doctor's  life,  then  in  its  best  promise.  There  it  stood,  like  the  house,  a  little 
piece  of  Massachusetts,  brought  all  the  way  to  Tennessee.  Yea,  a  veritable 
place  for  the  schoolmaster,  with  hall,  library,  apparatus,  cupola,  and  bell — 
white  and  clean.  When  seen  by  me  with  the  boys  about,  it  was  the  central 
object  in  a  noble  landscape  of  rich  fields  and  forests,  beyond  which  there  was  a 
long  winding  river  of  vapour  high  above  the  under  living  stream  of  Nolachucky, — 
while  huge,  distant  mountains  stretched  faraway  into  the  blue  of  the  heavens. 

At  the  little  gate,  that  fine  old  man  met  me,  as  Pilgrim  was  met  at  the  wicket, 
and  welcomed  me  to  come  in  and  find  the  strait  way.  It  was  ever  the  same, 
during  more  than  thirty  years  thereafter — the  same  full-toned,  strong  voice  of 
welcome,  and  in  later  day,  the  loud  clearing  of  the  throat,  and  both  hands^New 
England  hands,  too,  from  use  of  pruning-knife  or  some  tool,  just  laid  aside  to 
welcome  me — ^then,  there,  in  the  door  or  out  in  the  little  portico,  that  affection- 
ate full  open  face,  looking  from  within  its  ample  cap  and  wide  ruffle — her  face, 
which  then,  and  ever  thereafter,  always  said,  even  before  the  tongue,  "  I  am  so 
glad  to  see  yon — how  is  Theodosia  and  the  children? "  [Theodosia  was  my  wife, 
greatly  and  ever  beloved  of  Mrs.  as  well  as  Dr.  Coffin.]  And  so  it  was  ever  to 
impress  on  me  that  she  was  happy  always  in  conferring  pleasure  on  those  around 
ber. 

That  visit  gave  me  the  first  opportunity  I  had  enjoyed  of  being  present  in  a 
New  England  minister's  family.  Although  not  a  Christian  in  heart,  I  was  one 
intellectually,  and  in  that  state  of  mind  to  be  impressed  by  the  elevated  and 
refined  religion  of  such  a  house.  I  was  greatly  gratified,  and  I  am  sure,  bene- 
fitted, by  that  interview  with  the  Doctor  at  his  home.  Yet  I  bring  up  in  memory, 
▼ery  vividly,  among  matters  more  important,  this  slight  incident.  It  was  new  to 
me  when  the  Doctor  in  the  morning,  tSler  reading  the  eighteenth  of  John,  asked 
the  children  and  servants  to  repeat  some  sentence  or  word,  to  show  how  they 


,j^  niSBTTSBIAK. 

.iMd  listened.  One  litlle  girl  sud,  **  Nor  Bar»bb*8  vnm  a  robber/'  No  doobt 
the  little  thing  had  had  many  other  sentenees  on  her  tongue,  while  her  father 
was  reading,  but  that  last  was  the  easiest  because  it  was  the  last,  and  she  had 
heard,  too,  of  robbers,  so  she  spoke  out  distinctly  and  composedly,  as  finely 
trained, — "  now  Barabbas  was  a  robber."  That  was  all.  Then  the  coloured 
woman  was  asked,  and  she  said  ^*  Am  I  a  Jew?  "  She,  I  was  sure,  belieyed  the 
Jews  were  very  bad  people.  Then  kia  prayer.  'Twas  good  to  be  there — and  so 
I  felt  even  then,  years  before  I  yielded  to  the  Gospel. 

Every  public  speaker  knows  how  much  he  is  afraid,  in  his  first  efforts,  to  hare 
beCbre  him  a  master  critic.  But  I  was  always  glad  to  speak  before  Dr.  Coffin. 
For  his  face,  and  gestures,  and  nervous  interest  in  all  I  was  saying,  expressed 
to  me  as  plainly  as  (ace,  and  gesture,  and  interest  could,  that  he  was  pardoning 
all  defects,  and  making  the  most  of  every  thing  that  would  do  at  alL  Bat  wo 
to  me,  albeit  very  pleasantly  infiicted,  if  I  came  out  with  what  he  regarded  wrong 
doctrine, — if  I  believed  in  permissive  decrees,  or  denied  disinterested  benevo- 
lence, or  affirmed  it  in  any  other  way,  than  as  the  alone  attribute  of  the  regene- 
rated sinner.  The  passage  at  arms  was  sure  to  come — the  argument,  like  artil- 
lery,— the  anecdote  and  wit,  like  the  musketry  between — the  battle  often  lasted 
till  twelve  o'clock  at  night.  And  I  was  sometimes  pursued  to  my  farthest 
retreat,  by  long  columns  of  assault  in  the  finest  letters  of  love.  Yea,  and  I  am 
realizing  now  every  day  the  good  effects  of  training  and  discipline,  acquired 
under  Dr.  Coffin's  hands,  in  our  many  discussions  of  the  doctrines  of  grace. 

I  must,  I  see,  finish  this  sketch.  I  linger  with  reverence  due  to  him  only,  over 
the  grave  of  Dr.  Coffin.  GaUaher  and  Nelson,  I  write  about,  as  equals.  But  I 
first  knew  Dr.  Coffin  as  my  lather  in  age  and  spiritual  wisdom.  And  although 
years,  in  my  grey  hairs,  lessened  the  distance,  comparatively,  betweeYi  us,  still 
I  looked  up  to  him  as  the  most  venerated  of  all  I  knew  in  the  ministry  of  Jesas 
Christ.  In  hi^  regard, 

F.  A.  ROSS. 


-♦•- 


MATTHEW  BROWN,  D.  D.,  LL.  D  * 

1799—1853. 

Matthew  Brown  was  descended  from  respectable  and  pious  ancestors. 
His  paternal  grandfather,  a  native  of  Ireland,  but  of  Scottish  extraction, 
oame  to  this  country  about  the  year  1720,  and  died  not  long  after  his 
arrival  in  Pennsylvania,  leaving  five  sons, — all  distinguished  as  devout  and 
^emplary  Christians.  His  son  Matthew,  the  father  of  the  subject  of  this 
notioe,  was  bom  in  1782,  resided  some  years  in  the  vicinity  of  Carlisle, 
Pa.,  and  thence  removed  to  White  Deer  Valley,  Northumberland  County, 
of  which  he  was  one  of  the  early  settlers.  He  was  a  ruling  elder  in  the 
Beformed  Presbyterian  Church,  and  is  reported  to  have  been  a  man  of 
decided  talents,  and  to  have  been  somewhat  famous  for  his  wit.  He  took 
an  active  part  in  the  early  stages  of  the  Revolutionary  struggle,  and  while 
thus  engaged,  died  of  a  fever  in  1778,  at  the  age  of  forty-six.\  Matthew^ 
his  youngest  son,  was  born  in  the  year  1776, — two  years  before  his  father's 
death.  He  was  adopted  in  his  infancy  by  his  father's  brother,  William 
Brown,  who,  for  many  years,  was  well  kno?nii,  and  exerted  an  extensive 
influence,  in  both  the  political  and  religious  world. 

•  PrMbyteriMi  AdTooate,  185d.~MS.  from  hia  bod,— Rev.  A.  B.  Brown,  D.  D. 


MATiaEW  BBOWN. 


267 


TbiB  uncle  resided  in  Daoidun  Gomitj,  near  Harrisbarg ;  and  it  was  at  a 
■cbool  ia  that  neighbourhood  that  joung  Matthew  was  fitted  to  enter  Col- 
lege. In  due  time  he  beoame  a  member  of  DickiDSon  College,  Carlisle* 
where  he  was  graduated,  in  May,  1794,  during  the  Presidency  of  Dr. 
Niabet,  for  whom  he  always  entertained  the  highest  regard.  After  his 
graduation,  he  taught,  for  some  time,  a  classical  school,  in  Northumberland 
County,  where  he  became  intimately  acquainted  with  Dr.  Joseph  Priestley, 
and  other  distinguished  men  of  that  region.  He  commenced  his  theological 
studies  about  the  year  1796 ;  and  he  prosecuted  them,  partly  under  the 
Rey.  James  Snodgrass,*  within  the  bounds  of  whose  congregation  he 
passed  his  early  years, — partly  under  Dr.  Nisbet,  and  partly  under  Dr.  Johu 
King,  a  distinguished  Presbyterian  minister  in  that  part  of  Pennsylvania. 
He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Carlisle,  on  the  8d  of 
October,  1799. 

Two  yeara  after  he  was  licensed,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  united 
Congregations  of  Mifflin  and  Lost  Creek,  within  the  bounds  of  the 
Presbytery  of  Huntingdon ;  and  on  the  6th  of  October,  1801,  he  trans- 
ferred his  relation  to  that  Presbytery,  and  in  due  time  was  ordained 
and  installed  as  Pastor  of  the  above  named  Churches.  Here  he  laboured 
faithfully  for  several  years ;  though  his  situation  was  rendered  not  a 
little  uncomfortable  through  the  influence  of  a  few  disaffected  indivi- 
duals.  At  length,  being  invited  by  the  Congregati<m  of  Washington,  Pa. 
to  become  their  Pastor,  and  by  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Washington 
Academy,  to  become  its  Prinoipalj  he  accepted  these  invitations,  obtained  a 
dismission  from  his  pastoral  charge,  and  removed  to  Washington  in  the 
spring  of  1805.  There  he  laboured  in  the  double  capacity  of  Pastor  and 
Principal,  though  the  labour  of  instruction  in  the  Academy  was  shared  by 
an  assistant  teacher.  During  the  spring  of  1806,  the  Academy  of  which 
he  was  the  Principal  became  merged  in  Washington  College, — a  charter  for 
that  purpose  having  been  procured,  and  very  much  through  his  influence, 
from  the  Legislature  of  Pennsylvania.  Of  the  new  College  Mr.  Brown 
was  elected  the  first  President  on  the  13th  of  December,  1806,  retaining  at 
the  same  time  his  pastoral  connection  with  the  Congregation.  For  the  dis- 
charge of  his  double  duties,  as  Pastor  and  President,  his  time  was  most 

•  Jambs  Svodorasb  was  boro  near  Doylestown,  Bnoke  Coantj,  Pa., — the  son  of  pioiia 
paranU,  who  were  stronglj  attached  to  the  doctrines  and  discipline  of  the  Presbyterian  Chareh. 
He  was  graduated  at  the  University  of  Pennsprlvania  in  1783,  and  was  afterwards  for  some  time 
a  Tatar  in  the  same  insiitntion.  He  studied  Theolop^  nnder  the  direction  of  the  Rer. 
Xathsniel  Irwin,  then  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Neshaminy,  and  was  lioenaed  to  preach  by  the 
Rial  Presbytery  of  Philadelphia,  in  December  1785.  Aft«r  preaching  about  a  year  and  a  half 
ia  destUatc  places,  in  the  Central  and  Northern  parts  of  the  State  of  New  York,  he  accepted  a 
call  tmm  the  West  Hanover  Congregation,  (Dauphin  County,)  in  connection  with  the  Preeby- 
tcrj  of  Carlisle.  He  was  installed  there  in  May,  1788,  and  continued  in  the  active  discharge 
of  the  duties  of  his  office,  until  the  25th  of  July,  1845,  when  he  was  attacked  by  a  diseaae 
frasn  whieh  he  never  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  resume  his  labours.  The  only  service 
which  he  attempted  afterwards,  was  in  Ma^  1840,  at  the  Funeral  <^  his  son-in«law,  as  well  aa 
his  friend  and  physician, — Dr.  William  Simonton.  After  the  coffin  had  been  lowered  to  its 
ftaal  resting  place,  he  addressed  the  people  for  a  few  minutes,  *'  leaning  on  the  top  of  his  staff.*' 
He  then  sat  down  upon  a  tomb^stone,  and,  having  remained  a  short  time  to  reeruit  his  strength, 
atten]>ted  to  walk  the  distance  of  a  few  hundred  feet  to  his  own  dwelling;  but,  on  arriving  at 
the  gate,  he  found  it  impossible  to  proceed  farther — he  was  carried  to  his  bed,  and  from  that 
tiae  gmdoally  declined  until  the  2d  of  July,  when,  in  the  full  possession  of  his  mental  facul- 
tiet,  &Bd.in  the  joyftil  hope  of  a  better  Ufe,  he  gently  fell  asleep,  in  the  eighty-fourth  year  of 
bis  age.  He  was  distinguished  for  sound  judgment,  great  modesty,  and  eminent  devotedness 
io  his  work.  Though  he  rather  shunned  than  oourted  the  public  sate,  he  was  held  in  high 
esliBaaoa  by  all  who  knew  hinu  He  was  the  father  of  the  Rer.  William  D.  Snodgrass,  D.  D., 
now  (1S57)  of  Goshen,  N.  T. 

Xoh.  IV,  33 


258 


PRB8BYTERIAN. 


diligently  employed,  and  his  faculties  tasked  to  the  utmost ;  but  the  results 
of  his  labours  were  visible  in  the  growing  prosperity  both  of  the  Church 
and  of  the  College.  In  the  course  of  events,  a  dissatisfaction  with  Mr. 
Brown  arose  in  the  minds  of  some  who  were  intimately  connected  with  the 
College,  which  led  the  Board  to  adopt  measures,  having  for  their  object  the 
separation  of  the  two  offices  which  had  hitherto  been  united  in  him.  The 
result  was  that,  after  some  conflict  of  opinion  and  feeling,  Mr.  Brown,  on 
the  16th  of  December,  1816,  tendered  to  the  Board  his  resignation  of  the 
Presidency  of  the  College,  preferring  to  retain  his  pastoral  charge  of  the 
Church. 

The  reputation  which  he  had  acquired  from  his  connection  with  Washing- 
ton College,  now  drew  attention  to  him  from  some  other  institutions. 
The  Trustees  of  Centre  College,  DaAville,  Ky.,  offered  him  the  Presidency 
of  that  institution ;  but  he  declined  it.  He,  however,  in  1822,  accepted 
the  Presidency  of  Jefferson  College,  at  Cannonsburg,  and  continued  to  hold 
the  office  twenty-three  years;  and,  during  his  whole  administration,  the 
College  was  eminently  prosperous.  The  whole  number  of  graduates  during 
this  period  was  seven  hundred  and  seventy, — nearly  one  half  of  whom 
became  ministers  of  the  Gospel. 

In  1823,  Mr.  Brown  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity 
from  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  and  subsequently  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Laws  was  conferred  upon  him  by  both  Lafayette  and  Jefferson  Colleges. 
For  several  years  after  his  removal  to  Cannonsburg,  he  preached,  by 
invitation,  a  part  of  each  Sabbath,  in,  conjunction  with  the  venerable 
Dr.  McMillan,  at  Chartiers,  where  Dr.  M.  was  Pastor.  After  some  time,  a 
separate  organization  was  effected  in  the  town  of  Cannonsburg,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  College,  and  Dr.  Brown  became  their  regular  Pastor,  and 
continued  to  serve  them  in  that  capacity,  until  he  resigned  the  Presidency 
of  the  College, — when  the  pastoral  relation  ceased.  For  several  years 
before  his  retirement,  it  had  been  apparent  to  both  himself  and  his  friends, 
that  he  was  overtasking  his  constitution  by  the  great  amount  of  labour  which 
he  had  t-aken  upon  himself,  and  the  effect  had  already  become  visible  in  the 
incipient  decay  of  his  physical  energies.  Accordingly,  in  the  year  1845, 
ke  tendered  his  resignation  to  the  Board ;  and,  in  accepting  it,  they  passed 
resolutions  testifying  their  high  appreciation  of  his  character  and  services, 
and  at  the  same  time  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws. 

Some  six  or  seven  years  after  he  left  Washington,  both  the  Congregation 
and  the  College  invited  him  to  return  thither,  and  resume  his  relations  as 
both  Pastor  and  President.  There  were  many  circumstances  that  strongly 
inclined  him  to  accept  the  invitation;  but,  after  mature  deliberation,  he 
thought  best  to  decline  it.  This  result  was  highly  gratifying  to  the  people 
of  Cannonsburg,  and  the  friends  of  Jefferson  College. 

From  the  time  that  Dr.  Brown  retired  from  the  Presidency  of  the 
College,  and  from  his  pastoral  charge,  in  Cannonsburg,  he  gladly  availed 
himself  of  every  favourable  opportunity  for  preaching  the  Gospel.  This 
was  the  work  in  which  he  especially  delighted ;  and,  even  after  his  bodily 
strength  had  greatly  declined,  he  preached  with  a  degree  of  animation  and 
fervour  that  surprised  those  who  heard  him.  His  labours  in  the  pulpit  did 
not  wholly  cease  till  near  the  close  of  life. 

Some  weeks  before  his  death,  symptoms  of  alarming  disease  appeared; 
and  his  physicians,  in  apprizing  him  of  it,  intimated  to  him  that  he  was 


MATTHBW  BROWN.  259 

Kable  to  die  snddenlj.  The  intelligeBoe,  however,  did  not  alarm  him  ;  and 
in  commnnicating  it  to  a  friend  in  a  brief  note,  he  said  in  his  laconic  man- 
ner— ^'*  The  story  is  soon  told — may  go  off  in  a  few  days.  But  my  trust  is 
in  God  :  He  will  not  forsake  me  in  the  trying  hour."  He  continued,  how- 
ever, for  some  time  after  this ;  but,  a  few  days  before  his  death,  his  mind, 
which  had  suffered  severely  from  extreme  nervous  irritability,  seemed 
to  cast  off  all  its  burdens,  and  enjoy  a  delightful  Christian  tranquillity. 
His  conversation  from  this  time  was  of  the  most  comforting  as  well  as  most 
edifying  kind ;  and  when  death  really  came,  it  came  so  gently  that  even  his 
children  who  were  watching  around  his  pillow,  did  not  know  the  precise 
moment  of  his  departure.  He  died  at  the  honse  of  his  son-in-law,  the  Rev. 
Br.  Riddle,  of  Pittsburg,  on  the  29th  of  July,  1858.  His  body  was 
removed  to  Cannonsburg,  where  a  Funeral  Discourse  was  pronounced  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Swift,  of  Alleghany.  It  was  then  taken  to  Washington  for 
interment.  Both  at  Cannonsburg  and  Washington,  there  was  every  demon- 
stration of  affectionate  respect. 

Dr.  Brown  was  married  on  the  6th  of  September,  1804,  to  Mary  Blaine 
of  Cumberland  County,  Pa.  She  died  on  the  26th  of  March,  1818,  leaving 
two  children;  one  of  whom,  the  Rev.  Alexander  B.  Brown,  D.  D.,  is  now 
(1854)  the  President  of  Jefferson  College;  the  other  is  the  wife  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Riddle  of  Pittsburg.  In  1825,  he  formed  a  second  matrimonial 
connection  with  Mary  W.  (Ferguson),  widow  of  the  Rev.  Backus  Wilbur,* 
of  Dayton,  Ohio.  She  died  in  May,  1838,  leaving  one  daughter,  who  is 
married  to  Henry  Alexander,  Esq.,  of  New  York. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Brown's  publications : — An  Address  to  the 
graduates  in  Washington  College,  delivered  at  the  Anniversary  Commence- 
ment, 1811.  An  Address  delivered  on  the  occasion  of  his  Induction  into 
the  Presidency  of  Jefferson  College,  1822.  A  Discourse  delivered  in  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  Washington,  Pa.,  on  the  occasion  of  his  resigning  his 
charge  of  that  Congregation,  1823.  A  Charge  delivered  in  the  First  Pres- 
byterian Church,  Pittsburg,  at  the  inauguration  of  the  Rev.  Jacob  J.  Jane- 
way»  D.  D.,  as  Professor  of  Theology  in  the  Western  Theological  Seminary, 
1828.  An  Address  delivered  to  the  graduates  in  Jefferson  College,  Pa.,  at 
the  Anniversafy  Commencement,  1832.     A  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Obadiah 

*  Backus  Wilbvb  wu  boro  in  Riohmond,  Man.,  NoTember  9,  1788.  When  he  was  aboot 
Bfaie  jtmn  old^  he  removed  with  his  father's  family  to  Newark^  N.J.  Ho  was  the  subject  of 
serioiu  impressions  during  his  childhood,  but  they  seem  not  to  have  been  enduring.  Early  in 
IMSy  during  an  extenrive  rerival  of  religion,  he  experienced  what  he  believed  was  a  radical 
otenga  of  eharaoter,  and  shortly  after  made  a  publie  profession  of  his  faith.  By  the  adWoe  of 
sereral  clergymen,  he  soon  oommeneed  a  course  of  study  preparatoiy  to  entering  College ;  aud 
in  1811  entered  the  Jvnior  class  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  and  was  graduated  in  the 
aatamn  of  1813.  In  November  following,  he  was  admitted  a  member  of  the  Theological  Semi- 
Bsry  at  Princeton,  where  he  completed  the  reguliur  course  of  study  in  1816.  Immediately  after 
this, — ^baTing  been  licensed  to  preach  in  April  of  that  year, — he,  in  company  with  Mr.  (aftor- 
vnrds  the  Rev.  Dr.)  Oilbert,  set  out  on  a  mission  through  Virginia,  Ohio,  and  Illinois  Xerri- 
tocy, — whioh  they  eloeed  in  February,  1817.  On  his  return,  he  preached  five  months,  and  with 
great  laeeen,  to  the  Presbyterian  Congregation  in  Dayton,  0.  After  leaving  Dayton,  he 
bboared,  for  a  while,  under  the  direction  of  the  Philadelphia  Missionary  Society,  and  after- 
wards supplied,  for  a  considerable  time,  Dr.  McDowell's  pulpit  at  Eliiabethtown.  In  October, 
he  received  a  call  from  the  Churoh  in  Dayton  to  beoome  their  Pastor,  which  he  accepted, 
though  his  installation  did  not  take  place  until  the  27th  of  August,  1818.  In  June  preceding, 
he  was  married  to  Marr  W.  Ferguson  of  Princeton.  On  the  Mbbath  immediately  succeeding 
hii  installation,  he  delivered  two  rery  impressive  sermons,  which  proved  to  be  hu  lest.  The 
disease  whieh  oocasi<med  his  death,  originated  in  a  cold  taken  on  a  journey  to  Cincinnati, 
whither  he  bad  gone  to  administer  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  After  his  return  to 
Dayton,  it  nmamod  a  threatening  aspect,  and  on  the  29th  of  September  he  finished  his  earthly 
eeane.  He  poMCseed  a  sound  and  well  balanced  mind,  was  an  earnest  Christian,  and  an 
lastnietive  and  aoeeptable  preacher. 


260  FRESSTTIRIAK. 

Jennings,  D.  D,,  of  NashTiUe^  Tenn.*  1882.  An  Address  to  tke  gnduftUi 
class  at  Jefferson  College,  1838.  A  Sermon  deliyered  in  the  Third  Preshj- 
terian  Church,  Pittsburg,  at  the  installation  of  the  Rev.  David  fi.  Riddle, 
Pastor,  1884.  An  Address  to  the  graduate  class  at  Jefferson  College, 
1835.  An  Address  delivered  to  the  graduates  in  Jefferson  College,  1836. 
An  Address  to  the  graduates  in  Jefferson  College  delivered  on  the  day  of 
CommeDoement,  1838.  An  Address  delivered  in  the  chapel  of  Jefferson 
College  on  the  Fourth  of  Julj,  1839.  Extracts  from  Lectures  on  the  Will, 
Liberty  and  Necessity,  by  Dr.  Charles  Nisbet,  President  of  Dickinson  Col- 
lege :  To  which  are  appended  remarks  and  additional  extracts  from  other 
writers,  1840.  A  Sermon  on  the  death  of  the  Rev.  John  H.  Kennedy,* 
late  Professor  in  Jefferson  College,  Cannonsburg :  With  a  Memoir  of  the 
deceased,  1840.  A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Funeral  of  Alexander  Reed, 
Esq.,  Washington,  Pa.,  1842.  Life  of  the  Rev.  John  McMillan,  D.  D., 
and  Biographical  Sketches  of  other  prominent  Pioneers  of  the  West  [This 
work  was  not  completed,  though  the  first  eighty-four  pages  were  issued  from 
the  press,  shortly  after  Dr.  Brown's  decease.] 


FROM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  BAIRD,  D.  D. 

Kbw  Yobk,  February  28, 1854. 

My  dear  8ir :  In  asking  for  my  recoUeotions  of  Dr.  Matthew  Brown,  you  pat 
to  a  service  which  is  not  only  easy  but  grateful  to  me,  as  I  knew  htm  most 
intimately,  and  loved  him  as  well  as  I  knew  him.  My  acquaintance  with 
him  commenced  in  1816,  when  I  became  a  member  of  Washington  College,  of 
which  he  was  then  President;  and,  from  that  time  to  the  day  of  his  death,  I 
saw  him  frequently,  corresponded  with  him  occasionally,  and  always  reckoned 
him  among  ray  most  valued  and  endeared  friends. 

In  person,  he  was  tall  and  slender,  had  rather  a  thin  and  narrow  face,  and  a 
blue  eye,  with  a  more  than  commonly  bright  and  animated  expression.  There 
was  something  in  his  face  that  reminded  me  of  Lord  Brougham ;  though  I  can- 
not say  that  the  resemblance  was  very  striking.  His  movements  were  rapid 
and  careless,  and  he  would  sometimes  swing  himself  about,  and  flonrish  his  cane, 
in  a  way  that  a  stranger  could  hardly  fail  to  notice.  His  temperament  was 
excessively  nervous,  and  whatever  infirmities  or  eccentricities  pertained  to  his 
character,  were  more  or  less  intimately  connected  with  this.  His  mind  was  of  a 
high  order,  and  was  specially  adapted  to  abstract,  metaphysical  inquiries.  He 
had  a  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and  could  deal  out  wit  in  any  form  which  the 

*  Jo.HV  H.  EBHNaDT,  SOD  of  the  Rar.  Robert  Kennedy,  a  hiriily  reepectable  Presbjterian 
olergyman,  wai  born  in  Franklin  Coanty,  Pa.,  November  11,  1801;  wu  graduated  at  Jeffer- 
son College,  CSannonsbnrg,  in  May,  1820;  became  a  member  of  the  Theologioal  Seminary  at 
Princeton  in  November  foUowkig;  wae  lioeneed  to  preaoh  the  Govpe]  in  OctoMr,  1822;  left  the 
Seminary  in  the  antomn  of  1823 ;  alter  which,  he  spent  abont  eighteen  months  in  traTeUior 
and  preaohin^  in  the  West  and  South;  engaged  in  the  summer  of  1825  to  supply  the  Sixth 
Church  in  Philadelphia  for  three  months,  and  was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  that  Chnreh 
in  November  following;  resisned  his  charse  in  December,  1829;  aooepted  the  Professonhip  of 
Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy  in  Jefferson  College  in  the  spring  of  1830,  and  shortly 
after  entered  upon  its  duties;  and  died  on  the  1 5th  of  December,  1840,  in  the  thirty -ninth  year 
of  his  age.  Dr.  M.  Brown,  in  the  Sermon  oeoasioned  by  his  death,  represents  him  as  pos- 
aessiog  much  more  than  ordinary  talents,  as  distinguished  for  benevolence,  as  well  as  deep  and 
earnest  piety;  as  an  instructive  and  solemn  preacher,  a  laborious  and  faithful  pastor,  and  a 
thorough  and  accurate  instructor. 

RoBiSRT  KaMManr,  the  father  of  John  H.  Kennedy,  was  graduated  at  Diokinwm  College  in 
1707;  commenced  his  labours  with  the  Welsh  Run  Chnreh,  Pa.,  in  1802,  and  continued  in  this 
eonneotion  until  April  9, 1816,  when  he  removed  to  Cumberland,  Md.  Having  resided  in  Cum- 
berland for  nine  years,  he  returned  to  his  eharge  in  the  year  1825,  from  which  time  till  hit 
deoease,  be  eaaUnaed  in  the  ezereifle  of  the  pastwal  ofBoe  amoag  them.  He  died  in  the  autumn 
«r  1843. 


MATTHEW  BBOWN.  261 

oooMion  reqamd»  His  heart  was  generoiis  and  open,  and  he  could  very  111 
tolerate  any  thing  dark  or  disilkgeiHiouff  in  another  man.  He  always  spoke  fr<Mn 
the  bottom  of  his  heart »  and  sometimes  spoke  imprudently  and  with  undue 
severity,  but  he  was  quick  to  discover  his  error,  and  equally  quick  to  acknowledge 
and  repair  it.  He  would  sometimes  be  responsible  for  needlessly  wounding 
one's  Heelings,  but  he  could  never  be  responsible  for  a  settled  alienation  or  a  pro- 
tracted quarrel.  He  possessed  great  moral  courage — he  had  a  spirit  that  would 
not  have  faltered  at  the  sight  of  Nebuchadnezzar's  furnace,  if  he  had  found  it  in 
what  he  believed  was  the  path  of  duty.  He  was  distinguished  also  for  his 
benevolence — he  delighted  in  doing  good,  and  in  making  every  body  happy  to 
the  extent  of  his  ability. 

Dr.  Brown's  manners  were,  of  course,  to  a  great  extent,  the  acting  out  of  hii 
peculiar  temperament.  He  had  fine  powers  of  conversation,  and  had  a  largo 
fond  of  general  knowledge,  including  anecdotes  without  number,  which  he  knew 
how  to  use  to  the  best  purpose.  When  his  mind  was  unclouded,  he  was  one  of 
the  most  agreeable  companions  I  have  ever  known.  I  have  rarely  met  him  in 
any  circle  where  he  was  not  evidently  recognised  as  the  master  spirit.  It  must 
be  acknowledged,  however,  that  he  had  his  morbid  turns,  when  he  was  disia*- 
dined  to  active  engagements,  and  seemed  to  desire  little  intercourse  with  the 
surrounding  world. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Dr.  Brown  was  one  of  the  most  effective  preachers  in 
the  part  of  the  country  in  which  he  resided.  His  voice  was  good  for  publie 
speaking,  but  was  not  always  skilfully  modulated.  He  was  accustomed  to  study 
his  sermon,  and  write  the  plan  of  it,  and  some  of  the  leading  thoughts,  but  to 
trust  to  the  moment  for  the  appropriate  language.  The  consequence  of  this,  in 
eonnection  with  his  peculiar  temperament,  was,  that  his  preaching  was  marked 
by  great  inequality — sometimes  he  would  utter  himself  with  remarkable  fluency, 
as  well  as  uncommon  force  and  appropriateness,  and  at  others,  he  would  hesi- 
tate and  stammer,  and  would,  after  all,  perhaps,  fiul  to  get  the  word  that  he 
wanted.  He  generally  spoke  with  great  animation  and  fervour,  and  was  at  once 
pertinent  and  abundant  in  his  gestures.  Both  his  manner  and  matter  were  often 
characterized  by  the  deepest  solemnity — you  could  not  resist  the  impression, 
when  you  heard  him,  that  he  believed  heartily  every  word  that  he  spoke,  and 
that  his  own  spirit  was  acting  under  the  influence  of  the  powers  of  the  world  ta 
come.  His  preaching  had  a  somewhat  peculiar  character,  ft*om  the  fact  that  he 
made  great  use  of  passing  events  in  impressing  the  lessons  of  moral  and  Christian 
instruction.  He  inculcated  strongly  the  importance  of  a  high  standard  of  Chris- 
tian character;  and  sometimes  did  it  at  the  expense  of  incurring  the  displeasure 
of  some  who  wished  for  larger  liberty  in  respect  to  worldly  amusements. 

Dr.  Brown  was  a  man  of  truly  liberal  views  and  feelings.  He  was  a  Presby- 
terian both  in  principle  and  in  practice;  but  his  Christian  sympathies  were  as 
wide  as  the  world.  Wherever  he  thought  he  recognised  the  Saviour's  imago,  he 
was  ready  to  extend  the  hand  of  Christian  fellowship.  He  was  in  advance  of 
many  excellent  men  of  his  day,  in  regard  to  the  importance  of  increased  activity 
in  the  Church,  with  reference  to  the  conversion  of  men.  Without  falling  into  any 
erratic  course,  or  adopting  any  measures  of  questionable  propriety,  he  was  a 
great  friend  to  revivals  of  religion,  and  was  always  intent  on  promoting  them, 
as  he  had  opportunity.  He  contributed  generously,  according  to  his  means,  in 
aid  of  the  conversion  of  the  world.  I  well  remember  that,  in  my  last  interview 
with  him,  and  a  very  short  time  before  his  death,  he  volunteered  to  make  a  liberal 
offering  to  the  department  of  Christian  benevolence  in  which  he  knew  I  was 
more  particularly  engaged. 

Owing  probably  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed,  as  Pre- 
sident of  two  different  Colleges  successively,  Dr.  Brown  was  never  very  promi- 
nent in  the  judicatories  of  the  Church— much  less  in  managing  its  controversies. 


202  PBESBTTERIAN. 

When  he  did  appear  on  sach  oooasions,  however,  it  was  always  with  great 
dignity ;  and  his  quick  perceptions,  good  judgment,  and  prompt  and  easy  manner, 
were  always  a  security  for  his  being  listened  to  with  attention  and  interest. 

But  I  must  not  omit  to  speak  of  my  venerable  friend  as  the  President  of  a  Col- 
lege; for  as  I  knew  him  first  in  this  relation,  it  is  here  that  I  gather  some  of  my 
most  vivid  and  cherished  recollections  of  him.  He  was  an  excellent  Latin 
gcholar,  but  in  Qreek,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  he  did  not  excel.  In  Rhetoric, 
Logic,  Moral  Philosophy,  and  Metaphysics,  especially  the  latter,  he  was  admir- 
able. He  was  not  only  well  versed  in  these  several  branches,  but  he  possessed 
ia  an  uncommon  degree  the  power  of  communicating  what  he  knew  to  others; 
and  in  this,  quite  as  much  as  in  his  scholarship,  lay  the  secret  of  his  success  as 
a  teacher.  He  had  been  a  student  of  Dr.  Nisbet  at  Carlisle,  and  had  takeu 
copious  notes  from  Dr.  N.'s  Lectures;  and  I  well  remember  his  once  reading  to 
OS  an  Essay  of  his  venerable  teacher,  in  which  he  endeavoured  to  establish  the 
somewhat  remarkable  position  that  Homer's  birth  place  was  Babylon.  Dr. 
Brown  was  an  exceedingly  vigorous  disciplinarian.  While  he  treated  his 
students  with  the  utmost  freedom,  and  would  amuse  them  with  anecdotes,  and 
often  stop  and  converse  with  them  about  their  affairs  with  an  almost  parental 
solicitude,  we  all  understood  very  well  that  this  did  not  imply  any  exemption 
from  college  rules;  and  that  disobedience  to  those  rules  would  be  met  by  a 
prompt  retribution.  I  knew  him  expel  fourteen  students,  and  suspend  four,  on 
one  day;  making  eighteen  out  of  a  little  more  than  eighty,  which  constituted 
the  whole  number.  Though  he  felt  most  deeply  on  the  subject,  and  his  prayers 
in  the  College  Chapel,  for  a  week  or  two,  had  shown  clearly  enough  that  there 
was  some  painful  service  before  him,  yet,  when  the  time  came,  he  performed  the 
duty  with  unflinching  firmness,  and  in  a  most  impressive  and  solemn  manner. 
He  was  particularly  watchful  of  the  interests  of  his  pupils,  both,  temporal  and 
spiritual.  I  remember,  at  this  moment,  with  undiminished  gratitude,  many 
favours  which  I  received  from  him  while  I  was  under  his  instruction;  and  espe- 
cially the  efforts  which  he  inade  for  the  promotion  of  my  higher  interests.  We 
were  sometimes,  indeed,  annoyed  by  his  impulsiveness,  not  to  say  offended 
by  what  we  deemed  his  severity;  but  the  Father  was  so  admirably  blended  with 
the  President,  that  we  oould  not  regard  him  otherwise  than  with  an  almost  filial 
love  and  veneration. 

I  remain  ever  your  fHend  and  brother, 

B.  BAIRD. 


HENRY  KOLLOCK.  263 


HENRY  KOLLOCK,  D,  D  * 

1800—1819. 

FROM  THE  REY.  JAMES  CARNAHAN,  D.  D.,  LL.D. 

PaiNOSTON,  February  28,  1848. 

My  dear  Sir :  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  comply  with  yonr  request  for  some 
sotiees  of  tlie  life  and  character  of  the  Rev.  Henry  KoUock,  D.  D.,  with 
whom,  for  several  years,  I  was  in  intimate  relations.  As,  however,  my 
opportunities  for  ohserving  his  character  and  course  ceased  on  Lis  removal 
to  (Georgia,  I  shall  confine  myself  to  that  portion  of  his  life  which  was 
spent  in  his  native  State,  and  leave  you  to  gather  the  rest  from  other 
sources. 

Henbt  Kollock  was  bom  December  14,  1778,  at  New  Providence, 
Essex  County,  N.  J.,  to  which  place  his  parents  had  retired  on  account  of 
the  disturbed  condition  of  Elizabethtown,  their  usual  residence, — during  the 
Revolutionary  war.  His  father  was  Shepard  Kollock,  a  man  of  uiuoh 
intelligence  and  respectability,  who  was  actively  engaged  in  the  scones  of 
the  Revolution,  and  was  for  some  time  the  editor  and  publisher  of  a  news- 
paper. When  very  young,  he  is  said  to  have  manifested  a  great  thirst  for 
knowledge,  and  to  have  applied  himself  so  closely  to  his  books  as  to  impair 
his  health.  Having  gone  through  the  usual  course  of  study,  he  entered  the 
Junior  class  in  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  in  the  autumn  of  1792.  Two 
years  after  that,  in  September,  1794,  when  he  lacked  three  months  of  being 
sixteen  years  of  age,  he  was  admitted  to  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts. 
Nothing  remarkable  occurred  during  his  college  course.  There  were  several 
in  his  class,  who  ranked  higher  than  himself  in  the  various  branches  of 
study.  He  was  young  and  playful,  but  not  vicious.  Tradition  says  he 
was  more  fond  of  reading  Shakespeare  and  kindred  works  than  of  poling  f 
at  Conic  Sections.  The  three  years  following  his  graduation  he  spent  at 
his  father's  in  Elisabethtown,  in  reviewing  his  college  studies,  in  general 
reading,  and  in  working,  when  he  pleased,  in  his  father's  printing  office. 

During  this  period  he  became  hopefully  pious,  and  turned  his  attention 
to  the  Gospel  ministry. 

In  1797,  he  was  appointed  Tutor  in  the  College  where  he  had  been 
educated,  and  became  a  colleague  in  the  Tutorship  with  John  Henry  Hobart, 
afterwards  Bishop  of  New  York. 

Between  Hobart  and  Kollock  there  sprang  up  the  most  intimate  and 
ardent  friendship,  which,  cherished  by  frequent  intercourse,  lasted  during 
life.  They  differed  both  in  respect  to  national  politics  and  church  govern- 
ment; yet  this  difference  did  not  prevent  the  most  cordial  and  enduring 
mutual  attachment.  Soon  after  Kollock's  appointment,  Hobart,  writing 
to  a  friend  in  Pennsylvania,}  spoke  of  his  colleague  in  the  highest  terms, 
as  a  young  man  of  uncommon  talents,  of  extensive  reading,  and  of  ardent 
piety;  using  an  expression  to  this  effect, — ^that,  although  he  was  both  a 

•  UeuuAr  preSx«d  to  bif  Sermoni.— -MB.  firom  Rer.  8.  K.  KoUook,  D.  D. 
t  CoQ6f»  woitl  for  hard  itady. 
I  Jolm  walaoa. 


2Q4  PRfiSBTTERIAlir. 

Democrat  *  and  a  Calvinist,  he  was  the  most  intelligent,  gentlemanly  and 
agreeable  companion  that  he  had  ever  found. 

At  this  period,  and  for  several  years  after,  there  was  in  the  College  a 
Literary  Association,  called  the  ''Belles  Let tres  Society,"  consisting  of  the 
officers  of  College  and  the  resident  graduates, — the  whole  being  about  ten 
in  number.  They  met  once  in  two  weeks,  and  the  exercises  consisted  in 
reading  an  essay,  which  might  be  a  sermon,  a  law  argument,  or  a  political, 
literary  or  philosophical  discussion,  followed  with  remarks  or  criticisms 
by  the  members,  and  then  a  debate  on  some  political,  literary,  moral  or 
religious  question.  These  debates  were  not  merely  extemporary  efforts.  The 
subject  was  selected  four  or  five  weeks  before  the  discustsion  took  place, 
giving  ample  time  to  collect  information,  and  to  prepare  for  the  exercise  in 
the  best  manner  possible.  After  the  proponent  and  respondent  had  spoken, 
the  other  members,  if  they  thought  fit,  were  at  liberty  to  continue  the  dis- 
cussion. On  one  of  these  occasions,  the  subject  selected  was  the  exclusive 
right  of  Bishops,  in  the  Episcopal  sense  of  the  term,  to  ordain  to  the  office 
of  the  Gospel  ministry;  and  Hobart  and  Kollock  were  the  combatants. 
Great  interest  was  excited,  not  only  by  the  nature  of  the  subject,  but  also 
by  the  known  talents  of  the  debaters.  Each  of  course  took  the  side  of  the 
Church  to  which  he  belonged,  and  brought  all  his  ability  to  the  defence  of 
it.  It  was  Saturday  afternoon, — a  beautiful  summer  day,  and  many  of  the 
undergraduates  who  were  not  permitted  to  enter  the  room,  abandoning  their 
usual  walks  and  amusements,  collected,  some  around  the  Library  door  where 
the  debate  was  held,  and  others  on  the  outside  of  the  building,  so  that, 
through  the  open  windows,  they  might  catch  something  of  what  was  said. 
There  they  stood  fixed  for  two  or  three  hours.  The  debate  was  ably  and 
eloquently  conducted  on  both  sides ;  and  the  Presbyterians  who  were  pre- 
sent, did  not  think  their  cause  suffered  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Kollock.  To 
the  honour  of  the  disputants,  it  should  be  remembered  that  this  exciting 
debate  did  not,  for  a  moment,  interrupt  their  kind  feelings  towards  each 
other. 

While  Mr.  Kollock  performed  the  duties  of  a  Tutor  in  the  College,  he 
devoted  his  leisure  hours  with  great  diligence  to  the  study  of  Theology,  and 
other  kindred  subjects  connected  with  his  intended  profession.  In  those 
days,  a  knowledge  of  Hebrew  was  not  so  common  in  this  country  among 
candidates  for  the  Gospel  ministry  as  it  now  is ;  but  in  this  language,  as 
well  as  in  Chaldaic  and  Arabic,  Mr.  Kollock  is  understood  to  have  made 
very  considerable  proficiency. 

He  pursued  his  theological  studies  without  the  aid  of  a  teacher, — ^reading 
the  standard  works  of  the  old  English  theologians, — sudi  as  Owen,  Bates, 
Charnock,  Howe,  Leighton,  Barrow,  and  others,  and  using  as  his  text-book 
Pictct's  large  work  in  French.  He  spoke  French  very  imperfectly,  but  no 
man  could  translate  it  with  more  facility  and  elegance.  He  could  take  up 
any  French  book  and  read  it  in  English,  with  such  ease  and  eorrectness, 
that  his  hearers  would  not  doubt  that  it  was  an  English  book  that  he  had 
before  him.  In  this  way,  before  he  was  licensed  to  preach,  he  read  French 
sermons  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  when  the  pulpit  was  vacant,  and  also 
at  a  prayer-meeting  held  in  the  College  by  the  Tutors  and  pious  students. 

*  A  few  years  after,  he  agreed  with  the  Fedexaluts  in  opinion,  although  he  never  took  an 
aoilTO  and  prominent  part  in  poUtios. 


HENRT  KOLLOGK  265 

Ia  tbe  spring  of  1800,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the  Presby- 
tery of  New  York. 

He  letnrned  to  the  College,  after  being  licensed,  and  eontinned  to  per* 
form  the  duties  of  Tntor  until  the  next  Annual  Commencement.  By  request 
of  the  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  he  preached  nearly  every  Sab- 
bath afternoon,  during  the  session  of  the  College. 

The  first  <Uscourse  which  he  delivered  in  Princeton,  surprised *his  friends, 
and  £ar  surpassed  the  expectations  of  those  who  had  formed  the  highest 
estimate  of  his  talents.  His  subject  was  *'th6  future  blessedness  of  the 
righteous."  The  first  sentence  introduced  a  bold  and  glowing  contrast 
between  the  gloomy  and  apparently  hopeless  condition  of  the  believer,  as 
he  descends  into  the  grave,  and  the  glory  in  which  he  shall  rise  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  resurrection.  His  intelligent  friends  trembled,  believing  it 
impossible  that  he,  or  any  other  man,  could  sustain  the  high  flight  which 
he  had  taken  at  the  very  commencement.  As  he  proceeded,  however,  their 
fears  were  dissipated.  The  whole  discourse  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  the 
boldness  and  pathos  of  the  introduction.  The  preacher  did  not  flag,  but 
rose  higher  and  higher,  to  the  end  of  the  discourse,  occupying  in  the  deliv- 
ery about  thirty  minutes.  I  need  not  say  that  the  attention  of  his  hearers 
did  not  decline.  Every  eye  was  fixed,  every  ear  was  open,  and  a  breathless 
silence  pervaded  the  congregation.  It  could  hardly  be  hoped  that  the  same 
interest  could  be  maintained  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath;  yet  the  fact  wus, 
that,  during  the  five  months  to  which  I  now  refer,  the  interest  was  increased 
rather  than  diminished.  The  students  who  were  required  to  be  present  at 
only  the  morning  service,  voluntarily  came  out  in  the  afternoon ;  many 
persona  from  the  neighbouring  churches  attended,  and  strangers  not  unfre- 
quently  spent  the  Sabbath  in  Princeton,  in  order  to  hear  the  illustrious 
young  preacher.  The  subjects  upon  which  he  preached  in  the  early  part  of 
his  ministry,  were  chiefly  some  of  the  leading  doctrines  of  the  Gospel ;  such 
as  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  the  general  judgment,  the  happiness  of  the 
righteous,  the  misery  of  the  finally  impenitent,  the  love  of  God,  the  character 
of  Christ,  the  end  and  design  of  his  death,  the  intensity  and  cause  of  his 
sufferings  in  the  garden  and  on  the  cross,  &c.  He  also  delivered  a  series 
of  discourses  on  the  life  and  character  of  Peter. 

After  he  had  taken  oharge  of  a  congregation,  his  discourses  were  longer 
and  more  solid,  but  they  never  lost  their  brilliancy  and  attraction.  A  single 
volume  of  his  sermons  was  published  during  his  life,  and  three  volumes 
have  been  added  since  his  death.  These  discourses  are  interesting,  when 
read;  but  no  one  who  did  not  hear  them  delivered,  can  have  any  adequate 
idea  of  their  effect,  as  the  words  flowed  from  the  preacher's  lips.  The 
sermons  of  Whitefield, — said  to  have  been  taken  down  in  short  hand,  word 
for  word,  as  he  delivered  them, — ^how  utterly  jejune  do  they  appear,  com- 
pared with  what  they  must  have  been,  when  accompanied  with  his  tones, 
and  gestares,  and  tears  I 

The  manner  of  Mr.  KoUook  was  peculiarly  his  own.  It  could  not  be 
eopied,  nor  ean  it  easily  be  described.  He  was  not  a  professed  orator.  I 
do  not  believe  he  had  ever  made  public  speaking  an  object  of  special 
attention.  In  conversation,  when  excited,  he  had  an  impediment  in  his 
speech,  arising  from  the  haste  with  which  he  expressed  his  thoughts. 
Aware  of  this  infirmity,  he  wrote  his  sermons  out  in  full,  and  placed  the 
manuscript  in  the  Bible  before  him.     It  would  have  been  very  little  labour 

Vol.  IV.  34 


266  FRSSBTTERIAK. 

for  him  ta  oommit  to  memory  hb  dbooiusea  ;  but  he  dared  oot  tmsi  him* 
self  without  notes,  fearing  he  should  stammer.  A  glanoe  of  the  eye  on  a 
page  enabled  him  to  repeat  the  whole;  and  he  rarely  recalled  a  word, 
or  hesitated  in  uttering  a  syllable.  In  the  latter  part  of  his  ministry,  how 
ever,  he  preached  without  notes  with  the  utmost  ease.  There  was  nothing 
theatrical  or  artificial  in  his  manner.  His  attitudes  and  gestures  were 
hardly  noti(9Bd,  because  they  were  unpremeditated,  and  were  prompted  by 
the  sentiments  or  emotions  intended  to  be  expressed.  Those  who  have  seen 
him  in  the  pulpit,  will  remember  how  his  countenance  changed,  and  his  eye 
sparkled  with  joy,  or  kindled  with  indignation,  according  to  the  natural 
promptings  of  his  subject.  His  voice  was  full  and  distinct,  but  not  remark- 
ably harmonious.  In  its  modulation  there  were  no  sudden  changes  from  the 
low  to  the  high,  from  the  swelling  to  the  subdued,  from  the  plaintive  to  the 
indignant.  His  eloquence  was  not  at  one  time  a  mountain  torrent,  dashing 
and  foaming,  and  anon  a  meandering  river,  pursuing  its  unruffled  course 
through  an  extended  plain:  it  was  a  strong,  uniform  and  noble  stream, 
acquiring  velocity,  and  beauty,  and  power,  as  it  advanced.  I  have  heard 
other  men  who  had  greater  compass  and  flexibility  of  voice,  greater  variety 
of  tone,  and  accent,  and  emphasis ;  but  I  never  heard  one  who  could,  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  a  discourse,  so  arrest  and  enchain  the  attention 
of  an  audience.  And  what  gave  to  him  this  wonderful  power  ?  He  used 
no  high  sounding  words,  and  no  involved  and  unmeaning  sentences.  His 
language  was  plain  and  simple,  easily  understood  by  the  most  illiterate  of 
his  hearers ;  and  yet  the  beauty  of  his  style  and  the  richness  of  his  imagery 
delighted  and  charmed  the  most  cultivated  ear.  In  his  manner  there  was  a 
glowing  earnestness  and  unction,  which  touched  the  soul  and  brought  it  iu 
contact  with  the  objects  described.  Persons  have  often  remarked  that,  while 
he  was  speaking,  their  minds  were  kept  so  intensely  on  the  stretch,  that  they 
found  themselves  exhausted  when  the  discourse  was  finished.  In  description 
he  greatly  excelled ;  and  when  his  own  feelings  and  those  of  his  audience 
were  wrought  up*  to  the  highest  pitch,  he  would  sometimes  burst  out 
in  a  short  prayer,  or  in  an  apostrophe,  so  appropriate  and  natural,  that  he 
only  gave  utterance  to  the  emotions  which  swelled  the  hearts  of  those  who 
were  listening  to  him. 

He  seldom  brought  into  the  pulpit  the  rich  stores  of  biblical  learning 
which  he  unquestionably  possessed,  in  order  to  explain  and  illustrate  diffi- 
cult passages  of  Scripture.  Infidelity  he  attacked  and  put  to  shame,  not 
by  logical  arguments,  but  by  direct  and  vivid  appeals  to  the  hearts  and  eon- 
sciences  of  his  hearers.  Dry  and  elaborate  metaphysical  discussions  had  no 
place  in  his  discourses.  The  doctrines  and  duties  which  he  inculcated, 
were  those  of  the  Bible,  illustrated  and  enforced  in  a  manner  suited 
to  a  popular  audience.  Some  young  men  make  a  brilliant  display  and 
excite  admiration  for  a  short  period,  and  then  sink  into  obscurity.  It  was 
not  so  with  the  subject  of  this  notice.  His  power  in  the  pulpit  was  greater 
after  he  had  been  ten  years  in  the  ministry  than  it  was  at  the  beginning. 

For  some  time  after  he  was  licensed,  he  expected  to  be  the  colleague,  or 
rather  the  assistant,  of  the  Eev.  Dr.  McWhorter  of  Newark,  for  whom  he 
cherished  a  truly  filial  afieotion  and  veneration.  But  when  he  left  the  Col- 
lege, the  Church  in  Elizabeth  town,  in  which  he  had  been  baptized  and  had 
made  a  public  profession  of  religion,  being  vacant,  called  him  to  be  its 
Pastor.     He   accepted  the  invitation,  and  laboured  for  three  years,  witk 


HEKRT  KOLLOCK.  267 

great  popnlaritj  and  Baecess,  among  that  nnmeroas  and  excellent  people. 
While  he  had  charge  of  this  congregation,  seyeral  members  of  his  Presbj- 
terj,  aware  of  the  destitute  condition  of  the  monntainons  regions  in  Morris 
and  Sussex  Coanties,  especially  at  the  iron  mines  and  furnaces,  agreed  to 
go  out,  two  and  two,  to  spend  the  week,  preaching  and  conversing,  and 
prajing  with  these  people  from  house  to  house,  and  then  to  exchange 
pulpits  on  the  following  Sabbath.  In  this  work  of  love,  James  Richards, 
Asa  Hillyer,  Edward  Dorr  Griffin,  Amsi  Armstrong,  Matthew  La  Rue 
Perrioe,  and  perhaps  some  others,  were  engaged  ;  and  they  were  occasionally 
joined  by  Robert  Finley,  although  he  belonged  to  a  different  Presbytery. 
Appointments  were  sent  on  beforehand  to  the  people,  and  they  assembled 
in  large  numbers, — some  coming  several  miles  on  foot.  The  effect  at  the 
time  was  visible,  and  in  some  of  these  places,  respectable  congregations 
have  since  been  formed.  Of  these  preaching  tours  Mr.  Kollock  spoke  with 
great  satisfaction,  and  remarked  that  the  tears  flowing  down  the  cheeks  of 
these  hardy  men  from  the  mines,  coal  pits,  and  furnaces,  gave  him  more 
pleasure  than  the  most  fixed  attention  of  a  fashionable  city  audience. 
Sometimes,  towards  the  close  of  the  week,  they  visited,  on  their  return, 
one  of  th.eir  own  congregations,  and  spent  a  day  in  preaching,  exhortation, 
and  prayer.  Such  a  meeting,  Mr.  Kollock  and  one  or  two  of  his  brethern 
held  at  Basking  Ridge,  where  Mr.  Finley  was  Pastor.  Solemn  and  exciting 
discourses  and  exhortations  were  delivered  through  the  day,  without  any 
apparent  effect.  At  the  close  of  the  day,  when  the  congregation  was  about 
to  be  dismissed,  Mr.  Finley  arose  with  a  heart  swelling  with  emotions  too 
strong  to  be  uttered.  After  he  had  laboured  a  short  time  to  express  a  few 
broken  sentences,  his  tongue  was  loosed,  and  he  burst  out  in  such  impassioned 
eloquence,  as  Mr.  Kollock  said  he  had  never  before  heard.  The  whole  con- 
gregation was  powerfully  moved,  and,  after  the  benediction  was  pronounced, 
remained  sobbing  and  overwhelmed.  A  powerful  revival  of  religion 
followed  in  this  congregation,  and  extended  to  other  congregations  in  the 
neighbourhood. 

His  fame  (for  I  know  not  what  other  word  to  use)  was  not  confined 
within  the  bounds  of  his  own  Congregation  or  'of  his  native  State.  In  May, 
1803,  when  he  had  been  but  little  more  than  two  years  in  the  ministry,  he 
was  called  to  preach  the  Missionary  Sermon  before  the  General  Assembly 
of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Philadelphia; — a  service  at  that  time 
assigned  to  the  ablest  and  most  eloquent  men  in  the  denomination.  The 
Sermon  was  every  way  worthy  of  his  reputation  :  it  was  published,  and  is  the 
only  one  which  he  ever  did  publish  in  pamphlet  form.  He  received  in  vita- 
tiona  from  several  wealthy  and  respectable  congregations  to  become  their 
Pastor ;  and  among  others  from  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  in  Albany. 
Princeton  also  put  in  its  claims.  The  Trustees  of  the  College  appointed 
him  Professor  of  Theology,  and  the  Congregation  of  Princeton  chose  him 
as  ita  Pastor.  The  object  of  the  Trustees  was  to  give  the  undergraduates 
the  advantage  of  his  preaching  on  the  Sabbath,  and  to  afford  an  opportunity 
to  students  of  Theology  to  profit  by  his  instructions,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  aid  the  Congregation  in  supporting  their  minister.  This  invitation, 
although  less  tempting  than  others  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  he  thought 
proper  to  aooept;  and,  accordingly,  in  the  iaU  of  1808,  he  returned 
to  Princeton,  in  the  double  character  of  Pastor  and  Professor.  Here  hia 
preftchiag  was  quite  as  attractive  as  it  had  been  at  the  commencement 


268  PRfiSBTTERIAK. 

of  liifl  mmifltry.  He  deliTored  leoiares  to  a  few  theologioal  st^enfes, 
instructed  them  in  tbe  Hebrew  language,  directed  their  readiog»  and  ezan- 
ined  them  on  their  etudiee. 

But  he  was  not  permitted  to  remain  in  this  comparative  retirement,  and 
to  lay  his  bones,  as  he  sometimes  expressed  a  wish  that  he  might  do,  near 
Uiose  of  the  sainted  Burr,  Edwards,  Davies,  and  Witherspoon.  After 
repeated  solicitationB,  he  was  prevailed  on  to  accept  a  call  from  the  Inde- 
pendent Presbyterian  Church  in  Savannah,  Gu.  In  the  autumn  of  1806, 
after  having  laboured  three  years  in  Princeton,  he  removed  to  the  South. 

About  this  time,  he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  both 
Harvard  University  and  Union  College. 

As  my  personal  knowledge  of  him  terminates  here,  I  will  stop  by  sub- 
scribing myself, 

Tours  very  truly, 

JAMES  CARNAHAN. 

Though  the  congregation  with  which  Dr.  Kollock  became  connected  in 
Savannah,  was  one  of  the  most  opulent  and  influential  in  the  Southern 
States,  it  was,  at  that  time,  in  respect  to  its  spiritual  interests,  in  a 
depressed  condition ;  and  just  such  a  man  as  he,  was  needed  to  bring  about 
the  desired  change.  He  immediately  addressed  himself  to  his  appropriate 
duties  with  the  utmost  fidelity ;  and,  by  his  eloquent  exhibitions  of  Divine 
truth  in  the  pulpit,  and  his  untiring  pastoral  labours  out  of  it,  he  quickly 
succeeded,  by  the  Divine  blessing,  in  awakening  no  inconsiderable  religious 
interest  throughout  the  community.  At  the  first  Communion  season  after 
he  entered  upon  bis  labours,  twenty, — and  at  the  second,  eighteen, — made 
a  public  profession  of  their  faith  in  the  Gospel. 

So  insalubrious  was  the  climate  of  Savannah  and  that  region  generally, 
during  the  latter  part  of  summer  and  the  early  part  of  autumn,  that,  for 
two  or  three  years  after  Dr.  Kollock  went  there  to  live,  his  friends  vronld 
not  consent  that  he  should  run  the  hazard  of  remaining  there  during  that 
.season;  and,  accordingly,  he  spent  several  months  each  year  in  journeying 
and  visiting  in  the  Northern  States.  In  one  of  these  excursions  he  travelled 
through  New  England,  and,  wherever  he  preached,  awakened  the  highest 
admiration.  In  Boston  particularly,  the  multitude  thronged  after  him, 
almost  as  their  fathers  had  done  after  Whitefield  ;  and  those,  who  originally 
constituted  the  Park  Street  Congregation,  are  said  to  have* had  an  eye  upon 
him  as  their  future  Pastor,  from  the  commencement  of  their  enterprise. 
At  any  rate,  they  gave  him  a  unanimous  call  as  soon  as  they  were  in  a 
condition  to  call  any  one ;  and  though  he  ultimately  declined  it,  it  was  not 
till  after  he  had  given  it  the  most  serious  attention,  and  disposed  of  many 
doubts  in  respect  to  his  duty. 

In  1810,  he  was  called  to  the  Presidency  of  the  University  of  Georgia; 
but  his  attachment  to  the  ministry  prevailed  over  all  other  considerations, 
and  he  declined  the  appointment. 

In  the  winter  of  1811,  rendered  memorable  to  the  people  of  Savannah  by 
the  earthquakes  with  which  their  city  was  visited,  his  labours,  which  were 
exceedingly  abundant,  were  attended  with  an  uncommon  blessing.  Besides 
preaching  with  unaccustomed  power  on  the  Sabbath,  he  conducted  several 
religious  exercises  during  the  week,  and  spent  much  of  his  time  in  counsel- 
ling  the  awakened  and  inqoiring.     This  was  probably  the  most  interesting 


H£KBY  KOLLOOK.  269 

66M<m  of  apecjal  atteDiioa  to  religioii  ibiX  ocoufred  under  lua  ministry. 
The  result  was  the  hopeful  conversion  of  many  persons,  and  a  large  addi- 
tion to  the  church. 

After  the  first  few  summers,  Dr.  KoUock  remained  with  his  people  during 
ihe  sickly  season,  and,  with  a  most  self-sacrificing  spirit,  exposed  himself 
c^fttinually  to  the  disease  in  all  its  virulence.  He  scrupled  not  to  encounter 
ibe  naost  pestilential  atmosphere,  that  he  might  minister  to  the  wants  of 
his  sufiering  fellow  creatures,  and  especially  that  he  might  carry  the  conso- 
lauons  of  the  Gospel  to  the  bedside  of  the  sick  and  dying.  But,  though  a 
merciful  providence  saved  him  from  falling  a  victim  to  the  fearful  malady, 
or  even  being  attacked  by  it,  there  is  no  doubt  that  so  much  labour  and 
exposure  served  gradually  to  undermine  his  constitution.  His  health  at 
length  became  so  much  impaired,  that  a  temporary  suspension  of  his  labours 
was  found  to  be  absolutely  necessary ;  and,  by  the  advice  of  his  physicians 
and  friends,  as  well  as  in  accordance  with  his  own  tastes  and  inclinations, 
he  formed  the  purpose  of  crossing  the  ocean,  and  passing  a  few  months  in 
Europe.  Accordingly,  he  sailed  for  England  in  March,  1817;  and,  after 
Laving  visited  the  principal  cities  of  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  and  France, 
he  returned  to  his  country  and  his  charge,  in  the  early  part  of  November 
of  the  same  year. 

Dr.  Kollock's  tour  in  Europe  was  a  source  of  great  gratification  to  hiro, 
especially  as  it  enabled  him  to  form  an  acquaintance  with  many  of  the  most 
distinguished  European  divines,  with  some  of  whom  he  kept  up  a  corres- 
pondence during  the  rest  of  his  life.  He  was  received,  wherever  he  went, 
with  marked  attention,  and  his  preaching  in  various  places  in  G-reat  Britain 
drew  crowds  of  admiring  auditors.  On  his  return  to  his  people,  he  was  met 
with  enthusiastic  demonstrations  of  affectionate  regard.  He  reached  Savan- 
nah on  the  evening  of  a  monthly  meeting  for  prayer.  His  people,  delighted 
at  the  prospect  of  listening  to  him  again,  thronged  to  the  place  of  worship, 
where  he  delivered  a  deeply  interesting  discourse  on  I.  Samuel  vii.  17. 
**  And  his  return  was  to  Kamah ;  for  there  was  his  house ;  and  there  he 
judged  Israel;  and  there  he  built  an  altar  unto  the  Lord." 

It  was  for  years  a  favourite  object  with  Pr.  Kollock  to  write  the  life  of 
John  Calvin, — believing,  as  he  did,  that  no  work  in  the  language  did  full 
justice  to  the  character  of  that  extraordinary  man.  To  collect  the  mate- 
rials necessary  for  the  successful  prosecution  of  this  object,  was  one  induce- 
ment to  his  crossing  the  Atlantic ;  but  his  time  was  so  limited  that  he  found 
it  impossible  to  make  the  investigations  which  he  had  proposed.  He  had 
actually  made  considerable  progress  in  the  work  before  his  death; — enough 
to  show  that,  if  he  had  lived  to  carry  out  his  plan,  he  would  have  supplied 
an  important  desideratum  in  the  History  of  the  Church. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1819,  the  pestilence  raged  in  Savannah 
with  uncommon  fatality.  The  severity  of  his  labours,  in  connection  no 
doubt  with  the  infected  atmosphere,  threw  him  back  into  the  enfeebled  state 
from  which  his  voyage  to  Europe  had  raised  him.  But  in  proportion  as  his 
physical  energies  decayed,  and  his  hold  on  life  grew  precarious,  his  spirit 
became  more  and  more  absorbed  with  the  great  interests  of  the  world  to 
come.  He  had  made  an  appointment  to  preach,  on  Sunday  morning,  the 
13th  of  December,  a  Sermon  in  aid  of  a  Society  to  provide  for  orphan  child- 
ren ;  and,  though  his  friends  saw  that  his  strength  was  inadequate  to  the 
effort,  and  did  their  utmost  to  dissuade  him  from  it,  such  were  his  benevo- 


270  PBBSBTTBRIAK. 

lenoe  and  his  zeal  that  he  persisted  in  making  the  attempt.  The  sermon 
was  a  most  touching  and  impressive  one  on  the  parable  of  **  the  Grood  Sama- 
ritan ; "  and  it  was  the  last  that  he  ever  preached.  Notwithstanding  his 
great  exhaustion  from  the  service,  he  attended  church  in  the  afternoon,  and 
heard  from  a  stranger  a  solemn  discourse  on  Death.  While  he  was  in  church, 
he  experienced  a  slight  paralytic  afifection  in  the  arm,  and,  on  his  refenm 
home,  fell  at  his  own  door,  under  a  more  violent  shock.  He,  however,  soon 
recovered,  in  a  great  measure,  from  this  ;  and  his  friends  began  to  flatter 
themselves  that  he  might  still  be  spared  to  them.  But,  on  the  next  Sab- 
bath morning,  the  disease  overtook  him  with  still  greater  power,  depriving 
him  of  the  use  of  his  faculties,  and  setting  all  medical  skill  at  defiance.  He 
lingered  till  the  29th,  and  died  at  the  age  of  forty-one. 

Doctor  KoUock  was  married  in  1804  to  Mrs.  Mehetabel  Campbell,  widow 
of  Alexander  Campbell  of  Richmond,  Va.,  and  daughter  of  William  Hylton 
of  the  Island  of  Jamaica.  Mrs.  Kollock  survived  her  husband  a  number  of 
years.     He  had  no  children. 

Sometime  after  Dr.  Kollock  went  to  reside  at  the  South,  considerable 
anxiety  was  awakened  among  his  friends  and  the  Church  at  large,  from  the 
circulation  of  reports  that  he  had  indulged  in  too  free  a  use  of  stimulating 
drinks  ;  and  he  anticipated  the  unfavourable  issue  of  an  incipient  ecclesias- 
tical process,  by  withdrawing  permanently  from  the  Presbytery  of  Harmony, 
of  which  he  was  a  member.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  extent  of  his 
aberration,  his  congregation,  during  the  whole  time,  remained  enthusiasti- 
cally devoted  to  hinj,  and  all  were  agreed  that,  long  before  his  death,  his 
conduct  in  this  respect,  as  in  every  other,  was  marked  with  most  exemplary 
caution,  and  that  he  died  with  a  highly  honoured  name. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  CAPERS,  D.  D., 

BISHOP  OF    THE   1IETH0DI8T  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH. 

Charlebtdh,  S.  C,  April  26,  1849. 

Dear  Sir :  I  am  sorry  that  absence  from  home  and  other  causes  should  have 
so  long  delayed  a  communication,  such  as  you  solicit  of  me,  respecting  my  recol- 
lections of  Dr.  Kollock.  You  say  you  do  not  wish  to  trouble  me  for  any  thing 
in  the  way  of  biographical  detail,  but  simply  for  my  impressions  with  regard  to 
Dr.  Kollock 's  character,  an<^ especially  his  eloquence.  Trouble,  my  good  Sir,  is 
not  the  word  to  designate  my  appreciation  of  such  a  service,  or  the  feeling  with 
which  I  approach  it.  Tou  honour  me  by  thus  calling  on  me,  and  I  only  do  myself 
justice  when  I  assure  you  that  to  comply  with  your  request,  as  far  as,  at  this 
late  period,  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  do,  affords  me  a  pure  and  high  gratifica* 
tion. 

My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Kollock  was  limited  to  the  last  year  of  his  life;  but 
I  think  I  knew  him  well,  and  certainly  I  loved  and  honoured  him  with  a  most 
hearty  and  profound  regard.  This  regard  was  not  the  result  merely  of  admira- 
tion of  his  rare  talents  and  accomplishments,  but  of  a  conviction  that  those 
talents  and  accomplishments  were  blended  with  a  meekness  and  gentleness, 
humility  and  modesty,  benevolence  and  kindness,  equally  rare  and  beautiful.  I 
am  sure  that  up  to  the  time  of  his  death,  no  man,  perhaps  no  half  dozen  men, 
possessed  so  great  an  influence  over  the  people  of  the  city  of  Savannah  as  Dr. 
Kollock  did.  But  he  knew  it  not,  and  could  not  be  brought  to  know  it.  I  used 
to  think  it  a  pity  that  he  could  not  entertain  juster  views  of  his  power  in  this 
respect,  as  I  believed  he  might  and  would  have  accomplished  much,  and  much 
that  was  greatly  needed,  for  the  public  good,  that  he  did  not  attempt,  had  he 


HENRY  KOLLOCK.  271 

been  sufficiently  apprized  of  his  own  strength.  And  perhaps  the  weak  point  in 
the  character  of  tny  honoured  friend  lay  just  here.  He  was  not  what  you  would 
call  a  brave  or  enterprising  man.  The  spirit  of  the  renewed  nature  in  him  was 
rather  diffident  than  bold,  and  scarcely  less  averse  from  self-confidence  than  it 
was  generous  in  its  appreciation  of  others.  I  remember  particular  instances,  on 
special  public  occasions,  when,  with  tremulous  emotion  and  even  tears,  ho  soli- 
cited another  to  take  the  place  appropriated  to  himself,  on  the  ground  that  he 
cduld  not  so  advantageously  occupy  it,  when  every  one  else  knew,  and  he  him- 
self proved  by  the  performance,  that  it  would  have  been  a  wrong  to  the  assem- 
bly to  admit  a  substitute.  And  so  with  respect  to  public  measures  on  which  he 
felt  intensely,  and  which  I  have  never  doubted  he  might  have  carried, — as  the 
reform  of  the  unchristian  abuse  of  making  Sunday  the  chief  market  day  for  all 
articles  of  food,  which,  however,  outlived  his  day,  because,  when  the  efforts  of 
his  friends  proved  insufficient,  he  could  not  believe  that  he  might  have  better 
success  himself. 

Dr.  Kollock's  eloquence,  concerning  which  you  ask  me  to  give  you  my  impres- 
sion, was  the  unique,  living  expression  of  what  he  believed,  approved,  and  felt,  on 
some  great  subject.  Its  primary  elements  were  light  and  love;  and  its  instru- 
ments, I  think,  were  chiefly  exquisite  sensibility  and  a  refined  taste.  His  writ 
ten  discourses  were  excellent  compositions,  and  he  sometimes  pronounced  them 
with  astonishing  effect;  but  his  brightest  efforts  of  eloquence  were  purely  extem- 
pore. Then  his  understanding  seemed  all  light,  his  heart  a  fountain  gushing 
with  sensibility,  every  feature  of  his  face  beamed  with  glowing  thought,  and  his 
whole  person  looked  as  if  animated  with  a  new  life.  Still  there  was  no  rant,  no 
abandoning  of  himself  to  passion,  nothing  violent,  nothing  ungraceful.  It  made 
the  noble  speaker  more  noble,  the  elegant  man  more  elegant.  Every  thing  in  his 
eloquence  was  alike  free  and  chaste.  I  have  not  heard  more  than  one  speaker  in 
my  life,  whom  I  have  thought  fairly  on  a  par  with  him,  and  that  was  Dr.  Jona- 
than Maxey,  the  first  President  of  the  South  Carolina  College. 

Though,  as  I  have  said,  my  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Kollock  was  during  the  last 
year  of  his  life,  when  he  was,  much  of  the  time,  in  feeble  health,  I  have  always 
considered  him  as  one  of  the  most  exemplary  of  pastors,  especially  in  his  affection- 
ate attentions  to  the  poor.  After  his  death,  I  had  full  proof  of  this,  inasmuch  as  I 
scarcely  entered  a  hovel  where  the  inmates  did  not  seem  to  have  lost  their  chief 
friend  and  benefactor,  and  they  would  mourn  for  his  death  and  talk  of  his  prayers, 
and  sympathies,  and  alms,  after  a  sort  that  beggared  all  the  ado  made  by  the 
men  of  the  city. 

I  have  nothing  from  Dr.  Kollock  himself  to  authorize  it,  but  horn  others  I 
received  what  I  fully  believe,  that  he  used  to  contribute  very  largely  of  his  own 
•alary  to  the  support  of  the  Baptist  minister,  who  was  an  excellent  man  and 
faithful  pastor,  but  of  only  common  abilities  for  the  pulpit,  and  having  a  large 
fiimily,  found  it  rather  difficult  to  support  them.  He  never  laid  up  any  thing 
for  himself,  but  distributed,  as  a  good  steward,  all  that  he  could  save  of  the 
noble  salary  allowed  him  by  his  numerous  and  wealthy  congregation.  He  never 
used  a  carriage  when  he  went  out,  but  always  walked,  though  a  carriage  was 
kept  for  the  use  of  the  family;-— a  habit  which  I  ascribed  to  his  love  of  com- 
muning with  the  Lord's  poor,  and  an  aversion  from  any  thing  that  might  pre- 
vent an  opportunity  of  a  free  word  with  them,  whenever  he  might  happen  to  meet 
them. 

His  death  was  one  of  the  most  sublime  and  impressive  scenes  that  ever  came 
within  my  knowledge.  He  had  been  struck  with  paralysis  a  few  days  before; 
but  hopes  of  his  recovery  were  entertained  until  the  Sabbath  immediately  pre- 
ceding hia  death.  On  the  evening  of  that  day,  public  prayers  were  especially 
offered  in  his  behalf, — ^it  being  understood  that  he  lay  profoundly  comatose,  and 
that  the  physicians  apprehended  he  most  continue  so  for  some  Indefinite  length 


272  FBESBYTEBIAH. 

of  time>  and  then  die.    Notices  were  read  from  the  different  pulpits,  inTiting 

his  Christian  friends  to  meet  at  his  church  for  prayer  at  ten  o'clock  the  next 
morning.  The  meeting  was  continued  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  again 
the  following  day  at  the  same  hours.  I  think  that  it  was  on  Wednesday,  while 
we  were  in  meeting,  that  a  messenger  ran  hastily  in,  saying  that  Dr.  Kollock  had 
come  to  himself,  and  had  asked  to  sec  me;  and,  after  a  short  prayer  of  thanks- 
giving, dismissing  the  meeting.  I  hastened  to  his  bedside.  There  he  lay  with  his 
countenance  looking  as  if  bathed  in  the  light  of  the  Third  Hearens,  serene  and 
triumphant,  while  the  family,  consisting  of  Mrs.  Kollock  and  Mrs.  Wayne, — her 
only  daughter,  and  the  Judge,  (now  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,) 
and  a  few  special  friends,  were  present,  overwhelmed  with  grief.  Mrs.  K.  was 
in  great  agony,  and  his  attention  was  most  tenderly  directed  to  her,  but  without 
any  symptom  of  trouble  to  his  own  spirit,  which  seemed  entirely  beyond  the 
reach  of  agitation.  He  asked  for  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress — the  book  was 
forthcoming,  and  he  begged  her  to  be  comforted  by  a  passage  which  he  pointed 
out  to  her.  I  think  it  was  just  then  that,  observing  me  to  approach  his  bed,  he 
gently  extended  his  hand,  and  as  I  pressed  it  in  mine,  he  uttered,  with  some 
effort  to  speak  distinctly,  the  following  passage: — "Blessed  be  God,  even  the 
Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  the  Ood  of  all  com- 
fort, who  coroforteth  us  in  all  our  tribulation,  that  we  may  be  able  to  comfort 
them  which  are  in  any  trouble,  by  the  comfort  wherewith  we  ourselves  are  com- 
forted of  God.  For  as  the  sufferings  of  Christ  abound  in  us,  so  our  consolation 
also  aboundeth  by  Christ."  And  shortly  after  he  had  spoken  these  words,  he 
fell  asleep  in  Jesus. 

I  regret  my  inability  to  do  full  justice  to  the  memory  of  this  extraordinary 
man;  but,  I  say  again,  it  has  given  me  sincere  pleasure,  even  at  this  late  day, 
when  most  of  the  generation  that  were  contemporary  with  him,  have  passed 
away,  to  render  my  humble  testimony  to  his  exalted  merits. 
Accept,  Rev.  Sir,  the  sincere  respect  of 

Your  most  obedient  servant, 

WILLIAM  CAPERS. 
FROM  THE  HON.  JOHN  MACPHERSON  BERRIEN,  LL.  D. 

A.TT0RMST   OXNEBAL  OF  TUB   UNITED   STATES. 

RocKiNGHAii,  near  Clarksville,  Ga.,  4th  September,  1849. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  The  continued  ill  health  of  my  family,  and  the  pressure 
of  my  engagements  since  my  return  to  Georgia,  after  an  absence,  with  very  short 
intervals,  of  more  than  a  twelve  month,  have  unavoidably  delayed  the  fulfilment 
of  my  promise  to  give  you,  in  this  form,  such  recollections  as  might  occur  to  me 
of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Henry  Kollock;  and  now  that  I  am  about  to  apply  myself 
to  its  performance, — writing  in  this  mountain  region,  away  from  books  and 
papers  which  might  refresh  my  memory,  I  am  very  sensible  how  imperfectly  I 
shall  accomplish  it.  I  can  call  to  my  recollection,  without  an  effort,  a  long  and 
delightful  intercourse  with  my  departed  friend,  but  one  little  marked  by  inci- 
dents which  impress  themselves  on  the  memory,  and  which  could  be  appro- 
priately embraced  in  a  communication  like  this. 

My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Kollock  commenced  at  Princeton  at  a  very  early  age. 
He  was  some  years  older  than  I  was,  and  was  advanced  to  the  Senior  class  in  that 
institution  when  I  entered  as  Sophomore.  From  this  difference  of  age,  and  of 
collegiate  rank,  our  relations,  which  were  characterized  by  great  kindness  on  his 
part,  and  by  sincere  affection  on  mine,  resembled  in  some  degree  those  of  an 
elder  and  younger  brother.  I  do  not  think  his  mind  had  been  at  that  time 
directed,  with  any  particular  earnestness,  to  religious  contemplation.  His  dis- 
position was  lively,  his  spirits  were  buoyant,  and  he  joined  with  a  h«arty  good 


HENRY  KOLLOCK.  273 

win  in  the  sports  and  paBtimes  of  his  college  companions.  We  parted  at  Prince- 
ton to  meet  in  Savannah,  when  he  went  there  in  1806,  in  answer  to  a  call  from 
the  Independent  Presbyterian  Congregation  of  that  city,  to  become  their  Pastor; 
and,  during  the  thirteen  years  of  his  residence  there,  and  up  to  the  moment  of  hid 
lamented  death,  it  was  my  happiness  to  be  intimately  associated  with  him.  It 
belongs  to  his  biographer  to  exhibit  in  detail  his  pastoral  labours  during  that 
period,  which  was  so  full  of  interest  to  many  who,  Dto  juvante,  were  called  by 
his  warning  voice  from  '*  the  evil  to  come  " — I  content  myself  with  bearing  tes- 
timony to  the  grateful  recollection  with  which  the  remenlbrance  of  them  is  cher- 
ished by  those  who  were  the  objects  of  his  care. 

Dr.  Kollock  continued  in  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  congregation  with  wliicli 
he  had  connected  himself,  notwithstanding  earnest  and  pressing  invitations  to 
other  fields  of  labour,  presenting  strong  inducements  to  him,  both  as  a  minister 
of  the  Gospel  and  as  a  votary  of  literature.  A  congregation  in  Boston  had 
unanimously  called  him  to  officiate  in  a  new  church  which  they  had  erected,  with 
the  intention  that  he  should  occupy  it;  and  he  was,  with  like  unanimity,  chosen 
to  preside  over  the  University  of  Georgia;  but  the  devoted  affection  of  his  people, 
and  the  success  which  had  attended  his  labours  among  them,  induced  him  to 
decline  these  invitations.  The  anxiety  manifested  on  those  occasions,  and  the 
joy  and  gratitude  with  which  his  congregation  learned  his  determination  to 
remain  with  them,  are  remembered  by  many  who  still  survive. 

His  unintermitted  labours  in  his  study,  in  the  pulpit,  and  in  the  active  dis- 
cbarge of  his  parochial  duties,  having  impaired  his  health,  he  was  urged  by  his 
congregation  to  visit  Europe,  and  was  furnished  by  them  with  the  means  of  doing 
80.     He  acquiesced  in  their  wishes,  and,  after  a  tour,  which  had  been  particu- 
larly interesting  to  him,  returned,  as  it  then  appeared,  with  renovated  health, 
to  resume  his  ministerial  labours.     But  his  disease  (which  was  of  the  heart)  was 
steadily  advancing,  until,  suddenly,  the  tidings  went  abroad  that  he  had  been 
stricken  with  paralysis.      When,  after  some  days,  during  which  multitudes 
hovered  about  his  house,  anxiously  awaiting  the  result,  it  became  obvious  that 
death  was  approaching, — having  then  the  full  possession  of  his  faculties,  there 
were  some  friends  with  whom  he  felt  anxious  to  exchange  a  last  farewell,  and 
to  leave  with  them  his  parting  admonitions.     Among  others,  I  was  called  to  his 
bedside,  and  from  a  sitting  Court,  and  in  the  midst  of  an  important  trial  in 
which  I  was  engaged,  repaired  to  his  chamber.     It  was  indeed  an  interesting 
interview,  and  the  whole  scene  is  deeply  impressed  on  my  memory.     Dt,  Kol- 
lock was  suffering  great  pain, — for  the  external  applications  which  had  been 
made  by  his  medical  attendants,  were  very  severe.     But  mind  triumphed  over 
matter.     The  minister  of  God,  in  his  anxiety  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  those 
around  him,  seemed  insensible  to  his  own  sufferings.     His  strong  intellect  was 
yet  unimpaired,  and  the  affection  which  he  cherished  for  those  whom  he  then 
b^eld  for  the  last  time,  was  warmed  and  quickened  by  the  assurance  of  his  own 
speedy  departure.     His  parting  admonitions  M'cre  given  in  that  spirit  of  deep 
and  fervent  piety,  which  had  distinguished  his  ministry,  and  rendered  doubly 
solemn  as  they  were  by  the  scene  before  us,  were  I  hope,  received  profitably,  as 
I  am  sore  they  were  gratefully,  by  those  to  whom  they  were  addressed.     My 
own  acquaintance  with  him  had  been  of  some  five  and  twenty  years,  and  the 
kindly  feelings  which  marked  its  commencement  had  been  uninterrupted  during 
its  progress.     I  was  indebted  to  this,  as  well  as  to  his  own  strong  sense  of  duty, 
for  the  earnestness  with  which  he  adjured  me  to  consider  the  transitory  nature 
of  earthly  pursuits,  and  ever  to  remember  that  this  life  is  but  a  step  in  the  series 
of  infinite  existence  to  which  we  are  destined.     He  had  lived  under  a  constant 
sense  of  this  solemn  truth,  and  earnestly  desired  to  impress  it  upon  us  all.    He 
took  leave  of  us  severally,  with  the  calm  serenity  which  he  enjoyed,  notwith- 
stjuiding  his  bodily  anguish,  in  the  near  prospect  of  the  happiness  which  awaited 

Vol-.  IV.  35 


274  PRESBTTERIAK. 

him,  while  our  hearts  were  saddened  by  the  reflection  that  a  cherished  friend,  a 
deToted  minister,  was  about  to  be  called  away  from  us. 

Dr.  Kollock  had  a  strong  and  highly  cultivated  mind, — a  quick  perception,  a 
lively  imagination;  and  with  these  was  combined  a  delicacy  of  taste,  which  ban- 
ished from  his  writings  all  meretricious  ornament.  He  was  learned  in  his  pro- 
fession, but  his  acquisitions  were  by  no  means  limited  to  it.  He  had  cultivated 
a  taste  for  general  literature,  and  in  conversation  as  well  as  in  the  pulpit,  exhib- 
ited unostentatiously  the  stores  which  he  had  gathered.  His  style  was  simple, 
yet  sufficiently  ornate,  full  of  pathos,  and  often  characterized  by  great  vigour. 
A  peculiarly  expressive  countenance,  a  commanding  presence,  gestures  at  once 
appropriate  and  graceful,  and  a  voice,  clear,  strong  and  melodious,  gave  hlu 
great  advantages  as  a  public  speaker;  but  the  charm  of  his  pulpit  exercises  was 
found  in  his  own  deep  and  obvious  conviction  of  the  importance  of  the  message 
which  he  was  delivering;  in  the  singleness  and  sincerity  of  purpose  which  he 
manifested;  in  his  utter  forgetfulness  of  self  and  entire  devotion  to  his  subject; 
and  in  the  success  with  which  he  imparted  his  own  feelings  to  his  hearers.  You 
saw  before  you  an  accomplished  orator, — an  able,  faithful  expositor  of  the  sacred 
Tolume,  reasoning  with  the  accuracy  of  a  scholar;  persuading  with  gentle  yet 
winning  earnestness ;  tenderly  soothing  the  trembling  penitent,  or  holding  up  to 
the  scoffing  infidel  the  terrors  of  the  law.  As  you  listened,  the  man,  the  orator, 
receded  from  your  view — ^you  saw  only  the  minister  of  God,  performing  his  high 
office. 

In  private  life,  Dr.  Kollock  was  particularly  estimable.  Frequent  intercourse 
with  his  parishioners  he  felt  to  be  a  duty.  He  was  moreover  fond  of  society, 
and  brought  to  it  a  fund  of  useful  and  agreeable  information,  a  happy  facility  in 
imparting  it,  a  cheerful  benevolence,  and  a  frank,  cordial,  unassuming  manner, 
which  made  him  always  a  welcome  visiter.  He  was  especially  active  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  parochial  duties,  and  prompt  to  give  his  attendance  wherever 
sickness  or  sorrow  called  him.  Tn  seasons  of  affliction,  he  was  peculiarly  at 
home— at  the  bedside  of  the  sufferer,  or  amid  the  mourners  who  encircled  the 
domestic  hearth,  inculcating  the  lessons,  and  administering  the  consolations,  of 
the  religion  which  he  taught.  To  this,  even  more  than  to  his  acknowledged 
excellence  in  the  pulpit,  the  devotion  of  bis  congregation  is  to  be  ascribed.  He 
was  charitable  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  that  term,  to  the  extent  of  his  ability, 
and  ever  ready  to  unite  in  efforts  to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  community  in 
which  he  lived. 

If  this  very  imperfect  sketch  may  be  in  any  degree  useful  to  you,  it  will  dimin- 
ish the  regret  which  I  feel  at  having  so  long  delayed  to  furnish  it. 
With  it,  accept.  Reverend  and  dear  Sir, 

The  respectful  good  wishes  of 

JOHN  MAGPHERSOK  BERRIEN. 


I 


AKDREW  FLINK. 


ANDREW  FLINN,  D-  D  * 

1800—1820. . 

^ND&KW  Flinn  was  born  in  the  State  of  Maryland  in  the  year  1778. 
His  parents,  though  in  humble  life,  were  much  respected  for  their  honesty 
and  piety.  When  he  was  little  more  than  a  year  old,  they  migrated  with 
their  family  to  Mecklenburg  County,  N.  C,  where  his  father  died  in  August, 
1785.  Thus  he  was  left  under  the  immediate  care  of  a  widowed  mother, 
with  six  small  children,  and  with  but  stinted  means  of  providing  for  their 
worldly  comfort.  She,  however,  was  most  faithful  to  her  maternal  obliga- 
tions, &nd,  as  the  reward  of  her  fidelity,  was  privileged,  before  her  death, 
to  know  that  all  her  children  were  members  of  the  visible  church. 

Andrew  J  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  early  gave  indications  of  a  superior 
genius.  Being  of  a  docile  temper  and  active  mind,  his  youthful  developments 
promised  well  for  an  eminently  useful  life,  provided  he  could  have  the  benefit 
of  a  liberal  education ;  but  this  the  straitened  circumstances  of  the  family 
seemed  to  forbid.  Some  of  his  friends,  however,  observing  that  he  was  a 
youth  of  extraordinary  promise,  encouraged  him  to  commence  a  course  of 
study,  and  volunteered  their  aid  to  enable  him  to  prosecute  it.  Accord- 
ingly, by  vigorous  and  persevering  application,  under  the  instruction  of  the 
&ev.  Dr.  James  Hall,  and  one  or  two  others,  he  soon  gained  such  knowledge 
of  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages,  and  some  branches  of  science,  that  he 
was  qualified  for  admission  into  College.  In  due  time,  he  entered  the  Uni- 
versity of  North  Carolina,  where  he  acquitted  himself  well  both  as  a  scholar 
and  a  Christian;  and  received,  with  considerable  marks  of  distinction,  the 
degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  in  1799. 

From  early  childhood,  under  the  influence  of  his  excellent  mother,  his 
mind  had  taken  a  serious  direction,  and  his  heart  had  become  deeply  and 
permanently  impressed  with  Divine  truth.  Hence  he  seems  to  have  had 
the  ministry  of  the  Gospel  in  view  from  the  commencement  of  his  educa- 
tion ;  and,  though  he  trembled  in  view  of  its  responsibility,  all  his  impulses 
and  convictions  were  in  favour  of  engaging  in  it.  Accordingly,  he  placed 
himself  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery  of  Orange,  and,  having  gone 
through  what  was  then  considered  a  regular  course  of  theological  study,  he 
was  licensed  by  that  Presbytery  to  preach  the  Gospel,  sometime  in  the  year 
1800.  His  first  efibrta  in  the  pulpit  excited  great  attention,  and  marked 
him  as  one  of  the  most  popular  candidates  of  the  day.  Having  preached 
for  some  time  at  Hillsborough,  and  in  some  other  places,  he  accepted,  in 
January,  1803,  an  invitation  to  supply  the  pulpit  in  Fayetteville,  which  had 
then  been  vacant  about  a  year,  in  consequence  of  the  Rev.  John  Robinson 
having  resigned  bin  pastoral  charge.  Here  his  preaching  proved  highly  and 
universally  acceptable.  The  previous  steps  having  been  taken, — he  was,  in 
the  month  of  June,  regularly  ordained  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and 
installed  Pastor  of  that  Church.  On  this  occasion,  the  solemnity  of  ordi- 
nation  was  witnessed  in  Fayetteville  for  the  first  time,  and  it  drew  together 
a  vast  concourse  of  people. 

•  Her.  Dr.  J.  P.  Wllton^s  Fnn.  Serm.>-HS.  ftom  Rev.  Dr.  LelMid.— Footol  Sketobw  of 
K.  O.^lUauil  id  Pretb.  Cb.»  Chulwtooy  by  Rev.  TboniM  Ssnytb,  D.  D. 


276  PHESBTTEHTAI^. 

Until  the  settlement  of  Mr.  Flinn,  it  had  been  common  in  that  whole 
region  to  administer  the  ordinance  of  Baptism  to  children  at  home,  or  in 
some  private  house.  The  custom  had  grown  out  of  the  fact  that  there  were 
at  that  time  so  few  ministers,  and  their  places  of  preaching  were  so  irregu- 
lar and  distant,  that  parents  felt  obliged  to  call  upon  them  to  baptize  their 
children,  whenever  they  had  opportunity.  j\lr.  Flinn,  regarding  this  as  a 
serious  evil,  set  himself  to  remedy  it.  On  Sabbath,  the  22d  of  April, 
1804,  the  first  public  baptism  of  children  took  place  in  Fayetteville,  in  the 
Court  House,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  large  and  deeply  interested  assembly. 
The  numerous  relatives  and  friends  of  the  parents  gathered  around  them, 
and  gave  them  the  Right  Hand  of  Fellowship,  thus  cordially  testifying 
their  approbation  of  their  example.  From  that  time  the  ordinance  was 
administered  in  public. 

Mr.  Flinn  was  indefatigable  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties  as  a  Pastor ; 
and  was  obliged,  besides,  to  teach' a  school,  in  order  to  make  out  a  compe- 
tent support.  But  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1805,  his  united  labours 
as  Pastor  and  Teacher  became  so  oppressive,  that  he  felt  himself  obliged  to 
resign  his  charge.  He  now  removed  to  Camden,  S.  C,  where  he  waa 
instrumental  in  organizing  and  building  up  a  very  respectable  Presbyterian 
Congregation.  After  labouring  there  for  a  short  time,  he  went  to  Williams- 
burg District,  and  preached  for  a  while  to  the  Churches  of  Bethel  and 
ludiantown.  But  it  was  not  long  before  he  visited  Charleston,  and  preached 
several  times  in  the  Scotch  Presbyterian  Church.  So  great  was  the  sensa- 
tion produced  by  his  fervid  eloquence,  that  a  project  was  immediately  formed 
to  build  a  new  and  elegant  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
city,  with  the  express  intention  to  secure  his  pastoral  services.  And  such 
was  the  enthusiasm  evinced  on  the  occasion,  that  a  very  large  subscription 
was  raised,  and  the  foundation  of  an  edifice  laid,  which  cost  not  less  Ihan 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  While  this  new  church  was  in  process  of 
erection,  the  congregation  was  organized,  and  obtained  the  use  of  a  vacant 
Methodist  place  of  worship,  in  which  Mr.  Flinn  commenced  his  ministry,  and 
continued  to  preach  until  the  new  edifice  was  completed.  He  was  installed 
Pastor  of  the  Congregation  on  the  4th  of  April,  18ll.  In  November  of 
this  year,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the 
University  of  North  Carolina.  In  1812,  he  was  Moderator  of  i^e  General 
Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

As  Charleston  was  undoubtedly  the  theatre  of  Dr.  Flinn's  most  import- 
ant labours,  so  it  was  here  especially  that  he  gained  his  wide  and  brilliant 
reputation.  He  soon  came  to  be  known  extensively  in  the  Church, — and  in 
the  North  as  well  as  the  South, — as  one  of  the  most  impressive  and  attract- 
ive preachers  of  his  day.  His  labours  in  Charleston  were  attended  with 
a  manifest  blessing,  and  both  his  Church  and  Congregation  had  a  rapid 
and  healthful  growth.  He  continued  in  this  connection  till  the  close  of 
his  life.  He  died  after  a  long  and  painful  illness,  on  the  24th  of 
February,  1820,  in  the  forty-eighth  year  of  his  age.  In  his  last  moments 
he  took  an  affectionate  farewell  of  his  mourning  family  and  friends,  and 
then,  with  perfect  composure,  raised  his  hands  and  eyes  to  Heaven,  and 
said,  **  Jesus,  into  thine  hands  I  commend  my  spirit."  A  Sermon  com- 
memorative of  his  life  and  character  was  preached,  in  September  following 
his  death,  to  the  people  to  whom  he  had  ministered,  by  Rev.  Greorge  Reid. 
The  Rev.  Dr.  James  P.  Wilson,  of  Philadelphia,  Dr.  Flinn'a  intimate 


AKDEEW  FLIHK.  277 

frieodv  preached  &  similar  discourse,  shortly  after  his  death, — an  otttline  of' 
which,  taken  bj  a  stenographer,  was  afterwards  printed,  in  connection  with 
a  brief  memoir  of  Dr.  Flinn's  life.     Mr.  Keid's  Sermon  was  also  printed. 

Dr.  Flinu's  publications  are  a  Sermon  occasioned  by  the  death  of  the 
Hon.  Judge  Wilds,  delivered  by  the  desire  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  Bar  of 
Charleston,  1810;  a  Sermon  preached  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Second 
Presbyterian  Church,  Charleston,  1811;  and  a  Sermon  commemorative  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Keith,  1814. 

Dr.  Flinn  was  twice  married.  His  first  wife  was  Martha  Henrietta 
Walker,  who  died  in  1808, — £he  mother  of  one  daughter,  who  was  married 
to  the  Key.  John  Dickson.*  His  second  wife  was  Mrs,  Blisa  Grimball, 
widow  of  John  Grimball,  by  whom  he  had  no  issue. 

FROM  THE  REV.  A.  W,  LELAND,  D.  D. 

THEOi*oaiCAL  Seuimaat,        I 
Columbia,  S.  C,  June  8,  1868.  > 

My  dear  Brother :  I  had  no  personal  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Flinn,  proTious  to 
his  settlement  in  Charleston,  in  1810.  But,  as  I  became  Pastor  of  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church  in  that  city,  in  1813,  I  was  in  habits  of  such  close  inti- 
macy with  him  that  1  could  not  fail  of  being  well  acquainted  with  his  character 
as  a  Man,  a  Christian,  and  a  Minister.  Such  impressions  as  I  received  in  respect 
to  him,  I  cheerfully  communicate  to  you. 

In  his  personal  appearance  Dr.  Flinn  was  both  attractive  and  commanding  in 
a  high  degree.  Dignity  and  mildness  characterized  his  whole  deportment. 
Though  rather  below  the  ordinary  height,  his  presence  always  commanded  pro- 
found respect.  His  voice,  his  manner  and  countenance,  were  most  pleasing  and 
persuasive.  ^Probably  his  powerful  eloquence  in  the  pulpit  hardly  produced  more 
salutary  impressions,  than  the  kindness  of  his  manner,  and  the  charm  of  his  social 
intercourse. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  distinguished  by  earnestness,  solemnity,  and  pathos. 
He  maintained  and  vindicated  the  doctrines  of  grace  with  singular  boldness  and 
ability.  He  was  thoroughly  a  Presbyterian  of  the  Old  School.  The  all-absorb- 
ing object  of  his  ministry  was  to  awaken  the  consciences  of  men,  and  lead  them 
to  the  Saviour.  The  Cross  and  the  Judgment  Seat  were  ever  prominently  pre- 
sented. In  his  pastoral  labours,  in  private  lectures  and  prayer  meetings,  his 
whole  heart  was  evidently  engaged  to  save  the  souls  committed  to  his  charge. 
Hence,  as  might  be  expected,  the  attachment  of  his  flock  was  most  devoted; 
while  his  affection  for  them  was  manifested,  not  only  by  his  untiring  labours  to 
promote  their  spiritual  good,  but  by  a  prompt  rejection  of  several  overtures  to 
induce  his  removal  to  most  advantageous  situations. 

In  his  attendance  upon  the  judicatories  of  the  Church,  Dr.  Flinn  was  ikithfbl 
and  exemplary.  Whether  he  was  found  in  the  General  Assembly,  or  in  the 
meetings  of  Synods  and  Presbyteries,  his  personal  influence,  his  judicious  coun- 
•elSy  and  his  glowing  zeal,  were  always  highly  appreciated. 

I  may  say  with  confidence  that  Dr.  Flinn  was  exceedingly  endeared  to  all  who 
were  brought  near  to  him.     He  was  a  most  sincere  and  faithful  friend,  and  would 

•  Jolm  Piekion  wm  bom  in  CharUston,  8.  C,  Kovmnber  i,  1795;  wm  gndaated  at  Yale 
Collie,  in  181 4;  panned  bit  tbeologioal  studies  partly  in  private  and  partly  at  the  AndoT«r 
Seminary ;  was  llceniied  to  preach  by  the  New  Haven  West  Association ;  and,  as  he  was  prevented 
fioD  aettling  as  a  regular  paetor,  bj  the  state  of  his  health,  he  engaged  in  teaehing,  and  was 
for  some  time  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  Charleston  Collece.  Having  supplied  many 
ebarvhes.  at  different  periods,  especially  the  Third  Presbyterian,  first  Baptist,  and  Mariners', 
Cbnnhes  in  Cbarieston,  he  removed  to  AshevUlo,  N.  C,  where  he  fonnded  both  a  Male  and  tb 
Female  Academy,  the  latter  of  which  was  the  germ  of  the  present  Methodist  Female  College. 
lie  died  in  Asheville,  September  28,  1847.  He  published  a  volume  of  ten  Sermonsi  entitled* 
*«  EsaenUals  of  Religion.'* 


278  PRESBYTSRIAN. 

always  be  on  the  alert  to  serve  you  by  any  means  in  his  power.  In  his  relations  to 
the  commonity,  he  was  benevolent,  public  spirited  and  actively  useful, — making 
it  evident  to  all  that  he  had  learned  to  live  not  for  himself  alone.  He  was 
particularly  distinguished  for  his  liberality  and  zealous  advocacy  in  sustaining 
all  the  benevolent  institutions  of  the  Church.  His  efficient  labours  and  pecuniary 
contributions  in  the  early  endowment  of  some  of  them  were  worthy  of  all  praise. 
And  of  his  ministry  it  may  be  said  with  much  truth  that  "  he  was  a  good  man, 
full  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  faith,  and  much  people  were  added  to  the 
Church. '» 

I  will  dose  these  fragmentary  recollections  of  my  beloved  and  lamented 
brother  by  an  illustrative  anecdote,  which  I  received  upon  such  authority,  that 
I  am  sure  of  its  truth.  On  one  occasion,  a  rebellion  broke  out  among  the  stu- 
dents of  the  University  of  North  Carolina,  who  became  so  enraged  that  they 
actually  offered  personal  violence  to  the  Professors.  Mr.  Flinn,  being  on  the  spot, 
and  disapproving  of  the  procedure,  came  in  for  a  share  of  their  indignation. 
While  they  were  actually  pursuing  him  with  a  view  to  deal  their  blows  upon  his 
person,  he  mounted  a  stump,  and  appealed  to  the  infuriated  mob  in  so  persuasive 
and  eloquent  a  strain,  as  not  only  utterly  to  disarm  them,  but  to  change  their 
raging  menaces  into  shouts  of  delighted  admiration.  This  incident,  as  I  have 
nason  to  know,  first  disclosed  to  him  his  extraordinary  powers  of  eloquence,  and 
thus  had  an  important  bearing  upon  his  subsequent  course. 

I  am  affectionately  yours, 

A.  W.  LELAND. 


JAMES  INGLIS,  D.  D  * 

1801—1820. 

James  Inqlis  was  born  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia  in  the  year  1777. 
His  father,  James  Inglis,  was  a  Scotchman,  who  came  to  this  country  in 
early  life, — about  1760.  His  mother,  who  was  of  Huguenot  ancestry,  was 
bom  in  Ireland,  but  came  also  to  America  in  early  childhood, — about  1748, 
and  passed  the  period  of  her  minority  chiefly  in  Philadelphia. 

The  subject  of  this  sketch  was  about  three  years  old,  when  his  father 
removed  to  the  city  of  New  York ;  and  there  he  (the  son)  was  reared  and 
educated.  He  was  graduated  at  Columbia  College  in  1795.  Shortly 
after,  he  commenced  the  study  of  Law  under  Alexander  Hamilton,  and, 
having  passed  through  a  regular  course,  was  admitted  as  a  practitioner, 
and  for  a  short  time  actually  practised  at  the  New  York  Bar.  His  mind 
having  become  deeply  impressed  with  the  subject  of  religion,  he  resolved  to 
abandon  the  profession  on  which  he  had  entered,  and  devote  himself  to  the 
ministry.  He  studied  Theology  under  the  direction  of  the  venerable  Dr. 
Bodgers  of  New  York,  and  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of 
New  York  in  the  autumn  of  1801.  He  visited  Baltimore  soon  after,  and 
in  February,  1802,  was  called  to  succeed  the  Rev.  Dr.  Allison  as  Pastor  of 
the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  that  city.  He  accepted  the  call,  and  was 
ordained  and  installed  the  last  Sabbath  in  April  following,— the  Sermon 

♦  MSS.  from  his  ton,— lUv.  G.  8.  Inglis,  md  R«v.  Dr.  J.  C.  Baokw. 


JAMBS  IKGLIS.  279 

on  tlie  ocoasion  being  preached  by  the  Bey.  Dr.  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith, 
President  of  New  Jersey  College. 

In  November,  1802,  he  was  married  to  Jane  S.,  second  daughter  of 
Christopher  Johnson,  of  Baltimore, — a  lady  of  great  intelligence  and  most 
exemplary  piety,  who  died  on  the  2d  of  September  1816,  a  little  less  than 
foor  years  before  himself.  Shortly  after  her  death,  he  addressed  a  letter 
to  his  particular  friend,  the  Bcv.  Dr.  Muir  of  Alexandria,  detailing  the 
progress  of  her  decline,  and  the  triumphant  exercises  of  her  spirit,  with  sin* 
gnlar  pathos  and  power.  It  was  published  in  the  *' Monthly  Visitant," — a 
periodical  which  Dr.  Muir  at  that  time  conducted. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  College 
of  New  Jersey  in  1811. 

Dr.  Inglis'  public  career  seems  to  have  been,  for  the  most  part,  of  uniform 
tenor,  and  distinguished  for  the  splendour  and  attractiveness  of  his  minis* 
trations,  rather  than  for  any  extraordinary  visible  and  enduring  results.  He 
died  suddenly,  after  coming  out  of  a  bath,  on  Sabbath  morning,  August 
15, 1820,  leaving  behind  him  a  family  of  seven  children ;  one  of  whom, 
George  <S.,  has  since  become  a  minister  of  the  Gospel. 

Dr.  Inglis'  publications  are  a  Sermon  delivered  in  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church  in  Baltimore  on  a  day  of  Fasting,  Humiliation,  and  Prayer,  appointed 
by  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  United  States 
of  America,  1808;  a  Missionary  Sermon  delivered  in  the  city  of  Philadel- 
phia, before  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  United 
States  of  America,  1812  ;  and  a  Discourse  delivered  in  the  First  Presbyte- 
rian Church  in  the  city  of  Baltimore,  before  the  Lieutenant  Colonel,  the 
officers  and  soldiers  of  the  First  Regiment  of  Artillery,  1814.  Shortly  after 
his  death,  in  1820,  a  selection  from  his  Sermons,  together  with  some  of  his 
Forms  of  Prayer,  were  published  in  an  octavo  volume. 

I  saw  Dr.  Inglis  for  the  first  time  in  the  spring  of  1809,  at  Ellington, 
Conn.,  where  he  attended  the  meeting  of  the  General  Association  of  Con- 
nectioat,  as  a  delegate  from  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church.  Though  I  was  a  mere  boy,  and  only  saw  him  in  the  pulpit,  I  well 
remember  how  much  I  was  impressed  by  his  dignified  appearance,  his  fine 
voice  and  commanding  manner,  as  well  as  the  point  and  power  of  many  of 
his  sentences ;  and  if  I  had  never  heard  of  him  afterwards,  I  think  I  should 
ftlwajs  have  remembered  him  as  among  the  most  eloquent  preachers  to 
whom  I  have  ever  listened.  I  distinctly  recollect  that  his  sermon,  which  was 
on  the  text, — **  God  hath  spoken  once,  twice  have  I  heard  this,  that  power 
belongeth  unto  God," — closed  with  these  words — **  Delay  not,  careless  sin- 
ner, delay  not  one  instant,  —  that  instant  may  be  thy  last;"  and  the 
expression,  though  not  in  itself  remarkable,  yet  uttered  in  his  impressive 
snd  emphatic  manner,  sent  a  thrill  to  my  inmost  soul.  His  preaching  pro* 
duced  no  inconsiderable  sensation  among  the  ministers  as  well  as  the  people 
tt  large;  and  I  recollect  to  have  heard  of  his  having  preached  on  the 
tttcceeding  Sabbath  at  Hartford,  to  the  great  admiration  of  the  whole 
community.  President  Dwight  heard  him,  either  during  that  visit  to  the 
North,  or  at  some  other  time ;  and,  in  hearing  a  recitation  of  my  class  in 
College,  on  Blair*s  Lectures,  he  remarked  to  us  that  the  most  signal 
instance  of  precision  in  style  that  he  remembered  to  have  met  with  was  la 
Mr.  Inglb  of  Baltimore. 


280  PKESBYTERIAV. 

A  year  after  my  graduation,  I  passed  a  week  in  Baltimore  on  my  retam 
from  Virginia,  where  I  had  been  residing,  and  during  that  time  had  not 
only  an  opportunity  of  hearing  Dr.  IngUs  preach  twice  on  the  Sabbath, 
and  once  on  a  week-day  evening,  but  saw  him  several  times  in  his  own 
family.  I  found  him  exceedingly  affable  and  kind,  full  of  amusing  anec- 
dote, and  disposed  to  dwell  much  on  his  visit  in  New  England  at  the  time  I 
had  heard  him  preach  ;  and  he  seemed  to  have  treasured  the  most  minute 
circumsfcances  attending  it.  His  sermon  on  Sabbath  morning,  which  was 
much  the  most  striking  that  I  heard  from  him,  was  aimed  against  bigotry 
on  the  one  hand,  and  latitudinarianism  on  the  other.  It  was  delivered 
without  notes,  and,  as  he  afterwards  told  me,  was  not  written;  but  the 
sentences  were  formed  so  perfectly,  and  uttered  with  so  much  fluency  and 
self-possession,  that  it  might  easily  have  been  taken  for  a  carefully  written 
discourse.  I  believe  he  was  accustomed  to  close  his  discourses  in  a  some- 
what abrupt,  and  often  most  effective,  manner ;  and  thus  it  was  with  the 
sermon  to  which  I  refer.  "Strangle  heterodoxy,"  said  he; — "Strangle 
the  monster  till  not  one  drop  of  blood  remain  in  his  poisonous  veins ;  but 
spare  the  heterodox.  Crush  error ;  but,  upon  the  peril  of  your  soul's  eternal 
salvation,  touch  not  the  errorisc.  My  religion  forbids  it.  My  religion 
abhors  it.  My  religion  will  not  suffer  it  under  any  form  or  palliative 
whatever — the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  forbids  it — Let  us  pray." 

FROM  THE  HON.  ALEXANDER  NISBET. 

Baltivobe,  Deoemher  23, 1847. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  have  received  your  letter  of  the  22d  ult.,  and  am  truly  sorry 
that  you  should  have  thought  it  necessary  to  make  any  apology  for  addressing 
me  on  such  a  subject,  and  for  so  worthy  an  end.  At  the  time  I  received  your 
letter,  my  engagements  in  Court  and  otherwise  were  such  as  to  prevent  me  from 
giving  it  immediate  attention;  and  now  that  I  have  more  leisure,  I  am  greatly 
in  doubt  whether  my  recollections  will  be  of  su£Scient  importance  to  answer  the 
purpose  you  liave  in  view. 

I  removed  to  this  place  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  1801.  At  that  time  Dr. 
Allison,  the  first  Pastor  of  the  only  Presbyterian  Church  then  in  the  city,  was 
too  ill  to  attend  to  his  usual  public  duties.  From  that  period  until' the  election 
of  Dr.  Inglis,  the  congregation  depended  upon  occasional  supplies.  After  the 
death  of  Dr.  Allison,  the  prominent  candidates  were  Dr.  Alexander,  Dr.  IngUs, 
and  Dr.  Glendy.  The  latter  was  strongly  recommended  by  Mr.  Jefferson,  who 
was  then  President  of  the  United  States. 

Dr.  Alexander  was  first  chosen  by  the  congregation;  but,  owing,  I  believe,  to 
some  faux  pas  or  tergiversation  in  the  prosecution  of  the  call,  he  did  not  accept. 
The  contest  then  lay  between  Dr.  Inglis  and  Dr.  Qlendy;  and,  after  a  very 
spirited  and  close  election,  Dr.  Inglis  was  chosen.  The  supporters  of  Dr.  Glendy 
broke  off  from  the  First,  and  formed  the  Second,  Presbyterian  Church,  of  which 
Dr.  Glendy  continued  the  active  Pastor,  until,  in  his  declining  years  and  health. 
Dr.  John  Breckenridge  was  called  to  be  his  assistant. 

At  the  time  Dr.  Inglis  first  preached  in  our  church.  Dr.  Samuel  Stanhope 
Smith  of  Princeton,  being  then  on  a  visit  here,  conversed  with  me  freely  about 
him,  and  expressed  the  highest  admiration  of  his  talents.  He  even  went  so  far 
as  to  say  that  he  envied  him  his  style  of  writing.  I  have  myself  always  admired 
his  style  as  remarkably  clear,  forcible  and  eloquent,  though  I  have  sometimes 
thought  it  too  much  condensed.  I  read  his  printed  sermons  to  this  day  with 
great  satisfaction;  though  it  is  not  improbable  that  my  estimation  of  them  ii 


JAMES  INGLIS.  281 

gomewhat  enhADcedy  iVotn  having  heard  them  delivered  in  such  a  splendidly 
oratorical  manner,  as  well  as  from  the  early  associations  in  the  church  which 
they  hring  to  my  remembrance. 

His  occasional  apostrophes  were  very  impressive,  and  sometimes  almost  para- 
lyzing. I  have  yet  a  distinct  recollection  of  the  effect  of  several  of  them.  As  an 
example  I  may  refer  you  to  one  that  I  find  in  his  published  sermon  on  the  text, 
"  Draw  nigh  to  God»  and  He  will  draw  nigh  to  you;"  James  iv.  8.  The  closing 
paragraph  is  as  follows : — 

"  Ministers  of  the  cross — servants  of  the  living  Qod — commissioned  to  carry 
to  the  expiring  saint  the  annunciation  of  a  glory  that  shall  shortly  be  his — you 
come  to  teach  him — how  often  do  you  learn  of  him — ^how  to  die.  From  his 
weakness  you  derive  strength;  from  his  mortality,  life.  You  instruct — ^you 
exhort — ^you  pray  for  him — you  endeavour  to  guide  his  devotions, — ^but  ere  long 
jou  confess  yourselves  his  pupils.  In  his  soul  is  the  earnest  of  immortality; 
the  radiance  of  salvation  beams  from  his  eyes;  and  his  tongue,  eloquent  in  the 
agonies  of  nature,  and  touched  by  the  fire  that  biases  on  the  altars  of  Heaven , 
proclaims — Live  the  life  of  the  righteous,  and  your  death  shall  be  like  his.  Be 
my  soul  with  thine,  expiring  believer  !  1  had  rather  be  that  dying  saint  than 
soy  living  sinner  on  the  throne  of  empire  !  Be  mine  that  requiem  with  which 
they  chant  their  own  blessed  spirits  into  eternity, — Jehovah  is  my  Shepherd; 
I  shall  not  want,  &c.  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  He  shall  stand 
at  the  latter  day  on  this  earth, — and  though  worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in 
ray  flesh  shall  I  see  God — whom  I  shall  see  for  myself,  and  mine  eyes  shall 
behold — therefore  my  heart  is  glad  and  my  glory  rejoiceth;  for  thou  wilt 
not  leave  my  soul  in  hell,  neither  wilt  thou  suffer  me  to  perish  in  corruption*— 
thou  wilt  show  me  the  path  of  life — in  thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy — at 
thy  right  hand  there  are  pleasures  forevermore.  Hallelujah — blessing,  and 
honour,  and  glory,  and  power  to  Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  to  the 
Lamb,  forever  and  ever.  Amen." 

The  last  Sermon  in  the  volume,  on  "Universal  Praise,"  would  be  considered 
by  many,  in  some  of  its  parts,  as  overstrained  and  grandiloquent.  But,  during 
its  delivery,  there  was  neither  time  nor  room  for  such  criticisms;  and  such  was 
the  effect  upon  the  congregation,  that,  although  the  Doctor  concluded  with 
prayer,  as  usual,  yet  some,  on  leaving  the  church,  were  inquiring  how  it 
happened  that  he  omitted  the  last  prayer.  I  mention  these  things  to  show  you 
how  perfectly  he  possessed,  and  how  skilfully  he  practised,  the  great  art  of 
oratory.  But  when  I  thus  speak  of  the  power  and  charm  of  his  manner  in  the 
pulpit,  I  do  not  mean  in  any  degree  to  detract  from  his  judgment,  eloquence,  and 
taste,  as  an  author.  I  ought  to  say,  however,  in  respect  to  his  published 
sermons,  that  I  do  not  think  the  selection  the  best  that  might  have  been  made. 

It  was  the  universal  testimony  of  Christians  of  all  denominations,  that 
Dr.  Inglis  was  unsurpassed  in  the  fervency  and  impressiveness  of  his  devotional 
exercises.  I  remember,  before  his  election,  an  aged  and  respectable  member  of 
the  church  told  me  that  he  had  been  advised  by  one  of  our  old  Presbyterian 
fathers  to  choose  a  Pastor  with  reference  to  his  prayers,  rather  than  his  preach- 
ing; and  for  that  reason  he  preferred  Dr.  Inglis.  Few,  I  imagine,  who  ever  heard 
him  pray  on  a  special  occasion,  have  forgotten  how  aptly,  concisely  and  grace- 
folly  he  combined  the  various  circumstances  having  a  bearing  upon  it,  thus 
investing  the  occasion  with  the  deepest  interest,  and  filling  the  minds  of  his 
hearers  alternately  with  emotions  of  solemnity  and  delight. 

I  will  only  add  that,  though  there  was  occasionally  some  appearance  of  stern- 
ness in  his  manner,  yet,  in  his  ordinary  intercourse  with  society,  he  made  himself 
highly  acceptable,  and  there  are  not  a  few  to  testify  that  he  was  a  most  agreeable 
and  charming  companion  and  friend.    He  had  a  strong  relish  for  good  society,  and 

Vol.  IV.  36 


282  PRESBTTEBIAN 

greatly  enjoyed  a  cheerful  oosTersation,  in  which  he  alvays  bore  a  coDspicuoiis 
part,  and  shone  with  no  common  lustre. 

On  looking  back  upon  what  I  have  written,  it  seems  to  me  very  meagre,  and  I 
fear  may  prove  to  you  very  unsatisfactory.  Such  as  it  is,  you  must  take  it, 
making  due  allowance  for  defect  of  memory,  and  the  long  period  that  has 
elapsed  since  Dr.  Inglis'  death. 

I  remain,  with  great  regard. 

Yours  truly, 

ALEXANDER  VISBET. 

FROM  J.  MEREDITH,  Esq. 

Baltimors,  October  28, 1865. 

Rer.  and  dear  Sir:  I  regret  that,  after  so  great  a  delay,  for  which  I  owe 
an  apology,  I  find  that  I  have  little  more  than  a  few  general  recollections  of  Dr. 
Inglis  to  communicate.  For,  although  I  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  much  personal 
intercourse  with  him,  time  has  effaced  from  my  memory  many  circumstances 
that  would  have  better  served  to  delineate  his  character. 

The  possession  of  his  portrait — a  gift  from  himself — ^aids  my  remembrance  of 
his  personal  appearance.  In  stature  he  was  somewhat  below  the  medium 
height;  but  still  well  formed  for  strength  and  activity.  His  forehead  was  broad 
and  massive;  his  hair  and  complexion  dark;  his  brows  heavy;  his  eyes  g^y  and 
piercing,  but  their  expression  weakened  in  the  pulpit  by  his  habitual  use  of 
glasses.  His  features  were  strongly  marked,  and  when  in  repose,  wore  an 
expression  of  austereness.     Yet  in  society  he  was  cheerful,  affable  and  courteous. 

Dr.  Inglis  was  largely  gifted  with  many  of  the  essential  elements  of  oratorical 
power.  His  voice  was  full,  clear,  and  capable  of  great  varieties  of  modulation. 
His  enunciation  was  deliberate  and  distinct;  his  action  subdued  but  graceful; 
always  appropriate,  and  seemingly  unstudied.  His  whole  manner  was  eminently 
dignified  and  impressive. 

He  was  accounted  a  sound  theologian;  a  good  classical  scholar,  and  familiar 
with  the  best  English  literature,  which,  with  a  pure  and  discriminating  taste,  he 
often  made  tributary  to  the  adornment  and  illustration  of  his  discourses. 

He  usually  preached  with  his  sermon  before  him,  but  did  not  confine  him- 
self to  it;  for  I  do  not  remember  to  have  heard  one  in  which  many  of  the  most 
striking  and  eloquent  passages  were  not  evidently  extemporaneous. 

I  well  remember,  for  example,  the  one  to  which  you  have  alluded, -—on  Praise. 
It  was  preached  to  conciliate  a  portion  of  his  congregation,  who  had  protested 
against  the  introduction  of  the  organ  as  an  objectionable  innovation  upon  the 
long  established  forms  of  Presbyterian  worship.  I  was  present;  and,  even  at 
this  distance  of  time,  retain  a  vivid  remembrance  of  the  effect  produced  by  that 
discourse.  So  vivid  that  I  can  almost  imagine  that  I  still  hear  the  exultant 
hosannas  of  praise, — peal  after  peal  echoing  in  every  heart;  that  I  yet  see  awe 
and  admiration  figured  on  the  countenances  of  old  and  young; — that  I  again 
listen  to  the  Hosing  strain  of  that  triumphant  anthem, — to  that  sublime  and 
wonder-working  peroration  which,  before  it  ended,  startled  so  many  to  their 
feet,  as  if  by  an  electric  shock. 

If  you  have  read  the  sermon  in  the  published  volume,  you  may  well  think  this 
description  much  too  highly  coloured.  But  that  is  not  the  sermon  as  I  heard  it: 
the  voice,  the  eye,  the  action,  are  not  there; — the  flashes  of  eloquence  which  so 
dazzled  the  mind's  eye  of  every  hearer,  are  not  visible  on  the  printed  pag* — • 
the  preacher  himself,  in  the  solitude  of  his  closet,  could  not  rekindle  them. 
*'  Every  attempt  to  preserve  on  paper  the  splendid  efforts  of  impassioned 
eloquence,  is  like  gathering  up  dew  drops,  which  appear  as  jewels  and  pearls  on 
the  grass,  but  turn  to  water  in  the  hand — the  essence  and  the  elements  remain,—- 


JAMES  INGLIS.  283 

hot  tke  gnoe,  tlw  sparkle,  and  the  form,  are  gone.''    These  are  the  words  of  a 
poet;  but  they  are  as  true  as  thej  are  beautiful. 

The  prayers  of  Dr.  Inglis  were  not  only  remarkable  for  the  devoutness  with 
which  they  were  offered,  but  for  their  method  and  condensation,  and  were 
frequently  interspersed  with  well  chosen  passages  from  the  Episcopal  Liturgy. 

In  closing  this  brief  and  imperfect  sketch,  I  will  only  add  that,  in  the  general 
Judgment,  Dr.  Inglis  was  ranked— I  think  justly— among  the  great  pulpit  ora- 
tors of  his  time;  and  is  therefore  well  worthy  of  a  distinguished  place  in  your 
gallery  of  eminent  divines. 

I  beg  leave  to  subscribe  myself^ 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir,  with  great  respect. 

Tour  obedient  seryant, 

J.  MEREDITH. 

FROM  THE  RET.  THOMAS  B.  BALGH. 

RiMOwooDy  Ya.,  March  16, 1848. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  earliest  recollection  of  Dr.  Inglis  goes  no  farther  back  than 
the  autumn  of  1809.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Presbytery  of  Baltimore,  which  was 
then  held  in  the  church  in  Georgetown,  D.  C,  he  officiated  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  Sabbath  that  was  included  in  the  sessions  of  that  body.  Being  a  youth  at 
the  time,  my  admiration  of  him  as  a  pulpit  orator  was  possibly  excessive;  but 
there  was  something  about  him  which  well  nigh  entranced  me.  His  stature  was 
indeed  rather  low;  but  he  stood  up  with  a  bold  front,  and  spoke  with  an  air  of 
aathorityj  inspired  by  a  perfect  mastery  of  his  subject.  He  seemed  to  have 
measured  exactly  the  space  that  was  to  be  filled  by  his  voice.  His  intonations 
were  remarkably  fine,  and  his  general  manner  simple,  though  it  afterwards 
became  more  showy  and  imposing.  I  recollect  that  his  text  on  the  occasion 
referred  to,  was  from  the  second  chapter  of  the  Epbtle  to  the  Hebrews: — '*  For- 
asmuch then,  as  the  children  are  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood.  He  also  Himself 
likewise  took  part  of  the  same;  that  through  death.  He,  might  destroy  him  that 
had  the  power  of  death."  The  discourse,  though  very  comprehensive,  was  very 
brief:  no  man  loved  better  than  he  the  muUum  in  parvo. 

At  the  next  meeting  of  the  Presbytery,  which  occurred  in  my  father's 
ooogregation.  Dr.  Inglis  had  become  so  popular  that  his  services  in  the  pulpit 
were  put  in  requisition  more  than  once.  One  discourse,  I  well  remember, 
on  the  text, — '*  Who  hath  abolished  death,  and  brought  life  and  immortality 
to  light.*'  It  was  a  grand  display  of  the  power  of  eloquence;  but,  as  I 
Just  intimated,  it  was  evident  that  a  change  had  passed  upon  him.  Ilis 
gesticulation  was  more  copious,  his  intonations  more  studied,  and  his  general 
manner  more  lofty ;  but  he  was  still  wonderfully  attractive  and  impressive. 

Dr.  Inglis  uniformly  read  his  discourses;  but  his  reading  was  very  perfect. 
He  wasted  no  time  in  introducing  his  subject.  He  made  liberal  use  of  the  Bible 
in  all  his  sermons,  quoting  appropriately  from  every  part  of  it  in  confirmation  of 
his  positions.  He  was  a  preacher  admirably  suited  to  occasions  of  publio 
interest,  and  such  occasions  called  forth  some  of  his  finest  efforts.  He  read 
Massillon,  Bourdaloue,  and  Bossuet,  in  the  original,  and  admired  them  greatly. 
He  studied  the  Psalms  profoundly  and  devoutly.  He  was  a  great  lover  of 
music,  and  liked  particularly  a  fine  performance  upon  the  organ. 

Besides  the  volume  of  his  sermons  printed  after  his  death,  there  were  several 
in  pamphlet  form  published  during  his  life  time.  One  of  these  I  regard  as  parti- 
cularly eloquent.  It  was  delivered  before  the  Military  of  Baltimore,  in  comme- 
moration of  the  Battle  of  North  Point;  but  I  suppose  that  it  has  gone  down  to 
the  grave,  where  this  class  of  productionH  generally  find  an  early  resting  place, 
though  it  certainly  deserved  a  better  fate. 


284  PBSSBTTERIAK. 

Dr.  Ingtis  iMd  mxaj  exceDeni  moral  qualities,  and  fine  domestic  traits,  apon 
which  it  is  needless  to  enlarge.  He  also  evinced  a  truly  deTont  spirit,  though  I 
do  not  claim  for  him,  as  he  certainly  did  not  claim  for  himsdf,  an  exemption 
from  the  infirmities  of  our  common  humanity.  By  his  congregation,  as  well  as 
by  his  more  immediate  friends,  he  was  tenderly  and  deservedly  beloved.  I  will 
only  add  that 

I  am  yours  as  ever, 

THOMAS  B.  BALCH. 


-•♦■ 


CONRAD  SPEECE,  D.  D. 

1801—1886. 

FROM  THE  REr.  WILLIAM  BROWN. 

AuausTA  County,  Va.,  April  26, 1856. 

Dear  Sir :  You  have  kindly  requested  me  to  send  you  a  brief  memoir  of 
my  immediate  predecessor,  Rsv.  Conrad  Speege,  D.  D.  His  name  is 
well  worthy  of  a  place  among  those  whom  the  good  would  love  to  remember. 
He  was  a  true  son  of  Virginia — was  bom,  lived,  and  died  in  her  bosom.  He 
was  great  among  the  greatest  of  her  preachers, — few  proclaiming  the  Qo^pel 
more  abundantly,  or  more  powerfully.  A  man  too  of  acknowledged  genius 
and  learning,  of  sincere  piety,  of  warm  friendships,  of  attractive  social 
qualities,  all  together  making  him  the  life  of  every  company  he  entered. 

Many  will  think  at  once  of  his  almost  herculean  frame,  six  feet  and  two 
inches  of  height,  and,  in  its  prime,  about  two  hundred  and  thirty  pounds 
of  weight — rawboned  and  muscular  withal.  Without  the  slightest  preten- 
sions to  gracefulness  either  of  person  or  manner,  his  presence  was  very 
striking,  and  once  seen,  he  was  never  forgotten.  The  lapse  of  twenty  years 
still  finds  thousands  in  our  churches  with  vivid  impressions  of  his  sermons — 
chaste  in  style — laden  with  massive  matter — ^here  and  there  a  turn  of  thought 
or  expression  surprisingly  original.  In  manner  plain  and  solemn,  save  an 
occasional  remark  of  outbreaking  oddity, — a  thing  not  without  regret  to 
his  best  friends,  as  well  as  to  himself,  but  so  muqji  a  part  and  parcel  of  Dr. 
Speece  as  to  place  it  fairly  beyond  all  help.  And  how  many  of  us  seem  yet 
to  hear  the  deep  tones  of  his  German  voice,  as  it  swelled  out  from  the 
pulpit  in  the  bass  of  his  well  known  favourites,  Mear,  St.  Martin's,  and  Old 
Hundred ! 

His  father's  name  was  Conrad  Speece,  the  son  of  Conrad  Speece,  who 
migrated  to  this  country  early  in  the  last  century  from  Manheim,  a  town  of 
Baden  in  Germany.  The  name  of  his  mother  was  Ann  Catharine  Tournay, 
whose  ancestry  was  from  Deux- Fonts  in  France.  He  was  born  in  the  town 
of  New  London,  Bedford  County,  Va.,  November  7,  1776.  While  his 
parents  had  but  little  of  this  world's  goods,  they  were  of  excellent  charae- 
ter  for  honesty  and  industry.  His  mother  was  a  woman  of  approved  piety. 
His  father  was  not  a  member  of  any  church,  but  before  his  death,  which 
was  in  1820,  gave  full  expression  to  his  entire  trust  in  Christ  as  his  Saviour. 

In  1781,  the  family  removed  a  few  miles  from  New  London,  whore  the 
subject  of  this  notice  was  employed  in  agricultural   labours   till  1792, 


OONRAD  SPE£Ci:.  28S 

enjoying  the  slender  advantages  aiForded  by  the  common  schools  of  the 
neigfabourhood.  It  was  through  the  instmmentality  of  my  father,  Rev. 
Samuel  Brown,  who  had  been  one  of  his  teachers,  and  had  discovered  his 
uncommon  capacity,  that  arrangements  were  about  this  time  made  for  his 
entering  a  grammar  school  near  New  London,  where  his  successive  instruct- 
ers  were  Mr.  Edward  Oraham,  afterwards  long«a  Professor  in  Washington 
College,  and  the  late  Rev.  George  A.  Baxter,  D.  D.*  After  a  few  weeks 
of  slow  and  embarrassed  experiments,  his  progress  was  remarkably  rapid. 
The  death  of  his  mother,  in  1795,  was  the  means  of  deepening  the  impres- 
sions of  those  religious  truths  she  had  early  instilled  into  his  mind.  A 
few  months  afterwards  he  entered  the  Academy  of  Liberty  Hall,  since 
cbanged  to  Washington  College,  and  at  that  time  presided  over  by  the  Rev. 
William  Graham,  its  distinguished  founder.  Here  new  associates  soon 
banished  serious  things  in  a  measure  from  his  thoughts.  Bnt  in  a  little 
while  his  interest  was  renewed  and  deepened.  In  the  contemplation,  how- 
ever, of  some  of  the  most  mysterious  doctrines  of  Scripture,  he  was  driven 
by  the  tempter — or,  to  give  his  own  words — **by  my  own  ignorance,  and 
pride" — to  the  brink  of  infidelity.  His  rescue  from  this  peril  was  by 
means  of  Jenyns'  Internal  Evidence,  and  Beattie's  Evidences,  put  into  his 
hands  by  Mr.  Graham.  After  a  deep  struggle,  in  which  he  discovered,  as 
never  before,  the  depravity  of  his  heart,  and  the  need  of  a  Divine  Helper, 
he  found  righteousness,  and  strength,  and  peace  in  Jesus  Christ.  His 
phms  of  life,  which  had  been  formed  for  the  profession  of  a  lawyer,  were 
now  speedily  changed  to  the  purpose  of  preaching  the  Gospel.  In  April, 
1796,  he  was  admitted  to  the  communion  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  at 
New  Monmouth,  (Lexington  had  no  church  at  that  time,)  and,  in  Septem- 
ber following,  was  received  a  candidate  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery 
<lf  Lexington.  His  teacher  in  Theology  was  Mr.  Graham.  Certain  diffi- 
ciilties,  arising  in  his  mind  on  the  subject  of  Infant  Baptism,  led  to  the 
postponement  of  his  licensure ;  and  in  the  spring  of  1799,  he  became  a 
Tutor  in  Hampden  Sidney  College,  then  under  the  Presidency  of  his  inti- 
mate friend,  the  late  Archibald  Alexander,  D.  D.  In  April,  1800,  he 
considered  it  his  duty  to  be  immersed  by  a  Baptist  clergyman,  and  without 
any  preliminary  formality,  began  to  preach  the  Gospel.  But  Dr.  Alexan- 
der, having,  shortly  after  this,  found  relief  from  the  doubts  which  had  also 
troubled  his  mind  on  the  same  subject,  soon  convinced  Mr.  Speece  of  the 
oeeessity  of  re-examining  the  whole  argument.  The  result  was  that  his 
opinions  became  finally  and  fully  settled  in  favour  of  Infant  Baptism ;  and, 
having  respectfully  withdrawn  from  the  Baptist  Communion,  he  was,  on  the 
9th  of  April,  1801,  regularly  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the  Presby- 
tery of  Hanover. 

Weary  of  a  college  life,  and  wishing  full  employment  in  his  ministry,  he 
left  Hampden  Sidney  in  the  autumn  of  this  year,  and  was  appointed  by  the 
Synod  of  Virginia  as  a  kind  of  general  missionary.  During  the  period  of 
^8  service,  his  labours  were  spread  over  a  large  part  of  Eastern  Virginia, 
&s  well  as  along  the  extent  of  the  great  valley  West  of  the  Blue  Ridge. 
In  February,  1808,  he  commenced  his  connection  with  a  Church  in  Mont- 
gomery County,  Md.,  called  Captain  John,  of  which,  at  the  time  of  hb 
ordination  by  the  Presbytery  of  Baltimore,  April  22, 1804,  he  was  installed 

*  From  both  of  thoM  gODtlemen  he  reeeired  Ttlnalile  aid. 


286  PBSSBTTBRIAK. 

Pastor.  Bat  his  health  beoomiiig  mach  impaired  by  snoeesBiye  attacks  of 
fever,  this  connection  was  dissolved  in  April,  1805.  During  1806,  he 
preached  in  the  Counties  of  Goochland  and  Fluvanna ;  and  then,  until  1812, 
in  the  Counties  of  Powhatan  and  Cumberland,  Va. 

In  October,  1813,  he  was  installed  Pastor  of  Augusta  Church,  to  which 
he  had  received  a  unanimous  call.  Here  was  the  field  of  his  labours  for 
about  twenty-two  years,  and  until  he  was  removed  by  death.  Augusta 
Church  b  eight  miles  from  Staunton,  Va.,  and  immediately  on  the  main 
road  through  the  Great  Valley  of  the  State, — one  of  the  most  fertile  and 
beautiful  sections  of  our  country.  It  may  be  called  the  venerable  mother 
of  Presbyterianism  in  Virginia,  having  been,  conjointly  with  Tinkling  Spring, 
the  First  Church  in  which  a  regular  Pastor  was  settled.  In  1740,  the  Rev. 
John  Craig,*  a  native  of  Ireland,  and  who  had  been  educated  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Edinburgh,  became  its  first  Pastor.  This  was  seven  years  before 
Samuel  Davies  visited  the  Colony.  In  1747,  their  rude  log  structure  gave 
place  to  the  substantial  edifice  now  used.  At  the  time  of  its  erection 
there  was  no  vehicle  with  wheels  to  be  found  in  the  settlement.  The  rocks 
were  all  drawn  on  sledges,  while  the  glass  and  the  nails  were  brought  on 
pack-horses  from  Williamsburg,  a  distance  of  two  hundred  miles.  Rich- 
mond had  then  no  existence.  When  Brad  dock's  defeat,  in  1755,  spread 
terror  over  the  whole  frontier  country,  the  hardy  Scotch  Irish  of  this  com- 
munity, under  the  superintendence  of  their  pastor,  constructed  a  substantial 
stockade  fort  around  their  church ;  and  this,  on  many  occasions,  was  their 
refuge  from  the  savage  foe.  Its  lines  are  still  visible.  Both  pastor  and 
people  often  carried  the  fatal  rifle  to  the  house  of  God.  This  congregation 
has  been  remarkable  for  its  good  order  and  harmony.  No  inconsiderable 
proof  of  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that,  during  its  entire  existence  of 
one  hundred  and  sixteen  years,  it  has  had  but  four  pastors.  The  sepulch^ 
of  three  are  in  the  graveyard  with  their  people,  and  the  fourth  is  yet  in  tne 
prime  of  life.  It  was  in  the  bosom  of  this  community  Dr.  Speece  quietly 
fed  the  flock  which  the  great  Shepherd  gave  him,  among  the  green  pastures, 
and  along  the  beautiful  streams  of  our  lovely  valley.  Here  his  peaceful 
life, — as  with  many  of  our  best  ministers, — however  useful,  and  fruitful  of 
eternal  results,  was  yet  unmarked  by  striking  events.  Any  attempt  at 
minute  detail  would  swell  this  sketch  far  beyond  its  due  measure.  All  that 
it  is  necessary  to  say  may  be  gathered  into  a  few  particulars. 

1.  As  a  Pas  tor  J  he  was  faithful  and  laborious.  He  was  not  indeed  com- 
monly thought  so  well  fitted,  in  some  respects,  for  the  details  of  private 
pastoral  intercourse  as  some  others.     And  it  was,  perhaps,  a  consciousness 

*  John  Craio  wu  bom  in  the  |>arish  of  Donacor,  County  of  Antrim,  Ireland,  Angost  17, 
1700.  After  attending  to  most  of  the  branches  of  a  liberal  education,  in  his  own  oonntry,  be 
went  to  Sootland,  and  became  a  member  of  the  College  of  Edinburgh,  where  he  graduated 
Matter  of  Arte  in  the  year  1732.  He  came  to  this  country  in  1734,  arriving  at  NewcatUe  on 
the  Delaware,  on  the  17th  of  August  of  that  year.  He  appeared  before  the  Donegal  Presby- 
tery in  the  autumn  of  1736,  and  was  taken  on  trial  the  next  spring,  and  licensed,  August  30, 
1738.  In  the  autumn  of  1739,  he  received  a  call  to  settle  at  West  Coneoocheagne,  whioh  be 
declined.  At  the  close  of  that  year  he  was  ^ent  to  Western  Virginia,  and  commenced  the  Pres- 
byterian interest  in  Augusta.  He  gathered  the  two  Congregations  of  Augpsta  and  Tinkling 
Spring,  and  was  installed  as  their  Pastor  in  September,  1740.  In  the  great  schism  of  the 
Presbyterian  Churoh,  he  sympathized  strongly  with  the  Old  Side.  He  resigned  the  puionl 
charge  of  Tinkling  Spring  in  November,  1764,  and  preached  a  Sermon  on  the  occasion  which 
.  wfl4  printed,  for  the  first  Ume,  in  the  Baltimore  Literary  and  Religious  Magaiine,  in  1840.  He 
remained  in  oharse  of  the  AugusU  Church  till  the  close  of  his  life.  He  died  on  th«  SItt  of 
April,  1774,  in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  In  the  region  in  which  he  lived,  his  memory 
Is  sUU  held  in  high  veneiaUon. 


CONBAD  SPEECE.  287 

of  this  whioli  led  to  the  more  special  concentration  of  his  energies  vpon  the 
work  of  public  preaching.  Here  was  unquestiooably  his  great  strength, 
and  in  this  his  labours  were  abundant.  The  discourses  delivered  by  him 
during  his  connection  with  this  congregation  numbered  three  thousand, 
embracing  an  uncommon  variety  of  texts.  Nor  was  his  ministry  unblessed 
of  God.  Three  hundred  and  iifty  names  were  added  to  the  church  upon 
profession  of  their  faith.  The  attachment  of  his  people  was  uncommonly 
strong ;  and  when  he  received,  only  a  few  years  before  his  death,  a  unani- 
mous invitation  to  become  the  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Staun- 
ton, the  proposal  was  instantly  met  by  a  strong  and  unanimous  opposition 
from  his  congregation. 

2.  As  a  Ruler  in  the  Church  of  God,  his  services  were  of  great  value. 
His  place  was  seldom  vacant  in  our  judicatories,  and .  when  present,  he 
devoted  his  attention  closely  to  the  business  in  hand.  A  judgment  of  uncom- 
mon soundness  on  all  matters  embraced  in  the  deliberations  of  such  bodies, 
gave  his  opinions  great  influence  in  our  Presbytery,  and  Synod,  and  General 
Assembly. 

3.  Among  the  Berievolent  operations  of  the  day  the  Bible  Society  was  his 
favourite ;  and  upon  this  he  bestowed  liberal  benefactions.  In  the  cause  of 
African  Colonization  also  he  took  a  deep  interest.  The  Annual  Reports 
which  he  drew  up  for  the  Society  in  this  county  contain  sentiments  hardly 
surpassed,  in  force  and  compass  of  view,  by  any  to  be  met  with  elsewhere  on 
that  subject.  But  the  Temperance  reformation,  more  than  any  other  move- 
ment, drew  out  the  utmost  powers  of  his  mind  in  its  promotion.  Kind  in 
his  feelings,  wise  in  his  measures,  and  of  conservative  views,  he  abhorred 
the  denunciations  of  some,  and  the  extravagancies  of  others;  but  was, 
through  all,  an  uncompromising  foe  of  intemperance.  All  over  this  com- 
munity, and  wherever  occasion  offered,  he  brought  down  his  huge  battle  axe 
upon  the  head  of  this  deadly  evil,  and  with  prodigious  effect. 

4.  The  published  productions  of  Dr.  Speece  are  of  a  merit  fairly  claim- 
ing for  him  honourable  mention  as  an  Author.  The  most  considerable 
production  of  his  pen  is  **The  Mountaineer," — ^a  small  volume  containing 
fifty-six  papers,  written  in  1813-1816,  and  after  the  manner  of  ''The 
Spectator.*'  It  has  gone  through  three  editions, — is  highly  creditable  to 
the  writer,  and  some  of  the  pieces  are  of  great  excellence. 

From  manuscripts  of  Dr.  S.  in  my  possession,  I  find  that  his  other  pub- 
lications number  in  all  one  hundred  and  fifty,  both  in  prose  and  in  verse, 
and  upon  a  great  variety  of  subjects.  The  most  important  of  his  poetical 
compositions  is  an  excellent  hymn  under  the  title — ^**  The  Gross  of  Christ," — 
first  published,  as  many  of  his  pieces  were,  in  the  Connecticut  Evangelical 
Magaxine,  Vol.  2.  It  is  now  the  37 2d  Hymn  of  the  General  Assembly's 
Collection.     This  was  written  when  he  was  twenty-four  years  of  age. 

His  published  Sermons  are, — *•  Christ  Crucified  :  *'  preached  by  appoint- 
ment before  the  General  Assembly,  May  21,  1810;  on  Proverbs  xxi.  31: 
preached  in  Cumberland,  Ya.,  August  20,  1812,  the  day  appointed  by  the 
President  of  the  United  States  for  humiliation  and  prayer ;  on  the  death 
of  Mrs.  Martha  Nicholas,  1812;  on  Ecdesiastes  xii.  10:  preached  at 
the  opening  of  the  Presbytery  of  Lexington,  1824 ;  on  Isaiah  Iv.  10, 
11:  preached  in  Fredericksburg,  Ya.,  at  the  ordination  and  installation  of 
Bev.  Samuel  B.  Wilson,  1824 ;  on  tbe  death  of  Mrs.  Elisabeth  Hendren, 
1832. 


288  PRSSBTTKRIAK. 

He  was  also  a  large  eontribator  to  the  Virginia  Evangelioal  and  Literary 
Magazine,  edited  by  his  intimate  friend,  the  lamented  John  H.  Rice,  B.  D. 

In  October,  1835,  he  attended  the  meeting  of  the  Synod  of  Virginia  in 
Prince  Edward  for  the  last  time,  and  presided  over  its  deliberations.  This 
meeting  will  be  long  remembered  as  one  of  great  interest,  to  which  the  visit 
of  the  venerable  Dr.  Alexander  to  the  scene  of  his  early  ministry  greatly 
contributed.  In  that  Synod  he  still  fonnd,  among  his  long  tried  friends.  Doc- 
tors  Baxter,  Hill,  and  Speece.  The  Sabbath  day  was  a  feast  indeed  to 
hundreds.  Dr.  Alexander  preached  in  the  morning ;  and  who  ever  heard 
even  him  preach  better?  But  the  sermon  did  not  surpass  the  interest 
excited  by  the  address  preceding  the  administration  of  the  Lord's  Sapper, 
delivered  by  Dr.  Speece.  The  simplicity,  the  originality,  the  subdued,  but 
elevated  fervour  pervading  it  throughout,  made  it  almost  inimitable.  How 
many  Christians  felt,  that  day,  as  if  brought  to  *'  the  very  gate  of  Heaven  !" 
And  when,  with  deep  and  tender  emotions,  he  referred  to  the  penitent  thief 
on  the  cross,  and  his  own  hope  soon  to  enter  the  Heavenly  world,  and  bis 
wish  to  search  out  that  thief  among  the  happy  throng,  and  taking  him  by 
the  hand  to  say — **  My  brother,  now  tell  me,  under  all  the  circumstances  of 
the  case,  which  of  us,  poor  sinners,  is  the  greater  debtor  to  the  grace  of  our 
Divine  Saviour?" — the  effect  upon  the  assembly  was  overwhelming. 

From  Prince  Edward  ho  made  a  final  visit  to  his  old  friends  in  the  Coun- 
ties of  Powhatan  and  Cumberland.  Of  his  feelings  during  this  visit  in 
Eastern  Virginia  he  makes  a  brief  record  on  his  return  home:  "Daring 
this  excursion  below  the  Blue  Ridge,  I  have  been  as  one  walking  in  a  fas- 
cinating but  melancholy  dream.  Emigration,  and  death  still  more,  have 
taken  away  many  of  the  old  friends  in  that  region  whom  I  loved ;  and  the 
few  that  remain,  appeared  to  me,  for  the  most  part,  strikingly  marked  with 
the  traces  of  age  and  debility.  I  seemed  to  be  looking  at  countenances  of 
which  time  had  stolen  the  half,  or  two  thirds,  or  even  a  greater  proportion, 
forever  away.  Thus  *  we  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf:'  but  blessed  be -God,  we 
hope  to  obtain  a  better  world,  where  sorrow,  and  infirmity,  and  death  are 
knovm  no  more."  To  that  **  better  world  *'  he  was  fast  drawing  near.  On 
Sabbath,  December  27,  1835,  and  within  a  very  few  minutes  after  leaving 
the  pulpit,  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  pain  in  his  left  breast,  (angina  pec- 
toris,) causing  him  almost  instantaneously  to  faint,  and  sink  to  the  floor. 
The  sensation  experienced  he  afterwards  compared,  in  his  own  graphic  way, 
to  **a  kind  of  invisible  rifle'skot"  Under  powerful  applications  imme- 
diately administered  he  soon  revived,  and  the  threatening  symptoms  of  the 
disease  were  abated.  He  now  evidently  anticipated  a  sudden  death.  '*  What 
a  solemn  warning  was  this  to  me  to  be  ready,  at  a  moment's  notice,  for  the 
summons  to  eternity !  God  give  me  grace  so  to  use  this  awful  dispensation 
of  his  providence." 

He  lived  to  preach  five  discourses  after  this,  but  manifestly  under  great 
physical  prostration.  His  last  was  on  Saturday,  February  15,  1836.  It  was 
a  Temperance  Sermon  on  the  text  '*Is  this  thy  kindness  to  thy  friend?*' — 
and  was  thought  by  his  friends  one  of  the  very  best  they  had  ever  heard 
from  him.  On  the  next  morning,  the  Sabbath,  and  while  riding  to  the 
church,  he  was  again  attacked  by  the  same  terrible  disease,  but  not  with  the 
same  violenee  as  before.  Bat  he  was  waiting  for  the  '*  coming  of  the  Lord." 
He  expressed  to  all  around  his  entire  confidence  in  the  Saviour.  On  Mon- 
day night,  and  when  he  was  thought  to  be  recovering,  the  final  summons 


CONRAD  SF£ECE.  £89 


If 


erne,  tnd  in  a  few  moments  he  yielded  up  bis  spirit  to  "  God  who  gave  it. 
He  died  in  the  sixtieth  year  of  his  age. 

Believe  me,  dear  Sir,  most  sincerely  yours, 

WILLIAM  BROWN. 


FROM  THE  REV.  HENRT  RUFFNER,  D.  D. 

Lexixotoh,  Ta.,  January  28, 1S48. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  haye  just  received  your  letter  asking  for  my  impressions 
respecting  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Speece.  I  give  them  cheerfully,  but,  owing  to  a 
pressure  of  other  engagements,  less  fully  and  deliberately,  than  I  otherwise 
should. 

Dr.  Speece  manifested  his  capacity  for  scholarship  at  an  early  age.  Edward 
Gnbam,  Esq.,  late  Professor  in  our  Washington  College,  was  teaching  a  classical 
school  in  the  New  London  Academy,  not  far  from  old  Mr.  Speece's,  when  Conrad 
was  sent  thither  to  learn  whatever  he  could  or  would.  Mr.  Graham  beheld  in 
him  an  awkward,  nncouth  Dutch  boy,  apparently  overgrown  for  his  age,  and  to 
a  superficial  observer  of  too  rough  a  material  to  be  polished  into  any  sort  of 
refinement.  But  he  soon  saw  that  he  was,  mentally  at  least,  a  rough  diamond. 
He  set  him  at  the  Latin  Grammar.  The  big  boy  looked  at  it,  turned  over  the 
leaves  from  beginning  to  end,  and  when  called  on  said  his  Ate,  haCy  hoc,  &c., 
▼ery  accurately,  but  rather  morosely;  saying  that  he  did  not  understand  M^hat 
it  meant,  and  would  rather  learn  something  else.  Mr.  Graham  persuaded  him 
to  go  on;  and  so  he  did,  with  such  accelerated  speed  and  growing  encouragement, 
that  he  distanced  all  his  class  mates,  and  was  no  less  distinguished  for  the  accu- 
racy than  the  rapidity  of  his  acquirements.  This  was  the  foreshadowing  of  bis 
fature  history.  But  it  is  not  his  history,  but  a  delineation  of  his  character,  that 
yoQ  request  of  me. 

In  person  Dr.  Speece  was  tall,  large  and  lubberly — somewhat  like  the  Lexi- 
cographer, Dr.  Johnson.  In  respect  to  his  intellect,  he  was  remarkable  for  the 
clearness,  method,  and  precision  of  his  thoughts,  and  consequently  for  the  ready 
command  of  his  knowledge,  and  the  perfect  fluency  and  perspicuity  of  his 
expressions.  I  have  heard  him  utter  perhaps  millions  of  words,  but  I  know 
not  that  I  ever  heard  him  hesitate  for  a  word,  or  use  one  tbat  was  improper. 

He  was  a  great  reader  of  books,  both  theological  and  literary.  Yet  he  was 
not  a  great  student,  if  by  this  term  we  understand  a  man  who  studies  a  particu- 
lar subject  until  he  is  thoroughly  acquainted  with  it.  Hence  he  was  not  a  man 
of  science  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term;  but  rather  a  man  of  extensive 
knowledge,  which  his  qnick  and  retentive  mind  had  always  in  its  view,  like  a 
vide  landscape  before  the  eye. 

He  excelled  in  conversation;  was  full  of  a  droll  humour,  that  never  hurt,  but 
ftlways  diverted,  his  company.  His  peculiar  humour  sometimes  showed  itself 
in  the  pulpit,  but  on  account  of  its  incongruity  with  the  place,  not  always  with 
happy  effect. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  fluent,  clear  and  instructive.  His  deep,  sonorous  voice 
filled  the  ears  of  the  largest  audience;  but  he  was  rather  monotonous  in  tho 
manner  of  his  delivery,  and  never  rose  to  a  very  high  pitch  of  eloquence. 

He  rarely  wrote  his  sermons  or  spent  much  time  in  premeditating  them ;  yet 
•nchwas  his  readiness  of  thought,  cleariiess  of  method,  and  perfect  propriety 
of  expression,  that  a  literal  copy  of  his  extemporaneous  discourses  would  have 
needed  no  correction  for  the  press. 

He  did  not  excel  as  a  writer.  The  style  of  his  writings  was  infinior  to  that 
of  his  extemporary  discourses,  and  his  ordinary  conversation.  His  ready  mind 
Memed  to  feel  cramped  and  embarrassed  by  the  slow  mechanical  process  of 

Vd.  IV.  37 


290  ^^  SBTTK&IAK . 

vritiog.    Though  an  admirer  of  poetry,  he  had  KU]e  imagination:  hig  taste  vas 
therefore  correct  rather  than  delicate,  and  his  style  lacked  embellishment. 

He  was  a  sincere  and  good-hearted  Christian,  void  of  enthusiasm,  and  hence 
not  of  the  class  called  revival  preachers.  Ilis  principles  were  strictly  orthodox, 
and  his  morality  excm'plary;  and  yet  truth  requires  me  to  say  that  his  economy, 
to  say  the  least,  verged  to  a  point,  beyond  which  it  would  have  ceased  to  be  a 
virtue.  He  was  of  the  German  stock  of  frugal  farmers,  and  though  long  soaked 
in  Yirginianism  and  Prcsbyterianism,  he  still  retained  some  spice  of  the  native 
sap.  lie  was  an  old  bachelor  withal,  and  having  thus  the  centre  of  human 
attraction  in  the  centre  of  his  own  self,  his  whole  system  tended  to  contraction. 
But  this  was  alter  all  a  mere  blemish  in  a  great  and  good  man;  and  happy  are 
they  whose  spotless  character  shall  entitle  them  to  cast  a  stone  at  his  with  its 
one  spot. 

Dr.  Speece  was  regular  in  his  attendance  upon  oar  Church  judicatories,  and 
always  showed  himself  a  wise  counsellor.  As  he  grew  somewhat  old,  and 
became  more  corpulent  and  more  difficult  of  locomotion,  requiring  a  giant  of  a 
horse  to  carry  him,  (by  the  bye,  he  once  crushed  his  horse  to  death,  when  the 
unfortunate  animal  fell  under  his  weight,  upon  a  smooth  limestone  rock,)  lie 
complained  of  the  difficulty  of  getting  to  Presbytery,  when  it  met  over  rugged 
Western  mountains,  and  especially  when  he  had  to  travel  over  the  worst  moun- 
tain-road in  Virginia — ^it  was  over  the  huge,  Wild  Cheat  Mountain; — and  on  one 
occasion  he  so  crippled  his  horse  that  he  resolved  that,  alter  his  return,  he  would 
never  travel  that  road  of  cleft  rocks,  deep  mire,  and  tangled  tree-roots  again. 
So  when  at  last,  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain  next  to  his  home,  he 
solemnly  wheeled  his  horse  towards  this  spruce-covered  terror  of  travellers, 
doffed  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  of  inexpressible  shape,  bowed  after  his  indescriba- 
ble manner,  and  said,  *'  Farewell,  Cheat  Mountain,  we  shall  never  meet  again." 
It  was  something  like  Mountain  nodding  to  Mountain,  and  frowning  one  at  the 
other. 

His  distinguished  talents  and  learning  procured  for  him,  at  middle  age,  in 
1820,  the  honorary  title  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Princeton  College;  but  he 
was  not  covetous  of  public  honours  nor  of  high  station.  Qive  him  his  pulpit, 
his  parishioners,  his  literary  friends,  and  his  books;  and  the  world  might  take 
all  the  rest  with  his  hearty  consent.  I  ought  perhaps  to  except  tobacco — ^"the 
weed,"  as  he  called  it,  which  was  to  him  almost  as  indispensable  as  books.  lie 
was  an  enormous  chewer,  and  a  zealous  adrocate  of  the  use  of  this  drug.  Many 
were  the  pleasant  and  droll  sayings  that  he  uttered  concerning  it.  But  proba- 
bly it  shortened  his  days.  Old  Father  Mitchel,  of  Bedford,  used  to  say,  after 
his  eightieth  winter,  that  if  tobacco  was  a  poison,  it  was  a  slow  one,  for  he  had 
chewed  it  for  seventy  years.  But  Dr.  Speece,,  being  only  three  times  as  large  as 
Father  Mitchel,  consumed  at  least  six  times  as  much  in  twenty-four  hours.  He 
literally  slept  with  his  cheek  full  of  it. 

This  is  all  that  I  can  say  off  hand  about  Dr.  Speece,  and  it  may  at  least  serve 
to  give  you  some  idea  of  his  peculiar  mental  and  moral  constitution. 

Yours  in  brotherhood, 

H.  RUPFNEB. 


FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  HILL,  D.D. 

WiHCRssTKB,  Va.,  April  9, 1848. 
Dear  Sir:  The  Rev.  Dr.  Speece,  concerning  whom  you  ask  for  my  reminis- 
cences, was  for  many  years  my  intimate  friend,  and  I  am  happy  in  the  oppor- 
tunity of  rendering  a  tribute  to  his  memory.  I  shall,  however,  give  you  my 
recollections  as  they  happen  to  occur,  rather  than  attempt  a  full  portntit  of  his 
character. 


COMRAB  S^UG£.  291 

Nobody  who  knew  Dr.  Speeoe  could  doubt  that  he  was,  in  many  respects,  an 
extraordinary  man.  With  an  uncommonly  forbidding  exterior,  he  had  a  mind 
of  great  strength  and  compass,  and  was  by  no  means  destitute  of  the  milk  of 
human  kindness.  With  his  particular  friends  he  would  unbend  with  great 
familiarity,  and  render  himself  exceedingly  agreeable;  while  he  was  not  particu- 
larly social  among  strangers,  and  towards  those  for  whom  he  had  no  respect  he 
maintained  a  pretty  uniformly  stem  and  distant  attitude. 

He  may  be  said  to  have  had  a  place  among  the  more  eminent  preachers  of  his 
day.  His  sermons,  though,  far  from  being  unstudied,  were  seldom,  if  ever, 
written  out.  His  thoughts  were  strong  and  pertinent,  and  his  style  rather 
perspicuous  than  ornate.  Had  he  possessed  an  agreeable  and  well  modulated 
voice,  and  in  other  respects  an  attractive  manner,  he  would  undoubtedly  have 
enjoyed  a  measure  of  popularity  as  a  preacher  which  he  never  reached.  But  iu 
these  latter  particulars  he  was  very  deficient.  His  voice  was  coarse,  monoto- 
nous, and  very  little  susceptible  of  modulation;  while  his  gestures,  if  he  made 
any,  were  stiff  and  awkward,  his  head  being  a  little  inclined  to  one  side,  with  a 
frown  on  his  forehead. 

As  an  illustration  of  what  I  have  just  stated,  I  may  mention  a  circumstance 
that  occurred  between  Dr.  Speece  and  the  Rev.  James  Turner,  who  was  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  pulpit  orators  that  Virginia  has  produced.  Mr.  Turner 
was  a  man  of  deep  feeling,  glowing  piety,  comprehensive  genius,  and  popular 
talents;  but  he  entered  the  ministry  late  in  life,  and  without  any  very  mature 
preparation  for  it.  But  notwithstanding  he  was  in  some  respects  a  perfect  con- 
trast to  Speece,  they  were  still  on  terms  of  the  most  intimate  friendship.  On 
one  occasion  they  agreed  to  go  out  and  spend  a  week  together  on  a  missionary 
tour  through  the  destitute  regions  round  about.  They  had  sent  out  notices  of  a 
series  of  appointments  beforehand  in  the  part  of  the  country  through  which 
they  intended  to  pass.  It  was  agreed  between  them  that  they  should  preach  on 
alternate  days;  and  he  who  did  not  preach  was  always  to  follow  at  the  close  of 
the  sermon  with  an  enforcing  exhortation.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  when 
Speece  had  finished  his  sermon,  he  called  upon  his  brother  Turner  to  exhort;  but 
Turner,  in  rather  an  ungracious  manner,  replied, — '*  Close  the  meeting — I  have 
nothing  to  say."  The  secret  of  it  was,  that  they  had  had  a  large  congregation, 
consisting  chiefly  of  persons  who  seldom  had  the  opportunity  of  hearing  the 
Gospel;  and  Turner  was  so  much  impressed  with  the  idea  that  Speece 's  sermon 
had  not  met  the  exigency  of  the  case,  that  it  had  put  him  quite  out  of  tune,  and 
he  did  not  dare  utter  a  word,  feeling  assured  that  any  attempt  he  might  make  to 
speak,  would  be  a  failure.  When  the  people  had  dispersed,  Speece  said  to  his 
friend  Turner,  "What  is  the  matter  with  you  now  ?"  "Brother  Speece,  I  do 
not  like  your  preaching  at  all,"  was  the  reply.  "  If,"  says  he,  "  I  could  com- 
mand such  sentiments  and  language  as  you  can,  I  could  prostrate  all  before  me; 
but  you  drag  along,  and  let  your  words  drop  out  of  your  mouth,  like  stones  out 
of  the  tail  of  a  cart.  Man,  why  don't  you  fire  ?  Why  don't  you  put  in  more 
powder,  and  fire  dear,  and  then  you  might  expect  to  do  some  execution."  To 
amuse  himself  and  his  friends,  and  to  show  his  admiration  of  Mr.  Turner,  Dr. 
Speece  would  often  relate  this  incident. 

I  might  enlarge  in  respect  to  the  character  and  habits  of  my  old  friend,  but 
what  I  have  written  may  perhaps  be  sufScient  for  your  purpose. 

Yours  truly, 

WILLIAM  HILL. 


292  PRESBTTBRIAK. 


JOHN  MATTHEWS,  D.  D  * 

1801—1848. 

John  Matthews  was  born  in  Guilford  Conntj,  N.  C,  within  the  boauds 
of  the  Alamance  Congregation,  January  19,  1772.  His  father  emigrated 
from  Ireland,  but  was  married  after  he  came  to  this  country — he  was  a  farmer 
in  moderate  cLrcumstanecs,  but,  from  principle,  never  held  slaves.  The  early 
advantages  for  education  enjoyed  by  the  son  were  very  limited,  though  his 
tastes  were,  from  childhood,  decidedly  intellectual.  Having  served  for  some 
time  successively  at  the  business  of  a  wheelwright,  a  house  carpenter,  and 
a  cabinet-maker, — always  devotiug  to  reading  whatever  leisure  he  could 
command  from  his  daily  employment, — he  entered,  at  the  age  of  about 
twenty,  on  a  course  of  study  in  the  school  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  David  Cald- 
well,— an  eminent  teacher,  and  the  Pastor  of  the  Church  with  which  his 
father's  family  was  connected.  He  lived  part  of  the  time  in  Dr.  Caldwell's 
family,  paying  for  his  board  by  making  various  scientific  instruments  for 
the  use  of  his  school;  and,  during  one  of  his  vacations,  he  made  a  carriage 
for  the  Doctor,  which  the  venerable  old  man  used  for  many  years  afterwards 
to  boast  of,  as  he  rode  in  it  with  his  visitors,  as  a  specimen  of  the  handi- 
work of  one  of  his  pupils.  During  another  vacation,  he  assisted  in  finish- 
ing a  church  edifice,  especially  in  making  the  pulpit ;  and  this  structure  was 
the  first  one  he  ever  occupied,  after  he  was  licensed  to  preach.  His  pro- 
gress in  the  languages  was  very  rapid  ;  but  he  seems  to  have  had  a  still 
greater  aptitude  for  the  study  of  the  sciences.  He  was  especially  delighted 
with  Astronomy ;  and  he  even  formed  an  Orrery,  or  Planetarium,  showing 
the  revolution  of  the  heavenly  bodies, — which  was  considered  as  an  instru- 
ment of  extraordinary  power  and  accuracy.  This  also  he  presented  to  his 
revered  teacher,  in  whose  family  it  is  understood  that  it  is  still  preserved  as 
a  valuable  relic. 

Having  completed  his  preparatory  course,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  by 
the  Presbytery  of  Orange  in  March,  1801,  being  then  in  his  thirtieth  year. 
The  next  winter,  he  was  sent  as  a  missionary  to  Natchez ;  and,  in  fulfilling 
this  appointment,  he  had  to  traverse  an  extensive  desolate  region,  where 
were  not  to  be  seen  even  the  faintest  traces  of  civilization.  On  his  return 
to  Carolina,  he  received  a  call,  in  April,  1803,  from  the  Nutbush  and 
Grassy  Creek  Churches.  He  accepted  the  call,  and  was  installed  shortly 
afterwards. 

Mr.  Matthews  remained  Pastor  of  these  Churches  until  1806,  when  he 
resigned  his  charge,  and  soon  after  was  installed  over  the  Church  in  Martins- 
burg,  Va.  After  remaining  here  a  little  more  than  a  year,  he  yielded  to 
the  urgent  solicitation  of  the  Church  in  Shepherdstown,  Ya.,  then  vacant 
by  the  removal  of  Dr.  Hoge  to  Hampden  Sidney  College, — to  become  their 
Pastor.  He  accepted  this  charge,  not  without  many  misgivings,  particularly 
in  consideration  of  the  very  high  character  of  his  predecessor;  but  the  result 
proved  that  he  was  in  no  wise  unworthy  to  succeed  the  man  who  had  gone 
before  him,  though  his  praise  had  long  been  in  all  the  churches.  He  preached 
as  a  stated  supply  to  this  Church  and  that  of  Charlestown  till  about  1826  or 

*  H8S.  from  hSfl  soni.— Foote'i  Sketehes  of  N.  C— Dr.  Wood's  Fvn.  Som.  (MS.) 


JOB»  M ATTHSWfi.  29 


9 


'27, — dividing  his  time  equally  between  tbe  two  places,  and  preaching  fre- 
quently also  at  Harper's  Ferry.  He  then  gave  up  his  charge  at  Charles- 
town,  and  took  that  at  Martinsburg  in  its  place,  dividing  his  time  equally 
between  Martinsburg  and  Charlestown  till  he  removed  to  the  West.  Not 
only  by  the  people  of  his  immediate  charge,  but  throughout  the  whole 
region,  and  indeed  in  the  State  at  large,  he  was  regarded  as  one  of  the 
ablest  men,  and  one  of  the  most  useful  and  excellent  preachers,  of  his 
day. 

In  1823,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  by  the 
Trustees  of  Washington  College,  Pa. 

In  1830,  he  was  invited  to  become  the  Professor  of  Theology  in  the  The- 
ological Seminary  which  had  then  just  been  established  at  Hanover  in  Indi- 
ana. After  visiting  the  place,  and  viewing  the  subject  in  all  its  bearings, 
he  determined  to  accept  the  invitation ;  though,  in  doing  so,  he  acted  con- 
trary to  the  judgment  of  most  of  his  friends,  and  the  earnest  entreaties  of 
some  of  them,  and  withal  was  fully  convinced  that  the  step  must  be  adverse 
to  his  own  pecuniary  and  worldly  advantage.  He  recognised  a  call  of  Provi- 
dence, and  that  with  him  was  paramount  to  all  other  considerations.  His 
inauguration  as  Professor  took  place  on  the  29th  of  June,  1831 ;  and  from 
that  period  till  the  close  of  his  life, — seventeen  years, — his  devotion  to  the 
interests  of  the  institution  was  most  untiring  and  exemplary.  He  had  no 
regular  charge,  as  a  preacher,  during  this  period,  but  a  large  part  of  his 
Sabbaths  were  employed  in  supplying  vacancies,  or  assisting  his  brethren  in 
the  neighbourhood.  Though  overtures  were  repeatedly  made  to  him  to 
occupy  other  important  stations,  he  unhesitatingly  declined  them  all,  froui 
a  conviction  that  he  held  the  place  in  which  his  labours  were  more  effective 
for  the  promotion  of  the  best  interests  of  the  Church  than  they  would  be 
likely  to  be  in  any  other.  During  part  of  the  time,  he  acted  as  Vice  Presi- 
dent of  Hanover  College,  and  often  supplied  vacancies  in  the  College,  in  the 
way  of  instruction. 

Dr.  Matthews,  a  few  years  before  his  death,  began  to  feel  the  infirmities 
of  age,  but  he  was  able  to  labour,  with  little  or  no  intermission,  till  almost 
the  close  of  life ;  and  at  last  he  died  suddenly.  He  had  continued  his  lec- 
tures on  Theology,  till  within  a  week  of  his  death.  He  had  been  urged  iX) 
submit  to  a  surgical  operation  for  an  internal  malady,  and  finally  consented 
to  it ;  but  the  operation  proved  fatal  at  the  very  moment  of  its  being  per- 
formed. He  died  at  New  Albany,  on  the  19th  of  May,  1848,  in  the  scventv- 
seventh  year  of  his  age.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev. 
Br.  James  Wood,  then  one  of  the  Professors  in  the  Theological  Seminary. 

Dr.  Matthews'  two  most  important  publications  were  entitled  '*  Letters 
on  the  Divine  Purpose,"  and  **  The  influence  of  the  Bible."  These  were 
published  originally  as  communications  in  the  Literary  and  Theological 
Magazine,  edited  by  Dr.  John  H.  Rice,  and  they  subsequently  took  a  more 
permanent  form,  and  are  justly  regarded  as  having  a  high  and  enduring 
value.  Beside  these,  he  published  the  following : — National  Peace  and 
Safety :  A  Sermon  preached  on  the  Fast  day  appointed  by  public  authority, 
1812.  Memorial  of  Independence :  A  Sermon  delivered  on  the  Fourth  of 
July,  1815.  A  Sermon  on  Reconciliation  by  the  Cross,  published  in 
tbe  Virginia  and  North  Carolina  Preacher,  1818.  The  duties  of  the  pas- 
toral office :  A  Sermon  preached  at  the  ordination  of  Wells  Andrews,  1818. 
On  Intemperance,  1818.     A  Sermon  at  the  Funeral  of  Colonel  James  Mor- 


294  PRESBTTERIATT. 

row.  A  Sermon  preached  before  a  Lodge  of  Freemasons.  Ministerial 
devotedness  :  A  Sermon  delivered  at  tbe  ordination  and  installation  of  Rct. 
James  M.  Brown,  1826.  Inaugural  Address  upon  occasion  of  his  entering 
on  tbe  duties  of  Professor  of  Theology  at  Hanover,  Ind.,  1831.  A  Ser- 
mon on  the  Unity  of  Christ  and  the  Church,  published  in  a  volume  enU- 
tled  **  Original  Sermons  by  Presbyterian  ministers  in  the  Mississippi  Val- 
ley," 1883.     A  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  Rev.  Harry  Innis  Todd. 

Dr.  Matthews  was  married  on  the  8th  of  December,  1808,  to  Elizabeth, 
daughter  of  John  Daniel,  of  Charlotte  County,  Ya.  She  died  in  June, 
1809,  leaving  four  young  children.  In  April,  1818,  he  was  married  again 
to  Elicabeth,  daughter  of  James  Wilson,  of  Berkley  County ;  and  bj  this 
marriage  there  were  five  children.  His  widow  survives  (1857)  in  her  sev- 
enty-fourth year.  All  his  sons, — six  in  number,  are  graduates  of  Colleges, 
and  three  of  them  are  highly  respectable  ministers  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church. 

FROM  THE  RET.  JAMES  WOOD,  D.  D. 
paorKssoa  in  thb  hsw  albakt  thkological  bekihary,  ind* 

Nkw  Albany,  August  28, 1848. 

My  dear  Sir:  The  venerable  Dr.  Matthews  was  not  personally  known  to  me 
till  1837.  My  first  acquaintance  with  him  was  formed  during  a  short  visit  at 
Hanover,  Ind.,  where  he  then  resided.  Tbe  trait  of  character  which  produced 
the  strongest  impression  on  my  mind  at  that  time,  was  his  unaffected  and  patri* 
archal  simplicity.  I  found  him,  like  Jacob,  ''a  plain  man,"  deliberate  And 
somewhat  reserved  in  conversation,  yet  so  kind  and  hospitable  that  I  felt  the 
greatest  freedom  both  in  his  society  and  in  his  house.  Two  years  afterwards,  I 
became  associated  with  him  as  a  Professor  in  the  Theological  Seminary,  from 
which  time  I  enjoyed  almost  daily  intercourse  with  him  till  his  death.  My  for- 
mer impressions  were  fully  sustained,  and  other  traits,  equally  characteristic  and 
praiseworthy,  were  developed,  from  time  to  time,  as  opportunities  occurred  for 
their  exhibition. 

Dr.  Matthews  possessed  talents  of  a  high  order.  His  reasoning  powers  were 
acute.  His  method  was  easy,  perspicuous  and  logical.  He  uttered  his  thoughts 
with  so  much  accuracy  and  precision,  that  he  seldom  recalled  a  word,  or  had  any 
occasion  to  change  it  for  another.  In  the  commencement  of  his  ministry,  he  is 
said  to  have  exhibited  great  fervour  and  occasional  vehemence,  which  produced, 
at  times,  a  very  strong  and  visible  effect  upon  his  audience.  This  method  of 
speaking  he  afterwards  exchanged  for  one  more  composed  and  deliberate,  and  he 
evidently  aimed  rather  at  instructing  than  exciting  his  hearers.  But  though 
deliberate,  he  was  not  dull.  Though  he  made  no  attempt  at  oratory,  either  by 
gestures  or  ornate  diction,  his  language  and  manner  were  generally  impressive, 
and  sometimes  truly  eloquent.  He  was  a  close  student,  and  an  accurate  scholar; 
was  uncommonly  familiar  with  the  classics,  and  critically  acquainted  with  the 
original  of  tbe  Now  Testament. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  his  ministry,  he  was  a  frequent  contributor  to  the  Lit- 
erary and  Evangelical  Magazine,  and  his  productions  were  so  highly  prized  that 
some  of  them  were  republished  in  a  separate  form.  For  many  years  before  his 
decease,  he  had  a  trembling  in  his  hands,  which  disabled  him,  in  a  great  measure, 
for  committing  his  thoughts  to  paper.  This  accounts  for  his  having  written  so 
little  for  the  press,  during  the  last  twenty-five  years  of  his  life.  But  his  "  Let- 
ters on  the  Divine  Purpose"  are  of  themselves  sufficient  to  entitle  him  to  a  place 
among  our  best  theological  writers.  His  lectures  to  the  students,  for  the  reason 
just  given,  were  not  written  out;  and  are  therefore  preserved  only  in  his  own 


JOHV  MATTHEWS.  293 

brief  noies^  and  the  notes  taken  by  those  who  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  hearing 
them  delirered.  He  was  a  thorough  Theologian  and  an  able  Professor;  and  I 
doobt  not  that  those  who  knew  him  best,  would  fully  sustain  the  remark  that 
he  would  have  honoured  the  chair  of  Professor  of  Theology  in  any  Seminary  in 
our  country. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  fact  that  Dr.  Matthews  was  distinguished  for  his 
simplicity  of  character.  This  was  visible  both  in  public  and  in  private ;  in  the 
pulpit  and  in  the  lecture  room.  It  applies  to  both  his  language  and  his  feelings, 
to  his  manner  and  his  thoughts.  He  always  believed  what  he  said,  and  spoke 
what  he  meant. 

He  was  not  less  distinguished  for  consistency.  His  mind  was  well  balanced, 
his  judgment  sound>  and  his  conduct  uniformly  correct  and  well  ordered.  His 
piety  was  not  fluctuating, — now  elevated  and  again  low, — here  joyful  and  there 
melancholy; — ^it  was  as  serene  as  the  morning,  and  as  constant  and  regular  in 
its  exercise  as  the  return  of  day. 

He  was  also  a  pattern  of  meekness.  Whether  he  was  naturally  amiable  or 
otherwise  I  do  not  know;  but  during  his  CkrinHan  course,  the  life  of  God  in  his 
soul  shon^  forth  in  an  unusual  degree,  in  the  exhibition  of  that  holy  and  quiet 
spirit,  which  is  patient  under  suffering,  meek  under  injuries,  and  submissive 
under  the  vexations  and  disappointments  incident  to  our  earthly  condition. 

He  was  a  discreet  man.  He  never  spoke  nor  acted  rashly,  but  always  with  suit- 
able caution  and  a  due  regard  to  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  He  was  pacific  and 
kind.  He  neither  kindled  the  flame  of  discord,  nor  fanned  and  kept  it  alive,  after 
it  had  been  kindled  by  others.  He  studiously  avoided  doing  harm,  and  was  ever 
ready  to  aid  in  doing  good. 

He  was  eminently  conscientious.  The  duties  which  he  regarded  as  belonging 
to  himself  he  seldom,  without  special  necessity,  discharged  by  proxy.  He  con- 
sidered his  responsibility  as  personal  as  well  as  official;  and  if  able,  he  fulfilled 
bis  engagements  with  uniformity  and  promptness.  Occasionally,  in  the  public 
weekly  exercises  of  the  Seminary,  the  student  whose  turn  it  was  to  officiate  per- 
formed his  part  in  the  person  of  another;  the  former  agreeing  to  take  the  place 
of  the  latter  at  some  future  time.  This  arrangement  never  escaped  the  notice  of 
Dr.  Matthews,  who  often  made  a  remark  to  this  effect, — ^that  what  was  John's 
duty  did  not  belong  at  the  same  time  to  Peter  or  James;  and  unless  the  first 
was  prevented  by  sickness^  it  was  not  suitable  for  either  of  the  latter  to  take  his 
place. 

He  was  punctual  to  perform  his  duties  at  the  precise  time  appointed.  In 
several  instances,  in  order  to  promote  the  same  habit  in  the  student,  he  gave  to 
one  of  them  "Punctuality"  as  the  theme  of  an  essay.  When,  as  it  sometimes 
happened,  his  watch  was  too  slow,  and  he  was,  in  consequence  of  this,  behind 
the  appointed  hour  in  arriving  at  the  Seminary,  he  would  reply,  on  being 
reminded  of  the  time, — **  My  watch  is  not  a  moral  agent." 

He  was  very  reluctant  to  express  an  opinion  as  to  the  degree  of  a  man's  piety. 
If  a  person  gave  what  he  deemed  to  be  scriptural  evidence  of  being  pious,  he 
would  speak  of  him  as  a  pious  man.  But  whether  this  man  was  more  or  less 
of  a  saint  than  that,  he  was  unwilling  to  decide.  Accordingly,  in  making  our 
Quarterly  Reports  to  the  Board  of  Education,  ho  never  would  consent  to  graduate 
the  piety  of  the  students,  according  to  the  scale  furnished  us  by  the  Board.  On 
one  occasion,  he  remarked  that  the  attempt  to  graduate  their  piety  according  to  a 
mathematical  scale,  appeared  to  him  as  incongruous  as  to  estimate  music  by  the 
pound. 

He  seldom  referred  to  his  own  religious  experience  either  in  preaching  or  con- 
versation. What  his  feelings  were  could  be  easily  inferred;  yet  he  rarely  spoke 
of  himself.  His  preaching  was  highly  spiritual.  No  one  could  listen  to  it  with- 
out being  impressed  with  the  belief  that  his  knoM'ledge  of  Divine  truth  was 


296  FBSBBTTKRIAN. 

experimental.  His  conversation  was,  in  like  manner,  seasoned  wkh  grace,  and 
indicated  a  heart  deeply  and  habitually  imbued  with  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  The 
week  before  his  death,  I  conversed  with  him  concerning  Solomon's  description 
of  old  age,  when  he  observed, — ''That  description  suits  my  case;  the  machine 
is  nearly  run  down;"  but  added  in  substance — I  do  not  remember  his  precise 
language — that  in  the  Heavenly  state  our  disordered  and  decayed  bodies  will 
undergo  a  complete  repair,  and  never  become  old  again  through  eternity. 

I  am  very  respectfully  yours, 

JAMES  WOOD. 


FROM  THE  REV.  JAMES  M.  BROWN,  D.D. 

Kanawha  Court  House,  Va.,  February  18, 1867. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  first  became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Matthews  in  the 
autumn  of  1824, — a  few  months  after  my  licensure.  He  seemed  to  be  past  the 
prime  of  life  physically,  and  in  its  very  prime  mentally.  He  was  my  nearest 
clerical  neighbour,  and,  to  my  very  great  comfort  and  advantage,  an  intimacy 
commenced  between  us  as  close  as  can  well  exist  where  there  is  such  disparity 
in  age,  and  continued  till  he  removed  to  South  Hanover. 

He  had  been  settled  in  Shepherds  town  more  than  twenty  years.  I  have  never 
known  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  who  was  more  beloved  and  respected  by  all 
classes  than  he  was.  This  was  the  result  of  perfect  frankness,  integrity,  and 
gentleness,  in  his  deportment.  No  man  ever  suspected  him  of  double  dealing. 
I  believe  he  never  had  any  thing  approaching  a  personal  difficulty,  either  as  a  man 
or  a  pastor,  during  his  long  residence  in  that  part  of  Virginia.  This  was  owing, 
in  no  small  degree,  to  the  full  conviction  entertained  by  all  that,  whatevei 
opinions  he  might  avow,  or  whatever  course  he  might  pursue,  in  an}*^  case,  he 
was  perfectly  honest  in  it.  Hence  his  pastoral  life  was  peculiarly  happy.  And 
then  he  possessed  a  native  kindliness  that  led  him  to  sympathize  most  tenderly 
with  those  who  were  under  trials  or  in  affliction.  He  was  a  welcome  visiter  at 
the  house  of  mourning;  and  many  still  live  who  remember  how  he  soothed  theii 
sorrows  in  the  dark  days  of  their  trouble.  A  more  affectionate  husband,  father, 
and  friend,  few  have  ever  seen. 

The  first  evening  that  I  spent  in  his  company  I  formed  a  very  high  opinion  of 
his  Biblical  knowledge;  and  this  was  abundantly  confirmed  by  the  intercourse 
of  following  years.  It  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  not  a  verse  in  the  Bible  that 
he  had  not  investigated,  so  as  to  form  a  matured  opinion  in  regard  to  it.  1 
thought  him  better  qualified  to  prepare  what  has  long  been  needed, — a  plain 
Commentary  for  common  people,  than  any  minister  in  the  Synod  of  Virginia. 
The  effect  of  his  familiarity  with  the  Bible  was  very  manifest  in  his  preaching. 
There  was  a  fulness  of  Bible  thoughts,  and  a  pertinency  in  Bible  illustrations 
that  furnished  rich  spiritual  food  in  all  his  pulpit  performances. 

Another  thing  that  marked  very  strikingly  his  sermons,  and  all  the  produc- 
tions of  his  pen,  was  the  power  that  he  possessed  of  fixing  his  mind  on  any  sub 
ject,  or  on  any  subordinate  part  of  a  general  subject,  and  following  it  out  in  all  its 
bearings  and  connections.  From  this  came  a  clearness  and  simpleness  in  his 
sermons,  that  formed  one  of  their  prominent  characteristics.  The  child  under- 
stood,  the  man  was  interested,  and  many  were  unaware  of  the  high  order  of 
mental  power  that  was  exhibited  in  what  seemed  so  very  plain.  He  sometimes 
wrote  his  sermons,  but  never  committed  them, — never  used  his  manuscript  in 
tlie  pulpit;  and  still  what  he  delivered  was  so  exactly  what  he  had  written, 
that  not  one  in  ten  would  be  able  to  detect  any  difference.  This,  I  know,  was 
the  case  with  the  sermon  which  he  preached  at  my  ordination,  and  which  was 
afterwards  printed. 


JOHN  MATTHEWS.  297 

Sftroestoess  was  the  prominent  trait  of  his  ddivery.  His  voice  was  pleasant, 
his  enunciation  distinct  and  deliberate.  He  seemed  to  shun  every  thing  like 
flights  of  fancy ;  and  still  there  was  more  than  a  little  of  true  eloquence,  and 
that  of  a  high  order,  coming  from  clear  views  of  the  character  of  God,  and  the 
riches  of  his  grace  in  the  provisions  of  the  Qospel.  I  have  never  heard  more 
pungent  appeals  to  the  unconverted,  nor  the  fulness  of  the  consolations  of  the 
Gospel  more  clearly  presented  to  the  child  of  God,  than  by  him. 

Much  beloved  by  his  brethren  in  the  ministry,  there  was  a  strong  feeling  of  regret 
that  they  had  to  part  with  him,  when  he  was  elected  Professor  of  Theology  at 
South  Hanover;  but,  at  the  same  time,  a  full  conviction  that  he  was  eminently 
qualified  for  the  work.  He  deserved  all  the  veneration  and  love  which  he  received 
from  both  the  Church  and  the  world. 

Dr.  Matthews  was  a  working  man,  as  a  pastor,  and  as  a  member  of  Presby- 
tery. Punctual  in  his  attendance  on  its  meetings,  he  was  always  familiar  with  its 
business,  and  one  of  the  very  foremost  in  carrying  on  its  Educational  and  Mission- 
ary  operations.  When  the  Winchester  Presbytery  endowed  a  scholarship  in 
Union  Seminary,  he  collected  one  third  of  the  funds  for  that  purpose.  We  all 
loved  him.  We  loved  to  take  counsel  from  him;  we  loved  to  work  with  him; 
and  sadly  did  we  miss  him  when  he  met  with  us  no  more. 

*  Yours  in  the  Gospel, 

JAMES  M.  BROWN. 


FROM  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  B.  WILSON,  D.  D. 

Union  Theological  Sekinart,  (Va.,)  > 
February  20, 1867.  J 

Dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  the  late  venerable  Dr.  Matthews  commenced 
on  his  removal  into  this  State,  which  was  about  the  year  1807  or  1808.  We 
belonged  to  the  same  Presbytery,  and  often  met  in  the  judicatories  of  the 
Church,  and  on  other  occasions,  and  corresponded  on  various  subjects,  until  his 
removal  to  Indiana. 

From  his  first  connection  with  the  Synod  of  Virginia,  till  his  removal  to  the 
West,  he  was  highly  esteemed  by  his  brethren  and  by  the  churches,  as  a  sound 
divine,  and  a  most  zealous  and  acceptable  preacher.  To  have  been  selected  as 
successor  to  sach  a  man  as  Dr.  Hoge,  was  sufiScient  evidence  of  this.  The  mem- 
bers of  that  church  were  the  descendants  of  that  noble  race  of  men  who  emi- 
grated from  Europe  to  escape  from  persecution,  and  sought,  amidst  the  toils  and 
perils  of  the  wilderness,  to  secure  their  civil  and  religious  rights.  They  had  been 
aarefnlly  instructed  in  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  and  highly  prized  the  faith, 
and  the  excellent  customs,  of  their  fathers.  To  be  the  dispenser  of  the  word 
and  ordinances  to  them.  Dr.  Matthews  was  chosen  with  great  unanimity. 

Id  person.  Dr.  Matthews  was  tall  and  spare,  rather  than  fleshy.  He  was  an 
example  of  temperance  in  eating  and  drinking.  In  his  manner,  he  was  grave  and 
dignified,  but  not  morose  or  assuming.  His  feelings  and  his  uniform  deportment 
were  such  as  comported  well  with  his  sacred  office  and  responsible  duties.  In 
his  public  acts,  and  in  his  private  intercourse  with  men,  few,  it  is  believed,  ever 
more  closely  obeyed  the  injunction  of  the  Apostle, — *'Give  none  offence,  neither  to 
the  Jews,  nor  to  the  Gentiles,  nor  to  the  Church  of  God."  A  charming  spirit 
of  brotherly  love  and  charity  seemed  to  be,  in  him,  a  ruling  principle. 

Dr.  Matthews'  efforts  in  the  pulpit  manifested  careful  preparation,  a  clear 
apprehension  of  Divine  truth,  and  a  heartfelt  sense  of  its  importance.  On  special 
occasions,  his  sermons  wer^  fully  written,  but  he  was  not  accustomed  to  read 
them.  While  every  intelligent  hearer  could  readily  perceive  the  evidences  of 
a  strong  mind  and  careftil  investigation,  no  indication  could  be  detected  of  a 
desire  to  display  either  his  talents  or  his  learning.    Of  him,  as  truly  as  of  any 

Vol.  IV.  38 


298  FBBSBTTIRIAN. 


maa  I  eyer  kneWy  it  could  be  said,  he  did  not  preach  hiraaelf,  bat  "  Jesus  Christ 
and  Him  crucified." 

While  the  general  character  of  his  preaching  might  be  denominated  ezpositorj, 
or  asgumentatire,  yet,  on  some  occasions,  his  discourses  were  pathetic  and  exci^ 
ing  in  a  high  degree.  But  these  emotions  in  his  audience  were  not  produced  bj 
any  studied  art  of  the  speaker,  but  by  truth  presented  clearly  by  one  that  felt 
deeply  its  infinite  importance,  and  was  anxious  for  the  saWation  of  those  he 
addressed. 

In  the  judicatories  of  the  Church,  he  was  a  wise  counsellor.  Great  confidence 
was  placed  by  all  his  brethren  in  his  sound  judgment.  And  his  humility, 
modesty,  fraternal  afiection,  and  loye  of  peace,  made  him  a  uniTersal  fiivourite. 

Dr.  Matthews  was  a  clear,  vigorous  and  impressive  writer,  and  some  of  his 
productions  have  been  received  with  great  favour  by  the  religious  public^  and 
have  passed  through  several  editions.  But  his  laborious  pastoral  duties,  and  the 
care  of  a  numerous  family,  to  be  provided  for  and  educated  on  a  very  limited 
salary,  render  it  wonderful  that  he  found  time  to  write  as  much  as  he  did. 

Such  was  the  character  and  reputation  of  this  good  man,  and  godly  minister, 
while  he  resided  in  Virginia.  In  the  large  circle  where  he  was  well  known,  both 
in  the  churches  and  among  his  brethren  in  the  ministry,  it  is  believed  there  is  not 
one  who  does  not  cherish  his  memory  with  high  respect  and  sincere  afibction. 

Very  truly  yours, 

SAMUEL  B.  WILSON. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  C.  MATTHEWS,  D.  D. 

Shklbtvillb,  Ky.,  January  14, 1857. 

Bev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  am  quite  aware  how  delicate  a  task  it  is  that  you 
have  assigned  to  me,  to  speak  of  my  own  beloved  and  revered  father;  and  yet 
I  am  unwilling  to  decline  your  request,  especially  as  there  are  certain  aspects  of 
his  character  which  I  love  most  to  contemplate,  with  which  I  had  perhaps 
a  better  opportunity  to  become  acquainted  than  those  whose  relations  with  him 
were  less  intimate  and  endearing.  I  will  state  a  few  of  my  recollections  of 
him  somewhat  at  random,  and  shall  be  glad  if  you  find  them  in  any  degree  to 
subserve  your  purpose. 

I  think  I  hazard  nothing  in  saying  that  he  was  a  perfect  gentleman  both 
in  heart  and  in  manner.  Naturally  of  an  excitable  temperament,  he  had 
learned  the  art  of  complete  control  over  both  his  feelings  and  his  tongue. 
I  never  heard  him  speak  an  unkind  word  of  any  one — ^he  always  apologized  for 
the  faults  of  others,  where  they  would  admit  of  an  apology,  and  never  betrayed 
the  semblance  of  bad  feeling  even  towards  the  most  bitter  opponents.  As 
a  father,  he  was  mild  and  afiectionate  but  firm;  though,  in  later  years,  he 
became  so  much  engrossed  with  professional  cares  that  he  devolved  the  manage- 
ment of  his  family  in  a  great  degree  upon  his  wife.  His  intercourse  with  his 
brethren  was  always  marked  with  the  utmost  urbanity  and  kindness.  Though 
he  never  indulged  in  light  and  frivolous  conversation,  but  always  maintained  the 
dignity  of  his  profession,  he  had  a  keen  relish  for  the  society  of  his  friends,  and 
scrupled  not  occasionally  to  enliven  the  intercourse  with  a  little  innocent  hilarity. 
He  always  seemed  to  feel  that  his  brethren  were  entitled  to  a  higher  place  than 
himself;  and  he  was  more  than  willing  to  concede  it. 

He  was  not,  especially  in  later  years,  much  inclined  to  speak  in  Presbytery,  or 
Synod,  or  any  Public  Body — ^indeed  he  scarcely  ever  spoke,  unless  in  some  case 
of  great  urgency,  or  where  he  was  particularly  requested  to  do  so.  While 
a  member  of  the  Presbytery  of  Madison,  Ind.,  two  ministers  of  that  Body  had 
become  zealous  abolitionists,  and  offered  a  series  of  resolutions,  denouncing  the 
skveholder  as  of.  course  imworthy  of  Church  fellowship,  &c.    Some  of  the 


J0HK  KATTHEirS.  29& 

younger  members,  knowing  mj  father's  views  upon  the  whole  subject,  desired  him 
to  reply  to  a  somewhat  intemperate  speech  which  one  of  these  brethren  had  made; 
and  he  arose  with  apparent  diffidence,  and,  after  apologizing  for  interrupting  the 
discussion,  remarked — '*  As  we  hare  no  slaveholders  here  to  deal  with,  I  think 
our  time  might  be  better  spent,  if  we  should  attempt  something  practical  and 
beneficial  to  the  poor  slave.  I  therefore  propose  that  we  constitute  ourselves  into 
a  practical  JBmancipation  Society,  and  each  member  pledge  himself  to  give  five 
dollars  towards  the  purchase  of  some  slave  who  desires  to  migrate  to  Liberia.'' 
This  was  met  with  a  hearty  response  by  a  minority  of  the  Presbytery,  but 
it  greatly  shocked  and  offended  the  brethren  who  had  originated  the  discussion. 
He  was  thoroughly  opposed  to  slavery  in  his  views  and  feelings.  Out  of  his  own 
scanty  means  he  purchased  all  the  slaves  belonging  to  his  wife's  estate,  sold  at 
the  death  of  her  mother,  and  held  them  until  he  left  for  theWesti  Then 
he  sent  his  son  sn  Virginia  the  money  to  purchase  the  husband  of  his  woman  at 
a  b%h  price,  and  sent  them  all,  except  one  superannuated  female,  to  Liberia, 
where  he  fi%quently  had  the  pleasure  to  hear  from  them  as  in  a  comfodrtable  and 
prosperous  state. 

He  had  a  most  happy  talent  at  administering  reproof.  While  at  Hanover,  as 
he  was  passing  by  one  of  the  students  of  the  College  who  was  cutting  wood,  the 
student,  not  knowing  that  he  was  near,  and  being  vexed  about  something, 
uttered  a  profane  oath.  My  father,  as  he  approached  him,  said  very  kindly, — 
"  That  is  good  exercise  that  you  are  taking  this  cold  morning."  Ue  asked  him 
if  his  axe  was  dull;  and  taking  hold  as  if  to  examine  it,  he  commenced  chopping 
the  stick  of  wood,  greatly  to  the  amusement  of  the  young  man,  and  kept  at  it 
until  it  was  cut  in  two.  Then  turning  to  the  student,  he  said, — ''See  there 
now,  I  have  cut  that  stick  without  fretting  or  swearing,  and  why  could  not  you 
have  done  the  same  ?"  The  young  man  apologized  for  his  profaneness,  saying, 
"  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  near,  Sir — if  I  had  known  it,  I  should  not  have 
uttered  that  oath."  "  Yes,  but  God  is  always  near,  and  hears  every  word  you 
say, — you  ought  to  remember  that " — was  the  answer.  The  reproof  took  effect 
in  the  mind  of  the  youth,  and  led  to  the  most  serious  reflections. 

As  a  preacher,  I  shall  leave  it  chiefly  to  others  to  speak  of  him,  though  I  can- 
not forbear  to  mention  one  anecdote  illustrative  of  the  prominence  which  he 
always  gave  to  the  great  doctrine  of  a  crucified  Saviour.  Many  years  ago,  a 
young  clergyman  of  another  denomination  was  preaching  in  his  pulpit  in  Shep^ 
herdstown,  in  a  manner  that  evinced  perhaps  more  zeal  than  knowledge,  and 
setting  forth  the  terrors  of  the  law  in  a  way  better  fitted  to  provoke  than  to  impress 
or  alarm  his  hearers.  At  length,  after  having  thus  harangued  his  audience  for 
an  hour,  he  concluded  by  saying,*^"  My  hearers,  if  these  things  do  not  move 
yoUy  nothing  can — if  the  terrors  of  the  Almighty  will  not  arouse  you,  there  is  no 
hope  for  you;"  and  then  sat  down.  My  father,  who  had  been  sitting  just 
beneath  the  pulpit,  immediately  arose,  and  remarked  in  his  quiet  and  subdued 
tone, — "  Tes,  thank  God,  there  is  another  consideration  that  ought  deeply  to 
affect  our  hearts — ^it  is  the  love  of  Christ  for  guilty  sinners;"  and  then  dwelt 
upon  this  thought  in  the  most  simple  and  affectionate  manner,  until  the  whole 
congregation  were  melted  to  tears.  The  young  minister  felt  himself  reproved, 
and  the  change  in  the  feelings  of  the  congregation  was  very  manifest.  My  father 
seldom  preached  much  of  what  is  commonly  called  terror;  and  .when  he  did,  the 
compassion  and  tenderness  that  breathed  in  his  manner  gave  it  the  greater  effect. 

I  might  greatly  extend  these  recollections,  but  I  prefer  that,  in  respect  to  his 
public  character  particularly,  you  should  have  the  testimony  or  the  judgment  of 
others,  who  can  speak  with  greater  impartiality  than  myself. 

I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 

Very  truly  yours, 

W.  C.  MATTHEWS. 


300  PRESBTTBRIAK. 


HENRY  ROWAN  WILSON,  D.  D  * 

1801—1849. 

Henry  Rowan  Wilson,  a  son  of  David  and  Jane  (Rowan)  Wilson, 
was  born  in  the  neighbonrhood  of  Gettysburg,  Adams  County,  Pa.,  on  the 
7th  of  August,  1780.  His  father  served  as  an  officer  in  the  army  of  the 
Revolution,  and  died  in  1846,  at  the  advanced  age  of  ninety-eight.  The 
son  worked  upon  hb  f&ther's  farm  until  he  was  about  fourteen  years  of  age, 
and  then  commenced  attending  a  classical  school  in  the  neighbourhood, 
under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dobbin,  a  somewhat  celebrated  teacher  in 
that  day.  Having  remained  there  about  two  years  and  a  half,  he  entered 
Dickinson  College,  Carlisle,  where  he  graduated  with  honour  in  1798, — 
being  then  only  eighteen  years  of  age.  Having  prosecuted  his  theological 
studies  under  the  direction  of  Dr.  Nisbet,  partly  in  connection  with  his 
college  course,  and  partly  after  he  had  completed  it,  he  was  licensed 
to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Carlisle  in  1801.  He  was  married  in  the 
year  1799,  before  he  was  licensed  to  preach,  to  Elizabeth,  daughter  of 
David  Brown,  of  Carlisle,  Pa. 

After  labouring  for  some  months  in  Virginia  as  a  supply,  he  removed 
with  his  family  to  Bellefont,  Centre  County,  Pa.,  where  Presbyterians  had 
no  organized  church,  nor  house  of  worship.  He  commenced  preaching  in 
the  Court  House,  and  his  labours  were  attended  with  a  manifest  blpssing, 
so  that,  after  a  short  time,  he  succeeded  in  organizing  a  church  there,  and 
another  at  Lick  Run,  twelve  miles  distant.  Of  these  congregations  he  was 
installed  Pastor  by  the  Presbytery  of  Huntingdon,  in  1802.  This  cere- 
mony, with  his  ordination  at  the  same  time,  took  place  in  the  woods, — ^there 
being  no  church  edifice  of  any  kind  in  the  region,  nor  any  house  in  the 
village  large  enough  for  the  purpose. 

Mr.  Wilson,  that  he  might  have  easy  access  to  both  the  churches  of  his 
united  charge,  took  up  his  residence  about  midway  between  Bellefont  and 
Lick  Run,  in  a  very  wild  and  at  that  time  uncultivated  region.  Here  he 
laboured  vigorously  in  felling  forest  trees,  erecting  buildings,  clearing  and 
cultivating  fields,  while  at  the  same  time  he  attended  with  great  interest 
and  fidelity  to  the  duties  of  his  appropriate  vocation.  But  scarcely  had  he 
become  settled  amidst  this  forest,  when  he  was  called  back  to  Bellefont,  to 
become  the  Principal  of  an  Academy,  then  recently  established  there.  He 
did  not,  however,  resign,  his  pastoral  charge,  but  to  the  care  of  these  two 
churches,  one  of  which  was  twelve  miles  distant,  he  superadded  the  building 
up  of  an  important  literary  institution.  Here  he  continued  his  arduous 
labours  until  the  year  1806,  when  he  was  called,  at  the  early  age  of  twenty- 
six,  to  the  Professorship  of  languages  in  Dickinson  College. 

Mr.  Wilson  held  this  Professorship  ten  years ;  and,  during  part  of  this 
time,  preached  to  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Carlisle,  as  assistant  to  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Davidson.  The  College  having  become  involved  in  serious  diffi- 
culties, he  resigned  his  place  as  Professor  in  1813,  and  accepted  a  call  from 
the  Church  at  Silver  Spring,  over  which  he  was  installed  as  Pastor,  by  the 
Presbytery   of   Carlisle,  in   1816.     This   Church,  which   had   been   in  a 

•  Prcabyterian,  1849.— Nevin's  ChurcheB  of  the  Valley.— MS.  from  hb  son,  Rer.  Dr.  H.  B. 
Wilton. 


HENBT  ROWAK  WILSON.  801 

hiDgaishiDg  state,  began  now  immediately  to  reyive,  and  daring  the  seven 
yean  which  constituted  the  whole  period  of  his  ministry  there,  it  was  more 
than  doubled. 

In  1823,  he  received  a  call  from  the  Church  in  Shippensburg ;  and, 
though  he  was  not  predisposed  to  a  removal,  he  yielded  to  the  judgment  of  the 
Presbytery  on  the  subject,  and  accepted  it.  His  installation  took  place  in 
May,  1824.  Here  he  was  most  untiring  in  his  labours,  and  large  numbers 
were  hopefully  converted  through  his  instrumentality.  He  was  accus- 
tomed regularly,  on  the  Sabbath,  to  open  the  Sabbath  School  in  the  morn* 
ing  with  reading,  singing,  prayer,  and  a  short  address ;  preach  at  ten  o'clock, 
and  again  at  twelve ;  then  mount  his  horse  and  ride  four  or  five  miles  into 
the  country  to  preach  in  some  school-house  or  dwelling-house ;  then  return 
and  preach  at  night  in  his  church, — making  four  sermons  in  addition  to  the 
Sabbath  school  service,  and  riding  on  horse-back  —  often  in  hot  suns  or 
severe  storms — from  eight  to  ten  miles.  He  had  four  preaching  places  in 
the  four  corners  of  his  congregation,  at  one  of  which  he  preached  every 
Friday.  He  never  permitted  bad  roads,  or  unfavourable  weather,  or  slight 
indisposition,  to  prevent  him  from  fulfilling  his  appointments,  and  seldom 
was  he  ever  a  minute  behind  the  appointed  time. 

In  1838,  he  resigned  his  charge  at  Shippensburg,  to  accept  the  General 
Agency  of  the  Board  of  Publication  in  the  Presbyterian  Church.  Having 
laboriously  and  faithfully  discharged  the  duties  of  this  office  until  1842,  he 
accepted  a  call  from  the  Church  at  Neshaminy,  Hartsville,  Bucks  County, 
Pa.  Hero  he  continued,  labouring  with  his  accustomed  fidelity,  till  October, 
1848,  when,  at  his  own  request,  the  pastoral  relation  was  dissolved. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Lafayette 
College  in  1845. 

For  some  months  previous  to  his  death,  he  was  so  infirm  as  to  be  unable 
to  preach,  except  as  he  was  carried  from  his  bed  to  the  church  and  placed  in 
a  chair.  In  this  posture,  with  no  small  degree  of  bodily  suffering,  but  with 
the  perfect  command  of  his  intellect,  and  with  great  earnestness  and  solem- 
nity, he  continued  to  labour  for  his  Master  to  the  latest  possible  hour.  On 
the  12th  of  October,  he  took  a  final  leave  of  his  home  at  Hartsville,  and  the 
scene  of  his  last  pastoral  labours,  and  was  carried  on  a  bed  to  Philadelphia, 
to  the  house  of  his  son,  the  Rev.  H.  R.  Wilson,  which  he  never  left,  until 
borne  back  again  to  his  grave.  For  some  time  after  his  removal  to  Phila- 
delphia, his  symptoms  seemed,  in  some  degree,  to  yield ;  but  about  the  close 
of  January,  1849,  his  disease  took  on  a  more  violent  character,  and  threat- 
ened immediate  dissolution.  Though  there  was  some  slight  improvement 
after  this,  it  was  but  too  manifest  that  his  course  was  nearly  run ;  but  the 
inner  man  waxed  strong  as  the  outer  man  decayed,  and  he  finally  passed 
through  the  dark  valley,  sustained  by  a  most  vigorous  and  triumphant  &ith. 
He  died,  after  a  protracted  scene  of  suffering,  on  the  22d  of  March,  1849, 
and  his  remains  were  taken  to  Hartsville  for  burial,  where  an  appropriate 
Funeral  Discourse  was  delivered  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Steel  of  Abington. 

FROM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  STEEL,  D.  D. 

ABivQToy,  Pa.,  February  18,  1857. 
Dear  Sir:  It  gives  roe  pleasure,  in  compliance  with  your  request,  to  furnish 
you  some  brief  recollections  of  my  lamented  friend,  the  late  Hev.  Dr.  Henry  R. 


0Q2  PBSSBTTERIAN. 

Wilson.    When  I  first  made  his  acqiudntance,  he  was  Pastor  of  the  CfaDrch  in 

Shippensburg,  Pa.  After  the  lapse  of  many  years,  he  was  called  to  take  charge 
of  the  Church  at  Neshaminy,  and  this  brought  him  into  the  same  Presbytery 
with  myself.  The  acquaintance  which  we  had  formed  many  years  before,  was 
now  resumed,  and  gradually  ripened  into  an  intimate  friendship. 

Dr.  Wilson  was  a  man  of  prepossessing  personal  appearance.  He  was  not  far 
from  six  feet  in  height;  of  a  strong,  manly  frame,  of  vigorous  bodily  health,  and 
a  noble  head  covered  with  a  profusion  of  hair,  which  was  early  "  silvered  o'er," 
hot  which  was  retained  as  *'  a  crown  of  glory  "  to  the  end  of  life.  Uis  manners 
were  dignified  and  gentlemanly.  He  was  honest  and  open-hearted,  and  had  an 
litter  abhorrenoo  of  every  thing  like  cunning  or  duplicity.  Indeed  this  was  car- 
ried  so  far  that  when  he  perceived  in  the  conduct  of  others  any  thing  reeembling 
it,  he  was  very  apt  to  deal  with  it  in  a  manner  that,  to  say  the  least,  had  the 
appearance  of  severity.  He  was  endowed  with  a  strong  mind,  which  being  well 
stored  with  knowledge,  he  became  an  able,  energetic  and  popular  preacher.  A 
rich  blessing  attended  his  labours,  and  he  was  the  honoured  instrument  of  bring- 
ing many  into  the  fold  of  Christ. 

In  the  public  assemblies  of  our  Church  he  never  spoke  much;  but  when  he 
did  speak,  it  was  always  to  the  point.  He  was  a  man  of  deeds  rather  than  of 
words.  He  was  eminently  devotional,  and  spiritually  minded,  and  intent  upon 
the  promotion  of  his  Master's  cause.  He  evinced  his  devotedness  to  Christ  by 
giving  up  an  only  son  to  the  work  of  Foreign  Missions.  When,  after  many  years 
of  active  duty  in  the  field,  that  son,  on  account  of  the  ill  health  of  his  beloved 
wife,  was  about  to  return  to  his  native  country,  I  carried  the  news  to  his  aged 
parents.  The  tears  of  joy  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  him,  after  so  long  a  sepa- 
ration, flowed  freely;  but  grief  was  mingled  with  the  joy.  He  said  with  empha- 
sis,— **  I  am  truly  sorry — I  devoted  him  to  the  Lord  in  this  work,  and  I  never 
desired  to  see  his  face  again  on  earth," — thus  showing  the  true  missionary 
spirit. 

After  an  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Wilson  of  nearly  forty  years, — reckoning  from 
its  beginning  to  the  close  of  his  life,  I  could  say  much  more  of  his  excellent  char- 
acteristics— but  I  forbear.  I  will  only  add  that  the  neat  marble  monument 
erected  to  his  memory  in  the  grave-yard  at  Nesharoiny,  bears  this  simple  but 
impressive  and  significant  inscription — "  His  record  is  on  high." 

Yours  afiectionately, 

R.  STEEL. 

FROM  THE  REV.  SILAS  M.  ANDREWS,  D.  D. 

DoTLESTOwN,  Pa.,  March  14,  1857. 

Dear  Sir:  I  first  knew  Dr.  Wilson  for  several  years  as  a  member  of  the  same 
Synod  with  myself;  but  our  more  particular  acquaintance  was  not  until  after  his 
installation,  in  1841,  as  Pastor  of  the  Church  of  Neshaminy,  by  which  he 
became  my  nearest  clerical  neighbour,  of  our  own  denomination.  The  very  con- 
siderable difierence  in  oar  ages  did  not  prevent  a  friendship  and  intimacy''  being 
early  formed,  which  was  never  intorrupted  during  his  life. 

Dr.  Wilson  was  a  compact* athletic  looking  person;  erect  in  form;  easy, 
though  quiet  in  his  movements;  and  with  a  step  that  always  seemed  to  me  to 
indicate  a  man,  who  would  not  hastily  form  his-  opinions,  or  easily  surrender 
them  after  they  were  actually  formed.  An  aquiline  nose,  full  eyebrows,  and  an 
intellectual  face, — sedate,  though  not  sombre,  gave  him  a  venerable  presence, 
that,  not  without  reason,  attracted  the  notice  of  strangers,  and  led  to  the  inquiry 
who  he  was. 

A  fearless  man, — he  dared  to  be  silent  in  our  deliberative  bodies,  when  he 
deemed  it  not  proper  to  speaks    But  when  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  express 


I 


HEN  BY  ROWAN  WILSON.  803 

views,  he  did  it  often  with  an  earnestness  and  firmness  that  his  opponents  some- 
times  thought  hordered  upon  ohstiuacy.  But  with  evidence  laid  before  him,  no 
man  bowed  in  more  profound  submission  to  the  authority  of  truth  and  justice. 

In  his  own  house  I  always  found  him  exceedingly  affable,  entertaining  and 
instructive.  He  had  a  very  thorough  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  and  had  much 
experience  of  Christian  trial  and  progress,  lie  abounded  in  illustrative  anec- 
dotes— not  the  same  regularly  repeated  at  every  interview,  but  some  incident  or 
fact  that  always  suited  the  exigency  that  called  it  up.  And  his  anecdotes  were 
generally  not  only  pithy  and  striking  but  very  short. 

Prompt  in  meeting  his  engagements  as  a  pastor  and  a  member  of  church  judi- 
,  catories,  he  was  a  man  not  of  servile,  but  of  careful,  accuracy  in  whatever  he  did. 
This  trait  of  character  is  shown  in  the  Records,  now  in  my  care,  of  the  Synod 
of  Philadelphia,  of  which  he  was  Stated  Clerk  from  1826  to  the  time  of  his 
decease.  The  entries  are  all  made  in  his  own  handwriting,  presenting  a  uni- 
formity and  beauty  of  page,  seldom  seen  in  manuscript.  Of  the  entire  book  we 
might  adopt  as  almost  literally  true  the  language  of  the  Greneral  Assembly's 
Committee  to  examine  the  Records  of  the  preceding  year — **  Without  omission, 
erasure,  interlineation,  or  one  defect  in  spelling." 

As  a  preacher,  Dr.  Wilson  was  serious,  earnest,  but  not  boisterous,  evangelical 
and  instructive.  His  voice  was  unusually  soft,  yet  full — the  good  voice  of  a  large 
man.  He  spoke  with  ease  to  himself,  and  with  pleasure  to  his  hearers.  His  man- 
ner altogetlier  was  that  of  a  man  intent  on  doing  good.  A  day  or  two  after  our 
first  exchange,  a  lawyer  of  my  congregation  who  was  not  a  professor  of  religion, 
but  a  church-going  man,  and  somewhat  disposed  to  be  critical,  meeting  me, 
remarked, — "A  very  good  proxy  you  gave  us  last  Sunday, — neither  apology  nor 
parade — a  sensible  discourse  in  a  serious  and  acceptable  manner — the  preacher 
showed  his  good  sense  by  stopping  when  he  had  done — would  like  to  hear  him 
again.'' 

There  was  one  thing  in  which  it  seemed  to  me  that  Dr.  Wilson  had  the  advan- 
tage of  most  other  ministers  whom  I  have  ever  known — I  mean  the  uniformly 
earnest  and  cheerful  hope  that  he  evinced  in  preaching  the  Gospel.  If  the  house 
were  full,  he  preached  as  believing  that  each  hearer  needed  salvation — if  he  were 
preaching  to  a  sparse  congregation  on  a  stormy  Sabbath,  his  manner  seemed  to 
say — each  individual  soul  is  too  precious  to  be  lost, — I  will  try  to  save  that  soul. 
Weather  and  empty  pews  appeared  not  to  affect  him.  Rather  he  seemed  to  feel, 
whenever  entering  the  pulpit, — here  is  an  opportunity  of  lifting  Christ  up  to 
view,  and  perhaps  some  one  may  be  drawn  to  Him. 

His  straight  forward  manner  was  sometimes,  even  in  serious  things,  a  little 
amusing.  I  was  with  him  in  the  pulpit,  on  a  week-day,  when  the  choir  was  not 
of  usual  strength.  Satisfied  that  assistance  would  be  acceptable,  as  soon  as 
the  tune  was  supposed  to  be  identified  by  a  note  or  two,  we  both  struck  bravely 
in,  and  added*no  small  amount  of  vocal  power.  But  there  seemed  to  be  a  waver- 
ing of  the  voices  in  the  gallery  throughout  the  first  verse.  Apprehensive  that 
the  choir  might  become  hopelessly  bewildered,  we  commenced  the  second  verso 
with  still  louder  blast, — when,  at  the  dose  of  the  first  couplet,  the  old  gentle- 
man drawing  his  forefinger  around  his  chin,  called  out  so  that  the  whole  con- 
gregation could  hear, — '*  We  certainly  have  got  hold  of  the  wrong  tune." 

As  a  young  man,  I  had  much  reason  to  prize  the  society  of  this  venerable 
lather.  He  was  among  the  few  men  whom  I  both  feared  and  loved.  I  learned 
from  htm  many  good  lessons,  though  not  all  that  his  example  and  conversation 
ongfat  to  hare  taught  me. 

Tours  sincerely, 

S.  M.  ANDREWS. 


304  PRESBYTERIAN. 


Wn.LIAM  McPHEETERS,  D.  D. 

1802—1842. 

FROM  THE  REV.  DRIJRY  LACT,  D.  D. 

Raleiqh,  N.  C,  Hay  10, 1849. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  In  compliance  with  the  request  made  in  your  lett<ir 
of  the  30th  of  April,  I  herewith  furnish,  as  far  as  I  can,  a  sketch  of  the 
life  of  the  llev.  Dr.  William  McPheeters.  The  information  communicated 
is  gathered  chiefly  from  the  Family  Records,  now  in  the  possession  of  his 
widow. 

William  McPheeters  was  born  September  28,  1778,  in  Augusta 
County,  Va.  His  paternal  grandfather  (William)  emigrated  from  the 
North  of  Ireland,  and  settled  in  the  State  of  Pennsylvania.  His  father 
(William)  was  born  in  Pennsylvania,  about  the  year  1729  or  1730.  After 
the  removal  of  the  family  to  Virginia,  he  married  Rachel  Moore,  of  Rock- 
bridge County.  Both  his  parents  were  members  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 
His  father  was  also  a  ruling  elder  of  the  church  and  a  civil  magistrate.  I 
find  several  stirring  incidents  recorded,  illustrating  the  sufferings  of  his 
maternal  ancestors,  during  their  early  residence  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia, 
by  reason  of  the  deadly  hostilities  of  the  Indians ;  one  of  which  is,  that  his 
grandfather,  James  Moore,  was  shot  dead  by  them  within  three  hundred 
yards  of  his  own  door,  in  defending  himself  and  family  from  an  attack. 

At  different  country  schools  in  the  Counties  of  Augusta  and  Rockbridge, 
young  William  McPheeters  was  taught  the  elements  of  a  common  English 
education.  In  Staunton,  the  County  town  of  Augusta,  he  began  his  classical 
course,  and  finished  his  education  at  Liberty  Hall  Academy,  (now  Wash- 
ington College,)  Lexington,  at  that  time  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  William 
Graham,  a  distinguished  Presbyterian  clergyman. 

In  1797,  he  went  to  Kentucky,  where,  in  the  autumn  of  the  same  year, 
he  began  the  study  of  medicine  with  his  brother.  Dr.  James  McPheeters, 
then  a  resident  of  Cynthiana,  Harrison  County.  He  continued  his  studies 
with  him  till  the  summer  of  1799,  when  he  returned  to  his  home  in  Virginia. 
Before  he  left  Kentucky,  however,  he  had  connected  himself  with  a  Pres- 
byterian Church  near  Cynthiana. 

Having  abandoned  the  study  of  medicine,  he  placed  himself  under  the 
care  of  the  Presbytery  of  Lexington,  as  a  candidate  for  the  Gospel  ministry. 
His  theological  studies  were  pursued  chiefly  under  the  Rev.  Samuel  Brown, 
an  eminent  Presbyterian  minister  of  New  Providence,  Rockbridge  County. 
He  was  licensed  to  preach  at  a  meeting  of  the  Presbytery  held  at  that  place, 
April  19,  1802.  In  October  following,  he  visited  the  State  of  Kentucky, 
and  preached  in  various  places  till  about  March,  1803.  He  then  passed 
over  to  the  State  of  Ohio,  preached  in  Chilicothe  and  other  places,  and,  after 
an  absence  of  a  few  weeks,  returned  to  Kentucky.  In  the  month  of  June, 
he  took  charge  of  a  Church  in  the  town  of  Danville,  Ky.;  and  there  also 
taught  a  small  school.  Having  continued  one  year  in  this  double  employ- 
ment, he  returned  to  Cynthiana,  and  afterwards  made  a  second  visit  to 
Chilicothe,  at  that  time  the  seat  of  Government  of  Ohio.  On  his  return 
again  to  Kentucky,  he  was  married,  September  25,  1804,  to  Elizabeth, 


WILLIAM  McPHEETERS.  305 

daughter  of  Major  Jobn  McDowell,  who  resided  in  the  vicinity  of  Lexing- 
ton. Shortly  after  this,  he  returned  with  his  wife  to  Virginia.  During 
the  winter,  he  visited  the  Counties  of  Greenbriar  and  Monroe,  and  subse- 
quently took  charge,  for  six  months,  of  two  vacant  Congregations,  near  the 
North  Mountain, — namely.  New  Lebanon  and  Windy  Cove.  In  December, 
1805,  he  began  to  officiate  as  a  stated  supply  at  Bethel  Church, — residing  in 
Greenville,  a  small  village  a  few  miles  from  the  church,  and  there  also 
taught  a  classical  school.  On  the  15th  of  April,  1806,  he  received,  through 
the  hands  of  the  Presbytery,  a  formal  call  from  that  church,  and  two  or 
three  days  after  was  ordained  to  the  work  of  the  ministry, — the  Sermon 
on  the  occasion  being  preached  by  the  Rev.  George  A.  Baxter,  D.  D. 

In  December,  1806,  his  wife,  after  a  lingering  illness,  died  in  the  town 
of  Greenville,  of  pulmonai^  consumption.  She  was  buried  at  Bethel 
Church  beside  her  infant  son.  In  the  course  of  the  next  year,  he  removed 
from  Greenville  to  his  farm,  a  short  distance  from  the  town. 

On  the  18th  of  March,  1809,  he  was  married  to  Lavinia  Moore,  in  Blount 
County,  Tenn.,  whither  her  mother,  then  a  widow,  had  removed  from  Yir* 
ginia,  a  short  time  previous.  By  this  marriage  he  had  one  daughter;  but 
the  mother  died  shortly  after  her  birth,  and  was  buried  at  Bethel  Church 
beside  the  grave  of  his  first  wife. 

About  this  time,  he  received  an  invitation  from  the  Trustees  of  the 
Academy  in  Raleigh,  N.  C,  to  preside  over  that  institution,  while  he  was 
requested,  at  the  same  time,  to  preach  to  the  town  congregation,  then  with- 
out a  pastor.  At  that  time,  no  Presbyterian  Church  had  been  organized  in 
the  city  of  Raleigh ;  nor  were  there  churches  of  other  denominations  ;  but 
the  people  worshipped  together  in  the  Hall  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
Having  visited  the  place,  and  being  pleased  with  the  prospect,  he  accepted 
the  invitation,  and  in  the  month  of  June,  1810,  took  charge  of  the  Academy 
and  the  Congregation. 

On  the  10th  of  March,  1812,  he  married  his  third  wife, — Margaret  A.  C. 
McDaniel,  of  Washington,  Beaufort  County,  N.  C.  By  this  marriage  he 
had  twelve  children,  four  of  whom  died  in  different  stages  of  infancy.  The 
remaining  eight  are  all  members,  or  are  likely  soon  to  become  members,  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church.  Two  of  them  have  been  graduated  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  North  Carolina;  one  of  whom  is  a  practising  physician  at  St.  Louis, 
Mo.,  the  other  an  acceptable  and  successful  Presbyterian  minister  in 
Virginia. 

He  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  Univer- 
sity of  North  Carolina  in  1819. 

Dr.  McPheeters  continued  his  connection  with  the  Academy  at  Raleigh 
until  1826,  and  his  connection  with  the  Congregation,  as  a  stated  supply, 
several  years  longer. 

In  February,  1836,  sometime  after  he  had  withdrawn  from  his  ministerial 
labours  at  Raleigh,  he  was  invited  to  return  to  them, — a  Presbyterian 
Church  having  some  years  before  been  duly  organised.  This  invitation  he 
thought  it  his  duty  to  decline.  In  October  of  the  same  year,  he  took  charge 
at  a  female  school  in  the  town  of  Fayetteville,  but,  finding  that  his  health 
was  likely  to  suffer  in  consequence  of  a  residenoe  there,  he  withdrew  from 
the  school,  and  left  tbe  place  in  July,  1837. 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year,  he  undertook  an  agency  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Board  of  Domestic  Missions  of  the  General  Assembly.    Thia- 

Vou  IV.  39 


306  PRESBYTERIAN. 

agency  he  continaed  till  the  spring  of  1839.  Sometune  in  Ihe  year  1840, 
he  wafl  elected  to  the  Presidency  of  Davidson  College,  Mecklenburg 
County,  N.  C;  but,  owing  to  ill  health,  was  obliged  to  decline  the  inriUr 
tion  to  that  rising  and  important  institution.  From  that  time  till  his  death, 
his  health  continued  to  decline.  His  disease,  which  was  a  calculus  affec- 
tion, was  attended  with  most  intense  suffering,  which,  however,  he  bore 
with  the  utmost  fortitude  and  submission  to  the  Divine  will.  He  died 
amidst  the  affectionate  attentions  of  bis  family,  on  the  morning  of  the  7th 
of  November,  1842,  in  the  sixty-fourth  year  of  his  age. 

He  received  many  testimonies  of  high  public  regard,  and  fulfilled  with 
exemplary  fidelity  every  public  trust  that  was  committed  to  him.  He  wss 
several  times  a  Commissioner  to  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  never  failed  to  command  in  that  Body  a  high  degree  of  respect. 
He  was  for  many  years  a  faithful  and  efficient  Trustee  of  the  University  of 
North  Carolina.  He  was  an  eminently  practical,  useful  and  respectable 
man. 

I  am,  with  great  respect. 

Very  truly  your  friend  and  brother, 

DRURY  LACY. 

FROM  THE  HON.  D.  L.  SWAIN,  LL.  D. 

OOTXRHOR  Of  THS  ITATS  OF  MOBTH  OAKOLIHA,  AHD  PaBSIDBXT  OF  THB  WTVMMMSTT  OF 

KOaTH  CAROLUA. 

Chapbl  Hiix.,  April  22, 1849. 

Dear  Sir :  My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  McPheeters  commenced  in  April,  1822, 
when  I  went  to  Raleigh  to  read  Law  in  the  office  of  the  late  Chief  Justice  Tay- 
lor. I  was,  at  no  period  of  our  intercourse, — which,  though  always  kind  and 
familiar,  was  never  very  constant  or  intimate — ^a  member  of  any  Christian  Church, 
and  cannot  of  course  be  expected  to  speak,  except  in  very  generfil  terms,  of  his 
religious  character.  Of  his  claims  to  consideration  as  a  man  of  intellect,  and  of 
the  manner  in  which  he  discharged  the  general  duties  of  a  member  of  society,  as 
a  pastor,  friend,  neighbour,  and  citizen,  during  a  period  of  twenty  years,  I  had 
full  opportunity  to  form  a  judgment,  and  have  more  confidence  in  the  correct- 
ness of  my  opinion. 

In  his  personal  appearance  there  was  nothing  very  remarkable.  Ho  was  of  the 
average  height,  more  than  usually  robust,  and  somewhat  inclined  to  corpulency. 
The  expression  of  his  countenance  indicated  the  union  of  firmness  and  benignity, 
and  these  were  in  reality  his  most  striking  characteristics.  His  courage,  phy- 
sical, intellectual  and  moral;  his  benevolence,  heightened  by  a  vein  of  humoar, 
always  delicate,  never  obtrusive,  and  never  out  of  place,  no  one  who  knew  him 
ever  doubted.  He  was  eminently  a  man  of  judgment,  and  his  practical  common 
sense,  aided  by  these  traits  of  character,  gave  him  an  influence  over  all  classes 
of  society,  that  more  powerful  intellects  not  unfrequently  fail  to  obtain. 

With  the  exception  of  sallies  of  wit  and  humour, — many  pleasant  instances  of 
which  must  occur,  at  the  mere  mention  of  his  name,  to  the  memory  of  all  who 
knew  him,  few  will  be  able  to  recall  any  very  striking  statement,  eloquent  period, 
or  brilliant  expression,  which  be  ever  uttered.  There  was  no  intellectual  future 
so  prominent,  that  to  present  it  fully  would  serve  to  give  a  good  general  idea 
of  the  man.  In  his  public  addresses,  if  there  was  little  to  (kscinate,  there  was 
less  to  offend  either  the  judgment  or  the  taste.  No  one  was  ever  pained  by  a 
low  remark  or  a  trifling  expression,  or  ever  left  him  without  the  most  fkvourable 
impression  of  the  cheerfulness  and  fervour  of  his  piety,  the  soundness  of  his 
judgment)  the  appropriateness  of  his  instructions,  and  the  benevolence  of  bis 


WILLIAM  MGPH££T£BS  307 

heart.  This  effect,  however,  was  the  res  alt  of  a  harmonious  union  of  qualities. 
It  was  his  character  as  a  whole  that  affected  his  hearers,  and  any  one  might  have 
fbnnd  it  difficult,  by  the  most  minute  analysis,  to  detect  the  element  to  which 
the  g;reatest  degree  of  influence  was  to  be  attributed. 

As  an  instructor,  he  was  not  one  of  those  who  *'  spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the 
child;"  and  in  his  general  intercourse  with  society,  he  never  failed  to  administer 
reproof,  where,  in  his  judgment,  it  was  necessary  and  proper.  I  have  never 
known  any  one  who  seemed  to  me  to  possess  the  faculty  of  performing  this  deli- 
cate duty  more  affectionately  or  more  inoffensively.  I  recollect,  on  one  occasion, 
to  have  been  engaged  in  conversation  with  him  on  the  steps  in  front  of  one  of  our 

banks,  when  Mr.  B ,  one  of  the  ablest  men  I  have  ever  known, — a  gentleman 

of  great  wealth,  remarkable  attainments,  austere  manners,  and  restricted  social 
intercourse,  addressed  a  common-place  remark  to  me,  in  which  the  name  of  the 
Beit  J  was  unnecessarily  introduced.  Dr.  M.  observed,  without  any  change  of 
tone  or  manner, — ''  I  have  known  our  friend  l^lr.  B.  for  many  years,  but  have 
never  been  able  to  teach  him  to  speak  properly;  he  always  addresses  me  as  if 
he  were  just  up  from  the  regions  below. ^'  Mr.  B.  was  evidently  disconcerted; 
replied  awkwardly,  but  in  a  spirit  and  manner  which  he  would  have  exhibited 
towards  no  one  else,  if  indeed  any  other  clergyman  could  have  been  found  who 
would  have  ventured  to  treat  him  with  so  much  freedom. 

On  another  occasion,  when  standing  in  the/  street  with  a  clerical  brother,  of 
marked  ability  and  piety,  but  too  much  disposed  to  judge  and  speak  in  a  censo- 
rious spirit  of  other  denominations,  some  gay  equipages  passed  on  the  way  to 
church.  His  friend,  looking  at  them  a  moment,  remarked, — ''  They  will  hardly 
get  to  Beaven  in  coaches."  "  I  don*t  know,"  replied  the  Doctor  quietly,  "  we 
read  that  Elijah  went  up  in  a  chariot." 

A  very  respectable  clerical  friend  to  whom  I  have  applied  for  his  recollections 
of  Dr.  M.,  writes  concerning  him  as  follows : — 

"  I  knew  him  as  a  public  man,  more  in  his  ecclesiastical  relations  than  any 
other  department.  As  a  member  of  our  church  judicatories,  he  had  few  equals, 
and  80  fkr  as  my  knowledge  extended,  no  superiors.  His  strong  well  balanced 
mind  and  unaffected  dignity  and  simplicity  of  manners  inspired  his  brethren 
with  a  respect  and  confidence  towards  him  almost  unbounded;  and  it  rarely 
failed  that  his  well  considered  opinion, — not  expressed  till  the  subject  had  been 
viewed  in  all  its  aspects,  decided  the  question.  This  leads  me  to  remark  that, 
to  a  stranger,  Dr.  McPheeters  might  appear  to  have  a  mind  rather  slow  in  its 
operations;  but  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  him  would,  I  think,  satisfy  any 
one  that  his  perceptions  were  rather  unusually  quick;  certainly  there  were  few 
men  so  ready  and  pointed  as  he  in  repartee.  I  may  mention  an  instance : — 
During  Governor  Dudley's  administration,  he  had,  as  is  common,  a  very  large 
company  at  his  house — a  levee,  if  you  will  so  call  it.  Dr.  Morrison,  who  hap- 
pened at  the  time  to  be  in  town.  Dr.  McPheeters,  and  myself,  were  invited;  and 
so  waa  every  body  else.  The  next  morning,  we  three  ministers  weris  standing 
on  Fayetteville  street  together,  before  my  door,  when  the  Governor  came 
along.  After  the  usual  exchange  of  salutations,  he  expressed  his  disappoint- 
ment and  regret  at  not  seeing  us  at  his  house  the  evening  before.  *'  And  so  were 
we  disappointed  too,  Governor,"  said  Dr.  McPheeters;  **we should  certainly  have 
paid  our  respects  as  good  citizens  to  the  Governor,  and  done  honour  to  those  in 
power,  but  we  were  at  that  time  waiting  on  a  Higher  Power," — referring  to  the  fact 
that  they  had  been  engaged  in  a  social  religious  service.  He  was  a  man  of  great 
observation,  and  studied  human  nature  so  thoroughly,  and  understood  the  work- 
ings of  the  heart  so  well,  that  it  has  sometimes  seemed  to  me  that  he  oould  anti- 
cipate one's  thoughts  before  they  were  actually  in  the  man's  own  mind. 

*'  His  attachments  were  firm  rather  than  ardent,  though  I  do  not  mean  to  imply 
tliat  they  were  deficient  in  the  latter  quality.    He  was  remarkable  fbr  oandoor 


.   I 


308  PBESBTTERIAX. 

and  sincerity,  never  professing  what  he  did  not  feel.  His  niMiners  were  the 
natural  expression  of  bis  open  and  generous  temper.  He  was  a  very  pattern  of 
hospitality, — his  house  open  for  the  accommodation  of  all,  but  especially  those 
who  were  of  the  household  of  faith.  He  was  quick  and  tender  in  his  sympathies 
for  the  afflicted,  and  was  always  on  the  alert  to  dispense  aid  or  administer  con- 
".elation,  as  the  exigencies  of  the  case  might  require." 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

D.  L.  SWAIN. 


-♦«" 


JOSHUA  LACY  WILSON,  D.  D.* 

1802—1846. 

Joshua  Lact  Wilson,  the  son  of  Henry  and  Agnes  (Lacy)  Wilson, 
was  born  in  Bedford  County,  Ya.,  September  22,  1774.  His  father  was 
an  educated  physician,  and  every  way  correct  in  his  external  deportment, 
bat  not  a  professor  of  religion.  His  mother,  who  was  a  sister  of  the  Rev. 
Dmry  Lacy,  a  distinguished  clergyman  in  Virginia,  was  an  exemplary 
member  of  the  Baptist  Church.  He  was  the  youngest  of  three  children. 
When  he  was  about  four  years  of  age,  his  father  died,  leaving  his  family  in 
very  straitened  circumstances.  His  mother  taught  her  children  the  first 
rudiments  of  a  common  education, — the  family  library  consisting  only  of 
an  indifferent  copy  of  the  Scriptures,  a  copy  of  Watts'  Hymns,  and  the 
Westminster  Shorter  Catechism.  Sometime  after  his  father's  death,  his 
mother  formed  a  second  matrimonial  connection  with  John  Templin,  the 
father  of  Terah  Templin,  who,  as  a  licentiate,  was  the  first  Presbyterian 
who  ever  preached  the  Gospel  in  Kentucky. 

In  the  year  1779,  his  step-father  went  to  seek  a  residence  in  Kentucky ; 
and  the  family  followed  him  in  1781.  They  lived  for  a  time  in  a  picketed 
fort  on  Salt  River,  called  Wilson's  Station,  after  a  family  with  which  they 
were  in  no  way  connected.  Young  Wilson,  until  he  was  twenty-two  years 
of  age,  was  occupied  in  subduing  the  forest,  cultivating  the  soil,  and  hunting 
wild  animals ;  but,  at  that  period,  his  mind  became  permanently  impressed 
with  the  subject  of  religion,  and  he  soon  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  the 
work  of  the  ministry.  About  the  same  time,  he  entered  the  Kentucky 
Academy,  at  Pisgah;  having  until  now  been  unacquainted  with  the  first 
elements  of  English  Grammar.  After  remaining  here  about  a  year,  he 
entered  a  private  school  taught  by  the  Rev.  William  Mahont;  but  when, 
at  the  end  of  a  year  and  a  half,  this  school  was  discontinued,  he  engaged  in 
teaching  a  school  himself,  in  Frankfort,  Ky.  During  his  residence  here, 
he  was  induced  to  commence  the  study  of  Law ;  which,  however,  he  did 
not  continue  long,  on  account  of  the  failure  of  his  health.  He  subse- 
quently turned  his  attention  again  to  the  ministry,  and  went  to  live  in  the 

•  MSS.  from  bii  aon,— R«v.  8.  R.  Wilnn,  and  Rer.  Tbomu  Oleland,  D.  D. 

f  Willi  AX  Mabok  wm  a  native  of  Virginia,  and  waa  the  ftnt  mini«ter  who  had  oharge  of 
the  New  Providenoe  Church,  Ky.,  which  wu  organised  br  the  Rer.  David  Rice  in  1785,  and 
over  which  the  venerable  Dr.  Thomae  Cleland  has  presided  (1867)  forty-two  yean.  In  eoa- 
neotion  with  that  ehareh,  he  preached  to  another  not  far  distaDt,  and  at  tike  same  time  taaght 
a  small  olasriial  school.  He  became  a  sobjeet  of  Presbyterial  discipline,  and  died  under  a 
^od* 


JOSHUA  LACT  WILSON.  309 

ikmily  of  the  Rev.  James  Yaoee,*  who  was  then  engaged  in  oonducting  a 
classical  school  near  Louisyille.  He  assisted  in  the  school,  at  the  same 
time  pursuing  his  theological  studies  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Vance. 
He  was  licensed  to  preach  at  Spring  Hill,  Tenn.,  in  1802;  and  was  ordained 
at  Union  Meeting  House  in  Mercer  County,  Ky.,  at  the  same  time  with  Mr. 
(now  Rev.  Dr.)  Thomas  Cleland,  in  October,  1804, — when  he  took  charge 
of  the  Churches  of  Bardstown  and  Big  Spring.  This  was  about  eight  years 
after  he  recited  his  first  lesson  in  grammar.  In  1805,  he  sat  as  a  member 
of  the  CommLssion  of  Synod  in  the  Cumberland  difficulties.  In  1808,  he 
became  Pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Cincinnati,  where  he 
remained  for  thirty-eight  years,  —  part  of  the  time  teaching  a  classical 
school. 

He  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Cincinnati 
College,  where,  for  some  time,  he  acted  as  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy. 

In  the  great  controversy  which  divided  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  1837, 
Dr.  Wibon  bore  an  active  and  prominent  part, — not  doubting  that  the 
interests  of  true  Presby  terianism  were  deeply  involved  in  the  issue.  Though 
he  had  been  favourable  to  the  placing  of  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  at  the  head 
of  the  Lane  Seminary,  he  subsequently  became  so  much  dissatisfied  with 
what  he  believed  to  be  his  theological  views,  that  he  prosecuted  him  for 
heresy,  first  before  the  Presbytery,  and  next,  before  the  Synod  of  Cincin- 
nati, in  October,  1835.  Regarding  the  doings  of  the  Synod  in  the  case  as 
unduly  lenient,  he  carried  an  appeal  to  the  General  Assembly  of  1886 ;  but 
was  subsequently  induced  to  withdraw  it,  on  the  ground  that  there  was 
another  case  pending  before  the  Assembly,  involving  the  principle  which  he 
wished  to  have  decided. 

Though  Dr.  Wilson  possessed  originally  a  vigorous  constitution,  it  was 
greatly  impaired,  while  he  was  yet  in  early  manhood,  by  a  protracted  illness 
occasioned  by  exposure  in  rescuing  a  lad  from  drowning.  His  ministry  was 
exercised  in  the  midst  of  much  bodily  suffering,  and  for  a  long  period  he 
was  obliged  to  preach  in  a  sitting  posture,  and  sometimes  with  his  eyes 
entirely  closed,  on  account  of  an  inflammation  induced  by  studying  before 
daylight;  it  being  his  custom  for  many  years  to  rise  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  During  the  last  six  years  of  his  life,  he  could  scarcely  ever  be 
said  to  be  free  from  pain ;  though  ho  was  enabled  to  continue  his  pastoral 
labours  till  within  about  three  weeks  of  his  death.  He  preached  his  last 
sermon  on  Sabbath  afternoon,  July  19,  1846,  from  the  words — ••  Thou  art 
not  far  from  the  Kingdom  of  God."  On  Tuesday  following,  he  was  taken 
ill;  but  it  was  not  until  Saturday,  (the  25th,)  that  his  disease  assumed  an 
alarming  character.  From  that  time  his  suffering  was  most  intense ;  but, 
in  the  midst  of  it  all,  he  evinced  the  most  tranquil  submission  to  his  Heav- 
enly Father's  will.  He  died  on  Friday,  the  14th  of  August,  lacking  less 
than  a  month  and  a  half  of  being  seventy-two  years  of  age.  The  principal 
Address  at  his  Funeral  was  delivered  by  the  Rev.  L.  0.  Oaines,  whom  Dr. 
Wilson  had  himself  designated  to  perform  that  service.  His  remains  were 
first  interred  in  the  Presbyterian  burying-ground  in  Cincinnati ;  but  have 

•  Javbs  Yakcb  resided  aboot  eighteen  miles  Eut  of  LouisTille,  in  Jeffenon  County,  Ky., 
and  had  ehaife  of  two  congregationa.  In  the  latter  years  of  his  life  he  vma  rendered  nearly 
helplea  by  means  of  rheumatism.  He  had  a  younger  brother,  IViliiamf  a  young  man  of  moeh 
more  than  ordinary  promise,  who  was  licensed  to  preach  in  the  year  1803,  and  was  to  have  been 
aettlad  orer  the  Church  at  DauTille,  and  another  in  the  Mme  neighbourhood ;  but,  after  preach- 
ing a  dni^e  sermon  to  each,  was  suddenly  called  from  his  earthly  labours. 


310  PBESBTTERIAK. 

Binoe,  in  oojnplianoe  wiik  the  wbhea  of  his  widow,  been  removed  to  tbo 
Spring  Grove  Cemetery,  where  they  dow  repose.  The  Church  which  be 
served  sp  long  and  so  faithfully  has  erected  a  handsome  monument  to  bis 
memory. 

On  the  22d  of  October,  1801,  he  was  married  to  Sarah,  daughter  of 
George  Mackey.  She  was  a  native  of  Baltimore,  Md.,  was  early  left 
motherless,  and  while  she  was  yet  young,  went  with  her  father  to  Kentucky* 
They  had  eight  children — four  sons  and  four  daughters.  One  son  is  a  clergy- 
man,— successor  to  his  father  in  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Cincin- 
nati;  one  is  an  educated  physician,  settled  in  Shelby ville,  Ky.;  and  one 
daughter  is  married  to  the  Bev.  Samuel  Lynn,  Pastor  of  the  First  Presby« 
terian  Church,  "Newport,  Ky. 

The  following  is  a  Ibt  of  Dr.  Wilson's  publications : — Episcopal  Method- 
ism or  Dagonism  exhibited:  in  five  scenes,  1811.  War  the  work  of  the 
Lord,  and  the  Coward  cursed :  A  Sermon  delivered  to  the  Cincinnati  Light 
Lifantry  Companies  at  the  request  of  Captains  Mansfield  and  Sloan,  shortly 
before  they  marched  to  Detroit,  1812.  The  character  of  an  officer  and  duty 
of  a  soldier :  A  Sermon  preached  to  the  Begiment  of  Ohio  Militia  commanded 
by  Colonel  Samuel  Borden,  1820.  The  Testimony  of  Three  who  bear 
witness  in  earth,  on  the  Fact  and  Mode  of  Purification:  A  Sermon  deliv- 
ered in  Lebanon,  0.,  1827.  Four  Propositions  sustained  against  the  claims 
of  the  American  Home  Missionary  Society,  1831.  Four  Sermons  entitled 
"Methods  of  Peace"  — •*  The  Character  of  man" — "The  Sanctuary 
polluted" — "The  Sanctuary  cleansed " — (published  in  a  volume  of  Original 
Sermons  by  Presbyterian  ministers  in  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,)  183B. 
One  Proposition  sustained  against  the  New  School,  1835.  A  Lettei 
addressed  to  R.  H.  Bishop,  D.  D.,  on  the  subject  of  his  "  Plea  for  united 
Christian  action  addressed  particularly  to  Presbyterians,"  1835.  Th« 
Moderator  and  Ultra  Partisans ;  or  a  Review  of  the  Biblical  Repertory  foi 
January,  1835,  on  "The  present  state  of  the  Presbyterian  Church"  and 
"Act  and  Testimony,  No.  vii.,"  1835.  Imputation  of  Sin  and  Righteous- 
ness: A  Sermon  from  Romans  v.  18,  19,  1835.  Plea  in  the  case  of 
Lyman  Beecher,  D.  D.,  made  before  the  Synod  of  Cincinnati,  1836.  The 
Faith  Kept;  or  Recollections  of  Rev.  Daniel  Hayden* :  A  Discourse 
delivered  at  Pleasant  Ridge,  1835.  Relations  and  duties  of  Servants  and 
Masters :  A  Sermon  from  Ephesians  vi.  5-9,  1839.  A  Sermon  in  memory 
of  the  death  of  William  Henry  Harrison,  late  President  of  the  United 
States,  1841.  The  Kingdom  of  God  delineated:  A  Sermon,  1842.  A 
Sermon  on  Witchcraft,  1845.  A  Second  Sermon  on  the  same  subject, 
1846. 

*  DAirrsL  Haydbx  wu  born  on  the  9th  of  April,  1781,  in  Redstone  County,  Pa.;  beoamt 
Moptical  in  early  life,  but  was  hopefully  converted  during  a  rerival  of  religion ;  entered  Jeffer- 
son College  in  1801,  and  graduated  in  1805;  after  leaving  College,  took  charge  of  the  Greens- 
burg  Academy,  and  retained  his  connection  with  it  until  1807  or  1808,  when  he  was  licensed  as 
a  probationer  for  the  Gospel  ministry  by  the  Presbytery  of  Erie ;  became  Pastor  of  the  Pleasant 
Ridge  Church,  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery  of  Cincinnati,  in  1809;  and  died  August  27, 
1836,  aged  fifty-four.  Dr.  Wilson  represents  him  as  having  been  an  eminently  faithful  and 
■ealous  minister. 


JOSHUA  LAGT  WILSON.  32  X 


•     FBOX  THE  BEY.  THOMAS  GLELAND,  D.  D. 

XcAvss,  Kj;  July  10, 1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  knew  Dr.  Wilson  well, especially  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  life, 
but  so  long  a  time  has  elapsed  since  my  intimacy  with  him  ceased,  that  I  hare 
little  or  nothing  to  say  in  respect  to  him  that  will  be  to  your  purpose.  My 
acquaintance  with  him  commenced  at  the  Kentucky  Academy,  in  Woodford 
County,  in  1797,  where  we  met  as  school-mates.  He  was  then  tall  and  full 
grown,  and  was  considered  a  diligent  student,  and  a  young  man  of  more  than 
ordinary  promise.  It  was  at  that  time  that  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
young  lady  who  afterwards  became  his  wife.  Some  years  after  marriage,  and 
after  his  settlement  at  Bardstown,  I  saw  her  baptized  by  the  Bev.  A.  Cameron, 
on  a  Sacramental  occasion,  in  the  presence  of  a  large  congregation,  assembled  in 
a  grove.  I  may  add  that  she  was  a  sensible,  pious,  prudent,  industrious  wife, 
an  affectionate  mother,  and  highly  respected  by  all  her  acquaintances. 

Dr.  Wilson  and  myself  were  settled  in  contiguous  places  from  the  autumn  of 
1804  till  1808,  when  he  removed  to  Cincinnati — daring  that  period,  we  were 
frequently  together,  assisting  each  other  at  Communion  seasons,  and  sometimes 
on  other  occasions  also;  but,  after  bis  removal,  our  meetings  were  very  infre- 
quent, and  I  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  had  any  intercourse  with  him. 

Dr.  Wilson  was  highly  acceptable  as  Pastor  of  the  Churches  over  which  ho 
was  first  settled;  but  he  was  not  a  little  embarrassed  in  his  work  by  being 
obliged  to  teach  a  school,  and  even  then  not  being  able  to  make  out  for  himself 
an  adequate  support.  In  this  respect,  indeed,  he  was  not  distinguished  from 
most  of  his  brethren  in  those  days ;  though  the  evil  was  not  tlie  less  from  being 
shared  with  many  others.  In  social  intercourse  he  was  always  friendly  and  agree- 
able. In  the  pulpit  he  had  much  more  than  ordinary  advantages.  His  person 
was  commanding,  his  manner  attractive,  his  voice  melodious,  distinct,  and  every 
way  pleasant.  His  discourses  were  very  respectable— sometimes  rising  above, 
and  sometimes  falling  a  little  below,  his  own  standard;  .but  it  would  have  been 
strange  if  it  had  been  otherwise,  considering  how  much  he  was  harrassed  by 
numerous  distracting  cares  and  avocations.  He  did  not,  by  any  means,  reach 
the  zenith  of  his  &me  as  a  preacher,  until  after  bis  removal  to  Cincinnati,  where 
he  had  the  opportunity  of  prosecuting  his  studies  with  more  vigour  and  less 
interruption. 

I  may  allude  to  one  trait  in  Dr.  Wilson's  character,  which  was  somewhat 
marked  at  the  period  of  my  intimacy  with  him,  though  I  believe  it  gradually 
lessened  with  advancing  years,  and  finally  disappeared  almost  altogether— I 
refer  to  a  sort  of  impulsiveness, — I  may  say  impetuosity,  in  his  treatment  of 
opponents,  whether  in  public  or  in  more  private  circles.  He  would  become,  for 
the  moment,  greatly  excited;  and  then  the  effervescence  of  his  feelings  would 
subtfide,  and  he  would  appear  as  gentle  as  a  lamb,  and  would  not  be  slow  to 
make  any  apology  or  atonement  which  he  thought  the  case  demanded.  With 
great  strength  of  character  he  combined  much  that  could  not  fail  to  attract  him 
strongly  to  his  friends.  Those  who  knew  him  in  his  latter  years  can  tell  you 
much  more  than  I  can  of  his  more  mature  intellectual  and  moral  developments. 

Most  affectionately  and  fraternally  yours, 

THOMAS  CLELAND. 

FBOH  THE  HON.  G.  S.  TODD. 

Shilbtvtus,  Ky.,  8th  August,  1867. 
Ber.  and  dear  Sir:  My  associations  with  the  Bev.  Dr.  Joshua  L.  Wilson  reach 
back  to  an  early  period  of  my  life.    When  I  was  quite  in  my  boyhood,  he  taught 


3X2  P&SSBTXfiEIAN. 

a  school  in  Frankfort,  and  I  was  ono  of  bis  papils.  I  do  not  suppose  that,  at 
that  time,  considering  what  his  previous  advantages  had  been,  he  could  have 
been  a  very  accomplished  scholar;  but  vi^hatever  he  did  teach,  he  taught  well; 
and  though  I  was  then  too  young  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  his  character,  the 
impressions  which  I  received  in  respect  to  him  were  substantially  the  same  with 
those  which  he  made  upon  me  in  after  life.  As  he  was  in  the  school,  so  he  was 
in  the  churchy  in  the  deliberative  assembly,  in  civil  society,  everywhere.  He 
had  a  very  strongly  marked  character,  and  wherever  he  was,  he  was  sure  to 
make  himself  felt. 

After  leaving  his  school  at  Frankfort,  I  had  no  intercourse  with  him  until, 
during  the  war  with  Great  Britain,  o£,1812,  I  was  stationed  lor  some  time  at 
Cincinnati,  where  I  had  the  opportunity  of  heaping  him  preach  and  occasionally 
enjoying  his  society.  In  the  year  1840, 1  went  to  reside  at  Cincinnati  for  a  year, 
and,  during  that  time,  was  a  regular  attendant  on  his  ministry.  I  met  him  onoe 
also,  I  recollect,  as  a  member  of  the  General  Assembly.  My  relations  with  him 
were  not  only  very  agreeable,  but  I  may  say,  somewhat  intimate;  and  there  is 
hardly  any  man  who  has  passed  away  of  whom  I  can  speak  with  more  confidence 
of  not  misrepresenting  him. 

There  was  something  in  Dr.  Wilson's  personal  appearance  that  was  singularly 
impressive  and  commanding.  You  might  see  him  in  a  crowd,  and  you  would 
feel  assured  that  whatever  the  rest  might  be,  he  was  a  man  of  unyielding  reso- 
lution and  great  force  of  character.  He  had  a  fine,  stately  form,  and  a  counte- 
nance on  which  the  lines  of  intellect  were  too  strongly  drawn  to  escape  the 
observation  even  of  the  passing  stranger.  And  his  face  was  a  true  exponent  of 
his  mind  and  heart — he  liad  great  native  power  and  vigour  of  intellect  and  great 
strength  of  feeling;  combined,  howeyer,  with  much  natural  kindness  and  sus- 
ceptibility of  tender  emotion.  He  was  not  capable  of  going  half  way  in  any 
thing — ^in  all  his  opinions,  principles,  maxims  of  conduct,  views  of  religious 
truth,  he  was  thoroughly  decided,  and  was  always  able  to  give  a  reason  which 
was  at  least  satisfactory  to  himself.  With  such  a  constitution,  you  would  natu- 
rally expect  that  lie  would  not  be  likely  to  incur  the  wo  threatened  upon  those 
of  whom  all  men  speak  well.  In  the  collisions  incident  to  his  course  of  life,  he 
had  to  meet  many  a  vigorous  opponent,  and  encounter  many  a  sharp  blast;  but 
while  he  was  not  the  man  to  flinch  under  any  possible  circumstances,  and  would 
sometimes  be  complained  of  by  his  adversary  for  severity  or  obstinacy,  I  do 
not  believe  that  any  body  ever  ventured  even  a  whisper  against  his  integrity.  In 
taking  the  strong  ground  that  he  often  did,  he  was  not  influenced  by  any  personal 
considerations,  much  less  by  the  semblance  of  ill  will,  but  by  his  own  honest 
conviction  of  what  was  due  to  truth  and  right;  and  there  he  felt  himself  per- 
fectly impregnable. 

As  a  preacher,  I  reckon  Dr.  Wilson,  at  the  period  of  his  greatest  strength,  as 
decidedly  among  the  ablest  of  his  day.  His  appearance  in  the  pulpit  was  greatly 
in  his  favour.  There  was  a  dignified,  as  well  as  solemn  and  reverential,  air  about 
him,  that  would  bespeak  your  attention  before  he  opened  his  lips.  And  then, 
when  ho  did  speak,  his  voice,  though  not  very  loud,  was  uncommonly  melodious 
and  distinct,  and  could  be  heard  to  the  extremities  of  any  church  without  the  least 
effort.  His  manner  was  natural,  simple,  earnest,  and  accompanied  by  a  good  deal 
of  gesture,  which  was  evidently  the  prompting  of  his  feelings  at  the  moment,  and 
not  at  all  the  result  of  previous  study.  His  sermons,  though  not  read,  and  I 
suppose  generally  not  written  beyond  a  mere  outline,  were  clear  and  logical  in 
their  structure,  and  therefore  easily  remembered  by  an  attentive  hearer;  while 
they  were  always  rich  in  evangelical  truth.  No  matter  whether  he  exhibited 
doctrine  or  enforced  duty,  he  did  it  with  an  air  of  strength  and  boldness,  that 
showed  you  that  he  deeply  realized  the  importance  of  what  he  was  saying,  and 


JOSHUA  LACT  WILSON.  313 

ibmt  he  was  bent  upon  making  you  feel  it  too.    His  preaching  was  eminently  fitted 
to  minister  to  the  edification  and  stability  of  the  Church. 

In  an  ecclesiastical  judicatory,  Dr.  Wilson  was  perfectly  at  home,  and  was 
always  felt  to  be  a  controlling  spirit.  Ever  watchful  against  the  approach  of 
what  he  believed  to  be  error,  and  on  the  alert  to  resist  its  inroads^  it  was  no  mat- 
ter to  him  though  he  stood  alone, — ^hc  was  sure  to  speak  out  his  honest  convic- 
tions. He  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the  forms  of  ecclesiastical  procedure, 
and  in  the  most  involved  case,  was  never  perplexed  as  to  the  course  which  ought 
to  be  pursued.  In  or  out  of  a  deliberative  body,  he  would  have  followed  his 
coimciions  of  duty,  if  they  had  required  him  to  break  eyery  earthly  tie,  or 
eT«n  led  him  to  the  martyr's  stake. 

In  priTate  life  he  was  sociable,  kind  and  obliging.  Though  he  was  habitually 
grave  in  his  deportment,  he  often  discovered  a  vein  of  pleasantry,  and  would 
relate  a  striking  anecdote;  and  I  have  occasionally  seen  him  enjoy  a  hearty  laugh 
as  much  as  any  other  man.  But  he  was  an  eminently  devout  man,  and  I  doubt 
not,  much  more  than  the  mass  of  Christians,  had  his  conversation  in  Heaven. 
He  was  greatly  respected  in  the  community  in  which  he  lived,  and  it  will  be 
many  a  day  before  the  name  of  Joshua  L.  Wilson  will  cease  to  be  reverently  and 
gratefully  pronounced  in  many  a  family  in  Cincinnati. 

I  am,  as  ever,  yours  truly  and  fraternally, 

C.  S.  TODD. 


FROM  THE  REY.  ROBERT  G.  WILSON,  D.D. 

South  Salem,  Ross  County,  0.,  January  24,  1849. 

Rey.  Sir:  Your  letter  requesting  my  recollections  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Joshua 
L.  Wilson  of  Cincinnati,  has  remained  unanswered  for  several  weeks,  because 
the  grasshopper  has  become  a  burden  to  me,  and  I  am  scarcely  able,  by  reason 
of  age  and  infirmity,  to  write  a  legible  hand.  I  am  unwilling  altogether  to  deny 
your  request,  and  yet  I  am  unable  to  comply  with  it,  except  in  a  very  general 
and  imperfect  manner. 

I  knew  Dr.  Wilson  intimately  through  a  long  course  of  years.  One  of  his 
most  prominent  traits  was  a  sterling  integrity,  that  never  suffered  him  to  relax 
from  his  convictions  of  truth  or  duty,  a  single  iota, — no  matter  what  might  be 
the  end  to  be  gained  by  it.  His  theological  views  were  strictly  in  harmony  with 
the  Confession  of  Faith  in  our  Church,  and  no  man  was  less  disposed  than  he  to 
tolerate  any  departures  from  it.  He  had  a  vigorous  and  discriminating  mind, 
well  adapted  to  theological  research.  He  had  great  strength  and  ardour  of  feel- 
ing, which  he  carried  into  every  enterprise  in  which  he  engaged.  His  discourses 
were  dear,  logical  and  able  expositions  of  Divine  truth.  He  maintained  a 
shining  Christian  character  to  the  last.    His  son  worthily  fills  his  place. 

R^retting  that  my  infirmity  does  not  permit  me  to  say  more, 

I  am  very  respectfully  yours, 

R.  G.  WILSON. 

Vol.  IY.  40 


314  FISSBYTBSIAK. 


JAMES  LAURIE,  D.  D.* 

1802—1853. 

Jahbs  Latjrib,  the  son  of  James  and  Marion  Laurie,  was  bom  in 
Edinburgh,  Scotland,  on  the  11th  of  February,  1778.  His  parents  were  in 
only  moderate  circumstances,  but  the  tastes  of  this  son,  as  early  doTeloped, 
were  decidedly  intellectual,  and  they  found  means  to  indulge  thtfm.  He 
received  his  entire  education,  literary,  scientifio  and  theologioal,  at  ihe 
University  of  Edinburgh.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  in 
1800, — it  is  belioved  by  the  Associate  Presbytery  of  Bdmborgh.  After 
preaching  for  about  two  years  as  a  probationer  in  his  native  country,  ke 
consented,  at  the  urgent  request  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  M.  Mason,  who  was 
then  in  Scotland,  to  migrate  to  the  United  States,  and  enter  the  service  of 
the  Associate  Reformed  Church.  He  accordingly  crossed  the  ocean  with 
Dr.  Mason,  accompanied  also  by  several  other  young  clergymen  from 
Scotland,  who,  like  him,  had  been  induced  by  Dr.  M.  to  seek  a  home 
ia  this  country.  On  the  very  day  that  he  left  Scotland, — August  25, 1802, 
he  was  married  to  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  James  Scott,  of  Mussel* 
burg. 

At  the  time  of  his  arrival  in  New  York,  the  yellow  fever  was  raging  in 
Philadelphia,  which  rendered  it  expedient  for  him  to  remain  in  the  former  eity 
some  two  months  ;  after  which,  he  proceeded  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  spent 
a  few  weeks,  and  then  visited  Washington.  The  seat  of  government  having 
been  removed  to  Washington  about  two  years  before,  it  was  deemed  of  great 
importance  that  some  clergyman  of  high  standing  aud  character  should  be 
fixed  there ;  and  Mr.  Laurie  was  the  person  whom  Dr.  Mason  selected  for 
that  interesting  field.  In  March,  1803,  he  visited  Washington,  by  request 
of  several  gentlemen, — among  whom  was  the  late  venerable  Joseph  Nourse, 
who  were  then  endeavouriug  to  gather  an  Associate  Reformed  Congregation. 
The  city,  at  that  time,  existed  only  on  paper,  and  in  the  landmarks  of 
the  surveyor ;  and  he  has  been  heard  to  say  that,  as  ho  was  on  his  way 
thither,  he  enquired  of  the  stage-driver  how  far  it  was  to  the  city,  and 
received  for  answer — *'Sir,  we  have  been  driving  through  it  for  the  last  two 
miles." 

The  new  congregation  being  formed,  extended  to  him  an  invitation  to 
become  their  pastor,  of  which,  after  due  consideration,  he  signified  his 
acceptance.  He  was  accordingly  installed  in  June,  1803,  having  been 
ordained  previous  to  his  leaving  Edinburgh.  For  several  years  he  preached 
in  the  old  Treasury  building,  which  was  burned  by  the  British  in  1814. 
Meanwhile  he  was  exerting  himself  to  the  utmost  to  obtain  the  means 
requisite  to  the  building  of  a  new  church  edifice.  For  this  purpose 
he  travelled  as  far  North  as  Boston,  and  as  far  South  as  Savannah,  visiting 
all  the  more  important  intermediate  places,  and  making  collections  as  he 
could  find  opportunity.  As  the  result  of  his  persevering  labours,  in  con- 
nection with  those  of  his  little  flock,  he  had  the  pleasure,  early  in  1807,  to 
see  a  substantial,  and  for  that  day  elegant,  brick  edifice  opened  for  Divine 
service.     It  was  the  first  place  of  Protestant  worship  erected  in  the  metro- 

«  PraebTteriui,  1853.— MS8.  from  hii  fjunily,  Rer.  R.  R.  Oarler,  R«t.  P.  D.  Gorley,  D.  D., 
ftiyl  lUv.  BUm  HARiion,  D.  D. 


JAMBS  LAUBUB.  315 

poliB.  In  tbat  building  he  oontinned  to  preach  the  nnsearohable  riohes  of 
Ghriefc  duriDg  a  period  of  fortj-six  years. 

Mr.  Laurie,  from  the  commenoement  of  his  ministry  in  Washington, 
foand  it  necessary  to  engage,  to  some  extent,  in  secular  pursuits,  in  order 
to  support  his  family.  He  was  employed  as  a  clerk  in  the  Begister*s  office 
of  the  Treasury  department  in  the  goyemment  of  the  United  States ;  and 
he  held  the  place  till  his  death.  Though  he  performed  its  duties  with  great 
punctuality  and  exactness,  it  was  always  a  sore  trial  to  him  that  he  was 
obliged  to  give  to  a  mere  secular  employment  so  much  time  that  he  would 
gladly  have  doToted  to  the  great  objects  of  his  sacred  vocation. 

In  181 S,  he  was  afflicted  by  the  death  of  his  wife.  On  the  4th  of  April, 
1815,  he  was  married  a  second  time  to  Mrs.  Elixabeth  B.  Hall,  daughter 
of  Andrew  Shepherd,  of  Virginia ;  who,  after  having  been  not  only  in  the 
beat  sense  a  help«meet  to  her  husband,  but  an  ornament  to  the  social  and 
Christian  circles  of  Washington,  for  thirty-four  years,  died  on  the  6th  of 
May,  1849. 

In  the  autumn  of  1815,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Diyinity  from  Williams  College. 

Dr.  Laurie  and  his  congregation  united  with  the  General  Assembly,  at 
the  time  when  a  portion  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Church  formed  a  union 
with  that  Body.  In  the  division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  1837,  his 
sympathies  and  acts  were  decidedly  with  the  Old  School. 

Dr.  Laurie  had  naturally  a  vigorous  constitution,  and  ho  continued 
to  discharge  his  duties  as  a  minister,  with  little  or  no  interruption  from  ill 
health,  till  he  was  far  advanced  in  life.  He  was  then  seized  with  an  inflam- 
matory rheumatism,  which,  for  many  months,  confined  him  to  his  room,  and 
most  of  the  time  to  his  bed.  This  attack  gave  a  shock  to  his  constitution 
from  which  it  never  fully  recovered.  Though  he  lived  and  continued  to 
preach  for  several  years  afterwards,  his  people  found  it  necessary  to  procure 
for  him  an  assistant;  and  on  the  13th  of  May,  1845,  they  proceeded  to  the 
choice  of  a  co-pastor.  The  person  chosen  was  Mr.  Ninian  Bannatyne, — 
who  was  a  native  of  the  Island  of  Bute,  Scotland ;  came  to  this  country  at 
the  age  of  nineteen,  and  was  an  alumnus  first  of  Lafayette  College,  and 
afterwards  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton.  He  accepted  the 
call*  and  was  installed  shortly  after.  He  was  most  acceptable  to  his  vene- 
rable colleague,  as  well  as  to  the  congregation ;  and  his  ministry  seemed  to 
commence  under  the  brightest  auspices ;  but,  while  the  high  promise  of  use- 
fulness which  had  been  given,  had  only  begun  to  be  fulfilled,  he  was  over- 
taken by  an  insidious  malady,  which  neither  cessation  from  labour,  nor 
travelling,  nor  medical  skill,  was  able  to  arrest.  He  died  greatly  honoured 
and  lamented,  on  the  13th  of  August,  1848,  in  the  thirty-fifth  year  of  his 
age  and  the  fourth  of  his  ministry. 

Dr.  Laurie  felt  this  bereavement  as  a  most  severe  afliiction.  Though  he 
was  still  able  to  move  about,  and  to  preach  once  on  the  Sabbath,  he  was 
utterly  inadequate  to  the  discharge  of  the  full  duties  of  a  pastor.  Under 
these  circumstances,  it  became  necessary  that  he  should  be  provided  with 
another  colleague  ;  and»  accordingly,  the  Bev.  Levi  Christian  was  installed 
in  plaee  of  the  lamented  Bannatyne,  on  the  11th  of  March,  1850.  He  was 
indneed,  however,  to  resign  his  charge  in  November  following,  and  enter 
vpon  an  agency  for  the  erection  of  a  new  church  in  Washington.  But  his 
place   was   speedily   supplied  by  the  settlement  of  the  Bev.  David  X. 


316  FSSSBrrBRIAK. 

Jtinkin,  (now  D.  D.,)  who  wu  installed  on  the  17ih  of  June,  1851,  and 
continued  hia  connection  with  the  Ohurch  till  the  close  of  Dr.  Laurie's  life. 

For  several  weeks  Dr.  Laurie  had  suffered  from  a  severe  cough,  which, 
however,  did  not  prevent  him  from  performing  his  accustomed  duties.  On 
Sabhath  morning,  April  the  10th, — one  week  before  his  death,  he  delivered 
an  address  at  the  Communion,  and  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  made 
another  address  of  half  an  hour,  in  which  he  alluded  with  great  solemnity 
and  impressiveness  to  his  own  death,  saying, — **  The  time  cannot  be  far  dis- 
tant;" and  then,  leaning  over  the  pulpit,  added  with  a  thrilling  earnestness, 
yet  almost  in  a  whisper, — **  I  feel  it.'*  He,  however,  continued  in  about  his 
usual  state  until  the  next  Thursday  morning,  when  his  family  were  attracted 
to  his  room  by  his  groans,  and,  on  entering,  found  him  suffering  intensely 
from  what  proved  to  be  pleura-pneumonia.  It  soon  became  evident  that  he 
was  approaching  his  end.  On  Saturday  morning  he  seemed  himself  fully 
aware  of  it,  and  was  constantly  repeating  passages  of  Scripture,  such  as  are 
fitted  to  sustain  the  dying  Christian.  On  Sunday  morning  he  inquired  the 
hour,  and  being  told  that  it  was  nine  o'clock,  said — "  In  two  hours  it 
will  be  time  for  worship,  but  I  shall  not  be  there;'*  after  which  he 
requested  that  the  hymn — *' Jerusalem  my  happy  home" — might  be  sung 
that  morning  in  the  church.  He  had  subsequently  an  interview  with  the 
Bev.  Dr.  Harrison  of  Alexandria,  who  remained  at  his  bedside  till  his 
death.  His  last  words  were — *'It  is  well."  He  died  on  Monday  morning, 
the  18th  of  April,  1853,  in  the  seventy-sixth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  fifty- 
third  of  his  ministry. 

Dr.  Laurie  published  a  Sermon  on  the  death  of  the  Bev.  William 
Hawley,  1845. 

Dr.  Laurie  had  nine  children  ,-^^ix  by  the  first  marriage,  and  three  by 
the  second.     Two  of  his  sons  entered  the  medical  profession. 


FROM  THE  BEY.  ELIAS  HARRISON,  D.  D. 

Alexandria,  Ya.,  May  12, 1857. 
Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  You  were  right  in  supposing  that  my  relations  to  Dr. 
Laurie  were  such  as  to  enable  me  to  speak  of  his  character  with  great  confidence; 
and  I  may  add  my  estimate  of  his  character  was  such  that  I  can  also  do  it  with 
great  freedom  and  pleasure.  My  first  interview  with  him,  whichnras  in  Novem- 
ber, 1816,  just  after  I  had  come  to  Alexandria,  took  place  at  his  own  house, 
whither  I  had  gone  by  invitation  to  preach  for  him  on  the  coming  Sabbath.  He 
had  then  recently  been  married,  for  the  second  time,  to  a  lady  of  Alexandria, — 
of  fine  taste,  elegant  manners,  and  great  moral  worth.  The  pleasant  smile  with 
which  I  was  greeted,  as  T  crossed  his  threshold,  and  the  frank  and  cordial  man- 
ner and  air  of  whole-souled  hospitality,  with  which  I  was  received  by  both  him- 
self and  Mrs.  Laurie,  left  upon  my  mind  a  truly  delightful  impression.  One  of 
the  circumstances  connected  with  that  visit,  which  impressed  me  most  deeply, 
was  his  peculiarly  pertinent  and  solemn  manner  of  conducting  family  worship. 
He  commenced  the  service  with  a  short  but  most  impressive  invocation  lor  the 
Divine  blessing — then  followed  reading  a  portion  of  Scripture,  singing  a  hymn^ 
and  offering  a  fervent  and  devout  prayer,  embracing  most  felicitously  the  cases 
of  all  who  were  present.  As  I  listened  and  joined  in  the  exercise,  I  could  not 
but  think  that  if  that  were  a  spedmen  of  fitmily  worship  in  Scotland,  the  servioe 
there  must  be  much  more  impressively  performed  than  it  generally  is  on  this  side 
the  water. 


JAMBS  LAUBIE.  317 

From  that  period  I«ras,  for  thirty-five  years,  in  a  eoastant, — almost  weekly, 
iDterchange  of  letters  or  visits  with  him; and  though  I,  of  course,  became  much 
more  intimately  acquainted  with  his  character,  I  can  truly  say  that  the  impres- 
sion which  I  received  of  his  intellectual,  moral  and  social  qualities,  at  that  first 
interview,  was  never  afterwards  materially  modified.  That  he  was  a  man  of 
not  only  genuine  but  deep  Christian  experience,  I  could  never  for  a  moment 
doubt — this  was  proved  not  only  by  his  daily  life,  but  more  especially  by  the 
spirit  with  which  he  bore  up  under  the  most  crushing  afflictions.  That  he  was 
sensitive  and  somewhat  excitable  in  his  temper,  I  knew  very  well;  and  perhaps 
I  oaght  to  add  that  he  sometimes  spoke  of  the  character  or  conduct  of  others 
with  undue  freedom;  but  I  think  those  who  were  intimately  acquainted  with 
him  will  generally  agree  with  me  that  this  apparent  severity  existed  rather  in 
manner  than  in  feeling.  In  his  friendships  he  never  varied,  unless  the  objects 
proved  unworthy.  He  would  receive  a  fraternal  admonition,  as  I  have  good 
reason  to  know,  not  only  without  resentment,  but  with  a  meek  and  even  a  grate- 
ful spirit. 

As  a  preacher,  I  place  him  quite  above  the  ordinary  standard.  His  voice  was 
loud,  distinct,  and  sometimes  perhaps  a  little  harsh.  He  was  solemn  and 
earnest,  though  deliberate,  in  his  utterance,  expressive  in  his  countenance,  manly 
and  graceful  in  his  gestures  and  attitudes,  and  peculiarly  guarded  against  all 
eccentricities  of  manner.  Though  he  had  not  much  of  the  Scottish  accent,  an 
occasional  word  would  betray  his  foreign  origin,  and  I  used  to  think  also,  his 
willingness  to  keep  it  out  of  view.  His  ordinary  discourses  were  not  written ; 
though  when  he  did  write,  it  was  always  with  great  vigour,  correctness,  and 
point.  I  never  saw  him  take  a  manuscript  into  the  pulpit  but  once;  and  then 
he  apologized  to  the  congregation  for  it, — stating  that,  as  they  were  aware  of  his 
infirm  health,  (he  had  been  unwell  for  some  time,)  they  would  excuse  him  for 
appearing  before  them  on  crutches.  But  he  bestowed  great  thought  upon  his 
discourses  notwithstanding;  and  he  always  advised  young  ministers  either  to 
write  their  sermons  and  commit  them  to  memory,  or — which  he  considered  still 
better — to  form  carefully  a  plan,  and  study  the  subject  with  great  care,  and  then 
trust  for  the  language  to  the  prompting  of  the  moment.  His  manner  of  delivery 
was  always  so  unembarrassed,  and  his  style  so  correct,  that  I  never  could  tell 
whether  the  sermon  to  which  I  was  listening  had  been  previously  written  or  not. 
His  discourses  might  generally  be  termed  maseive — compactly  arranged,  rich  in 
thought,  copious  in  argument  and  illustration,  and  almost  invariably  exhausting 
his  theme.  He  was  a  great  stickler  for  Presbyterian  Orthodoxy — indeed  it  was 
sometimes  thought  that  his  preaching  was  disproportionately  doctrinal,  and  that 
the  principal  defect  of  his  sermons  was  that  they  lacked  pungent  and  searching 
application. 

Dr.  Laurie  was  of  an  eminently  social  disposition.  He  loved  to  mingle  with 
his  brethren  in  meetings  of  Presbytery,  and  on  other  public  occasions;  and  they 
always — ^no  matter  from  what  part  of  the  land  they  might  come — met  a  cordial 
welcome  at  his  house.  Some  of  his  friends  thought  that,  in  his  generosity,  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  overtaxed  in  this  respect;  and  that,  in  making  others  the 
subjects  of  his  hospitality,  he  sometimes  suffered  them  to  make  him  a  subject 
of  imposition. 

In  his  pastoral  duties,  he  was  not  a  little  embarrassed  by  being  obliged  to 
eombine  with  them  the  duties  of  a  clerkship  in  one  of  the  departments  of  the 
United  States  Government;  but  in  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed  he 
did  what  he  could. 

It  was  my  lot  to  see  Dr.  Laurie  in  many  situations  of  severe  trial,  but  I  never 
a$kW  him  in  one  where  his  character  as  a  Christian  was  in  the  least  degree  dis- 
hsttoored.  Though  several  of  his  last  years  had  been  marked  by  decline  and 
increasing  infirmity,  his  death  finally  took  us  by  surprise.    Owing  to  my  own 


318  PRESBTTERIAN. 

feeble  health  fbr  some  Kttle  time  prerioos,  I  had  not  seen  him  as  frequently  as 
usual,  but  had  had  no  reason  to  suppose  that  there  was  any  thing  in  his  case  to 
forebode  a  speedy  dissolution.  On  obserring  one  of  his  sons  to  enter  my  churchy 
as  I  was  about  concluding  my  discourse  on  the  afternoon  of  a  certain  Sabbath, 
it  oocurred  to  me  that  he  had  not  improbably  come  as  the  bearer  of  sad  news  in 
respect  to  his  father.  And  so  it  turned  out.  He  informed  me  that  his  &ther 
folt  himself  to  be  near  the  close  of  life,  and  wished  to  speak  tome  once  more  before 
his  departure.  The  request  was  complied  with.  I  hastened  to  his  dwelling,  and 
found  him  breathing  with  great  difficulty,  but  able  to  speak  with  a  clear  voice 
and  distinct  articulation.  He  told  me  with  the  utmost  composure  that  he  had 
but  a  very  short  time  to  live;  and  that,  as  we  had  long  lived  together  in  the  closest 
friendship,  and  I  had  preached  on  occasion  of  the  death  of  his  daughter,  his  wife, 
and  his  beloved  young  colleague,  Bannatyne,  it  was  his  earnest  desire  that, 
seeing  him  die,  I  would  attend  his  burial  also,  and  would  preach  a  Funeral  Ser- 
mon, if  it  was  thought  proper  that  there  should  be  one — ^to  all  which  of  course 
I  unhesitatingly  assented.  When  I  inquired  concerning  his  feelings  in  view  of 
his  approaching  change,  he  answered  me  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner — not  a 
doubt  in  regard  to  his  personal  interest  in  his  Redeemer's  sacrifice  seemed  to 
trouble  him — ^not  a  cloud  to  intervene  between  him  and  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness. I  had  myself  doubted  whether  he  was  as  near  death  as  he  imagined,  but 
the  event  proved  the  correctness  of  his  opinion — he  ceased  to  speak,  and  very 
soon  after,  without  a  struggle  or  a  groan,  ceased  to  breathe.  I  took  part  in  the 
exercises  of  his  Funeral,  and  preached,  agreeably  to  his  request,  on  the  Sabbath 
following;  and  rarely  have  I  ever  witnessed  in  an  audience  more  tender  sensi- 
bility, or  higher  respect  for  the  memory  of  a  great  and  good  man.  It  was  to  me 
a  most  solemn  occasion;  for  I  was  oppressed  by  the  reflection  that,  with  the  single 
exception  of  Dr.  Oarnahan,  late  President  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  all  who 
were  members  of  the  Presbytery  when  I  entered  it,  had  passed  away.  I  have 
much  reason  to  bless  God  that,  having  obtained  help  of  Him,  I  am  still  able  to 
stand  in  my  lot,  and  I  trust  patiently  wait  my  turn. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

ELIAS  HARRISON. 


FROM  THE  REV.  R.  R.  GURLET, 

Washihotoh,  Kay  20,  1858. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  very  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request  in  putting 
down  some  recollections  of  my  tried  and  venerable  friend,  the  Rev.  James  Laurie, 
D.  D., — a  minister  of  Christ,  who  shared  largely  in  the  confidence  and  esteem 
of  his  friends,  and  with  whose  character  and  conduct  I  was  for  many  years 
intimately  acquainted. 

In  his  person.  Dr.  Laurie  was  well*proportioned,  something  above  middle 
height,  with  a  full,  expanded  chest,  a  voice  of  great  power,  and  a  countenance 
and  manner  of  eminent  dignity  and  authority.  He  had  all  the  natural  warmth 
and  force  of  the  Scotch  character;  was  open,  candid  and  sincere;  quick  in  resent- 
ment and  ardent  in  attachment;  and  for  generosity  and  magnanimity  of  charac- 
ter highly  distinguished.  Associated  with  him  for  many  years,  in  the  Execu- 
tive Committee  of  the  American  Coloniiation  Society,  when  this  Committee 
were  accustomed  to  frequent  and  often  protracted  sessions,  I  acquired  a  know- 
ledge of  his  peculiarities,  and  of  the  many  bright  virtues  which  adorned  his  life. 
Few  know  the  great  amount  of  time  and  thought  dedicated  by  the  early  Mana- 
gers of  the  American  Colonization  Society,  during  several  years,  to  the  interests 
of  that  institution;  and  among  these  managers  no  one  was  more  punctual,  choOT 
fully  disinterested,  or  faithful,  than  Dr.  Laurie.     Owing  to  his  having  been 


JAICES  LAURIE.  319 

compelled,  for  the  support  of  bis  family,  to  accept  of  an  office  in  the  Treasury 
Department  of  the  Goyernment,  in  connection  with  his  duties  as  a  minister, 
he  found  it  often  inconvenient  to  devote  hours  of  business,  weekly,  to  the 
Colonization  Society,  and  other  Benevolent  Associations;  yet  he  never  hesi- 
tated to  make  a  sacrifice  of  ease  and  comfort  to  discharge  his  public  and  private 
responsibilities.  He  was  given  to  hospitality,  and  remarkably  agreeable, 
instructive  and  lively  in  conversation*, — fond  of  anecdotes  and  humorous  illustra- 
tions. Meeting  him  one  day,  as  he  approached,  I  did  not  at  first  recognise  him, 
and  said,—  *'  I  thought,  Doctor,  you  must  be  some  distinguished  person."  '*  I 
am,'*  he  replied, — "a  Foreign  Minister."  If  Dr.  Laurie  ever  became  impatient, 
if  his  countenance  ever  grew  dark,  and  he  spoke  in  language  of  severe  censure, 
it  was  when  he  thought  he  perceived  a  departure  from  a  fair,  frank  and  manly 
course;  for  he  was  of  a  rigid  int^rity  and  immovable  firmness  in  his  purposes 
of  duty.  It  is  probable  that  the  affairs  of  his  office,  by  withdrawing  a  large 
portion  of  his  time  from  his  study,  diminished  in  some  measure  the  popularity 
and  success  of  his  ministry;  yet  he  was  a  very  instructive,  earnest,  and  at  times 
eloquent,  preacher,— delivering  his  discourses  without  a  manuscript,  with  a 
voice  and  manner  strikingly  solemn  and  impressive.  Had  he  given  all  his  time 
and  ability  to  his  profession,  he  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  widely  known  as 
among  the  best  preachers  in  the  country.  He  early  shared  in  the  friendship  of 
Dr.  Mason,  and  reckoned  him  among  his  best  friends  till  the  close  of  Dr.  M.'s 
life. 

In  his  pastoral  duties.  Dr.  Laurie  was  constant,  faithful  and  affectionate,  and 
his  visitations  to  the  sick  and  distressed  were  attended  with  deep  sympathy  and 
extraordinary  gentleness  and  tenderness.  He  was  greatly  concerned  for  the 
welfare  of  his  church, — his  heart  was  with  his  people  in  all  their  afflictions,  and 
his  prayers  and  endeavours  were  never  wanting  for  their  growth  in  Divine  know- 
ledge, grace,  and  consolation.  During  several  of  his  last  years,  he  was  a  great 
sufferer  from  severe  and  protracted  illness,  from  the  loss  of  his  excellent  wife,** 
one  eminently  beloved  and  distinguished  for  good  deeds,  and  from  the  sudden 
removal  by  death  of  two  sons;  yet,  with  a  noble  fortitude,  a  silent  patience  and 
submission,  this  venerable  and  aged  father  in  the  church  endured  *'  as  seeing 
Him  who  is  invisible."  His  memory  will  long  be  gratefully  cherished  among  a 
wide  circle  of  mourning  friends,  and  in  all  the  churches  of  Washington. 

I  have  the  honour  to  be,  my  dear  Sir, 

Faithfully  your  friend, 

R.  R.  GURLET. 


320  PKESBTTBBIAK. 


ROBERT  HAMILTON  BISHOP,  D.  D  * 

1802—1855. 

Egbert  Hamilton  Bishop,  sod  of  William  and  Margaree  (Hamilton) 
Bishop,  was  born  in  the  parish  of  Whitburn,  Linlithgowshire,  North 
Britain,  on  the  26th  of  July,  1777.  Having  early  evinced  a  fondness  for 
books,  as  well  as  a  mind  of  more  than  ordinary  vigour,  he  entered  on  a 
course  of  classical  study,  and  in  November,  1794,  became  a  member  of  the 
University  of  Edinburgh.  After  completing  his  course  at  the  University, 
he  entered  the  Divinity  Hall  at  Selkirk,  under  the  Rev.  George  Lawson,  in 
August,  1798.  Here  he  passed  through  the  prescribed  course  of  theological 
stttdy,  and  on  the  28th  of  June,  1802,  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel 
by  the  Associate  Burgher  Presbytery  of  Perth. 

In  the  spring  and  summer  of  1801,  the  Rev.  (afterwards  Dr.)  John  M. 
Mason,  of  the  city  of  New  York,  visited  the  Burgher  Synod  of  Scotland,  as 
the  Commissioner  from  the  Associate  Reformed  Synod  of  North  America, 
partly  with  a  view  to  obtain  a  supply  of  preachers  for  the  American  Synod. 
Mr.  Bishop,  being  at  that  time  a  student  under  Professor  Lawson,  was 
casually  introduced  to  Dr.  Mason,  and  the  brief  interview  which  he  had 
with  him.  led,  some  two  months  after,  to  a  partial  engagement  to  accom- 
pany Dr.  M.  to  America,  provided  the  Synod,  at  whose  disposal  he  was, 
should  so  direct. 

The  Synod  met  in  April,  1802;  and,  under  their  special  order,  he  was 
licensed  to  preach  with  a  view  to  his  engaging  in  the  contemplated  mission. 
In  September  following,  he,  with  five  other  ordained  ministers,  embarked 
with  Dr.  Mason  at  Greenock,  and  arrived  at  New  York  before  the  cloee  of 
October.  Having  attended  a  meeting  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Synod, 
which  took  place  shortly  after  his  arrival,  he  set  out  with  two  other  clergy- 
men for  Kentucky ;  but,  being  left  to  supply  two  new  congregations  in 
Adams  County,  0.,  for  two  months,  he  did  not  arrive  there  until  March, 
1803.  He  had  been  appointed  to  labour  in  Kentucky  by  the  casting  vote 
of  the  Moderator  of  the  Synod, — what  was  then  called  the  Second  Congre- 
gation of  New  York  having  made  application  for  his  services.  Five  years 
afterwards,  the  same  congregation  sent  him  a  pressing  invitation  to  return 
to  them,  which,  however,  he  did  not  accept. 

In  the  summer  of  1803,  he  had  three  calls  presented  to  him  in  due  form ; 
but  that  which  he  finally  accepted,  was  from  Ebenezer  in  Jessamine  County, 
which  was  connected  with  New  Providence  in  Mercer  County.  The  two 
Congregations  united  contained  about  thirty  families  spread  over  a  tract  of 
country  at  least  fifteen  miles  square  ;  and,  as  the  Kentucky  River  and  ihe 
Kentucky  Cliffs  intervened  between  the  two  places  of  worship,  the  two 
Churches  were  not  expected  to  worship  together  much  oftener  than  twice  in 
a  year.  About  the  same  time  a  Professorship  in  Transylvania  University 
was  offered  him ;  and,  as  he  thought  it  practicable  to  combine  the  duties  of 
that  office  with  those  which  he  owed  to  his  pastoral  charge,  which  was  within 
a  half-day's  ride  of  Lexington,  and  as  something  of  this  kind  seemed  neoea- 

*  PresbTterian  of  tbe  Weil,  1853.— Blake's  Biog.  Diet.— MSS.  from  Dr.  Bishop  and  his 
Profonor  R.  H.  Bishop. 


ROBERT  HAMILTOK  BISHOP.  321 

Bxry  to  secure  to  bim  an  adequate  support,  he  determined  to  accept,  and  did 
accept,  tbe  Professorship. 

Haying  accepted  the  call  from  the  above  mentioned  Churches  in  the 
aotamn  of  1804,  subjects  were  given  him  for  his  trial  discourses  to  be  deliv- 
ered in  the  spring ;  but,  at  the  spring  meeting,  he  was  informed  that  he 
could  not  be  admitted  to  trials  for  ordination,  till  he  should  dissolve  his  con- 
nection with  the  Transylvania  University.  The  reasons  assigned  for  this 
were  that  the  Presbytery  had  the  exclusiv^e  disposal  of  his  time ;  and  that 
his  duties  in  connection  with  the  University  were  of  such  a  nature,  as  to 
interfere  greatly  with  his  usefulness  to  the  Associate  Reformed  Church. 
This  brought  him  into  unpleasant  relations  with  his  Presbytery,  and  ulti- 
mately he  was  regularly  prosecuted  upon  a  charge  of  disobedience,  the 
result  of  which  was  that  he  received  a  Presbyterial  rebuke,  by  which  the 
matter  was  considered  as  judicially  settled.  The  case,  however,  being  sub- 
sequently referred  to  the  Synod,  it  was  decided  that  the  resignation  of  hb 
place  in  the  University  should  not  be  an  indispensable  condition  of  his  ordi- 
nation, and  that  the  Presbytery  of  Kentucky  should  proceed  to  ordain  him 
as  soon  as  circumstances  would  permit.  This  decision  was  given  in  June, 
1807 ;  but,  owing  to  certain  circumstances,  his  ordination  did  not  take  place 
till  June,  1808.  Thus,  for  nearly  four  years,  he  was  virtually  under  eccle- 
siastical process  ;  and,  though  only  a  probationer,  had  yet  the  charge  of  two 
congregations  to  which  he  preached  alternately  every  Sabbath, — the  one 
fifteen  miles,  the  other  twenty-seven  miles,  from  the  place  of  his  residence. 

For  some  time  after  his  ordination,  Mr.  Bishop  seems  to  have  exercised 
his  ministry  with  a  good  degree  of  comfort  and  success.  In  the  year  1810, 
the  Presbytery  appointed  him,  in  connection  with  the  Rev.  Adam  Rankin, 
of  polemic  notoriety,  to  prepare  an  Address  to  the  Churches  in  the  form  of 
a  Pastoral  Letter,  designed  to  illustrate  the  obligation  of  sustaining  Chris- 
tian institutions,  and  especially  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel.  The  document 
was  written  by  Mr.  Bishop,  assented  to  by  Mr.  Rankin,  and  passed  without 
opposition  by  the  Presbytery  ;  though  it  gave  great  offence  in  certain  quar- 
ters, and  especially  in  Mr.  Bishop's  own  congregation.  The  Presbytery, 
with  a  view  to  prevent  erroneous  impressions,  and  to  avert  threatening  evil, 
directed  their  Clerk  to  address  an  official  Letter  to  the  Ebenezer  Congrega- 
tion, distinctly  stating  that  the  offensive  Circular  was  to  be  considered  the 
act  of  the  Presbytery,  and  not  of  an  individual.  This  Letter  Mr.  Bishop 
caused  to  be  printed,  with  some  explanatory  remarks  of  his  own,  in  the  close 
of  which  he  made  an  allusion  to  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Rankin,  which  he  after- 
wards pronounced  *' imprudent  and  unnecessary,'*  and  which  occasioned  him 
great  embarrassment  in  his  ecclesiastical  relations.  His  original  connection 
with  the  Pastoral  Letter  led  to  the  dissolution  of  his  relation  to  the  Ebene- 
xer  Congregation,  in  October.  1814. 

In  the  autumn  of  1811,  Mr.  Bishop  entered  into  an  arrangement  witb 
two  or  three  other  clergymen  for  conducting  a  monthly  religious  publication, 
to  be  called  the  Evangelical  Record  and  Western  Review.  This  was  the 
fini  thing  of  the  kind  ever  attempted  in  Kentucky,  and  the  second,  West 
of  the  Mountains.  The  work,  however,  owing  chiefly  to  a  deficiency  in  the 
subBeription,  was  discontinued  at  the  close  of  the  second  year. 

In  the  second  volume  of  this  work,  Mr.  Bishop  published,  as  part  of 
the  history  of  the  state  of  religion  in  Kentucky,  an  article  entitled  *'  the 
oriigin  of  the  Rankinites," — which  gave  great  offence  in  various  circles,  a&d 

YoL.  IV.  41 


322  PQESBTTEIUAN. 

which  he  hitnself  subsequently  regarded  as  extremely  ill-judged  and  uafor- 
tunate.  After  considerable  private  and  extra-judicial  conference  on  the  sub- 
ject, a  regular  judicial  inquiry  was  entered  into  by  his  Presbytery,  and  in 
October  1815,  he  was  brought  to  trial  on  a  charge  of  slander,  the  result  of 
which  was  that  he  was  regularly  suspended  from  the  ministry.  An  appeal 
to  the  General  Synod  from  the  sentence  was  immediately  taken.  The  Synod 
met  in  Philadelphia  in  May,  1816,  and,  on  an  examination  of  the  case  pre- 
sented by  documents,  they  decided  that  Mr.  Bishop  should  be  publicly 
rebuked  by  the  Presbytery  for  the  offensive  publications ;  that  the  Presby- 
tery should  use  means  to  bring  the  parties  immediately  concerned  into  har- 
monious relations  with  each  other,  and  that  if  this  could  not  be  effected, 
there  should  be  a  regular  trial  instituted,  and  that  the  Presbytery  should 
make  one  of  the  parties  the  prosecutor  and  the  other  the  defendant ;  and 
that,  in  the  mean  time,  the  sentence  of  suspension  passed  by  the  Presby- 
tery was  reversed.  Nothing,  however,  was  satisfactorily  accomplished  under 
this  decision,  and  the  case  came  again  before  the  Synod,  in  1817.  At  this 
meeting  a  committee  was  appointed  to  proceed  to  Kentucky  to  take  what** 
ever  depositions  might  be  considered  necessary ;  but  that  committee,  after 
some  correspondence  with  the  parties,  and  others  concerned,  concluded  not  to 
fulfil  their  appointment.  A  Synodical  Commission  was  therefore  appointed 
in  1818,  to  go  to  Kentucky  and  adjudicate  the  case,  subject  to  the  review 
of  the  next  Synod.  This  Commission,  consisting  of  John  M.  Mason,  Ebe- 
nezer  Dickey,  and  John  Linn,  ministers,  and  Silas  £.  Weir,  an  elder  from 
Philadelphia,  proceeded  to  Lexington  in  September  following,  and  in  the 
execution  of  their  trust,  made  Bishop  the  prosecutor,  and  Rankin  the 
defendant.  The  latter  claimed  his  legal  ten  days  to  prepare  for  his  defence ; 
but  when  the  time  had  expired,  he  declined  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Court. 
The  trial,  however,  went  on  in  his  absence,  and  the  decision  was  'Hhat  the 
prosecutor  should  be  publicly  rebuked  for  the  publications  he  had  issued, 
and  that  the  defendant,  being  convicted  of  lying  and  slander,  be,  as  he 
hereby  is,  suspended  from  the  Q-ospel  ministry.^'  It  is  honourable  to  Mr. 
Bishop,  considering  the  relations  into  which  he  was  brought  with  Mr.  Rankin, 
that  he  has  left  the  following  testimony  concerning  him : — *'  Mr.  Rankin, 
with  all  his  bitterness  on  particular  subjects,  and  on  particular  occasions, 
was  also,  in  all  other  matters,  and  on  all  other  occasions,  a  kind  hearted, 
benevolent  man.'* 

Mr.  Bishop's  twenty-one  years'  connection  with  the  Transylvania  Uni- 
versity was  marked  by  no  serious  difficulties  or  disagreeable  circumstances, 
so  far  as  he  was  personally  or  officially  concerned.  Upwards  of  twenty 
young  men,  who  were  more  or  less  under  his  special  care  during  this  period, 
afterwards  entered  the  ministry,  and  several  of  them  rose  to  eminence. 

During  one  of  the  three  years  in  which  he  considered  himself  as  virtaally 
suspended  from  the  minbtry,  he  devoted  nearly  all  his  Sabbaths  to  the 
instruction  of  the  negroes,  and  organized  the  first  Sabbath  Schools  ever 
opened  in  Lexington  for  their  benefit.  He  has  been  heard  to  say  that  this 
was  one  of  the  most  agreeable  enterprises  in  which  he  ever  engaged ;  and 
that  in  no  other  year  of  his  residence  in  Kentucky  had  he  so  much  evidence 
of  the  gracious  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  connection  with  his  labours. 

In  October,  1819,  Mr.  Bishop,  having  dissolved  his  connection  with  the 
Associate  Reformed  Church,  joined  the  AVest  Lexington  Presbytery,  in 
connection  with  the  General  Assembly.     From  1820  to  1823,  he  oSLciated 


ROBERT  HAUILTOX  !}ISBOf .  323 

1  ■ 

as  stated  supply  to  the  Church  in  Lexington,  wL!eSl3ka^.t^.o&  gathered  bj 
the  labours  of  the  Bev.  James  M*Chord ;  and  hb  oonnection  with  this  Church 
he  seems  to  have  considered  as  highly  favourable  to  both  his  comfort  and 
usefulness.  In  the  autumn  of  1824,  he  accepted  the  Presidency  of  Miami 
University,  Oxford,  0.,  and  was  inaugurated  on  the  30th  of  March,  1825. 
Here  he  found  a  few  Christian  people  who  had  been  under  the  care  of  the 
llev.  James  Hughes,  for  some  years  Principal  of  the  grammar  school  in 
that  place ;  and  these  he  gathered  and  formed  into  a  Presbyterian  Church, 
and  preached  to  them  regularly  on  the  Sabbath  in  the  College  Chapel,  until 
the  year  1831,  when,  as  the  result  of  a  revi^^al  in  which  Dr.  Blackburn 
was  a  principal  instrument,  the  Church  gathered  so  much  strength  that 
they  undertook  to  build  a  place  of  wor&hip  and  call  a  Pastor. 

In  1825,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
the  College  of  New  Jersey. 

In  the  great  controversy  which  divided  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  1838, 
Dr.  Bishop's  sympathy  and  action  were  with  the  New  School. 

In  1841,  he  resigned  the  Presidency  of  Miami  University,  but  held  the 
Professorship  of  History  and  Political  Science,  until  the  autumn  of  1844, 
when  his  connection  with  the  institution  ceased.  He  then  removed  to 
Pleasant  Hill, — a  beautiful  spot  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  Cin- 
cinnati, where  there  was  already  an  Academy,  which,  partly  at  least  through 
his  agency,  was  now  enlarged  into  a  College,  under  the  name  of  the  **  Far- 
mer's College."  Here  he  remained  actively  and  usefully  employed  till  the 
close  of  life. 

Dr.  Bishop  preached  regularly  in  the  chapel  to  the  students  as  long  as  he 
retained  the  Presidency  of  the  University,  but  after  that,  had  no  stated 
charge.  He  preached,  however,  very  frequently,  during  his  subsequent  years; 
and  his  last  sermon  was  preached  on  the  15th  of  April,  1855,  but  two 
weeks  before  his  death.  As  he  left  his  house  to  preach  it,  he  distinctly 
told  his  wife  that  it  would  be  his  last.  He  heard  his  classes  as  usual  on 
Thursday,  and  was  just  going  to  the  College  on  Friday  morning,  when  his 
strength  failed,  so  that  he  was  no  longer  capable  of  making  any  effort.  He 
lingered  till  five  o'clock.  Sabbath  morning,  (April  29th,)  his  usual  hour  of 
rising,  and  then  died,  as  he  had  often  expressed  a  wish  to  die — ''in  the 
harness." 

On  the  25th  of  August,  1802,  just  as  he  was  on  the  eve  of  embarking 
for  America,  he  was  married  to  Ann  Ireland,  by  whom  he  had  eight  child- 
ren,— ^five  sons  and  three  daughters.  All  his  sons  were  graduates  of  Miami 
University.  Two  of  them  became  clergymen,  and  one  is  a  Professor  in  the 
University  at  which  he  was  educated.  Mrs.  Bishop  survived  her  husband 
but  two  weeks. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Bishop^s  publications  : — Sermons  on  vari- 
ous subjects,  1808.  [This  was  the  first  volume  of  Sermons  printed  West  of 
the  Mountains.]  Memoirs  of  David  Rice ;  with  an  Appendix,  1824.  Ele- 
ments of  Logic  ;  or  a  Summary  of  the  general  principles  and  different  modes 
of  reasoning,  1833.  Sketches  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Bible,  1833. 
Blement<«  of  the  Science  of  government,  1839.  The  Western  Peacemaker, 
1889.  He  published  also  several  Occasional  Sermons  and  Addresses,  among 
which  was  a  Sermon  on  the  death  of  the  Bev.  James  M'Chord,  1820,  and 
the  Address  at  his  Inauguration  as  President  of  Miami  University,  1825. 
He  e<miribated  also  liberally  to  several  periodicals. 


324  PRESBTTERIAK. 


FBOM  THE  REV.  J.  M.  MATHEWS,  D.  D., 

OHANOBLLOR  OF  THE  UNIYBBSITT  OF  If  BW  TORK. 

New  York,  July  6, 1867. 
My  dear  Sir:  I  caonot  refuse  your  request  for  my  recollections  of  Dr.  Bishop, 
though  my  limited  acquaintance  with  him  will  not  allow  me  to  attempt  any  thing 
like  a  minute  analysis  of  his  character.  The  first  time  that  I  remember  to  have 
seen  him  was  while  I  was  a  student  in  the  Theological  Seminary  of  the  Asso- 
ciate  Reformed  Church  in  this  city,  when  he  was  present,  at  an  examination, — 
perhaps  as  one  of  the  superintendents  of  the  institution.  I  subsequently  met 
him  several  times  at  Dr.  Mason's,  and  occasionally  heard  him  preach  on  his 
visits  to  the  city,  and  in  later  years  he  corresponded  with  me  in  reference  to 
some  objects  of  historical  interest.  In  addition  to  this,  we  had  many  common 
friends,  with  whose  estimate  of  his  character  I  was  familiar;  so  that  I  have  a 
pretty  distinct,  and  I  presume,  tolerably  correct,  idea  of  his  leading  character- 
istics. 

In  his  outward  appearance  there  was  nothing  specially  attractive.  He  was 
every  way  a  large,  strongly  built  man,  with  great  muscular  energy,  and  I  should 
suppose  great  power  of  physical  endurance.  His  manners  were  rather  plain  and 
direct  than  cultivated  or  graceful.  He  had  a  very  strongly  marked  Scottish 
accent,  and  could  not  open  his  lips  without  revealing  his  national  origin.  He 
had  the  reputation  of  being  somewhat  reserved,  but  I  always  found  him  social 
and  agreeable.  And  yet,  on  one  account,  I  must  have  seen  him  at  a  disadvantage; 
for  it  was  almost  always  at  Dr.  Mason's  house;  and  wherever  he  was — no  matter 
who  else  might  be  present — he  not  only  gave  the  lead  to  the  conversation,  but 
generally  threw  into  the  shade — T  might  almost  say — the  most  brilliant  minds 
with  which  he  came  in  contact.  But  even  in  his  company,  I  think,  Dr.  Bishop's 
presence  was  always  felt  as  a  source  of  both  pleasure  and  edification. 

Judging  of  the  character  of  Dr.  Bishop's  preaching  from  the  few  sermons  I 
heard  from  him,  I  should  say  that  he  was  an  admirable  specimen  of  a  Scotch 
Secession  preacher.  Those  sermons,  I  remember,  took  a  very  wide  range  of 
thought,  scarcely  stopping  short  of  an  epitome  of  the  entire  system  of  Theology; 
but  they  were  marked  by  great  perspicuity,  discrimination,  and  logical  correct- 
ness; and  in  each  case  the  discussion  was  closed  with  a  direct  practical  applica- 
tion, bringing  the  whole  to  bear  upon  the  heart  and  conscience.  His  manner, 
though  without  any  thing  of  oratorical  grace,  was  bold  and  earnest,  and  well 
fitted  to  give  effect  to  the  truths  which  he  uttered.  Altogether,  the  character 
of  his  preaching  must,  I  think,  have  been  such  as  to  quicken  the  intellects,  as 
well  as  improve  the  hearts,  of  all  who  attentively  listened  to  it. 

Dr.  Bishop,  as  I  have  been  assured  by  those  who  had  the  best  opportunity  of 
knowing,  was  a  man  of  an  uncommonly  devout  and  spiritual  habit  of  mind. 
He  possessed  a  naturally  excitable  temper,  and  would  sometimes  speak  unad- 
Tisedly  with  his  lips,  and  even  indulge  in  a  tone  of  undue  severity;  but  a  single 
moment's  reflection  would  fill  him  with  regret  and  penitence,  and  bring  from 
hun  every  acknowledgment  and  apology  that  could  be  desired.  It  was  a  princi- 
ple to  which  he  rigidly  adhered  never  to  let  the  sun  go  down  upon  his  wrath. 
His  life  was  a  somewhat  eventful  one;  and  he  passed  through  some  scenes  of 
severe  ecclesiastical  conflict;  but  I  am  not  aware  that  his  character  is  marred  by 
the  semblance  of  a  stain. 

Dr.  Bishop  has  a  special  claim  to  be  regarded  as  a  public  benefactor,  on  account 
of  the  important  services  which  he  rendered  to  the  canse  of  education.  He  was 
not  only  a  Tery  accomplished  and  thorough  8ch<4ar,  but  had  an  admirable  tact 
at  communicating  what  he  knew  to  others;  and  his  numerous  pupils  in  the 
difllerent  institutions  with  which  he  was  connected,  are  said  to  have  regiu^ied 


fiOBERT  HAHILTOK  BISHOP.  325 

him  with  the  highest  respect  and  admiration.  I  suppose  it  may  safely  he  said 
that  he  had  a  more  important  agency  in  directing  and  advancing  the  educational 
interests  of  the  West,  than  any  other  man  who  lived  during  the  same  period. 

I  cannot  forbear  to  add  that,  according  to  that  standard  which  identifies  genius 
with  an  illegible  handwriting,  Dr.  Bishop  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the  greatest 
geniuses  of  the  age.  In  this  respect  he  was,  I  think,  more  than  a  match  for  his 
illustrious  countr3^man  and  contemporary.  Dr.  Chalmers.  Even  those  most 
familiar  with  his  chirography  would  be  obliged  to  take  more  than  a  single  session 
for  the  deciphering  of  one  of  his  letters;  and  sometimes,  after  they  had  tasked 
their  faculties  to  the  utmost,  there  would  remain  passages  more  hopelessly  mys- 
terious than  if  they  had  been  written  in  Chinese  or  Arabic. 

Most  affectionately  yours, 

J.  M.  MATHEWS. 


-•♦- 


JOHN  HOLT  RICE,  D,  D.* 

1803—1831. 

John  Holt  Bicx,  a  son  of  Benjamin  and  Catharine  (Holt)  Rice,  was 
bom  near  New  London,  Bedford  County,  Va.,  November  28,  1777.  His 
father  was  a  lawyer  by  profession,  a  shrewd,  sensible  man,  and  a  ruling 
elder  in  the  Presbyterian  Church.  His  mother  was  a  lady  of  cultivated 
mind,  gentle  disposition,  and  exemplary  piety.  He  was  named  John  Holt, 
after  his  mother's  brother,  who  was  an  intelligent  and  worthy  clergyman  of 
the  Church  of  England.  He  was  a  weakly  child  from  his  birth ;  but  when 
he  was  about  two  years  old,  he  had  a  very  severe  illness,  and  at  one  time 
was  supposed  to  be  actually  dying.  He,  however,  revived,  and,  con- 
trary to  all  expectation,  began  to  recover;  whereupon  his  good  uncle, 
the  clergyman,  expressed  his  confident  conviction  that  Providence  bad 
apared  him  for  an  important  end,  and  earnestly  charged  his  mother  to 
educate  him  with  reference  to  it,  promising  her  such  assistance  as  he  might 
be  able  to  render.  As  the  faculties  of  the  child  began  to  unfold,  it  was 
found  that  he  had  a  very  decided  passion  for  books ;  and  before  he  was  four 
years  old,  he  had  read  a  considerable  part  of  the  Bible,  and  all  Watts* 
Psalms  and  Hymns.  He  used  also,  in  imitation  of  his  uncle,  to  read  por- 
tions of  the  Church  service  to  children  around  him,  both  white  and  black, 
telling  them  that,  when  he  grew  to  be  a  man,  he  would  be  a  preacher. 

At  the  age  of  about  eight,  he  went  to  live  with  his  uncle.  Parson  Holt, 
who  had  opened  a  school  for  boys  in  the  County  of  Bottetourt ;  and  here 
he  began  to  learn  Latin ;  but  his  uncle,  in  consequence  of  the  failure  of  his 
health,  soon  gave  up  his  school,  and,  after  about  a  year's  absence,  John 
returned  to  his  father.  He  was  then  sent,  for  a  while,  to  another  teacher, 
the  Rev.  James  Mitchel,  and  afterwards  to  two  or  three  others,  whose 
names  are  forgotten.  About  this  time,  his  mind  became  deeply  impressed 
with  the  subject  of  religion,  and  the  change  in  his  conversation  and  deport- 
ment evinced  that  he  had  become  a  true  disciple  of  Christ. 

•  llAXwell*!  Memoir  of  Dr.  Bice.— 118.  from  Un*  Dr.  Rice. 


326  PBESBYTSRIAK. 

When  he  was  a  little  more  than  twelve,  he  experienoed  an  iirepamble 
loss  in  the  death  of  his  excellent  mother.  By  his  father's  second  marriage, 
hid  situation  was  not  rendered  more  desirable ;  and,  though  he  was  still 
bent  on  obtaining  an  education,  his  new  mother  was  little  disposed  to  second 
his  wishes.  His  trials  in  the  family  are  supposed  to  have  been  instrumental 
in  quickening  his  religious  sensibilities,  and  giving  a  more  decisive  Christian 
direction  to  his  life.  He  made  a  public  profession  of  religion  at  the  age  of 
about  fifteen. 

Shortly  after  this,  his  father  sent  him  to  Liberty  HaU  Academy,  (now 
Washington  College,)  in  Lexington.  Here  he  enjoyed  the  instructions  of 
Che  Rev.  William  Graham,  a  man  of  no  small  celebrity,  who  was  then 
President  of  the  Academy ;  though  he  does  not  seem,  at  this  time,  to  have 
been  remarkable  for  intense  application.  When  he  had  continued  at  this 
school  a  year  and  a  half,  his  father,  for  want  of  funds,  was  about  to  take 
him  home;  but  Mr.  (afterwards  the  Rev.  Dr.)  Baxter,  who  had  been  a 
member  of  the  same  Academy,  and  had  then  charge  of  a  similar  school  in 
New  London,  invited  young  Rice  to  come  and  pursue  his  studies  freely  with 
him.  He  immediately  accepted  the  invitation,  and  remained  in  this  school 
about  a  year  and  a  half. 

Being  now  in  his  eighteenth  year,  he  was  applied  to  in  behalf  of  a  Mr.  N., 
who  lived  on  James  River,  to  take  charge  of  a  small  family  school  which  ho 
wished  to  open  in  his  house.  With  his  father's  consent,  and  by  advice  of 
Mr.  Baxter,  he  acceded  to  the  proposal ;  and  shortly  after  set  out,  with  ten 
and  sixpence  in  his  pocket,  which  his  father  had  given  him  as  an  outfit,  to 
fulfil  his  engagement.  He  found  himself  in  an  amiable  and  accomplished 
family,  but  surrounded  by  influences  little  favourable  to  the  growth  of  his 
Christian  character.  He  became  painfully  conscious  of  spiritual  decline ; 
and  the  result  was  a  sort  of  misanthropic  state  of  mind,  that  not  only  embit- 
tered his  own  enjoyment,  but  imparted  a  sombre  hue  to  all  his  social  rela- 
tions. 

After  having  lived  in  this  family  eighteen  months,  he  determined  to  pay 
a  visit  to  his  father's  family ;  but,  in  consequence  of  exposure  to  intense 
heat  on  his  journey,  he  reached  home  only  to  be  attacked  by  a  severe  fever 
that  brought  him  to  the  borders  of  the  grave.  On  his  recovery,  there  were 
some  reasons  why  he  thought  best  not  to  return  to  Mr.  N.'s,  and  happening, 
just  at  that  time,  to  read  in  a  newspaper  an  advertisement  of  the  Trustees 
of  Hampden  Sidney  College,  announcing  that  they  were  in  want  of  a  Tutor 
for  that  Seminary,  he  resolved  at  once  to  apply  for  the  place.  His  applica- 
tion was  successful ;  and  he  entered  on  his  duties  about  the  last  of  October, 
1796,  when  he  was  hardly  nineteen  years  of  age.  His  relations  here  were 
favourable  to  his  Christian  improvement  and  enjoyment ;  and  he  gradually 
recovered  the  tranquillity  of  mind  which  had  been  sacrificed,  in  a  great 
degree,  to  the  associations  of  his  residence  on  James  River. 

The  College  was  now  in  a  low  state,  and  the  number  of  students  very 
small ;  but  young  Rice  entered  upon  his  duties  with  great  zeal  and  spirit ; 
though  his  official  engagements  left  him  with  a  good  deal  of  leisure  for 
studying  and  writing.  After  he  had  been  there  a  few  months,  the  Rev. 
Archibald  Alexander  (afterwards  Dr.  Alexander  of  Princeton)  was  elected 
President  of  the  College,  and,  at  his  instance,  the  Rev.  Conrad  Speece 
(afterwards  the  Rev.  Dr.  Speece  of  Augusta)  was  appointed  a  Tutor.  Both 
these  gentlemen  accepted  their  appointments,  and  between  them  and  young 


JOHN  HOLT  BIOS.  327 

Bm  an  affooiionate  intimaoy  sprang  np,  whioh  continued  till  it  was  tennt- 
Bated  by  death. 

Mr.  Kioe  continued  his  oonneotion  with  the  College  till  the  spring  of 
1799,  when  he  yielded  to  a  request  from  Major  Morton, — a  highly  respect^ 
able  gentleman  in  the  neighbourhood,  with  whose  family  he  had  been  brought 
into  very  pleasant  relations, — to  take  charge  of  a  small  school  in  his  house. 
Owing  to  some  peculiar  circumstances,  he  did  not  remain  long  there,  but 
accepted  an  invitation  from  his  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  of  Montrose, 
to  reside  with  them,  while  he  should  pursue  a  course  of  medical  study, 
under  the  direction  of  an  eminent  physician  in  that  neighbourhood.  Here 
he  continued  during  the  summer  of  1800;  and  in  the  autumn  following,  just 
as  he  was  setting  off  for  Philadelphia  to  attend  medical  lectures,  he  received 
an  urgent  invitation  from  the  Trustees  of  Hampden  Sidney  College,  to 
return  to  his  place  as  Tutor ;  and  his  acceptance  of  this  invitation  seems  to 
have  been  a  turning  point  in  his  life.  Having  now  rejoined  his  friends, 
Messrs.  Alexander  and  Speece,  he  began  to  deliberate  whether  it  was  not 
his  duty  to  devote  himself  to  the  same  profession  which  they  were  pursuing, 
and  engage  in  the  Christian  ministry.  The  result  of  his  reflection  was  a 
determination  to  make  the  change ;  and,  accordingly,  he  commenced  the 
study  of  Theology  under  the  direction  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Alexander. 

On  the  9th  of  July,  1802,  Mr.  Rice  was  married  to  Anne  Smith,  daughter 
of  his  intimate  friend.  Major  Morton, — an  interesting  young  lady  to  whom 
he  had  beeen  attached  for  several  years.  They  immediately  went  to  house- 
keeping in  a  small  dwelling  near  the  College. 

On  the  12th  of  September,  1808,  he  was  licensed  by  the  Presbytery  of 
Hanover  to  preach  the  Qospel ;  and  at  the  same  time  was  appointed  to 
preach  to  several  destitute  congregations.  One  of  these  was  the  Congrega- 
tion  at  Cub  Creek ;  to  whom  he  was  so  acceptable  that,  on  the  dth  of  April, 
1804,  they  presented  him  a  call  to  minister  to  them  three-fourths  of  the 
time.  This  call  he  accepted ;  and,  on  the  29th  of  September  following,  he 
was  ordained  and  installed  as  their  Pastor, — the  Sermon  on  the  occasion  being 
preached  by  his  friend,  the  Kev.  Mr.  Alexander.  He,  however,  still  con- 
tinued his  connection  with  the  College,  and  his  residence  near  it ;  visiting 
his  flock  on  Saturdays,  and  preaching  to  them  on  Sundays.  But  this  arrange- 
ment was  found  to  be  inconvenient ;  and,  about  the  latter  end  of  the  year 
1804,  he  resigned  his  office  as  Tutor,  and  removed  with  his  family  to  a 
small  farm,  which,  by  his  father-in-law's  assistance,  he  had  been  able  to 
purchase,  in  the  County  of  Charlotte.  As  his  salary  was  very  limited,  and 
his  other  means  of  living  not  abundant,  he  opened  a  small  school  for  boys, 
with  a  view  to  make  out  an  adequate  support.  His  labours  as  a  minister 
were  now  very  arduous,  as  the  people  composing  his  congregation  were 
scattered  over  the  whole  County  of  Charlotte,  and  worshipped  at  three  dif- 
ferent places. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1805,  the  Synod  of  Virginia  resolved  to 
establish  a  periodical  work,  under  the  title  of  the  Virginia  Religious  Maga- 
sinc :  to  this  Mr.  Rice  contributed  various  articles,  marked  by  his  character- 
istic ability  and  good  taste. 

Mr.  Rice  continued  his  labours  in  Charlotte  for  several  years ;  but  various 
oireumstances  conspired  at  length  to  induce  him  to  meditate  a  removal.  In 
the  year  1811,  a  project  began  to  be  entertained  by  some  individuab  in 


328  PUSBTTBRIAK. 

mobmond  for  esUbliskiDg  a  Presbyterian  Charcb  in  thai  oily ;  f<Hr,  previoiiB 
to  that  time,  the  Presbyterians  and  Episcopalians  bad  worshipped  together, 
under  the  alternate  ministrations  of  the  Rev.  J.  D.  Blair,  a  Presbyterian, 
and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Buchanan,  an  Episcopalian.  Mr.  Bice  was  thought  of, 
and  applied  to,  as  a  suitable  person  to  be  placed  at  the  head  of  this  n«>w 
enterprise ;  and  he  was  not,  on  the  whole,  disinclined  to  listen  to  the  pro- 
posal. Accordingly,  at  a  meeting  of  Presbytery,  at  Bed  Oak  Church,  on 
the  12th  of  March,  1812,  '*a  call  from  a  number  of  persons  in  BichuKrad 
and  its  vicinity  attached  to  the  Presbyterian  Church,"  was  presented  to 
him,  which,  on  the  day  after,  he  accepted;  whereupon,  the  Presbytery 
declared  his  pastoral  relation  to  the  Congregation  in  Cub  Creek,  dis- 
solved. On  the  last  Sabbath  in  April,  he  preached  his  Farewell  Sermon, 
and  on  the  second  Sabbath  in  May,  preached  to  his  new  charge  in  Masons* 
Hall,  Bichmond.  On  the  17th  of  October  following,  he  was  installed  Pas- 
tor of  the  Church  he  had  collected, — the  Sermon  on  the  occasion  being 
preached  by  the  Bev.  Conrad  Speeoe.  Not  only  was  the  enterprise  a  new 
one,  but  a  new  place  for  public  worship  was  to  be  built ;  and  this,  attended 
as  it  was  with  serious  embarrassments,  devolved  upon  him  much  additional 
oare  and  labour. 

In  July,  1815,  he  issued  the  first  number  of  a  weekly  religious  news- 
paper, entitled  **  The  Christian  Monitor," — the  first  publication  of  the  kind 
that  ever  appeared  in  Bichmond.  This  he  continued  to  conduct  for  sev* 
era!  years. 

In  May,  1816,  he  went  to  New- York,  (which  he  now  visited  for  the  first 
time,)  to  attend  the  meeting  for  the  formation  of  the  American  Bible 
Society.  He  was  there  as  a  representative  of  the  Bible  Society  of  Virginia, 
and  of  several  auxiliary  Societies  in  the  State.  He  afterwards  attended 
the  meetitig  of  the  General  Assembly  in  Philadelphia,  and  at  the  close  of 
its  sessions  returned  home  with  invigorated  health  and  spirits. 

During  the  year  1817,  he  formed  the  plan  of  publishing  a  new  periodical, 
to  be  entitled  '*  The  Virginia  Evangelical  and  Literary  Magazine."  The 
first  number  of  this  work  was  issued  in  January,  1818 ;  and  it  gave  promise 
of  what  was  actually  realized — a  work  characterized  by  comprehensive 
views  and  uncommon  ability.  This  work  occupied  much  of  his  attention; 
and  though  it  received  contributions  from  several  of  the  most  eminent  men 
in  Virginia,  it  was  sustained  in  a  great  measure  by  his  personal  efforts. 
It  was  continued  till  1829. 

In  May,  1819,  he  again  attended  the  General  Assembly  at  Philadelphia, 
as  a  delegate  from  his  Presbytery,  and  was  chosen  Moderator  of  that  Body. 
He  is  said  to  have  presided  with  great  dignity,  and  to  the  entire  satisfaction 
of  all  the  members.  The  next  year,  (1820,)  he  attended  the  General 
Assembly  again,  and,  as  Moderator  for  the  preceding  year,  preached  the 
opening  sermon,  which  was  highly  approved,  and  published. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  Collie 
of  New  Jersey,  in  1819. 

In  May,  1822,  he  again  represented  his  Presbytery  in  the  General  Assem- 
bly ;  and,  at  the  close  of  its  sessions,  extended  his  journey  into  New  Eng- 
land, having  been  appointed  a  delegate  to  the  General  Associations  of 
Connc/3ticut  and  Massachusetts,  the  former  of  which  held  its  sessions  at 
Tolland,  and  the  latter  at  Springfield,     Having  fulfilled  these  appointments 


JOHK  HOLT  RICE.  329 

to  ike  gre»i  mtiafaeiion  of  the  respective  Bodies,  he  passed  on  to  Boston 
and  Andover,  in  both  which  places  he  formed  many  agreeable  acquaint- 
ances,  and  some  enduring  attachments.  He  published  a  verj  interesting 
account  of  this  journey,  in  a  series  of  articles  in  his  Magazine. 

On  the  26th  of  September  following,  he  was  unanimously  elected  Presi- 
dent of  the  College  of  New  Jersey ;  and,  on  the  16th  of  November,  was 
vnaDtmonsly  appointed  Professor  in  the  Union  Theological  S<9minary,  whose 
operations  had  been  for  some  time  suspended,  on  account  of  the  death  of  Dr. 
Hoge,  its  late  Professor.  The  former  appointment  he  declined  with  little 
hesitation ;  the  latter  he  accepted,  from  a  full  conviction  of  duty,  and  after 
taking  considerable  time  to  deliberate.  Shortly  after  resigning  his  pastoral 
ekarge,  in  June,  1823,  he  made  another  journey  to  the  North,  partly  for 
the  benefit  of  his  health,  which  was  at  that  time  greatly  enfeebled,  and 
partly  with  a  view  to  increase  the  funds  of  the  Seminary.  He  visited 
Albany  and  Saratoga  Springs,  and  then  passed  into  New  England;  and 
both  himself  and  his  object  everywhere  met  with  a  cordial  welcome.  He 
waa  installed  in  his  office  as  Professor,  on  the  Ist  of  January,  1824. 

In  1827,  he  was  again  a  member  of  the  General  Assembly,  and  again 
visited  New  York  and  Albany,  in  behalf  of  the  Seminary  with  which  he 
was  connected. 

In  1830,  Dr.  Bice  addressed  a  series  of  Letters  to  James  Madison, 
£x*President  of  the  United  States,  in  the  Southern  Religious  Telegraph, 
the  object  of  which  was  to  show  that  our  politicians  and  patriots  should 
&vour  the  progress  of  Christianity,  on  account  of  its  influence  on  our 
various  interests  as  a  nation.  These  Letters  excited  great  attention ;  but 
they  were  anonymous,  and  for  some  time  he  took  pains  to  conceal  his  con- 
neotion  with  them. 

In  May,  1830,  he  came  to  New  York  and  delivered  one  of  the  series  of 
the  Murray  Street  Lectures,  which  were  afterwards  published  in  a  volume. 
In  September  following,  he  returned  to  the  North  with  a  view  to  complete 
his  collections  for  the  Seminary  ;  and  this  proved  to  be  his  last  visit.  He 
came  as  far  North  as  Albany ;  and  on  his  return  to  New  York,  took  a 
severe  cold  which  brought  on  the  disease  that  terminated  his  life.  He  suf- 
fered severely  on  his  way  home ;  but,  on  reaching  there,  though  consider- 
ably enfeebled,  he  seemed  unwilling  to  intermit  his  labours.  On  the  second 
Sabbath  in  December,  he  preached  in  the  neighbouring  Church  a  Sermon 
on  the  *^ Signs  of  the  Times,"  which  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  greatest 
effort  of  his  whole  life.  Shortly  after  this,  his  disease  assumed  a  more 
aggravated  form,  and,  during  much  of  the  time,  he  experienced  intense 
suffering;  but  he  still  continued  to  direct  the  studies  of  the  young  men 
under  his  care,  and  occasionally  to  dictate  letters  to  his  friends.  He 
lingered  till  the  3d  of  September,  1831,  when,  after  sufferings  almost 
unequalled,  endured  with  most  exemplary  patience  and  trust  in  his 
Redeemer,  he  gently  and  triumphantly  passed  the  vail.  The  Bev.  B.  F. 
Stanton  preached  a  Sermon  with  reference  to  his  death  in  the  neighbouring 
church,  and  another  was  addressed  to  his  former  congregation  in  Richmond, 
by  the  Rev.  William  J.  Armstrong,  at  that  time  their  Pastor.  An  Oration 
commemorative  of  Dr.  Rice,  was  delivered  before  the  Literary  and  Philo- 
Bophical  Society  of  Hampden  Sidney  College  in  1832,  by  William  Maxwell, 
[.,  and  was  published* 

Vol.  nr.  42 


330  PBSSBTTBRIAK. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Bioe's  pablioatioM : — ^A  Sennon  preached 
at  the  ordiuation  of  Thomas  Lumpkin,*  1809.  An  Illustration  of  the 
character  and  conduct  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Virginia,  1816. 
A  Sermon  on  the  importance  of  the  Gospel  ministrj,  preached  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  Synod  of  Virginia,  1817.  A  Sermon  to  young  women,  1819. 
The  instrumentality  of  man  employed  in  propagating  the  Gospel:  A 
Missionary  Sermon  pubUshed  for  the  benefit  of  the  Young  Men's  Missionary 
Society  of  Richmond,  1819.  The  Pamphleteer,  No.  I:  Essay  on  Baptism, 
1819.  The  Pamphleteer,  No.  II.:  Irenicum,  or  the  Peacemaker,  1820. 
A  Discourse  deliyered  at  the  opening  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church,  1820.  An  Inaugural  Discourse,  1824»  Charity  begins 
at  home:  A  Sermon  preached  for  the  benefit  of  the  United  Domestie 
Missionary  Society  in  New  York,  1824.  Reriew  of  '^the  Doctrines  of  the 
Church,  vindicated  from  the  misrepresentations  of  Dr.  John  Rice,  &o.^ 
originally  published  .in  the  Literary  and  Evangelical  Magazine,"  1827.  The 
Power  of  truth  and  love :  A  Sermon  before  the  American  Board  of  Foreign 
Missions,  1828.  Memoir  of  the  Roy.  J.  B.  Taylor,t  1880.  Historical 
and  Philosophical  Considerations  on  Religion,  addressed  to  James  Madison, 
Esq.  [This  was  published  originally  in  successive  articles  in  a  religious 
newspaper  in  1830,  but  appeared  in  a  small  volume  in  1832.] 

Much  the  greater  part  of  the  productions  of  Dr.  Rice's  pen,  that  were 
given  to  the  public  through  the  press,  are  to  be  found  in  the  Evangelical 
and  Literary  Magazine. 

The  first  time  I  saw  Dr.  Rice  was,  I  think,  in  June,  1816,  at  Alexan^ 
dria,  Va.,  where  he  passed  a  Sabbath,  and  preached  once  for  Dr.  Muir. 
I  found  that  he  had  a  high  reputation  as  a  preacher  in  that  neighbourhood, 
and,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  congregation  was  considerably  increased  by  its 
being  known  that  he  was  to  officiate.  He  gave  us  a  sober,  sensible  sermon, 
but  it  was,  by  no  means,  characterized  by  either  the  power  of  thought,  or 
the  depth  of  feeling,  which  I  knew  him  manifest  on  later  occasions.  I  saw 
him  but  a  few  moments  in  private,  but  received  the  impression  that  he  had 
a  good  deal  of  dignified  reserve. 

*  Thomas  Luvpkxk  was  born  in  Bedford  County,  Va. ;  studied  Theology  under  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Iloge ;  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Hanover  Presbytery ;  spent  some  time  as  a  missionary  In 
Albermarle;  was  settled  as  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Charlottesville,  Va.,  in  October,  ]809;  and 
died  of  bilious  fever,  in  great  peace  and  triumph,  about  six  months  afterwards,  fie  was  a  man 
of  superior  abilities,  great  courage,  and  unfeigned  piety. 

t  Jamks  B.  Taylor  was  born  in  Middle  Haddiim,  Conn.,  April  15,  1801.  His  parents  were 
members  of  the  Bpisoopal  Church.  Uis  mother  was  of  the  same  family  with  David  Brainerd» 
and  the  line  of  his  paternal  ancestry  is  traced  back  to  Jeremy  Taylor.  When  a  youth,  he  went 
to  live  in  New  York  ns  a  clerk  to  a  hardware  merchant;  being  under  the  special  supervision  of 
his  brother,  the  late  Knowlcs  Taylor,  well  known  in  the  walks  of  Christian  philanthropy.  He 
received  his  first  permanent  religious  impressions  from  some  remarks  made  by  Dr.  Scuddcr,  as 
he  was  about  leaving  the  country  to  engage  in  a  foreign  mission.  In  January,  1820,  his 
brother  sent  him  to  an  Academy  at  Lawrence ville,  N.  J.,  with  a  view  to  his  being  educated  for 
the  ministry.  In  November,  182.3,  he  was  admitted  to  the  Sophomore  class  in  the  College  of  New 
Jersey,  where  he  graduated,  a  highly  respectable  scholar,  in  1826.  On  eoing  home  to  pass  a 
few  weeks,  he  was  attacked  with  a  disease  which,  after  having  occasioned  him  intense  and  pro- 
tracted suffering,  finally  terminated  his  life.  He,  however,  was  able  to  pursue  his  theological 
studios,  and  having  a  brother  at  New  Haven,  he  went  to  reside  there,  and  became  a  member 
of  the  Seminary  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1827.  He  was  licensed  to  preaoh  the  Qospel  by 
the  Middlesex  Association,  on  the  8th  of  October,  1828.  He  then  travelled  South  as  far  as 
Richmond,  where  he  became  an  inmate  of  the  family  of  the.  Rev.  Dr.  John  H.  Rice,  and  gradu- 
ally declined  under  the  power  of  his  terrible  malady,  bat  sustained  by  the  most  affectionate 
attentions  of  friends,  and  the  most  gracious  influences  from  above,  until  the  29th  of  March, 
1829,  when  he  gently  passed  to  his  eternal  rest.  His  character  was  one  of  rery  rare  attiao- 
tionSi  and  many  bright  hopes  were  saorifioed  in  his  early  death. 


JOHK  HOLT  RICE.  S31 

Mj  next  meeting  with  bim  was  ia  1822, — after  I  was  settled  in  the  ministry 
in  New  England,  and  when  he  came  to  the  North  as  a  delegate  from  the 
General  Araembly  to  the  General  Assoc iations  of  Connecticut  and  Mossa- 
ehnsotts.  I  was  present  at  both  meetings,  and  saw  and  heard  him  both  in 
prirate  and  in  public.  The  General  Association  of  Connecticut  met  at 
Tolland.  Dr.  Rice's  high  character  was  well  known  to  most  of  the  minis- 
ters assembled  there,  and  every  thing  that  he  said  and  did,  abundantly  sus- 
tained it.  His  preaching  was  deeply  serious  and  impressive,  and  was 
received  with  great  favour.  His  address,  tendering  to  the  Association  the 
assurance  of  the  sympathy  and  kind  feeling  of  the  General  Assembly,  was  in 
his  usual  simple  and  felicitous  style,  and  was  responded  to  with  great  appa- 
rent cordiality.  The  next  week,  I  saw  him  at  Springfield,  at  the  meeting  of 
the  General  Association  of  'Massachusetts,  when  he  appeared  to  still  more 
advantage.  On  that  occasion,  he  preached  a  sermon^  in  connection  with 
the  administration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  on  the  text — **  The  love  of  Christ 
eonstraineth  us."  He  began  by  asking  each  person  in  the  house  who  had  an 
interest  at  the  throne  of  grace,  to  lift  up  his  heart  at  that  moment,  and  silently 
implore  a  blessing  upon  the  preacher  and  the  message  he  was  about  to 
deliver ;  and  though  the  request  seemed  to  be  heard  with  great  attention 
and  solemnity,  it  was  so  great  a  departure  from  what  is  commonly  heard  in  a 
New  England  pulpit,  where  every  thing  is  done  according  to  rule,  that  I 
was  not  without  some  apprehension,  at  the  moment,  that  the  desired  effect 
would  not  be  realised.  I  perceived,  however,  almost  immediately,  that  the 
Doctor  was  in  such  a  frame  for  preaching  as  I  had  not  seen  him  in  before,  and 
he  continued  constantly  to  rise  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  ser- 
mon. Besides  being  exceedingly  rich  in  the  most  precious  truths  of  the 
Gospel,  it  was  an  admirable  specimen  of  lucid  reasoning,  and  every  sen* 
tenoe  of  it  was  evidently  spoken  from  a  heart  which  was  actually  glowing 
and  heaving  with  a  sense  of  the  love  of  Christ.  Notwithstanding  it  was  a 
kind  of  eloquence  to  which  my  Connecticut  River  friends  were  not  used, 
they  were  still  free  to  acknowledge  its  remarkable  power,  and  I  have  rarely 
seen  an  audience  wore  entirely  melted  and  subdued  than  on  that  occasion. 
The  impression  which  Dr.  Rice  made  at  that  meeting  was  exceedingly 
favourable,  and  I  doubt  not  bad  much  to  do  with  the  rather  uncommon 
success  which  subsequently  attended  his  application  in  that  region  for  aid 
in  establijihing  the  Union  Theological  Seminary. 

The  next  year  he  visited  New  England  again,  and  stopped  for  a  few  days 
in  the  neighbourhood  where  I  resided.  He  came  with  his  excellent  lady, 
and  passed  an  afternoon  with  me,  but  was  exceedingly  taciturn,  as  if  some^ 
weighty  concern  was  pressing  upon  his  spirit.  In  the  evening  he  preached 
for  roe,  in  a  lecture  room,  on  the  text, — **  What  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange 
fur  his  soul  V*  It  was  a  less  argumentative  and  elaborate  discourse  than 
the  one  I  heard  at  Springfield,  but  it  was  one  of  the  most  awfully  impressive 
discourses  I  ever  heard.  I  remember  bis  using,  in  the  way  of  illustration, 
a  story  of  a  man's  going  over  Niagara  Falls  ;  and  his  gesture,  his  counte- 
nance, his  whole  manner,  was  such  as  to  give  the  highest  possible  effect  to 
the  anecdote.  The  next  day,  I  rode  with  him  to  visit  Mount  Ilolyoke, — 
a  distance  of  some  ten  or  twelve  miles,  and  the  air  of  apparent  sadness  had 
passed  away,  and  he  was  quite  the  life  of  the  company.  I  recollect  his 
entertaining  us  with  anecdotes  about  his  friend.  Dr.  Speece,  from  which  I 


332  PBESBTTBRIAN. 

got  the  impression  that  his  oddiUes  were  scarcely  exceeded  bj  either  his 
abilities  or  his  excellencies. 

A  few  years  later  still,  after  I  had  changed  my  ecclesiastical  relations^ 
and  come  to  live  in  Albany,  Dr.  Bice  came  and  passed  several  days  in  my 
family.  He  fonnd  me  confined  to  my  chamber  by  a  severe  inflaensa,  which 
many  of  my  friends,  and  I  think  himself  among  others,  feared  might  not  be 
easily  removed.  I  had  seen  enough  of  him  before  to  admire  and  vcn* 
crate  hb  character ;  but  had  it  not  been  for  this  visit,  I  shonld  never  have 
adequately  appreciated  him.  There  was  no  trace  of  the  reserve  which  I 
had  seen  in  him  on  some  other  occasions.  His  face  was  beaming  with 
kindness,  he  was  cheerful  and  highly  amusing  in  his  conversation,  and  he 
had  an  agreeable  word  for  every  body,  while  yet,  in  all  his  intercourse,  he 
fully  sustained  the  dignity  of  the  Christian  and  ministerial  character.  I 
remember  a  little  incident  that  showed  that  whUe  his  heart  was  well-nigh 
absorbed  in  the  wel&re  of  the  Seminary  which  he  had  founded,  his  efforts, 
even  for  that,  were  marked  by  the  most  delicate  consideration.  A  father 
could  not  have  manifested  more  interest  for  my  health,  nor  a  physician 
watched  its  changes  from  day  to  day  with  more  unceasing  vigilance.  I  felt 
now  that  I  had  got  down  into  his  great  and  generous  heart,  and  I  marvelled 
to  find  a  man  so  uulike  what  Dr.  Rice  at  first  appeared  to  me.  When  we 
parted,  it  was  for  the  last  time.  I  quickly  recovered  my  health,  but  he, 
alas  !  went  home  to  labour  for  a  little  while,  and  then  decline,  and  then  die. 
I  have  always  been  thankful  that  he  made  me  that  last  visit,  for  I  have 
ever  since  regarded  him  as  having  been  not  only  one  of  the  noblest,  but 
one  of  the  loveliest,  of  mankind. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JAMES  W.  ALEXANDER,  D.  D. 

New  York,  June  15, 1846. 

My  dear  Sir :  When  you  ask  me  to  give  you  some  recollectioas  of  my  dear  and 
honoured  friend,  the  late  Dr.  John  H.  Rice,  you  awaken  in  me  some  of  the  most 
tender  emotions  of  my  life;  for  his  name  and  person  are  connected  with  all  that 
belongs  to  my  heloved  native  State,  my  parents,  and  my  early  labours  as  a  min- 
ister. You  have  kindly  relieved  me  by  saying  that  you  do  not  look  for  a  biogra- 
phy— ^indeed  this  is  sufficiently  afforded  by  the  ample  memoir  of  Mr.  Maxwell. 
I  shall,  how'ever,  pen  these  lines  under  the  disadvantage  of  constantly  feeling 
how  much  better  the  work  might  have  been  done  by  others  whose  knowledge  of 
Dr.  Rice's  best  days  was  not  so  entirely  juvenile  as  was  mine. 

From  my  earliest  childhood,  I  was  accustomed  to  think  Dr.  Rice  almost  aa 
near  to  me  as  my  own  honoured  father,  with  whom  all  my  life  long,  he  was  on 
terms  of  the  most  cordial  friendship.  He  took  early  methods  of  endearing  him* 
self  to  those  of  us  who  were  in  childhood,  and  perhaps  there  never  lived  a  man 
who  clung  more  closely  to  his  friendships  in  after  years.  His  person  is  distinctly 
before  me.  None  of  the  portraits  do  him  any  thing  like  justice.  There  were 
mixtures  of  expression  which  no  one  painting  could  represent.  The  exceeding 
gravity  of  his  countenance  when  in  repose  or  musing,  would  occasionally  break 
forth  into  a  jocund  radiance  and  benignity,  altogether  indescribable.  His  frame 
was  tall,  bony  and  ungraceful.  His  gesture  was  confined,  but,  under  excitement, 
powerful.  His  voice,  though  strong,  was  unmusical.  He,  therefore,  owed 
nothing  to  the  mere  graces  of  oratory — ^T  believe  he  even  despised  them.  Yet 
there  were  times  when  he  was  unquestionably  eloquent,  when  he  gradually 
kindled  as  he  advanced,  when  his  argument  grew  better  and  better,  and  his  reluc- 
tant frame  seemed  informed  by  an  unwonted  inspiration,  while  his  whole  soul 


JOHN  HOLT  RICE.  333 

glowed  through  his  great  speaking  eye.  At  such  times,  large  assemblies  were 
held  for  more  than  the  usual  time  in  fixed  attention.  It  always  appeared  to  nie 
that  Dr.  Rice  resembled  those  birds  which  soar  nobly,  but  which  find  it  hard 
to  rise  on  the  wing. 

No  man  better  understood  what  eloquence  is,  or  more  admired  it  in  others; 
and  be  had  enjoyed  opportunities  of  hearing  the  best  orators  in  that  part  of  the 
iMud  where  oratory,  as  the  late  Dt,  Ohanning  admits,  has  been  most  at  home. 
He  had  heard  Marshall,  Madison,  Patrick  Henry,  and  John  Randolph.  The  two 
great  orators  last  named  appeared  on  one  memorable  instance  together,  in  the 
year  1799,  in  Charlotte  County,  Va. :  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  that  both  Dr.  Rice 
and  my  father  were  present  on  that  occasion.  With  Mr.  Wirt,  Dr.  Rice  enjoyed 
familiar  intercourse,  denying  aid  from  him  in  literary  enterprises.  A  beautiful 
letter  of  this  great  lawyer  and  orator  came  to  Dr.  Rice  on  his  dying  bed.  W*hile, 
however,  he  was  familiar  with  some  of  the  most  noble  and  graceful  specimens 
of  oratory  that  America  has  ever  known,  he  was,  for  that  very  reason,  in  the 
same  proportion  above  patting  himself  into  the  manege  of  elocutionary  masters, 
under  whose  care  our  young  students,  with  all  their  practisings,  are  destroying 
their  little  natural  capacity  for  good  speaking. 

The  power  of  Dr.  Rice  resided  in  his  thought  and  in  his  feeling :  he  was  both 
argumentative  and  earnest.  I  never  esteemed  his  delivery  in  itself  considered 
at  all  worthy  of  his  composition.  Justice  has  never  been  done  to  him  as  a 
writer.  If  he  had  any  clerical  superior  in  his  mastery  of  sound,  free,  vigorous 
English,  it  is  not  within  my  knowledge.  In  common  with  such  preachers  as 
Fenclon,  Kirwan,  Whitefield,  Mason,  and  Hall,  he  never  allowed  himself  to  be 
enslaved  to  what  he  bad  written  down  in  his  study :  his  ablest  sermons  were,  as 
to  their  form,  the  product  of  the  hour — hence  we  must  not  look  for  the  best 
samples  of  his  composition  to  his  preaching,  but  to  what  he  wrote  for  the  press, 
especially  in  the  pages  of  the  "Virginia  Evangelical  and  Literary  Magazine." 
As  a  favourable  instance  may  be  mentioned  his  Reply  to  Bishop  Ravenscroft; 
and  having  alluded  to  this,  I  ought  to  add  that,  earnest  as  this  controversy  was, 
it  engendered  in  him  no  gall:  when  he  heard  of  the  Bishop's  death,  he  said, — 
'*  I  never  had  a  doubt  of  his  sincerity."  In  a  somewhat  different  strain,  but 
equally  characteristic  of  his  great  and  generous  way  of  thinking,  are  his  Letters 
to  James  Madison,  Esq.,  late  President  of  the  United  States;  the  object  of  which 
was  to  show  that  American  statesmen  owe  it  to  their  country  to  promote  Chris- 
tianity among  the  people. 

^o  his  pulpit  labours  Dr.  Rice  brought  all  the  stores  of  an  unusually  varied 
learning.  From  his  childhood,  when  he  used  to  rise  from  his  bed  to  read  Horace 
by  the  flame  of  pine  wood  on  the  hearth,  until  his  latest  day,  he  was  a  devourer 
of  books,  and  in  a  variety  of  departments.  Few  men  kept  more  fully  abreast 
of  contemporary  literature,  as  is  shown  by  his  Magazine.  '*  Now  although  this 
insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  unconquerable  avidity  for  books,  would,  in 
many  minds,  have  produced  very  small,  if  any,  good  effect,  and  no  doubt  was  in 
sone  respects  injurious  to  him ;  yet,  possessing  as  he  did  a  mind  of  uncommon 
vigour,  and  a  judgment  remarkably  sound  and  discriminating,  that  accumulation 
of  ideas  and  facts  which  to  most  men  would  have  been  a  useless  unwieldy  mass, 
was  by  him  so  digested  and  incorporated  with  his  own  thoughts,  that  it  had,  I 
doubt  not,  a  mighty  influence  in  raising  his  mind  to  that  commanding  eminence 
which  it  attained  in  his  mature  years." 

In  the  meshes  of  theological  metaphysics  Dr.  Rice  never  entangled  himself — 
indeed  he  stood  aloof  from  doctrinal  controversy.  His  views  were  less  polemio 
than  comprehensive;  and  his  mind  was  perpetually  labouring  with  the  problem 
of  uniting  all  orthodox  American  Christians  who  wore  fViendly  to  liberty.  Some 
of  his  warmest  admirers  did  not  hesitate  to  avow  their  belief  that  his  dread  of 


334  PRESBTTBRIAK. 

controTeray  was  exoessive.    Remarkable  ituooess,  however,  attended  his  pacific 
measures,  especially  in  his  native  State. 

If  I  were  called  upon  to  point  out  any  one  production  of  Dr.  Rice's  which 
should  give,  in  short  compass,  a  view  of  his  characteristics,  I  would  name  his 
letter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wisner,  of  November  22,  1828.*  It  is  wise,  and  witty, 
and  full  of  those  sagacious  prospects  of  things,  civil  and  ecclesiastical,  by  which 
he  will  long  be  remembered.  Writing  in  this  annus  mirabilisy  as  the  year  1848 
has  just  been  felicitously  called,  I  own  myself  impressed  by  the  views  taken  by 
Dr.  Rice  just  twenty  years  ago.  You  will  perhaps  find  room  for  a  quotation:  it 
will  show  the  spirit  of  the  man:  '*  This  is  the  most  wonderful  year  in  which  we 
have  ever  lived.  Where  will  the  overtumings  end  which  we  now  see  beginning.' 
Heaven  grant  that  they  may  result  in  the  coming  of  Him  '  whose  right  it  is  to 
reign.'  I  do  believe  the  present  is  a  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  human  nature.  It  is  the 
age  of  Revolutions,  succeeding  the  age  of  the  Reformation.  The  Lord  is  pulling 
down  old  establishments,  and  overturning  deep-laid  foundations  of  spiritual 
tyranny.  He  is  disenthralling  the  mind  of  man,  and  opening  a  way  for  the 
universal  diffusion  of  the  Bible,  and  sending  the  heralds  of  mercy  to  all  lands. 
In  a  word.  He  is  making  opportunities,  and  waiting  to  see  how  the  Church  will 
improve  them.  The  Reformation  was  a  crisis.  Men's  minds  were  mightily  stirred 
up,  and  a  great  opportunity  was  afforded  them  for  setting  the  world  at  liberty 
from  every  yoke  but  the  '  easy'  one  of  the  Redeemer.  In  some  respects  that 
opportunity  was  nobly  improved.  But  the  Reformers  committed  some  capital 
mistakes.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  two  principal  were:  1.  Distrust  in  Provi* 
dence,  and  dependance  on  kings  and  princes  to  protect  the  Church  and  sustain 
the  truth.  This  brought  religion  into  alliance  with  the  world,  and  it  was  cor- 
rupted. 2.  The  spirit  of  controversy  which  rose  up,  and  raged,  and  divided  the 
Protestant  world  into  fiercely  contending  factions.  This  flame  burned  up  the 
spirit  of  piety,  and  these  divisions  frittered  away  the  strength  of  the  Church, 
and  marred  its  glory  in  the  presence  of  Papists,  Mahometans,  and  Heathens. 
That  golden  opportunity  was  lost,  and  religion,  on  the  whole,  made  very  little 
progress  for  three  centuries.  Look  at  Germany,  look  at  Switzerland,  look  at 
Protestant  France,  at  England,  at  Scotland,  and  say  whether  there  is  as  much 
religion  now  as  there  was  in  1580. 

"  It  has  occurred  to  me  most  painfully  that  the  present  opportunity  may  pass 
without  suitable  improvement,  and  the  Church  sink  into  a  torpor  to  continue  for 
ages;  while  the  spirit  of  Infidelity  shall  go  through  the  world,  breathing  all  ;ts 
pestilence  and  inflicting  its  plagues,  ten -fold  more  terrible  than  those  of  Egypt. 
But  if  so,  no  arithmetic  can  calculate  the  amount  of  guilt  which  will  rest  on  the 
Church.  I  regard  the  human  race  as  at  this  moment  standing  on  the  covered 
crater  of  a  volcano,  in  which  elemental  fires  are  raging  with  the  intensity  of  the 
'  Tophet  ordained  of  old.'  Heaven  has  provided  conductors  of  wonderful  power, 
by  which  this  heat  may  be  diffused  as  a  genial  warmth  and  a  cheering  light 
through  the  world.  And  the  necessary  process  must  be  performed  by  the 
Church— -otherwise,  there  will  be  an  explosion  which  will  shatter  to  pieces  every 
fabric  of  human  hope  and  comfort." 

Entertaining  such  views  of  the  times  and  of  the  Church,  Dr.  Rice  carried  into 
his  whole  ministry  an  unusual  earnestness.  His  pulpit  addresses  bore  a  closer 
resemblance  than  is  usual  to  great  speeches  in  deliberative  bodies,  turning  very 
much  on  the  politico-ecclesiastical  relations  of  troth,  and  avoiding  academic 
starch,  and  the  formation  of  homiletical  technicalities.  His  detestation  of  all 
tyranny  in  Church  and  State  burnt  its  way  out,  in  vehement  discourse.  **  He 
was,"  said  a  dear  and  early  friend.  Dr.  Speece,  **  a  powerful  advocate  of  pure 
Protestant  Christian  liberty;  strenuously  resisting  all  usurpation  upon  the  rights 
of  private  judgment  in  matters  of  religion."    But  that  which  more  than  all  else 

•  Memoir,  pp.  Z7^96l, 


JOHN  HOLT  RICE.  335 

g»v6  ftfiTOur  to  his  ministry,  was  his  belief  of  the  truth  and  his  sincere  piety. 
No  one  now  surviving,  except  the  widowed  companion  of  his  life,  can  know  the 
anxieties  with  which  he  pursued  his  labours  against  great  difficulties,  first  as 
Pastor,  and  then  as  Professor.  He  was  a  man  of  eminent  sincerity  and  benignant 
affection.  If,  as  has  been  said,  he  was  very  choleric  in  youth,  then  no  man  ever 
gained  a  greater  victory,  for  he  was  a  pattern  of  meekness.  His  whole  life  was 
one  continued  labour  for  Christ's  cause,  and  be  wore  himself  out  in  his  endeay- 
ours  to  raise  the  standard  of  theological  education  in  the  South.  His  profound 
stirring  interest  in  great  public  schemes  divested  his  public  performances  of  all 
that  was  either  common-place  or  scholastic,  and  gave  them  the  character  of  direct 
appeals,  for  immediate  decision,  like  the  arguments  of  a  political  orator  before 
his  constituents. 

The  reputation  of  Dr.  Rice  was  widely  extended  by  his  writings  and  his 
traTels.  No  man  of  the  South  was  so  well  known  in  New  £ng]and.  And  while, 
in  the  way  of  playful  challenge,  he  used  somewhat  to  vaunt  his  peculiarities  as  a 
Virginian,  nerer  for  an  instant  allowing  any  one  to  consider  the  ''  Old  Colony 
and  Dominion,"  as  less  than  the  greatest  of  States,  he  accomplished  more  than 
any  man  in  harmonizing  the  views  of  North  and  South.  In  1819,  he  was 
honoared  with  the  highest  literary  degree  from  the  College  of  New  Jersey;  and 
in  1822,  he  was  unanimously  elected  President  of  the  same.  But  he  was  too 
much  devoted  to  the  interests  of  religion  in  his  native  State,  to  live  or  die  else* 
where;  and  his  last  years  were  spent  in  founding  and  rearing  the  Union  Theo- 
logical Seminary  at  Prince  Edward.  This  institution,  it  has  been  justly  said, 
will  remain  a  monument  more  honourable,  and  it  is  hoped  more  lasting,  than 
marble  or  brass,  of  what  can  be  accomplished  by  the  toilsome  labours  of  one 
maQ. 

It  is  not  improper  to  speak  of  Dr.  Rice's  influence  in  that  large  and  then 
undivided  branch  of  the  Christian  Church,  of  which  he  was  a  minister.  While 
still  young,  he  made  an  impression  by  a  sermon  before  the  Qeneral  Assembly  at 
Philadelphia,  such  as  was  never  forgotten.  From  that  moment  until  the  day  of 
his  death,  bis  reputation  never  cdecreased.  Though  punctual  in  his  attendance 
on  Church  courts,  he  was  not  often  upon  his  feet;  but  his  companions  testify 
that  on  great  questions  he  was  eloquent.  Everywhere,  in  public  and  private,  his 
voice  was  for  peace.  As  a  Theological  Professor,  he  was  a  thorough  Calvinist, 
opposed  to  all  the  innovations  in  Divinity  which  were  then  beginning  to  show 
themselves;  yet  ready  to  go  all  lengths  in  forbearance  towards  the  persons  of 
dissentients.  This  was  not  mere  gentleness  of  temper,  but  deliberate  Christian 
policy.  His  language  was — "  Our  learned  Doctors  may  wear  out  their  pens,  and 
put  out  their  eyes,  and  they  and  their  partisans  will  be  of  the  same  opinion  still. 
The  Church  is  not  to  be  purified  by  controversy,  but  by  holy  love."  His 
fiivourite  adage  was,  Lovk  is  Powkr.  As  has  been  said  above,  there  are  those 
who  love  his  memory,  and  yet  think  that  Dr.  Rice  was  disposed  to  extend  this 
excision  of  controversy  to  more  points  than  was  consistent  with  a  maintenance 
of  the  complete  system  of  sound  doctrine.  But  who  can  avoid  loving  the  benev- 
olence of  the  disposition  ?  His  public  spirit  in  regard  to  the  Church  was  great. 
One  of  the  last  acts  of  his  life  was  to  dictate  from  his  dying  bed  the  projet  of 
an  overture  to  the  General  Assembly  on  the  subject  of  Foreign  Missions,  in 
which  he  asserts  the  great  truth  on  which  the  present  Board  of  Foreign  Missions 
is  founded;  namely,  ''that  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  United  States  is  a 
Missionary  Society." 

The  nature  of  your  work,  my  dear  Sir,  forbids  me  to  lift  the  vail  from  the 
most  lovely  aspect  of  this  great  man;  his  character,  I  mean,  as  a  husband,  a 
brother,  a  friend,  and  a  master.  His  beloved  wife  still  remains  among  us,  *'a 
widow  indeed;"  and  though  he  left  no  children,  there  are  thousands  who 
remember  him  as  a  father;  among  whom  I  affectionately  claim  my  humble  place. 


336  FRSSBTTBRIAK. 

Will  you  pftrdon  me  for  relating  a  little  incident  connected  with  his  position  as  a 
householder:  it  will  be  best  understood  hy  those  who  hsve  lived  tt  the  South. 
Dr.  Rice  was  a  gentle  but  authoritative  master  of  his  own  household.  On  a 
certain  occasion,  a  servant  woman  had  been  j^fractory  and  insulting;  and  it 
became  necessary  for  her  to  be  solemnly  reprimanded.  The  next  day  she 
declared  that  she  had  not  been  able  to  close  her  eyes  in  sleep  for  remembering 
her  master's  prayer.  Ever  afterwards,  she  was  devoted  to  him  in  dutiful  affec- 
tion. On  the  very  last  day  of  her  life,  Dr.  Rice  entered  her  room  and  found  her 
eldest  daughter  preparing  something  at  the  hearth  under  her  direction.  He 
remonstrated,  reminding  her  that  all  she  could  need  would  be  supplied — "  Oh, 
Master,"  said  the  dying  woman,  *'  I  want  nothing;  but  nobody  else  can  make 
the  bread  you  like  best,  and  I  am  showing  Martha  how  to  do  it  that  she  may 
bake  it  for  you  when  I  am  gone."  Allow  me,  Reverend  Sir,  to  add,  that  this 
poor  creature  was  the  mother  of  the  man  who,  through  the  generosity  of  some 
of  Mrs.  Rice's  friends  at  the  North,  was  sent  last  month,  with  his  family, 
to  freedom  in  Africa. 

Lest,  however,  my  communication  should  degenerate  into  details  unsuited  to 
your  work,  I  will  hasten  to  add  a  few  statements  respecting  the  last  days  of 
Dr.  Rice.  On  returning  in  1830  from  one  of  his  many  toilsome  journeys  to  the 
North,  he  was  detained  in  Philadelphia  by  a  sudden  illness  which  seized  him 
while  at  prayer  with  the  family:  it  was  the  precursor  of  the  violent  and  excru- 
ciating distresses  which  often  visited  him  afterwards.  Still  he  was  enabled  to 
pursue  his  journey;  to  meet  with  his  friend  Mr.  Wirt;  and  to  enjoy  a  Sabbath 
with  his  beloved  people  at  Richmond.  It  was  after  this  that  he  wrote  the  letter  to 
Dr.  Wisner,  which  has  been  cited.  His  days  were  now  numbered,  and  his  decline 
was  rapid.  Prayers  were  publicly  offered  for  him  in  the  Princeton  Seminary,— a 
fact  which  deeply  touched  him.  His  thoughts  were,  however,  more  for  the  Church 
than  for  himself.  A  revival  of  religion  was  in  progress  as  he  lay  on  his  bed. 
"Amazing — astonishing  !"  he  would  say,  as  news  came  to  him.  **  Oh,  that  I 
could  aid  the  triumph  with  my  voice  !  But  the  Lord's  will  be  done!"  His  suf- 
fering was  extreme — "  I  feel,"  said  he,  "  an  iron  hand  upon  me  that  is  crushing 
me  to  death."  On  hearing  of  the  death  of  his  friend,  Jeremiah  Evarts  of  Boston, 
he  said,  ''  Alas  !  God  is  taking  away  the  staff  and  stay  from  Israel.  The  few  that 
are  left  will  not  be  regarded,  and  the  many  will  carry  all  before  them.  Numbers 
will  overwhelm  us  at  last."  After  many  distresses  of  body,  in  which  his  mind 
painfully  sympathized  to  a  degree  of  morbid  depression,  he  at  length,  when  all 
were  awaiting  his  departure,  experienced  a  singular  relief.  Turning  suddenly 
to  Mrs.  Rice,  and  throwing  his  arms  around  her  neck,  and  looking  in  her  face 
with  a  clear  bright  eye,  beaming  with  heavenly  joy,  he  exclaimed,  "  Mercy  is 
triumphant !"  As  some  doubted  what  the  last  word  was,  he  made  a  fVesh  effort 
and  said — "  triumphant !"     When  instantly  his  head  fell  and  he  was  gone. 

The  name  of  Dr.  Rice  is  intimately  connected  with  the  system  of  public 
theological  education  in  this  country.  After  thorough  survey,  in  every  part  of 
the  Church,  he  rejected  the  old  and  partial  method  as  worthy  only  of  an 
inchoate  condition,  and  lent  his  whole  influence  to  the  support  of  that  larger  and 
ezacter  method,  which  enjoys  the  testimony  and  sanction  of  every  important 
ecclesiastical  organization  in  America. 

But  I  am  detaining  you  beyond  all  that  is  my  right,  and 

Am,  with  Christian  respect. 

Tour  friend  and  servant, 

JAMES  W.  ALEXANDER. 


JOHN  HOLT  RICH.  9 


87 


FROM  THE  REV.  BENJAMIN  M.  SMITH,  D.  D. 

PBOrXSSOB  UV  THE  UNION  THEOLOGICAL  8EMINABT,   TIRGINIA. 

Union  Seminabt,  March  11,  1857. 

R«Y.  and  dear  Sir:  I  cheerfully  undertake  to  coin  ply  with  your  request  to 
communicate  my  personal  recollections  of  Dr.  Rice^  though  well  convinced  that 
they  can  add  but  few  and  indistinct  touches  to  the  portrait  of  that  noble  man, 
with  which  you  propose  to  enrich  the  pages  of  your  work. 

The  materials  for  such  a  contribution  as  you  desire,  supplied  by  my  memory, 
are  not  only  very  scanty,  but  also  deficient  in  striking  incidents.  For  although 
my  acquaintance  with  Bt,  Rice  commenced  with  my  earliest  boyhood,  and  I  was 
for  four  years  during  my  college  course,  a  member  of  his  family,  I  was  too 
young  to  form  adequate  conceptions  of  his  character,  and  too  uninformed  on  the 
great  subjects  which  engrossed  his  attention  to  receive  or  retain  very  yivid 
impressions  of  his  conversation.  Moreover,  he  was  remarkably  taciturn,  was 
always  a  hard  student,  and  during  the  later  years  of  his  life, — the  period  of  my 
best  opportunity  for  forming  a  proper  acquaintance  with  his  character,  he  was 
continually  pressed  with  the  multiplied  cares  and  arduous  duties  of  his  office 
in  this  Seminary. 

Still,  as  material  objects  are  more  thoroughly  known  by  the  result  of  views 
taken  from  various  points,  so  such  characters  as  his  are  sometimes  better  under- 
stood when  viewed  from  different  points  of  observation. 

Of  his  various  and  extensive  learning,  his  pastoral  fidelity,  his  untiring 
energy,  his  soundness  in  the  principles  of  a  true  Biblical  Theology,  his  able  and 
eloquent  defences  and  expositions  of  Gospel  truth,  both  by  the  pulpit  and  the 
press,  his  eminent  public  services,  his  laborious,  faithful  and  popular  career  as  a 
teacher  of  Theology,  and  his  successful  efforts  in  establishing  this  Seminary,  I 
could  furnish  abundant  illustrations.  But  on  all  these  topics  you  are  doubtless 
already  fully  informed. 

Of  Dr.  Rice's  personal  appearance  I  retain  a  most  distinct  impression.  That 
of  some  well-known  acquaintance,  very  recently  seen,  is  hardly  more  clearly 
defined  in  my  mind.  He  was  full  six  feet  high,  and  very  well  proportioned. 
His  face  was  somewhat  oval,  with  a  broad  and  high,  as  well  as  finely  arched, 
Ibrehead.  His  features  were  symmetrically  combined,  and  he  might  have  been 
justly  termed  a  handsome  man.  His  complexion  inclined  to  be  florid.  His 
eyes  were  of  dark  blue  and  jery  expressive.  The  usual  cast  of  his  counte- 
nance was  grave,  but  neither  austere  nor  morose.  On  the  contrary,  it  was 
inviting  rather  than  repulsive.  He  never  failed  to  be  attractive  to  the  young, 
and  was  easily  approached  by  such.  His  forehead  appeared  yet  higher,  in  the 
later  years  of  his  life,  owing  to  a  slight  baldness.  His  hair  was  brown, 
disposed  to  curl,  though  gently,  was  worn  moderately  short,  but  long  enough 
very  much  to  conceal  the  appearance  of  baldness.*  With  the  exception  of  the 
portrait,  mentioned  in  the  note,  I  have  never  seen  one  which  gave  a  satisfactory 
representation  of  his  features.  And  indeed,  that  is  not  unexceptionable.  It  is  an 
accurate  likeness  of  him,  as  he  often  appeared,  reminding  one,  fitmiliar  with  his 
pleasant  moods,  of  his  expression  of  countenance  when  about  to  say,  or  when 
he  had  just  uttered,  something  humorous  or  gently  satirical.  It  is  very  much 
such  an  expression,  as  we  may  conceive  him  to  have  presented,  when,  by  way  of 
pleasantly  satirizing  the  close  pulpit  reading  of  a  certain  class  of  ministers,  on 
meeting  one  of  them  in  the  streets  of  a  Northern  city,  the  morning  after  attend- 

*  It  if  not  a  little  •ingniUr  that  owing  to  some  defect  in  the  paint  or  canvan  of  the  portrait  la 
the  yomemUm  of  bia  wiaow,  the  hair,  originally  represented  aa  brown,  now  appears  anite  graj* 
The  dcfeet  baa  oeoadoned  no  pereeptible  change  in  the  appearance  of  the  face.    To  nia  mends 
ihia  etrBomitanee  it  not  dln>lc»iing,  aa  be  thua  appears  reiy  mnoh  as  we  may  luppoae  he  wonht 
have  done,  if  alive  now.    His  age  would  have  now  been  seventj-nine. 

Vol.  TV.  43 


3^g  PRSSBYTEBIAK. 

ing  a  service  in  which  the  minister  had  participated,  and,  by  a  servile  adherence 
to  his  manuscript,  subjected  himself  to  the  criticism,  he  took  from  his  podcet  a 
paper,  and  read  the  usual  questions  and  answers  of  common  civility.  Bat  this 
portrait  does  not  represent  him  with  the  gravity  and  pleasing  solemnity  which 
he  exhibited,  when  engaged  in  the  services  of  the  sanctuary,  or  in  the  earnest 
discussioQ  of  great  and  weighty  subjects.  On  the  other  hand,  those  which  have 
been  designed  to  serve  this  purpose,  have  failed  by  portraying  a  class  of  features 
directly  the  reverse  of  those  mentioned,  and  presenting  to  us  a  sad,  morose,  or 
stern  expression,  which  he  never  had.  It  is  probable  that  his  features,  in  entire 
repose,  were  no  correct  indications  of  the  class  to  which  they  belonged,  when  his 
mind  was  specially  interested;  and  the  artists  who  drew  the  portraits  were 
incapable,  from  want  of  familiarity  Mith  their  subject,  of  imparting  to  the  canvass 
the  requisite  glow  of  feeling.  Kindness,  benevolence,  tenderness,  and  solemnity, 
on  a  basis  of  deep  though tfulness,  may  be  said  to  have  been  the  leading  charac- 
teristics of  his  ordinary  expression,  as  they  were  evinced  by  his  early  life  to  be 
the  leading  traits  of  his  moral  nature. 

He  was  perhaps  constitutionally  slow  in  his  physical  motions.  I  never  saw 
him  walk  or  act  in  a  hurried  manner.  His  earlier  friends  have  represented  him  as 
naturally  of  an  irascible  or  impetuous  temper.  I  never  heard  him  use  a  harsh 
word,  nor  did  I  ever  see  him  manifest  signs  of  provocation  or  anger.  Constantly 
pressed  as  he  was  by  his  public  duties,  he  took  little  part  in  the  management  of 
his  domestic  affairs.  His  servants  regarded  him  with  sincere  respect  and  affec- 
tion, and  perhaps  their  personal  attachment  secured  as  prompt  *nd  constant 
obedience  as  other  influences  could  have  produced. 

From  November,  1825,  till  September,  1829,  1  was  a  member  of  Dr.  Rice's 
family.  This  was  the  period  of  his  most  intense,  laborious  and  uninterrupted 
service  in  the  Seminary.  His  time  was  constantly  occupied.  The  variety  of  his 
duties  afforded  no  relief  from  their  pressure.  The  number  of  students  increased 
from  seven  to  upwards  of  fifty.  He  had  but  one  assistant  in  instruction.  He 
taught  Theology,  Church  History  and  Government,  and  for  a  part  of  the  time, 
the  Interpretation  of  the  New  Testament  Scriptures.  His  vacations  of  six 
weeks  each,  besides  the  whole  of  one  and  parts  of  other  sessions,  were  spent  in 
travelling  to  solicit  funds.  During  the  sessions,  he  supplied  the  vacant  pulpit 
of  the  church  in  the  vicinity,  at  least  half  the  time,  and  on  the  alternate  Sab- 
baths, was  usually  engaged  in  preaching  at  some  of  the  churches  in  the  surround- 
ing country.  Thus  he  had  little  time  for  his  family  or  his  company.  Having 
entered  the  new  Seminary  building  in  November,  1825,  while  yet  not  entirely 
finished,  and  while  the  premises  were  but  partially  reclaimed  from  the  forest,  he 
combined  utility  with  exercise,  for  recreation,  in  most  vigorous  labour,  digging 
up  stumps  and  removing  dirt,  accumulated  by  the  excavations  for  the  buildings. 
He  set  the  example  for  his  own  precepts,  and  pleasantly  urged  on  the  students 
the  benefit  of  varying  their  labours  on  Hebrew  and  Greek  roots,  by  labours  on 
those  of  the  oak  and  hickory.  He  generally  wrought  in  this  way  for  half  an 
hour  or  an  hour  before  breakfast,  and  would  often  come  into  the  house,  with  his 
forehead  and  cheeks  bathed,  and  his  clothes  soaked,  with  perspiration.  In  the 
proper  season,  exercise  in  his  garden,  for  whose  ornamental  and  useful  culture 
he  had  a  great  predilection,  supplied  an  alternation  for  this  severe  toil.  Then, 
from  breakfast  till  twelve  or  one  or  even  two  o'clock  at  night,  he  was  constantly 
occupied  in  his  study,  which  was  also  his  class-room,  performing  the  appropriate 
duties  of  his  office,  or  by  correspondence  and  contributions  to  the  press,  render- 
ing thus  additional  services  to  the  Chnrch  at  large,  evinced  in  the  establishment 
of  the  Seminary,  and  in  publications  defending  and  expounding  the  great  princi- 
ples of  Theology  and  Church  Government.  His  meals  were  properly  his  only 
seasons  of  relaxation.  His  plain  but  hospitable  house  was  ever  open  to  strangers; 
and  his  extensive  acquaintance  and  increasing  reputation  brought  visiters  from 


JOHK  HOLT  RICE.  339 

all  ptfts  of  the  country.  For  some  months,  Rer.  Dr.  Netdeton  was  his  guest, 
«nd  then,  for  another  season,  Roy.  James  B.  Taylor,  who  died  in  his  house.  His 
own  iather  was,  at  an  earlier  period,  a  member  of  his  family,  cherished  with 
filial  tenderness  and  respect.  Rev.  Rufus  Nutting  from  New  England,  boarded 
with  him  daring  a  winter  spent  in  the  South  for  his  health,  and  with  a  generous 
desire  to  aid  deserving  young  men,  he  had  frequently  one  of  the  students, — a  gra- 
tuitous boarder  in  his  family.  Rev.  H.  P.  Goodrich,  his  assistant,  and  then  a 
Professor  in  the  Seminary,  boarded  with  him  three  years.  With  such  persons 
pleasant  and  useful  conversation  was  held  during  meals,  which  were  thus  pro- 
tracted often  to  %  longer  time  than  usual,  and  were  seasons  of  truly  delightful 
recreation.  One  of  the  gentlemen  mentioned  often  said  that,  though  absent  from 
his  family,  he  had  laughed  more  during  the  five  months  spent  with  Dr.  Rice, 
than  he  had  ever  done  in  any  year  of  his  life.  With  Dr.  Nettleton,  his  conver- 
sation often  assumed  a  graver  cast,  and  the  theological  innovations  of  the  day, 
and  the  new  measures  in  connection  with  revivals,  &c.,  were  freely  discussed ; 
though  it  is  needless  to  add  that  the  discussions  were  rather  a  comparison  of 
aooordmnt  views  than  the  debates  of  opponents. 

Dr.  Rice  never  forgot  a  kindness,  and  was  studiously  diligent  to  give  substan- 
tial expressions  of  his  gratitude.  Having  been  himself,  when  young,  compelled 
to  struggle  for  the  attainment  of  education,  he  was  ever  ready  to  lend  his  aid  to 
others  in  similar  circumstances.  The  friends  of  his  youth  were  nerer  forgotten. 
With  my  parents  a  friendship  had  been  formed,  when  he  spent  some  six  months 
under  their  roof,  while  pursuing  the  study  of  medicine.  Their  kindness,  though 
intrinsically  trifling,  it  was  his  delight  through  life  to  acknowledge,  and  his 
pleasure  more  than  tenfold  to  repay.  Having,  by  marrying  my  father's  niece, 
become  connected  with  the  family,  his  visits  were  the  more  frequent,  and  always 
the  occasions  of  mutual  pleasure.  The  younger  children  were  taught  to  address 
him  as  Uncle,  and  few  real  uncles  ever  manifested  a  more  lively  or  more  efficient 
interest  in  the  welfare  of  nephews  and  nieces.  From  my  mother's  widowhood 
in  1819,  he  became  yet  more  tender  and  actively  solicitous  for  the  comfort  of  the 
finmily.  His  visits,  though  necessarily  short,  were  always  hailed  with  delight; 
for  he  brought  with  him  and  conferred  the  blessings  which  those  impart  who,  in 
tho  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  ''  visit  the  fatherless  and  the  widow  in  their  affliction." 
It  was  to  his  generous  gratitude  and  strong  attachment  to  the  family  that  I  was 
indebted  for  the  privilege  of  pursuing  my  college  course  under  circumstances  so 
well  calculated  to  quicken  my  zeal,  and  excite  my  love  for  sound  learning.  No 
calls  for  aid  or  advice  in  my  studies,^ven  if,  in  the  heedlessness  of  youth,  made 
when  he  was  most  pressed  for  time,  were  ever  unkindly  met  or  disregarded.  He 
had  the  happy  &culty  of  impressing  on  the  mind  the  severest  criticism,  by  some 
pleasant  mode  of  administering  it.  Placing  his  thumb  on  the  first  word,  and 
stretching,  as  with  great  effort,  his  finger  to  the  last,  in  a  very  long  sentence, 
the  first  of  a  composition,  he  taught  me  to  be  ever  mindfttl,  thou^  I  may  not 
have  been  ever  observant,  of  this  capital  error  in  composing.  A  kind  word  or 
look  of  encouragement,  or  a  smile  of  approbation  was  always  ready,  when 
deserved,  and  a  course  of  remark  at  his  table,  or  an  incidental  hint  in  private, 
cautioned  me  of  evil,  and  warned  me  of  its  results. 

I  give  you  these  little  incidents  of  personal  and  family  history,  with  unfeigned 
hesitation,  knowing  that  they  may  be  regarded  as  rather  passing  the  limit  of  a 
proper  delicacy.  But  they  furnish  one  of  the  best  commentaries  on  the  remark 
so  characteristically  true  of  Dr.  Rice,  that  he  never  forgot  a  kindness,  that  I 
could  not  forego  their  introduction,  and  I  am  not  unwilling  to  say  that  if  your 
readers  peruse  them  with  a  tithe  of  the  pleasure  it  has  given  me  to  communi- 
cate them»  they  will  not  regret  it.  Indeed,  for  his  young  countrymen,  whoever 
they  might  be,  he  had  a  heart  yearning  with  the  kindest  emotions.  One  of  the 
most  eminent  lawvers  of  the  State  spent  a  night  with  me  recently,  and  most 


340  PRSSBYTEBIAK. 

feelingly  expressed  the  gnteftil  emotions  he  experienced  in  recollecting  Dr.  Riee'» 
kind  attentions  to  him  while  at  College;  and  doubtless  there  are  hondreds  of 
others  in  all  the  professions,  who  would  do  the  same. 

He  evinced  this  trait  of  character  in  frequenting  the  meetings  of  the  Untoa 
Society  in  the  College  (Hampden  Sidney)  near  the  Seminary.  Though  con- 
stantly pressed  by  his  urgent  and  important  duties,  he  found  time,  once  or  twice 
every  session,  to  attend  those  meetings,  having  been  a  member  of  the  Society 
when  at  the  College  in  early  life.  After  the  ordinary  routine  of  business,  and 
the  discussion  of  the  topic  of  debate  by  the  students,  he  would  rise,  and,  in  a 
most  felicitous  and  instructive  manner,  hold  their  attention  for  thirty  minutes  or 
an  hour,  in  an  able  and  often  entertaining  discussion  of  the  question.  Soeh 
occasions  were  always  embraced  as  opportunities  for  the  expression  of  sentiments 
calculated  to  foster  noble  purposes,  and  quicken  zeal  and  inspire  aspirations  for 
increase  in  sound  knowledge  and  true  virtue. 

On  one  occasion,  the  Society  was  disappointed  of  securing  a  representative 
from  abroad  to  deliver  an  address  at  the  College  Commencement.  Dr.  Rice  was 
applied  to,  and  readily  agreed  to  supply  the  vacancy,  of  whose  existence  the 
Society  had  not  been  made  fully  aware,  till  the  day  preceding  that  appointed  for 
the  Oration.  I  remember  how  gracefully  and  appropriately  he  opened  his  speech 
by  rather  apologizing  to  any  who  might  have  thought  him  out  of  place  on  such  an 
occasion,  using  some  such  language  as  this, — '*  If  any  ask  why  I  am  here  to  day, 
I  reply  with  the  old  Roman  Poet,  '  Homo  sum  et  humani  nihil  a  me  alienum 
puto.'  "  Indeed,  he  omitted  no  opportunity  of  showing  how  truly  he  held  the 
sentiment  of  another  Latin  writer, — **  Maxima  reverentia  puero  debetur."  It  was 
then  the  custom  of  the  College  to  have  a  celebration  of  the  Fourth  of  July  by 
the  students.  They  were  permitted  to  select  orators  for  the  day  from  among 
themselves,  and,  the  literary  entertainment  over,  to  have  a  dinner  which  was 
closed  in  the  usual  manner  of  the  country,  by  drinking  toasts.  Dr.  Rice,  when 
at  home,  generally  attended,  and,  though  strictly  abstemious,  also  honoured  the 
dinner  by  his  presence,  and  gave  his  toast  when  called  on.  Even  then,  he  aimed 
to  present  a  sentiment  embodying  that  which  was  useful  and  valuable  to  his 
young  friends. 

As  a  Trustee  of  College,  he  was  a  regular  attendant  on  the  term  examinations, 
and  often  enlivened  occasions  generally  dull  and  prolix  to  all  parties,  by  timely 
sallies  of  humour.  He  encouraged  the  young  men  to  diligence  in  acquiring  the 
art  of  public  speaking,  by  often  attending  the  exercises,  both  for  declamation  and 
the  delivery  of  original  speeches. 

Dr.  Rice  was  not  only  a  student  in  order  to  teach,  but  his  thirst  for  knowledge 
for  its  own  sake  was  insatiable.  He  was  a  student  of  departments  of  learning, 
not  immediately  connected  with  his  daily  pursuits.  His  habits  of  study,  and 
his  excellent  mental  training,  enabled  him  to  acquire  rapidly,  and  retain  perma- 
nently, stores  of  useful  knowledge,  on  a  variety  of  subjects.  The  advance  in 
many  sciences,  especially  in  the  department  of  Physics,  had  been  very  great, 
during  the  thirty  years  of  his  professional  life.  Tet  he  kept  himself  well  posted, 
and,  without  pretending  to  minute  accuracy,  was  no  mean  scholar  on  subjects 
barely  touched  in  his  academical  studies.  His  manner  in  the  pulpit,  or  indeed 
as  a  public  speaker,  was  not  very  striking,  and  occasional  and  superficial  hearers 
often  went  away  disappointed.  But  to  attentive  thinkers,  his  matter  was  always 
interesting,  and  soon  they  found  themselves  beguiled  into  a  forgetfulness  of  his 
manner.  He  used  but  little  gesture.  Sometimes  his  hand  would  remain  (as  he 
had  a  habit  of  placing  it  when  beginning  to  speak,)  in  his  coat-bosom,  almost 
through  his  discourse.  But  often,  as  he  waxed  warm  in  speaking,  his  whole 
chest  would  seem  to  partake  of  his  emotion,  and  sometimes  a  kind  of  convulsive 
shaking  of  his  shoulders  and  breast  would  act  with  an  almost  electric  power  on 
the  listener.    His  language  was  chaste  and  often  elegant,  but  you  would  think 


r 


JOHN  HOLT  RIOE.  841 

but  little  of  langntge,  while  your  mind  was  carried  away  by  his  thought.  His 
Toice  was  another  mode  of  expressing  his  emotions,  and  the  deep  tones  of  solemn 
earnestness,  indicative  of  pent  up  feeling,  woald  awaken  in  his  hearers  emotions 
far  more  correspondent,  than  any  amount  of  even  the  most  appropriate  gesticu- 
lation. He  seldom  resorted  to  any  irregular  modes  of  arresting  attention.  His 
was  the  farthest  from  the  least  appearance  of  an  eccentric  manner.  Yet  I  well 
remember  the  solemnity  produced  by  his  closing  a  very  impressive  service  with 
a  benediction  on  thoat  only,  who  had  determined  at  once  to  enter  on  a  Christian 
life. 

His  preaching  was  almost  uniformly  extempore.  He  used  notes,  (often  very 
brief,)  sometimes  covering  perhaps  a  sheet  of /K>lscap  paper.  His  letters  will 
oompare  &vourabIy  with  the  best  specimens  of  English  composition,  in  the  best 
days  of  English  literature.  He  had  no  time  to  write  sermons.  His  pen  was  never 
idle.  But  had  he  occupied  it  in-  writing  sermons,  he  would  not  have  had  time 
fi>r  other  writing.  However,  he  no  less,  perhaps  the  more,  studied  his  subjects 
for  pulpit  discussion.  His  prayers,  both  in  public  and  in  his  family,  and  among 
his  students,  were  fervent,  humble  and  comprehensive.  He  was,  on  all  occa- 
sions, deeply  impressive  and  often  affecting,  praying  with  unaffected  devoutness 
for  *'  all  kinds  and  conditions  of  men.'* 

Kext  to  his  desire  for  the  prosperity  of  Zion,  was  his  ardent  wish  for  the 
wel&re  of  his  country,  and  especially  of  his  native  State.  Two  great  evils, 
threatening  the  future,  were  ever  before  his  mind ;  and  among  my  earliest  recol- 
lections of  his  preaching,  are  my  impressions  of  the  warnings  he  uttered  relative 
to  the  increase  of  Intemperance  and  the  Papacy.  He  had,  years  before  his 
death,  with  almost  prophetic  sagacity,  warned  his  countrymen  of  the  dangers  of 
popular  ignorance  on  religious  subjects,  especially  among  the  slaves,  and  depicted, 
in  most  remarkably  correct  colours,  the  career  of  such  a  "  crisp-haired  prophet  " 
coming  as  a  messenger  of  Heaven,  with  blood-thirsty  and  demoniacal  passions, 
M  actually  signalized  the  autumn  of  his  death,  by  the  memorable  '*  Southamp- 
ton Massacre.*' 

I  remain  yours  truly, 

B.  M.  SMITH. 


-•♦- 


BENJAMIN  MORGAN  PALMER,  D.  D.* 

1803—1847. 

Benjamin  Mobqan  Palmsr  was  the  grandson  of  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Palmer,  who  was  a  native  of  Barnstable,  Mass.,  was  graduated  at  Harvard 
College  in  1727,  was  ordained  at  Falmouth,  Mass.,  in  1730,  and  died  April 
13,  1775,  aged  sixty-eight.  J9e  was  the  eldest  son  of  Job  Palmer,  origin- 
ally of  Falmoath,  who  emigrated  from  Massachusetts  to  Charleston,  S.  C, 
previoas  to  the  Revolutionary  war,  where  he  died  January  30,  1845,  in  his 
niDety-seTenth  year.  He  was  bom  at  Philadelphia  on  the  25th  of  Septem- 
ber, 1781,  while  his  parents  were  sojourning  there,  having  been  driven  from 
their  own  home  by  the  storm  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  a  pupil  of  the 
College  of  Charleston,  while  it  was  a  grammar  school  under  the  charge  of 
the  Rt.  Rer.  Bishop  Smith ;  but  in  1797,  he  was  removed  to  Princeton 
College,  where  he  was  honourably  graduated  in  the  year  1800. 

*  HIvtory  of  the  Circular  Chnrch,  Charleston.— Charleston  newspapers,  1847. — MSS.  from 
hli  fiunUy. 


342  PRESBTTERIAK. 

After  leaving  College,  he  studied  Theology  under  the  joint  direction  of 
the  Rev.  Doctors  Keith  and  HoUingshead,  the  co-pastors  of  the  two  Con- 
gregational Churches  in  Charleston,  known  as  the  Circular  and  Archdale 
Street  Churches,  and  united  in  the  same  Corporate  Body.  Ho  was  licensed 
to  preach  on  the  7th  of  June,  1803,  by  **  the  Congregational  Association 
of  ministers  in  South  Carolina,"  and  by  the  same  Body  was  ordained  and 
installed  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Beaufort,  S.  C,  on  the  28th  of  April, 
1804.  His  connection  with  this  Association  continued  untU  the  year  1822, 
when  the  Association  was  merged  in  the  Charleston  Union  Presbytery. 

On  the  4th  of  May,  1807,  Mr.  Palmer  was  married  to  Mary  S.,  daughter 
of  Capt.  Jared  Bunce,  of  Philadelphia,  who  was  a  native  of  Wethersfieldt 
Conn.     The  marriage  took  place  in  Charleston. 

With  the  congregation  at  Beaufort  he  laboured  for  several  years  with 
much  fidelity,  but  not  without  serious  embarrassment  for  want  of  an  ade- 
quate support.  His  friend,  Br.  Keith,  had  long  urged  him  to  leave  the 
plate,  and  come  to  Charleston,  and  open  a  school  for  his  immediate  support, 
until  some  favourable  opportunity  should  occur  for  the  regular  exercise  of 
his  ministerial  functions.  On  the  15th  of  November,1813,  Dr.  K.  wrote  to 
him  a  very  earnest  letter  on  the  subject,  which  found  him  just  recovering 
from  a  severe  illness  ;  and,  in  consequence  of  this  letter,  Mr.  Palmer  imme- 
diately went  to  Charleston  to  confer  with  his  venerable  friend,  in  the  hope 
of  being  able  to  satisfy  himself  in  respect  to  the  course  of  duty.  After 
much  consultation  and  some  mental  conflict,  he  resolved,  in  accordance  with 
Dr.  Keith's  recommendation,  to  open  a  school ;  and,  on  the  morning  of  the 
14th  of  December,  1813,  he  sent  off  to  his  church  in  Beaufort  a  letter 
resigning  his  pastoral  charge.  In  two  hours  after  thb  was  done.  Dr.  Keith 
was  struck  with  apoplexy,  and  in  seven  hours  more,  breathed  his  last. 

After  Dr.  Keith's  death,  at  the  close  of  1813,  the  attention  of  the  vacant 
church  was  turned  towards  Mr.  Palmer  as  a  suitable  person  to  succeed  him ; 
and  notwithstanding  he  had  been  brought  up  in  the  midst  of  them,  and 
laboured  under  the  disadvantage  of  being  a  prophet  in  his  own  country,  yet 
so  high  was  their  estimate  of  his  talents  and  character,  that,  after  a  short 
time  (in  1814)  they  gave  him  a  call  to  become  their  Pastor,  as  colleague 
with  Dr.  Hollingshead, — which  he  accepted.  On  the  death  of  Dr.  H.  in 
January,  1817,  Mr.  Palmer  remained  co-pastor  of  the  same  Churches,  in 
association  with  the  Rev.  Anthony  Forster,  until  July  following,  when  the 
separation  of  the  two  Churches  took  place.  From  that  time,  he  continued 
sole  Pastor  of  the  Circular  Church,  until  July,  1835,  when  his  health  had 
become  so  much  reduced  that  he  was  compelled  to  resign  his  charge  and 
place  himself  on  the  foundation  for  the  support  of  disabled  clergymen  in  its 
connection.  The  Society  entrusted  with  the  administration  of  this  charity, 
conferred  on  him  a  pension  of  a  thousand  dollars  per  annum,  which  was  con- 
tinued without  interruption  or  abatement  to  the  close  of  his  life.  After  his 
resignation,  he  still  continued  occasionally  to  preach,  as  his  health  would 
permit,  sometimes  supplying  small  and  destitute  congregations,  sometimes 
taking  a  short  mission,  and  frequently  labouring  in  the  Seamen's  cause,  or 
in  aid  of  the  Temperance  Eeformation.  Many  of  his  summers,  especially  after 
he  resigned  his  charge,  he  spent  at  the  North,  where  he  became  well  known, 
and  had  many  friends  from  whom  he  always  received  a  warm  greeting.  For 
two  years  previous  to  his  death  he  had  resided  in  the  village  of  Orange- 
burg, S.  C,  where  he  greatly  endeared  himself  to  the  whole  community. 


BENJASaN  HORQAN  PALMER.  343 

His  last  sennon  was  preached  in  the  Methodist  Church  at  Orangeburg, 
a  short  time  before  he  died.  His  death  took  his  friends  by  surprise. 
He  had  been  labouring  under  a  severe  attack  of  influenza  for  a  few  days, 
bat  was  considered  decidedly  convalescent  until  the  day  of  his  death  ; 
when,  in  consequence,  as  was  supposed,  of  an  imprudent  use  of  cold  water 
after  a  powerful  anodyne,  he  became  suddenly  very  ill,  and  fell  into  a 
lethargic  slumber  from  which  he  never  awoke  in  this  world.  He  died  on 
the  9th  of  October,  1847,  in  the  sixty-seventh  year  of  his  age.  Not  only 
the  Congregation  to  which  he  had  formerly  ministered,  but  the  Charleston 
Union  Presbytery,  as  well  as  some  of  the  Benevolent  Associations  of  which 
he  had  been  an  active  member  and  patron,  passed  Resolutions  expressive  of 
their  high  sense  of  his  extraordinary  worth. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  College 
of  South  Carolina  in  1815. 

At  the  time  of  Dr.  Palmer's  death,  his  wife  was  suffering  severely  from 
an  attack  of  neuralgia  in  the  head,  and  was  not  able  fully  to  realize  his 
death  until  the  day  after  it  occurred.  She  then  seemed  composed  and  tran- 
quil ;  but  on  the  Saturday  following,  the  16th  of  October,  she  too  fell  into 
a  profound  sleep  out  of  which  she  awoke,  as  was  confidently  believed,  in  a 
better  world.  Thus  in  their  deaths  the  husband  and  the  wife  were  scarcely 
divided. 

They  left  behind  them  two  daughters,  Mrs.  Lanneau  and  Mrs.  Shindler, 
(formerly  Mrs.  Dana,)  both  of  whom  still  (1857)  survive.  They  had  buried 
•even  children. 

The  following  b  a  Ibt  of  Dr.  Palmer's  publications : — Believing  Baptism, 
no  argument  against  Infant  Baptism  :  A  Sermon  preached  in  Beaufort,  1809. 
G^ratitude  and  Penitence  recommended  from  the  united  consideration  of 
national  judgments  :  A  Sermon  delivered  on  a  day  appointed  for  Humilia- 
tion, Thanksgiving,  and  Prayer,  in  Charleston,  1814.  The  signs  of  the  times 
discerned  and  improved :  Two  Sermons  delivered  in  the  Independent  Church, 
Charleston,  1816.  The  Dejected  Christian  encouraged:  Two  Discourses, 
preached  in  the  Independent  Church,  Charleston,  1816.  A  Charge  at  the 
Ordination  of  Bev.  Jonas  King,  and  Bev.  Alfred  Wright,*  the  former  of 
whom  was  ordained  as  City  Missionary  in  Charleston,  among  the  seamen  and 
others ;  the  latter  as  a  missionary  to  the  Choctaw  Indians,  1819.  A  Ser* 
mon  on  the  Anniversary  of  the  Sabbath  School  Association  in  Charleston, 
1819.  Importance  of  the  ministerial  office :  A  Sermon  preached  in  the  Inde- 
pendent or  Congregational  Church  in  Charleston  at  the  ordination  of  five 
young  men  as  Evangelists,  1821.  Beligion  profitable :  A  Sermon  with  a 
special  reference  to  the  case  of  Servants,  delivered  in  the  Circular  Church, 
1822.  The  three  following  were  published  in  the  Southern  Preacher,  1824 — 
The  reasons  which  Christians  have  for  mourning  the  sudden  removal  of  men, 
who  have  been  distinguished  for  the  excellence  of  their  characters,  and  the 
usefulness  of  their  lives ;  A  Sermon  delivered  on  the  death  of  Dr.  David 
Bamsay.  A  Sermon  on  the  consequence  of  unbelief.  A  Sermon  on  the 
admonition  administered  to  Elijah.     Good  men  the  protection  and  ornament 

«  ALFftED  Wright  wm  a  native  of  Columbia^  Conn. ;  waa  graduated  at  Williama  College  in 
1813;  entered  the  theol^rfcal  eeminary  at  Andover,  but  wax  recalled  to  Williams  College  as 
Tutor  in  1614;  held  the  Tntorahlp  for  one  jear;  and  then  entered  the  ministry,  and  became  a 
ndisioDary  under  the  American  Board  of  Commiaiionen  for  Foreijpi  Minions  to  the  Cbootaw 
Indians,  among  whom  he  spent  his  life  in  the  most  arduous  and  self-denving  labours,  lie  was 
a  BOft  amiable  man,  an  exeellent  scholar,  en  earnest  and  consistent  Christian,  and  a  deroted 
•ad  Hkimt  mimidnai/.    Ue  died  In  the  jrear  1855. 


344  PRBSBYTERIAK. 

of  a  oommiinity :  A  Sermon  ddtrered  in  the  Girenlar  Ghnreh,  Charleston, 
on  the  death  of  Josiah  Smith,  Esq.,  eldest  Deacon  of  the  Ohureh,  1826. 
The  children  of  professing  believers,  God's  children ;  or  the  right  of  the 
children  of  God's  people  to  the  initiating  seal  of  the  covenant  asserted  and 
maintained:  A  Sermon  delivered  in  the  Circular  Chnroh,  1835.  A  Sermon 
published  in  the  National  Preacher,  entitled  '*The  Sinner  arraigned  and 
convicted,"  1836.  The  Family  Companion,  with  an  Appendix  containing  a 
Sermon  delivered  on  the  Sacramental  occasion  that  terminated  his  pastoral 
relation  to  his  people,  in  July,  1835  ;  and  the  last  Sermon  he  ever  delivered 
to  them — only  a  few  weeks  before  his  death.     This  volume  was  posthumons. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  C.  DANA. 

Gharlbbtoh,  S.  C,  April  10,  1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  My  introduction  to  Dr.  Palmer  was  not  till  the  later  period 
of  his  life, — some  time  after  his  connection  with  the  Circular  Church,  as  Pastor, 
had  ceased.  But  there  was  no  mistaking  the  broad  outlines  of  his  character, 
and  I  am  happy  to  give  you  such  an  account  of  him  as  my  recollections  may 
furnish. 

The  great  charm  of  his  character  was  transparent  BimpUeity*  ''  Behold,  an 
Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile!  "  It  was  refreshing  to  meet  with  one 
whose  vigorous  and  affluent  intellect  commanded  the  respect  of  the  most  intel- 
lectual, who  wss  yet  in  character  and  manners  unsophisticated  as  a  child.  He 
lived  for  God  and  Truth,  apparently  free  from  all  thought  or  care  as  to  what 
effect  the  free  utterance  of  his  honest  opinions  might  have  on  his  personal  inter- 
ests. Truth,  moral  and  spiritual,  was  the  element  in  which  he  lived  and  moved, 
singularly  abstracted  from  worldly  cares,  and  indifferent  to  worldly  pelf  and 
worldly  opinions,  lie  was  thoroughly  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and  could  have 
been  nothing  else. 

Out  of  his  singleness  of  purpose  grew  his  remarkable  moral  courage.  To  the 
same  source  might  be  traced  another  distinguishing  and  attractive  feature  of  his 
character, — ^namely,  his  singular  exemption  from  all  feeling  of  jealousy  in  respect 
to  those  whose  popularity  might  come  in  competition  with  bis  own.  He  rejoiced 
in  every  good  blow  that  was  struck  for  truth,  no  matter  by  whom,  a4th  as  cor- 
dial and  jubilant  delight  as  if  the  whole  reputation  of  it  inured  to  himself.  He 
was  wholly  uninitiated  in  those  arts  by  which,  in  advancing  public  interests,  a 
wide  margin  is  left  for  personal  notoriety  and  aggrandizement.  He  had  a  gen- 
erous appreciation  of  all  fellow-labourers  in  the  good  cause  to  which  his  life  was 
devoted.  If  there  was  work  to  be  done,  he  was  always  ready,  when  called  upon; 
but  he  never  put  himself  forward  in  the  slightest  degree;  and  if  the  just  daims 
of  his  character  and  position  were  sometimes,  in  consequence  of  this  &cility  and 
modesty,  ignored  by  others,  he  never  seemed  to  notice  or  to  know  it.  He  arro- 
gated nothing  to  himself. 

Another  very  attractive  feature  of  his  character  was  the  absence  of  all  tend- 
ency to  dictate  to  others.  Free  and  independent  in  his  own  judgments,  he  wished 
others  to  be  equally  so.  Although,  in  the  maintenance  of  great  principles,  he 
had  the  courage  and  the  tenacity  which  in  other  days  might  have  led  to  martyr- 
dom, he  was  nevertheless,  in  all  lighter  matters  of  opinion,  singularly  facile.  A 
proposition  which  he  had  advocated,  he  would  withdraw  at  the  suggestion  of  the 
3'ounge8t  member  of  Presbytery,  without  the  slightest  hesitancy,  when  an  objec- 
tion which  he  had  not  thought  of  was  intimated.  He  had  an  exuberant  candour 
in  estimating  opinions  opposite  to  his  own.  The  impression  which  they  made 
upon  him  at  the  moment,  I  think  sometimes  misled  those  who  were  not  inti* 
niately  conversant  with  his  mental  traits.     They  knew  not  how  solidly  his  mind 


BENJAMIK  MORGAN  PALMEB.  345 

settled  down  on  its  mature  oonvietions, — the  breath  of  an  adverse  opinion  having 
but  transiontlyruffled  its  surface. 

At  the  same  time,  it  was  quite  useless  for  party  leaders  or  majorities  to  under- 
take to  dictate  to  him.  Whilst  others  counted  numbers,  he  busied  himself  in 
exploring  truth  and  right.  He  was  not  at  all  reluctant  to  be  in  the  minority. 
He  had  a  most  pertinacious  and  uncomfortable  habit  (as  some  found  it)  of  think- 
ing for  himself,  and  acting  according  to  his  opinions.  Hence,  although  naturally 
reserved,  perhaps  even  diffident,  he  was,  when  inspired  by  his  firm  convictions 
of  truth,  elevated  at  once  above  all  personal  considerations,  and  more  prone  to 
be  belligerent  than,  from  mere  policy,  silent.  He  was  the  exact  opposite  of  a 
wily  politician. 

His  mind  was  saturated  with  the  meaning,  spirit,  and  language  of  the  Bible. 
This  gave  distinctive  character  to  his  preaching  and  his  prayers.  In  the  pulpit 
be  was  always  instructive  and  edifying.  There  was  fresh  thought  in  all  his  ser- 
mons; and,  although  the  commonplace  arts  of  rhetoric  were  entirely  absent, 
tbere  was  that  in  the  deep  tones  of  his  voice  and  the  solemn  earnestness  of  his 
delivery,  which,  though  years  have  rolled  by  since  that  utterance  was  heard,  is 
still  vivid  in  memory.  His  preaching  seemed  not  so  much  the  result  of  any  spe- 
cific effort  or  aim  at  striking  effect,  as  the  natural  outflow  of  a  mind  always  full 
of  Scripture  truth.  His  prayers  were  most  remarkable.  All  who  heard  them 
were  constrained  to  feel  that  he  was  an  eminently  pure-minded,  spiritually- 
minded  man,  fiivoured  with  most  intimate  intercourse  with  Heaven. 

It  is  the  testimony  of  one  of  his  habitual  hearers,  surpassed  by  none  in  acute- 
sess  of  discrimination,  that  it  was  at  the  sacramental  table,  and  in  the  chamber 
oi  sickness,  that  he  shone  pre-eminent.  None  could  doubt  the  genuineness  and 
tenderness  of  his  Christian  sympathy. 

Among  the  lighter  traits  of  his  character,  one  is  pleasantly  associated  with  his 
memory  by  those  who  knew  him  intimately.  He  was  remarkable  for  abHenee  of 
ttiind.  In  company  he  was  often  abstracted,  evidently  carrying  on  a  process  of 
thought,  quite  remote  from  things  present  and  visible.  At  home,  he  would  some- 
times seem  to  be  restlessly  searching  for  something  in  the  room.  It  turned  out 
tiiat  he  was  seeking  an  idea,  I  have  heard  it  said  that  he  once  rode  horseback 
many  miles  in  the  rain,  quite  oblivious  of  the  cloak  and  umbrella  attached  to  his 
saddle.  It  is  pleasant  to  me  to  recall  his  personal  appearance,  as  I  have  often 
seen  him  in  the  streets  of  Charleston,  erect  in  figure,  with  buoyant  step,  his  eye, 
like  his  mind,  directed  rather  to  Heaven  than  earth,  and  too  much  absorbed  in 
bis  own  thoughts  to  notice  the  salutation  of  some  passing  friend. 

I  regret  that  I  can  offer  you  nothing  more  worthy  of  the  exalted  subject;  but 
I  still  feel  pleasure  in  adding  my  humble  tribute  to  the  memory  of  one  whose 
simplicity  and  originality  of  character,  and  exalted  moral  worth,  are  so  eminently 
worthy  of  commemoration. 

I  am.  Rev.  and  dear  Sir,  with  true  respect  and  esteem, 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

W.  C.  DANA. 

FROM  THE  REV.  B.  M.  PALMER,  D.  D. 

Niw  Oruaks,  April  16,  1867. 
BeT.  and  dear  Sir:  When,  some  time  ago,  I  consented  to  furnish  you  a 
sketch  of  my  venerated  uncle,  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Palmer  of  Charleston,  S.  C, 
it  was  with  the  intention  of  enlisting  the  aid  of  a  distinguished  co-presbyter, 
who  was  for  many  years  his  intimate  associate  and  friend.  Providential  hind- 
rances having  disappointed  this  expectation,  I  must,  at  this  late  day,  attempt  to 
redeem  my  pledge,  fearing,  however,  that  this  communication  may  arrive  too 
late  for  your  purpose.  *It  is  to  be  regretted  that  this  portrait  is  not  drawn  from 

Vol-  IV.  44 


346  »ESBTTBRIAK. 

the  memory  of  some  contemporary,  whose  remmiseeDces  would  cover  the  whole 
area  of  his  life,  instead  of  that  smali  section  of  it  em  braced  iif  mj  own;  and 
whose  description  wonld  be  received  by  the  Christian  public  with  less  suspicion 
than  that  of  one,  who,  in  the  nearness  of  a  double  relationship,  is  only  less  than 
a  son.  Since  this  delicate  duty  must  at  last  devolve  upon  a  kinsman,  I  wish 
there  was  time  to  remit  it  to  others  of  the  &mily ,  who  grew  up  and  were  shaped 
under  his  influence,  and  not  like  myself,  thrown  off  by  the  chances  of  life,  enjoy- 
ing only  occasional  interooune.  So  intensely  individual,  however,  was  his 
character  that,  even  under  these  disadvantages,  I  have  no  fear  of  presenting  a 
likeness  whose  accuracy  will  not  be  attested  by  his  most  superficial  acquaint- 
ance. 

In  few  men  did  the  outward  presence  so  perfectly  harmonize  with  the  intellec- 
tual and  moral  character,  as  in  Dr.  Palmer.  He  was  of  medium  stature;  though 
a  spare  habit  and  an  erect  figure  added  to  his  apparent  height.  Pre-eminently 
composed  in  manner;  dignified,  if  not  graceful  in  his  carriage;  with  a  deq» 
sonorous  voice;  and  a  countenance  singularly  placid,  yet  strongly  furrowed  by 
thought: — an  air  of  repose  rested  upon  his  whole  person,  indicating  habitual 
self-communion  and  meditations  that  were  not  of  earth.  In  the  midst  of  society, 
he  was  often  sunk  in  reverie,  wrapt  up  in  the  seclusion  of  his  own  thoughts :  and 
this  abstracted  air,  supported  by  the  acknowledged  sanctity  of  his  life,  secured 
to  him  the  homage  of  universal  reverence.  This  characteristic  trait,  indeed, 
very  naturally  gave  rise  to  many  amusing  contretemps,  richly  enjoyed  by  his 
intimate  friends  around  the  fireside,  and  the  recital  of  which  he  would  himself, 
with  a  genial  humour,  often  relish.  Wonder  was  sometimes  expressed  that  a 
man,  whose  senses  were  apparently  so  locked  up  to  the  passing  world,  should 
yet  evince  in  his  discourses  so  practical  a  knowledge  of  mankind.  But  the  secret 
would  often  transpire  in  quaint  and  humorous  observations,  which  showed  that 
beneath  the  arch  of  those  heavy  eye-brows,  and  behind  that  abstracted  mein, 
searching  and  comprehensive,  though  unsuspected,  glances  of  human  life  were 
taken  by  this  quiet  man  of  thought. 

Dr.  Palmer's  mind  was  distinctly  formed  upon  the  stem  and  classic  models 
of  antiquity.  I  cannot  say  whether  his  acquaintance  ranged  over  the  entire 
circle  of  ancient  literature;  but  I  well  remember  the  frequent  surprise  of  his 
juvenile  kindred  at  the  ease  and  evident  unction  with  which  he  would 
recite,  not  the  usual  excerpted  phrases,  but  fresh  and  unfamiliar  passages, 
from  Roman  authors;  showing  the  depth  of  his  sympathy  with  those  old 
writers  who  had  formed  his  taste.  Hence  was  derived  the  Doric  simplicity 
of  his  style,  which  continually  extorted  the  praise  even  of  critics.  As  a 
speaker  he  was  proverbially  calm  and  selfrcontained;  never  vehement  and  never 
swept  away  by  currents  of  passion.  This  is  not  mentioned  as  a  blemish,  but 
rather  as  proof  of  the  perfect  symmetry  of  the  man.  His  whole  a|^)earance  and 
bearing  reflected  precisely  his  intellectual  and  moral  constitution.  The  chaste 
simplicity  of  his  style — only  tinged  a  little  with  the  quaintness  of  his  fevourite 
religious  authors  of  the  seventeenth  century — was  exactly  suited  to  the  easy 
and  equable  flow  of  bis  thoughts;  while  the  grand  monotone  of  his  voice,  swell- 
ing like  a  deep  note  of  the  organ  through  the  spacious  dome  of  his  church — and 
his  calm,  impressive  and  measured  action,  the  very  impersonation  of  pulpit 
solemnity  and  awe,~~ exactly  harmonized  with  that  reflective  and  thoroughly 
meditative  cast  of  mind  which  distinguished  him  as  a  Christian  man  and 
teacher. 

I  would  not  myself  assign  to  my  honoured  kinsman  the  highest  rank  as  a 
scientific  theologian :  perhaps  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  his  life  induced  him  to 
undervalue  the  black-letter  lore  of  his  profession.  His  pulpit  instructions  were, 
however,  always  rich  in  evangelical  truth,  full  of  unction,  and  getting  at  the 
doctrines  of  grace  in  their  concrete  form,  as  imbedded  in 'the  hidden  experience 


BEKJAJfIN  HORGAH  PALMER.  347 

of  God's  children,  rather  than  as  abstract  dogmas,  richly  artlcalated  in  a  stereo- 
typed creed.  The  searching  and  experimental  character  of  his  preaching  was 
ratfaor  adapted  to  aid  the  pious  in  examining  their  Cfwn  hearts,  and  to  build  them 
ap  in  the  hopes  and  comforts  of  the  Gospel,  than  to  arouse  the  careless. .  lie 
was  eminently  "a  son  of  consolation."  In  the  chamber  of  sickness,  or  in  the 
house  of  moamiag,  the  veil  of  his  natural  reserre  seemed  of  itself  to  drop;  and 
by  distilling  consolation  into  wounded  hearts,  he  bound  to  himself  the  people  of 
his  charge,  as  it  is  the  fortune  of  few  pastors  to  do. 

But  if  inferior  to  some  of  his  compeers  in  the  dialectics  of  Theology,  he  sur- 
passed them  all  in  his  minute  knowledge  of  the  Bible  itself  He  was,  beyond 
dispute,  the  greatest  textuary  of  his  age,— «  living  Concordance  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. His  Bible,  and  other  most  fiimiltar  books, — with  every  blank  leaf  and  the 
margin  of  nearly  every  page  filled  with  parallel  texts,  written  like  hieroglyphics, 
in  a  microscopic  hand, — are  treasured  by  his  descendants  as  among  the  most 
precious  of  his  relics.  His  memory,  too,  was  literally  saturated  with  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Bible,  even  as  his  heart  was  steeped  in  its  spirit.  This  sacred 
dialect  became  indeed  so  familiar  to  him  that  he  never  opened  his  lips  in  pious 
discourse,  but  it  formed  the  readiest  vehicle  of  his  thoughts,  imparting  an  almost 
Apostolic  authority  and  richness  to  his  utterances.  To  this  cause,  as  well  as  to 
the  variety  and  depth  of  his  Christian  experience,  must  be  ascribed  his  astonish- 
ing gill  in  prayer.  He  always  impressed  you  with  the  belief  that  he  was  con- 
sciously talking  with  God;  and  as  petition  and  thanksgiving  poured  themselves 
forth  in  the  very  language  of  inspiration,  you  almost  felt  as  though  you  stood 
behind  the  High  Priest  of  old,  when,  with  Urim  and  Thummim,  he  was  receiv- 
ing responses  from  the  oracle  within  the  veil. 

Had  not  grace  fitted  him  to  receive  the  higher  and  purer  honours  of  a  preacher 
and  a  pastor,  Dr.  Palmer  had  many  attributes  which  would  have  caused  him  to 
shine  as  a  polemic.  The  earnestness  of  his  convictions,  united  with  great 
singleness  of  purpose;  the  concentrativeness  of  his  mind,  associated  with  a  con- 
stitutional feariessness  of  character;  and  the  ready  use  of  invective  and  a  certain 
eool  and  taunting  irony; — all  these  combined  to  render  him  a  formidable  antago- 
nist in  the  field  of  debate.  It  was  his  lot  indeed  to  pass  through  more  than  one 
bitter  and  protracted  controversy,  to  the  emergencies  of  which  he  always  proved 
himself  equal;  and  his  friends  are  still  fond  of  recalling  instances  of  the  almost 
reckless  intrepidity  with  which,  not  pausing  to  measure  consequences,  he  threw 
himself  single-handed  into  the  encounter  with  vice  or  error. 

The  trait  which  conspicuously  adorned  him  as  a  man,  was  sterling  honesty 
both  of  mind  and  heart.  Since  the  day  that  Nathaniel  sat  under  the  fig-tree, 
there  never  lived  on  earth  a  more  guileless  Israelite  than  the  subject  of  this 
sketch :  and  to  the  predominance  of  this  single  quality,  I  refer  the  few  actions  of 
his  life  that  were  open  to  criticism  or  censure.  Indeed,  I  cannot  more  emphati- 
cally represent  the  transparent  purity  and  more  than  Roman  integrity  of  Dr. 
Palmer,  than  by  saying  that  if  I  were  called  upon  to  pronounce  his  eulogy,  I 
would  as  soon  choose  his  faults  as  his  virtues  for  my  text.  It  would  soon  appear 
how  the  two  eventually  resolve  into  one.  His  errors  always  arose  from  the 
overlapping  of  some  virtue,  exercised  disproportionately  for  the  time,  and  dis- 
turbing the  beautiful  symmetry  of  the  man.  Incapable  of  finesse,  immaculately 
truthful  in  word  and  deed,  his  whole  life  being  but  the  incarnation  of  his 
principles,  his  virtuous  indignation  at  whatever  he  construed  as  a  dereliction 
from  honour  and  truth  would  sometimes  break  over  conventional  restraints,  and 
perhaps  lead  him  to  ofiend  against  the  amenities  of  life.  This  is  the  worst  that 
can  be  charged  upon  him  by  his  bitterest  enemy,  if  such  he  ever  had ;  and  it  was 
this  profound  conviction  of  his  honesty,  which  secured  to  him  the  confidence, 
esteem,  and  love  even  of  those  against  whom  he  was  controversially  arrayed. 


348  PRBSBTTERIAN. 

Dr.  Palmer  deserrw  to  be  reported  to  posterity  m  one  of  the  greki  men  of  hia 
times.  Great,  not  in  the  reach  and  grasp  of  his  intellect,  in  the  depth  or  yariety 
of  his  learning,  in  power  of  inyention,  or  of  philosophical  analysis;  but  great, 
first  of  all,  in  his  pre-eminent  goodness;  and  great,  next,  in  the  rare  combinaf- 
tion  of  his  intellectaal  and  moral  qualities.  Great  in  the  intense  indiTidnality 
of  his  character,  by  which  be  impressed  himself  upon  all  with  whom  be  came  in 
contact,  and  which  made  him  like  a  UU  cliff,  or  jutting  promontory,  observed 
and  known  of  all  men. 

Deprived  of  health  in  his  later  years,  he  laboured,  void  of  ambition,  in  small 
and  rcftnote  churches,  preaching  with  increasing  unction  and  power  to  the  last; 
when,  suddenly)  yet  gently,  he  fell  asleep  on  his  Saviour's  breast.  Many  throb* 
bing  hearts  must  lie  beneath  the  sod,  before  he  is  forgotten  on  earth;  yet  even 
then  will  his  memory  be  green  in  Heaven,  where  he  will  be  hailed  by  many  as  a 
spiritual  father,  whom  he  has  begotten  through  the  Gospel. 

Very  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

B.  M.  PALMER. 


■^^ 


ELISHA  TALE,  D.  D.* 

1803—1858. 

Elisha  Yale,  a  son  of  Justus  and  Margaret  (Tracy)  Tale,  was  bora 
at  Lee,  Mass.,  June  15,  1780.  His  parents,  however,  shortly  after  his 
birth,  removed  to  Lenox,  where  he  was  brought  up  under  the  ministry  of 
the  late  Dr.  Shepard.  His  father  was  a  farmer,  and  he  was  himself  aeeus* 
tomed  to  labour  on  a  farm  till  he  was  nineteen  years  old.  He  became,  as 
he  believed,  the  subject  of  a  renewing  influence  in  1799 ;  and  from  that 
time,  or  shortly  after,  he  meditated  the  purpose  of  becoming  a  minister  of 
the  Gospel.  He  taught  a  school  in  Richmond,  Mass.,  in  1798  and  1799, 
and  in  Lenox  in  1800. 

In  May,  1800,  he  commenced  a  course  of  study  under  his  pastor,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Shepard,  but,  after  a  short  time,  went  to  West  Hartford,  Conn., 
where  he  pursued  his  studies,  both  classical  and  theological,  under  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Perkins.  Here  he  continued  till  February,  1803,  when  he  was  licensed 
to  preach  by  the  North  Association  of  Hartford  County.  In  April  follow* 
ing,  he  went  to  preach  at  Kingsborough,  N.  Y.,  the  place  of  his  ultimate 
and  only  settlement.  Having  remuned  there  a  few  Sabbaths,  he  passed  on 
to  Oneida  County,  and  spent  a  month  at  Augusta,  and  then  returned  to 
Kingsborough,  and  remained  there  during  the  summer.  A  revival  of  reli- 
gion commenced  imme^ately  under  his  labours,  and  continued  without  any 
perceptible  abatement  a  whole  year.  In  the  autumn  of  that  year,  and  while 
the  revival  was  still  in  progress,  he  went  to  Becket,  Mass.,  and  preached  a 
short  time ;  then  returned  to  Kingsborough,  and  went  back  to  Becket  again 
in  the  early  part  of  1804,  when  he  received  a  call  to  settle  there  in  the 
ministry.  He  declined  the  call,  and  in  April  of  the  same  year,  received  ono 
from  Kingsborough,  which,  in  due  time,  he  accepted.     He  was  ordained 

•  Memoranda  fomiahed  by  Br.  Yale.— Hemohr  by  Rev.  Jenmiah  Wood.— M8.  ftom  Rev. 
Bdwaxd  Wall. 


BLISS  A  TALS.  349 

and  installed,  May  28, 1804,  the  council  beiog  composed  of  ministers  of  the 
Congregational,  Presbyterian,  and  Reformed  Dutch,  denominations.  The 
Sermon  on  the  occasion  was  preached  by  his  vendlrable  instrncter,  Pr. 
Perkins. 

He  was  married  in  September,  1804,  to  Tirzah,  daughter  of  Samuel 
Northrnp  of  Lenox,  who  survives  bim.     They  had  no  childreu. 

In  1818, 1814,  and  1822,  from  1829  to  1882,  in  1838  and  1889,  religion 
was  extensively  revived,  and  large  additions  were  made  to  the  church,  under 
his  ministry. 

He  was  chosen  a  corporate  member  of  the  American  Board  of  Foreign 
Missions  in  1888.  The  honorary  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  con- 
ferred upon  him  by  Union  College  in  1840. 

Dr.  Yale  began  to  receive  young  men,  with  a  view  to  superintend  their 
education,  at  least  in  its  earlier  stages,  almost  immediately  after  his  settle- 
ment ;  and  he  continued  to  do  this  until  1888,  when  the  necessity  of  it  was 
superseded  by  the  establishment  of  an  Academy  at  Kingsborough. 

He  continued  his  public  labours  with  little  interruption  till  March  16, 
1851,  when  he  was  attacked  with  paralysis,  which  confined  him  five  months. 
He  then  preached  one  sermon,  and  occasionally,  though  rarely,  preached 
after  that  time.  He  resigned  his  pastoral  charge  on  the  28d  of  June,  1852. 
In  August  following,  the  Rev.  Edward  Wall,  who  had  been  ordained  as  an 
evangelist  by  the  Presbytery  of  Rochester,  in  1851,  commenced  preaching 
to  the  then  vacant  church,  as  a  candidate  for  settlement,  and  was  installed  as 
its  pastor  on  the  80th  of  June,  1858. 

During  the  early  part  of  1852,  Dr.  Yale  was  engaged  in  completing  a 
work  which  had  occupied  his  attention  for  years,  and  which  was  published 
about  the  time  of  his  death,  entitled  **  Select  Yerse  System."  Two  other 
works  also,  which  had  not  been  published, — the  one  entitled  '*A  Review  of 
a  Pastorate  of  forty-eight  years,"  and  the  other  *'  Helps  to  cultivate  the 
conscience,"  he  finished  about  the  same  time.  On  the  first  Sabbath  in 
1858,  he  preached  in  the  morning  at  Gloversville,  and  in  the  afternoon 
administered  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  which  was  the  last  public 
service  he  ever  performed.  The  next  Saturday  evening,  (January  8,)  at 
eleven  o'clock,  he  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  apoplexy.  Remedies  being 
promptly  applied,  his  consciousness  returned  after  about  an  hour,  and  he 
conversed  with  great  freedom  and  the  utmost  serenity  until  about  four 
o'clock  the  next  day,  when  he  had  another  fit  which  almost  immediately 
brought  his  life  to  a  close.  His  Funeral  was  attended  on  the  succeeding 
Thursday,  and  an  appropriate  Discourse  delivered  by  the  Rev.  Jeremiah 
Wood  from  Job  v.  26.  Mr.  Wood's  Sermon,  in  connection  with  a  Memoir 
of  Dr.  Yale's  Life,  was  published  in  1854. 

Dr.  Yale  published  a  Sermon  on  genuine  and  spurious  religion,  1810 ;  a 
Sermon  at  the  installation  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ambler,  Greenfield,  N.  Y., 
1821 ;  a  Sermon  on  occasion  of  the  departure  of  Loring  S.  Williams  and 
wife  on  a  mission  to  the  Southwest,  1816 ;  The  Christian's  Home :  A  Ser- 
mon on  the  death  of  Deacon  Samuel  Giles  ;  Missionary  paper,  1845 ;  a 
Sermon  in  the  National  Preacher  on  **  the  Duties  of  the  Rich,"  1846;  a  Ser- 
mofk  on  the  Eldership  in  the  Church  of  God,  1852 ;  Select  Yerse  System, 
1853.  He  also  contributed  occasionally  to  several  religious  newspapers 
and  periodicals. 


g50  PSBSBTTSaiAN. 

My  aeqaaintance  with  Br.  Tale  oommenoed  at  th«  time  of  my  uutaUataoa 

in  Albany,  in  1829,  on  which  occasion  he  delivered  to  me  the  usual  Charge. 
From  that  time  till  yety  near  the  close  of  his  life,  I  was  in  habits  of  familiar 
intercourse  with  him. 

In  Dr.  Yale^s  personal  appearance  there  was  nothing  particularly  marked 
or  impressive.  He  was  fully  of  the  middle  stature,  and  of  a  oountenanoe 
rather  grave  than  lively.  His  perceptions  were  far  from  bdng  rapid,  but 
they  were  clear,  and  his  judgment  was  uncommonly  sound ;  and  when  his 
mind  was  once  maturely  made  up  on  any  subject,  he  rarely  had  occasion  to 
change  it.  If  he  was  cautious  in  forming  his  opinions,  he  was  still  more 
so  in  expressing  them;  especially  when  they  had  respect  to  any  real  or 
supposed  delinquencies  in  others.  He  had  naturally  a  kindly  and  benevo- 
lent  spirit,  that  disposed  him  not  only  to  judge  charitably,  but  to  bestow 
positive  favours,  whenever  it  was  in  his  power.  He  had  great  strength  of 
purpose ;  and  though  he  pursued  his  objects  noiselessly,  he  pursued  them 
with  untiring  seal  and  perseverance.  His  piety  was  at  once  intelligent, 
calm  and  earnest.  The  Bible  was  always  his  standard  <^  feeling  and 
action ;  and  no  one  who  knew  him,  ever  expected  to  hear  of  his  pursuing 
any  other  than  an  even  and  straight  forward  course.  His  spirit  was  eminently 
guileless,  and  his  manners,  though  far  from  being  polished,  were  gentle  and 
bland,  making  up  for  any  lack  of  artificial  culture,  by  the  humility,  meek* 
ness,  and  benignity  which  they  indicated. 

Dr.  Yale,  though  he  never  had  the  advantages  of  a  collegiate  education, 
y^^i  hy  great  application  and  perseverance,  made  himself  an  excellent  clas- 
sical and  genend  scholar.  In  all  that  was  necessary  to  prepare  young  men 
for  admission  to  College,  he  is  said  to  have  had  few  superiors  in  his  day. 
As  a  teacher,  he  was  uncommonly  attentive,  exact  and  successful. 

As  a  preacher,  he  never  had  any  great  popularity  in  the  ordinary  sense 
of  that  word ;  but  still  his  preaching  was  characterized  by  much  of  substan- 
tial excellence.  In  respect  to  religious  doctrine,  he  stood  by  the  Assembly's 
Catechism  with  a  constancy  that  never  wavered,  and  a  zeal  that  never  grew 
weary ;  though  it  is  probable  that  his  expositions  of  the  Catechism  were 
nearly  in  accordance  with  those  of  the  New  England  school,  in  which  he 
was  educated.  In  his  preaching  he  was  remarkable  for  dwelling  upon  dif- 
ferent truths  in  due  proportion ;  uniting  the  doctrinal,  the  practical,  and 
the  experimental,  without  making  too  much  or  too  little  of  any  of  them. 
His  discourses  were  always  rich  in  substantial  and  well  matured  thought, 
skilfully  arranged  and  presented  with  great  clearness  and  simplicity.  .  There 
was  nothing  ornate  in  his  style,  and  nothing  graceful  or  elegant  in  his 
delivery ;  and  yet  there  was  so  much  weight  in  what  he  said,  blended  with 
such  evident  sincerity  in  his  manner  of  saying  it,  that  no  intelligent  and 
sober  minded  person  could  hear  him  without  deep  interest.  The  fruits  of 
his  labours  show  that  he  must  have  been  in  the  best  sen^e  a  good  preacher* 

Dr.  Yale  had  great  influence  among  his  brethren  in  the  region  in  which 
he  lived,  and  especially  in  Church  Courts,  and  in  cases  of  difficulty.  His 
sound  Judgment  and  great  caution  gave  to  his  opinions  an  acknowledged 
importance  above  those  of  most  of  his  profession.  Though  he  was  Pastor 
of  a  Congregational  Church,  he  was  himself  a  Presbyterian ;  and  during  his 
ministry  was  an  efficient  member  of  the  Presbytery  of  Albany.  He  was 
remarkably  and  conscientiously  punctual  in  his  attendance  on  all  eoclesias- 


KLISHA  YALE.  35X 

tical  meetings,  and  there  was  no  one  whose  presence  was  more  welcome,  or 
whose  infloeuce  was  more  desirable. 

For  nothing  was  Dr.  Yale  more  remarkable  than  his  devotion  to  the  cause 
of  missions.  This  was  one  of  the  main  objects  for  which  he  liyed ;  and  he 
evinced  his  zeal  for  its  promotion,  not  merely  by  contributing  liberally, of 
his  own  substance,  or  by  promptly  meeting  every  demand  that  was  made 
npon  his  time  or  iuflucnce  from  abroad,  but  by  training  his  church  to  be 
emphatically  a  missionary  church ;  by  keeping  their  sense  of  obligation  on 
this  subject  so  habitually  alive  that  their  contributions  to  the  various  chari- 
ties of  the  day,  connected  with  the  renovation  of  the  world,  had  come  to 
form  a  distinct  and  important  part  of  the  economy  of  life. 

In  the  management  of  revivals  also,  he  was  equally  prudent  and  sue* 
eessful.  Kecognising  no  other  standard  of  truth  or  duty  than  that  which 
he  found  in  the  Bible,  he  endeavoured  to  conform  to  this,  even  amidst 
scenes  of  the  greatest  excitement;  he  carefully  distinguished  between  the 
true  and  the  false  in  Christian  experience ;  and  the  result  was  that,  though 
a  very  large  number  were  admitted  to  the  church  under  his  ministry,  there 
were  few  who  did  not  subsequently  exemplify  the  Christian  life.  Many  of 
the  young  men  whom  he  introduced  into  the  church,  have  since  entered  the 
ministry,  and  most  of  them  now  honourably  occupy  important  fields  of  use* 
fulness.  . 


FROM  THE  REV.  EDWARD  WALL. 

KmasBOROVOH,  September  18, 1864. 

My  dear  Sir :  My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Yale  was  brief.  I  arrived  in  Kings* 
borough  in  midsummer  of  the  year  1852 — ^Dr.  Yale  died  in  the  early  part  of  the 
following  January.  Yet,  from  the  peculiar  relation  I  sustained  to  him  as  his 
successor  in  the  pastorate  of  the  church,  over  which  he  had  so  long  presided,  I 
enjoyed  favourable  opportunities  for  observing  his  many  rare  and  beautiful  traits 
of  character.  The  impressions  produced  by  that  peculiar  aspect  which  was  pre- 
sented to  me,  are  what  I  would  recall  and  record. 

The  relation  in  which  we  stood  to  each  other  was,  as  is  well  known,  one  of 
great  delicacy.  I  was  the  youthful  successor  of  an  aged  pastor,  who  still 
resided  among  the  people  of  his  former  charge.  He  had  a  ministerial  experience 
of  half  a  century,  and  his  character  had  been  formed  under  other  influences  than 
those  which  mould  the  men  of  the  present  day.  I  was  inexperienced  and  educa- 
ted in  a  different  generation.  Yet,  there  never  was  the  slightest  grating  of  our 
distinct  individualities,  or,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  slightest  discordancy  even  in 
opinion  between  us.  And  this  resulted,  not  from  his  still  continuing  to  occupy 
in  reality  the  position  which  I  occupied  in  form,  but  from  his  accepting,  in  their 
full  extent,  all  the  consequences  involved  in  his  resignation  of  the  pastoral  office. 

As  to  myself,  I  can  truly  say  that  I  was  an  utter  stranger  to  any  fear  of  inter- 
ference or  intermeddling.  My  only  feeling  in  regard  to  his  presence  was  that  of 
gratitude  for  the  hallowed  influence  of  his  society,  and  for  the  opportunity  of 
profiting  by  his  experience.  Yet  it  was  natural  for  him  to  think  that  a  young 
nan  might  have  some  apprehensions  that  he  would  still  attempt  to  perpetuate 
his  authority.  Accordingly,  soon  after  my  arrival,  he  declared  to  me  that  his 
sole  desire  was  to  work  in  subordination  to  myself,  and  to  aid  me  in  accomplish- 
ing my  plans.  And  subsequently,  he  gave  such  prominence  to  this  thought  in 
various  ways,  that  it  became  almost  painful.  On  one  occasion  he  asked  my 
permission  to  distribute  some  religious  tracts  and  papera  among  the  families  who 
did  not  attend  churchy  adding  that  he  wished  to  take  no  step  without  my  hearty 


352  PEKSBTTESIAV. 

eoncnrrenoe.  He  refiued  to  petforra  the  meiriage  oeremoii  j  after  my 
On  tbe  first  occasion  of  this  kind  that  occurred,  I  called  upon  him,  and  with  ne 
feigned  earnestness  remonstrated  against  his  course.  I  remarked  that  it  was  tbe 
prerogative  of  the  lady  to  choose  the  person  who  should  perform  this  ceremony, — 
thf  t  it  was  natural  that  young  people  whom  he  had  baptized,  and  whose  parents, 
in  gome  instances,  he  had  baptized  and  married,  should  wish  him  to  perform  the 
ceremony;  and  that  for  my  part,  I  should  not  feel  pleasantly  to  officiate  at  wed- 
dings, when  I  knew  that  no  choice  in  the  matter  had  been  left  the  parties,  hut 
they  had  been  driven  reluctantly  to  me.  His  answer  was  characterized  by  his 
accustomed  good  sense  and  knowledge  of  the  human  heart.  The  performance  of 
such  ceremonies,  be  said,  belonged  to  the  office  of  the  pastor.  Marriages  and 
funerals  contribute  to  form  those  ties  which  bind  together  pastor  and  people. 
"Besides,*'  he  added,  "I  may  yet  live  for  years,  and  by  and  by  my  faculties 
may  begin  to  fail.  And  if  I  were  not  still  called  on,  I  might  be  wounded  by  the 
neglect.  Now,  therefore,  while  in  the  full  possession  of  all  my  powers,  when  I 
can  decline  such  calls  altogether  with  honour,  I  choose  to  do  it." 

He  carried  the  same  delicacy  and  reserve  into  the  communication  of  informa* 
tion  and  advice,  even  when  it  was  solicited.  I  was  naturally  desirous  of  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  those  methods  by  which  he  had  so  successfully  cultivated 
religion  and  benevolence  among  his  people.  I  wished  to  infuse  the  new  life  into 
the  old  forms,  well  knowing  that  many  mistake  a  change  of  form  for  a  change  of 
substance.  But  I  never  could  get  him  to  enter  upon  a  description  of  his  methods, 
and  whatever  information  I  got,  I  was  compelled  to  gather  from  other  sources. 

It  was  a  marvel  to  me  how  completely  he  divested  himself  of  those  feelings 
which  one  would  have  thought  long  exercise  would  have  matured  into  a  second 
nature.  I  know  not  that  he  ever  differed  from  me  in  regard  to  any  statement  of 
truth,  or  any  opinion  which  I  publicly  expressed  as  a  religious  teacher.  If  ho 
differed,  it  was  unexpressed,— knowing,  doubtless,  that  the  error,  if  there  was 
an  error,  would  do  less  harm,  than  the  discredit  which  would  be  thrown  on  all 
my  instructions  by  his  condemnation  of  a  part.  He  would  listen  to  my  preach- 
ing with  such  attention  and  humility  as  often  humbled  me.  This  was  owing,  I 
soon  discovered,  not  so  much  to  what  I  uttered,  as  to  what  his  own  mind  fur- 
nished. He  always  brought  half  the  feast  with  him,  and  the  thoughts  which  I 
uttered  in  weakness,  he  would  so  enrich  and  enlarge,  that  when  he  referred  to 
them  in  our  social  meetings,  I  could  scarcely  recognise  my  own  offspring. 

He  was  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  a  happy  old  age  that  I  have  ever  seen. 
In  public  he  dressed  with  scrupulous  neatness  and  propriety.  His  ftce  was 
habitually  serene,  and  sometimes  even  sad  and  solemn.  Yet  I  have  never  seen 
a  sweeter  smile  on  human  lips  than  that  which  he  often  wore.  It  seemed  to  be 
the  overflowing  of  a  holy  and  happy  heart,  and  would  light  up  his  whole  features, 
like  sunlight  on  a  ruined  temple. 

His  whole  demeanour  to  myself,  as  a  minister,  and  as  a  man,  was,  as  far  as  I 
could  discern,  perfect.  I  could  detect  no  failure.  I  could  suggest  no  improve- 
ment. No  man  bred  in  courts,  could  have  treated  me  as  a  minister  with  a  rarer 
and  more  exquisite  politeness,  with  a  finer  and  more  delicate  appreciation  of 
what  was  becoming  Arom  a  man  in  his  situation  towards  one  in  mine.  And  emi- 
nent as  he  was  as  a  pastor,  he  deserves  equally  to  be  held  up  as  a  model  to  those 
ministers  who,  after  having  resigned  their  pastoral  office,  still  continue  to  reside 
among  the  people  of  their  former  charge.  Of  his  treatment  of  me,  as  a  man,  it 
is  unnecessary  for  me  to  speak.  I  will  only  say  that  he  showed  himself  in 
every  way  as  solicitous  for  my  comfort  and  happiness  as  a  father  for  a  son. 

The  circumstances  connected  with  his  death  were  peculiar.  He  had  preached 
and  administered  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  on  the  previous  Sabbath. 
On  the  following  Saturday,  about  midnight,  his  last  and  fatal  malady  came  upon 
him.     Immediately  after  the  conclusion  of  the  second  service  on  the  Sabbath,  I 


ELISHA  TALE.  3g3 

Yttited  him.  He  waa  eTidently  in  great  pain,  but  his  countenance  still  wore  its 
wonted  aspect  of  Joyful  serenity.  He  talked  in  the  most  delightful  manner  of 
Heaven  and  Christ.  He  wept  for  sinners.  And  while  we  talked,  suddenly 
death  came,  and  we  were  separated.  I  was  the  only  man  present  when  he  was 
struck  with  death,  and  the  circumstances  involuntarily  reminded  me  of  another 
parting,  scarcely  more  triumphant,  when  Elisha  exclaimed,  as  he  beheld  the 
vanishing  form  of  Elijah  charioted  to  Heaven  in  fire,  ''My  father,  my  father, 
the  chariot  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof." 

With  great  respect  and  regard, 

I  remain  truly  yours, 

EDWARD  WALL. 


-•♦- 


JAMES  PATRIOT  WILSON,  D.  D  * 

1804—1880. 

James*  Patriot  Wilson,  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Matthew  Wilson  and 
Elizabeth  his  wife,  was  born  at  Lewes,  Sussex  County,  De.,  February  21, 
1769.  His  father  was  eminent  both  as  a  physician  and  a  clergyman,  and  his 
mother  is  represented  as  haying  been  a  model  in  all  her  domestic  and  social 
relations.  He  was  graduated  with  high  honour  at  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylyania,  in  August,  1788 ;  and  so  much  was  he  distinguished  in  the  various 
branches  included  in  his  collegiate  course,  that,  at  the  time  of  his  gradua- 
tion, it  was  the  expressed  opinion  of  the  Faculty  that  he  was  competent  to 
instruct  his  class  mates.  He  was,  at  the  same  time,  offered  a  place  in  the 
University,  as  Assistant  Professor  of  Mathematics ;  but,  as  his  health  was 
somewhat  impaired,  and  the  air  of  his  native  place  was  more  congenial  with 
his  constitution,  he  became  an  assistant  in  the  Academy  at  Lewes,  taking 
measures  to  regain  hb  health,  and  occupying  hb  leisure  with  reading 
History.  Having  devoted  himself,  for  some  time,  to  the  study  of  the  Law, 
he  was  admitted  to  the  Bar  in  Sussex  County,  in  1790.  Though  he  had 
acquired  a  reputation  as  a  lawyer,  unsurpassed  perhaps  in  his  native  State, 
yet  he  ere  long  relinquished  his  profession,  and  entered  the  ministry. 
During  the  earlier  part  of  bis  life,  he  bad  been  sceptical  in  respect  to 
Christianity ;  but,  by  a  scries  of  distressing  afflictions,  one  of  which  was 
the  assassination  in  the  dark  of  an  only  brother,  he  was  brought  to  serious 
reflection,  and  ultimately,  not  only  to  a  full  conviction  of  the  truth,  but  to 
a  practical  and  cordial  acceptance  of  it.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  the 
Gospel  in  1804,  by  the  Presbytery  of  Lewes,  and  in  the  same  year  was 
ordained  and  installed  as  Pastor  of  the  united  Congregations  of  Lewes, 
Cool  Spring,  and  Indian  River; — the  same  which  had  for  many  years 
enjoyed  the  ministry  of  his  father.  In  May,  1806,  he  was  called,  at  the 
instance  of  the  late  Dr.  Benjamin  Rush,  (his  early  and  constant  friend,) 
to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Philadelphia: 
he  accepted  the  call,  by  advice  of  the  Presbytery  of  Lewes,  and  removed 
to  Philadelphia  the  same  year.  In  May,  1828,  he  retired  to  his  farm 
about  twenty  miles  from  the  city,  on  account  of  the  infirm  state  of 

•  MR,  from  hii  aoD,  Rer.  Dr.  J.  P.  WOiOB. 
ToL.  lY.  45 


354  PBXSBTTEBIAir. 

health ;  preaching  neyertheleaa  to  his  oongregatioD,  as  often  as  his  h^th 
permittod.  His  reaignation  of  his  pastoral  charge  was  accepted  in  the 
spring  of  1880.  In  the  coarse  of  that  season  he  yisited  the  city,  and 
preached  for  the  last  time  to  his  people.  He  died  at  his  farm  in  Backs 
County,  in  the  utmost  peace,  on  the  9th  of  Decemher,  1830,  and  was 
buried  on  the  13th,  in  a  spot  selected  by  himself  in  the  grave  yard  of 
Neshaminy  Church.  Hb  remains  lie  near  the  tomb  of  the  celebrated 
William  Tennent,  the  founder  of  the  '*  Log  College.'* 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  Uniyer- 
sity  of  Pennsylvania  in  1807. 

In  June,  1792,  he  was  married  to  Elisabeth,  daughter  of  John  and 
Hannah  Woods,  of  Lewes,  with  whom  he  lived  but  little  more  than  three 
years,  as  she  died  in  December,  1795.  She  had  two  children,  but  neither 
of  them  survived  her.  His  attachment  to  this  lady  is  said  to  have  been, 
even  in  his  own  estimation,  quite  idolatrous.  He  was  absent  from  home  at 
the  time  she  became  dangerously  ill,  and  was  imoiedtately  sent  for,  but  did 
not  arrive  until  she  had  become  speechless,  though  her  reason  still 
continued.  Her  eyes  followed  him  around  the  room,  wherever  he  moyed,  in 
intense  earnestness,  but  her  lips  could  not  do  their  office.  He  hung  over 
her,  as  a  mother  over  the  cradle  of  her  dying  child,  in  hope  of  some  parting 
word  of  affection;  but  it  was  in  vain.  A  lady  who  sat  up  with  her  corpse 
during  the  night  after  her  decease,  remarked  that  she  could  hear  him  all  night 
walking  the  room  over  that  in  which  she  had  died,  and  occasionally  pro^stra- 
ting  himself  heavily  upon  the  floor  and  groaning  aloud.  In  referring  to  this 
event  at  a  subsequent  period,  in  some  written  memoranda  that  still  remain, 
he  remarks, — '*  it  was  in  the  course  of  providence  necessary  to  bring  me  to 
my  senses."  In  May,  1798,  he  was  married  to  Mary,  daughter  of  David 
and  Mary  M.  Hall,  and  sbter  of  the  late  Governor  Hall  of  Delaware.  By 
this  marriage  he  had  nine  childpen, — only  two  of  whom  survived  him.  Mrs. 
Wilson  died  on  the  5th  of  January,  1839,  after  three  months  suffering  from 
the  puncture  of  a  needle  in  the  sole  of  her  foot, — resulting  finally  in  morti- 
fication. 

Dr.  Wilson  was  in  person  above  the  middle  height,  and  had  a  countenance 
rather  grave  than  animated,  and  expressive  at  once  of  strong  benevolent  feel- 
ing and  high  intelligence.  In  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  society,  his  man- 
ners were  exceedingly  bland,  though  he  was  as  far  as  possible  from  any 
approach  to  the  courtier.  He  was  affable  and  communicative,  and  generally 
talked  so  sensibly,  or  so  learnedly,  or  so  profoundly,  that  he  was  Hastened  to 
with  earnest  attention.  He  had  some  peculiarities  that  would  sometimes 
excite  a  smile,  but  they  would  not  diminish  any  body^s  respect  for  his 
character.  I  saw  him  a  few  times  in  private,  and  he  struck  me  as  a 
model  of  a  Christian  philosopher.  He  was  uniformly  gentle,  urbane,  and 
obliging,  and  rarely  spoke  without  uttering  something  that  I  could  wish  to 
remember.  I  heard  him  preach  one  sermon,  and  it  was  throughout  as 
consecutive  and  condensed  as  the  demonstration  of  a  problem  of  Euclid. 
I  am  confident  that  .1  never  heard  another  preacher  who  tasked  my  powers 
of  attention  and  reflection  so  much — the  loss  of  a  sentence  or  two  would 
have  greatly  marred  the  impression  of  the  entire  discourse.  He  spoke 
without  notes,  and  with  great  deliberation,  but  with  as  much  correctneas  as 
if  eyery  word  had  been  written.  On  a  blank  leaf  of  his  copy  of  Henry 
Ware's  Tract  on  *<  Extemporaneous  Preaching,"  he  has  left  the  following 


JAMES  PATRIOT  WIL80K.  355 

testimony  over  hid  signature: — **I  have  preached  twenty  years,  and  have 
never  written  a  full  sermon  in  my  life,  and  never  read  one  word  of  a 
sermon  from  the  pulpit,  nor  opened  a  note,  nor  committed  a  sentence,  and 
have  rarely  wandered  five  minutes  at  a  time  from  my  mental  arrangement 
previously  made." 

Among  the  papers  of  the  late  Bev.  Dr.  Ashbel  Green  I  found  the  follow- 
ing note  addressed  to  him  by  Dr.  Wilson,  which  is  so  characteristic  of  the 
writer  as  to  be  worthy  of  preservation.  The  work  to  which  it  refers  seems 
to  have  been  sent  to  Dr.  G.,  with  a  view  to  its  beiug  noticed  in  the  *'  Chris- 
tian Advocate, *'  of  which  he  was  then  editor. 

*'8d  March,  1820. 

**  Rev.  Sir :  Through  undeserved  merey  I  still  live,  but  am  very  feeble, 
and  my  lungs  somewhat  affected. 

"  Having  received  from  a  learned  stranger  his  sublimation  and  correc- 
tions of  Hopkinsianism,  (perhaps  because  by  some  deemed  to  have  partaken 
at  the  same  fountain,)  I  take  the  liberty  to  send  it  to  you,  as  a  matter  of 
curiosity,  which,  when  you  have  glanced  at  it,  may  be  returned. 

"  The  first  dissertation  would  require  me  to  change  my  prayers.  The 
second  would  invert  the  order  of  my  conceptions.  The  third  alter  my 
Bible.  The  fourth  make  me  abandon  Ood's  justice,  and  frustrate  his  grace 
in  Jesus  Christ. 

**  Please  not  to  review  till  other  copies  come,  lest  I  be  blamed. 

**  BespectfuUy, 

"  J.  P.  Wilson. 

*^  When  I  came  to  his  rationale  of  the  atonement,  and  found  that  he  had 
exactly  reached  the  hypothesis  of  Burnet,  I  made  no  more  notes." 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Wilson's  publications: — Lectures  upon 
some  of  the  Parables  and  historical  passages  of  the  New  Testament,  1810. 
An  easy  Introduction  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  language,  1812. 
Ridgley's  Body  of  Divinity,  with  notes  original  and  selected,  1814.  An 
Essay  on  Grammar,  1817.  A  pamphlet  entitled  **  Moral  Agency  or  Natu- 
ral Ability  consistent  with  Moral  Inability  ;  being  Remarks  on  an  Essay  on 
the  Inability  of  sinners  by  a  Presbyterian."  By  a  Christian,  1819.  A 
pamphlet  entitled  '*  Sin  destitute  of  the  apology  of  Inability ;  or  Morai 
Inability  no  constituent  of  human  nature.  By  a  Christian,  the  author  of 
'  Moral  Agency.* "  A  Sermon  on  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Andrew  Flinn, 
D.  Dm  of  Charleston,  S.  C,  1820.  An  Essay  on  the  Probation  of  fallen 
men,  or  the  scheme  of  salvation  founded  in  Sovereignty  and  demonstrative 
of  justice,  1827.  Common  objections  to  Christianity  proposed  and  answered 
in  two  dispassionate  conversations,  1829.  The  Hope  of  Immortality 
imparted  by  Revelation,  transmitted  by  tradition,  countenanced  by  reason, 
betrayed  by  philosophy,  and  established  by  the  Gospel,  1829.  A  Free 
Conversation  on  the  unpardonable  sin ;  wherein  the  Blasphemy  against  the 
Holy  Spirit,  the  final  Apostacy,  and  the  Sin  unto  death,  are  shown  to  have 
been  originally  distinct,  1830.  The  Primitive  Government  of  Chrbtian 
Churches ;  also  Liturgical  Considerations.  [The  first  part  of  this  work 
was  published  in  Numbers  in  the  Christian  Spectator,  and  the  seoond, 
(Liturgical  Considerations,)  in  the  Philadelphian,  during  Dr.  Wilson's  life  * 
but  they  were  both  republished  in  a  volume,  by  his  son,  in  1883.] 


356  PRESBYTERIAN. 


FROM  THE  REV.  THOMAS  H.  SKINNER,  D.  D. 

PBOPIMOK  IH  THB   UHIOH  THIOLOQIOAL  SSKIirAKT,   HIW  TOMK. 

New  Tokk,  December  26, 1848. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  know  not  that  I  can  more  effectoally  meet  your  wish  in 
respect  to  Dr.  Wilson  in  any  way  than  by  sending  you  a  slightly  modified 
extract  from  a  Sermon  which  I  preached  on  the  occasion  of  his  death.  You  are 
at  liberty  to  do  with  it  as  may  best  suit  your  purpose. 

*' While  ministers  of  a  certain  class,  possessing  little  intellectual  furniture, 
besides  a  bare  knowledge  of  the  essential  truths  of  the  Gospel,  are,  with  warm 
spirits,  with  a  most  exemplary  zeal,  and  with  much  success,  constantly  employed 
in  applying  these  truths  to  the  hearts  of  their  fellow  men,  they  are  sometimes 
disposed  to  hold  in  too  little  esteem  the  labours  of  brethren  to  which  neverthe- 
less they  may  be  more  indebted  than  they  are  aware  of.  There  are  ministers  of 
Christ  whose  taste.  learning,  and  sense  of  duty  incline  them  to  deep  research 
into  the  principles  of  things,  to  careful  analysis  of  complex  subjects,  to  critical 
investigation  and  minute  exegesis  of  the  sacred  text,  to  elaborate  inquiry  into 
ecclesiastical  antiquities  and  the  opinions  and  productions  of  early  days,  and  to 
the  solution  of  all  the  most  subtile  objections  that  have  at  any  time  been  urged 
by  heretics  and  unbelievers  against  the  true  Christian  faith;  and  without  such 
toilsome  operations  at  the  fountains  of  wisdom,  less  curious  workmen  it  is 
certain  could  not  be  supplied  with  some  of  those  sweet  streams  of  which  they 
are  content  to  drink,  without  considering  sometimes  to  whom,  next  to  God, 
they  are  most  under  obligation  for  the  privilege.  When  our  friend  fell  asleep,  in 
what  pulpit  of  this  land  was  a  man  to  be  found,  so  enriched  as  himself  with  the 
fruits  of  these  patient  and  perhaps  too  unusual  reaches  of  mind  ?  Our  ears 
never  listened  to  a  preacher  whose  common  discourses  discovered  as  rich 
treasures  of  recondite  learning.  And  what  more  surprised  us  than  the  extent 
and  variety  of  his  acquisitions,  was  the  ease,  and  simplicity,  and  nice  exactness 
with  which,  on  all  occasions,  he  used  them.  In  proportion  to  the  depth  and 
difficulty  of  his  subjects,  his  tongue  was  ready  and  free  as  now  in  its  favourite 
sphere,— expressing  the  most  subtile  distinctions;  pursuing  the  most  refined 
and  complicate  argumentations;  collecting,  criticising,  paraphrasing,  Scriptures 
hard  to  be  understood;  reciting  out  of  ancient  and  uncommon  books,  historical 
testimonies  and  statements  of  doctrine;  without  the  assistance  of  notes,  and  yet 
with  a  fluent  precision  and  perspicuity  of  language,  which  no  such  assistance 
oould  have  improved. 

'*  Another  recollection  of  him  which  deepens  exceedingly  our  sense  of  the  loss 
we  sustain  by  his  departure  is  that,  with  his  great  elevation  in  other  respects, 
he  united  in  a  raro  degree,  what  transcends  all  other  excellence,  and  is  the 
highest  proof  of  true  greatness, — a  catholic  and  charitable  spirit.  We  never 
knew  one  who  scrutinized  more  severely  the  evidences  of  doctrine;  and  he  was 
consequently,  when  convinced,  not  liable  to  be  soon  shaken  in  mind;  nor  did  he 
lightly  esteem  the  truth,  which,  with  so  much  diligence  and  honesty,  he  had 
acquired;  or  think  it  unimportant  that  others  should  be  ignorant  of  it,  much 
less  that  they  should  falsify  or  pervert  it.  But  his  reading  was  too  various,  his 
observation  too  wide,  his  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  theological  strifes 
too  ample,  his  persuasions  too  lively  that  the  difierences  among  religious  parties 
are  rather  referable  to  a  sectarian  than  a  truth  seeking  spirit,  and,  while  they 
anatheouitize  one  another,  may  be  consistent  with  the  existence  in  some  degree 
of  real  piety  in  both,  and  their  ultimate  reconciliation  in  Heaven — ^he  was,  in  a 
word,  too  sound  minded  and  enlightened  a  man  to  be  a  fierce  champion  of  an 
ecclesiastical  shibboleth,  or  to  cast  those  out  of  the  Church  whom  he  might  sus- 
pect of  having  no  readiness  in  framing  to  pronounce  it  right.    He  was  among 


JAMES  PATBIOT  WILSON.  357 

the  worthiest  of  those  ministers  of  our  own  denominAtioo,  who,  espousing  no 
side  in  our  debates  about  orthodoxy,  are  willing  to  let  those  debates  proceed  as 
long  as  they  threaten  no  schism;  but  when  that  danger  is  seen,  throw  in  their 
influence  as  a  balance  wheel  in  a  vast  machine,  where  movement  without  such 
a  regulator  would  presently  stop  with  a  terrific  crash  and  damage.  Such 
was  the  spirit  of  this  high  souled  man;  and  who  of  us  can  consider  the  present 
state, — might  we  not  almost  say  criaia  of  affairs  in  our  Church, — without 
sighing  deeply  in  his  spirit,  that  the  voice  which  he  could  raisoy  were  he  here  in 
the  midst  of  us,  is  not  to  be  heard  again  in  our  assemblies. 

"Nor  was  it  merely  in  his  high  place  as  a  minister  of  Christ,  that  he  sin- 
gularly honoured  his  Master.  He  was  distinguished  by  simplicity  as  his  disciple, 
not  less  than  by  gifts  as  his  repr^entative,  and  it  is  when  these  two  exist  in 
union  that  they  become  worthy  of  admiration.  What  a  charm  is  there  in  gifts, 
when  simplicity  exercises  them;  and  how  venerable  is  simplicity  when  it  invests 
illustrious  gifts.  Never  have  we  seen  the  person  in  whom  simplicity  dwelt  in 
a  higher  degree.  Whether  in  his  public  ministrations  or  in  private  life,  this 
eminent  man  was  unassuming  as  a  little  child,  claiming  no  distinctions  above  the 
plainest  individual,  and  appearing  to  be  conscious  of  no  superiority  to  him  in 
any  kind  of  excellence.  Such  exemplifications  of  the  spirit  of  Christ  are  not 
so  common  amongst  us  that  we  shall  suffer  little  by  this  privation.  How  often 
does  the  Church,  not  to  say  the  world,  concede  reputation  for  greatness,  when 
it  is  no  sooner  received  than  it  becomes  manifest  there  was  a  mistake  by  the 
immediate  taking  on  of  stateliness  which  it  occasions.  Such  a  transcendent 
instance  of  the  reverse  of  this  weakness  was  not  to  be  lowly  rated  by  true  judges 
of  excellence,  and  by  them  at  least  the  loss  of  it  will  not  be  unlamented. 

"  With  such  rare  simplicity  in  such  a  man,  it  was  unavoidable  that  other  great 
virtues  should  be  united :  in  two  of  which  especially  he  was  almost  excessive. 
How  did  justice,  as  beaming  from  his  example,  rebuke  those  inconsistent  religion- 
ists, who,  by  their  ptous,  would  fain  make  atonement  for  their  diahaneaii 
actions;  and  how  did  his  generosity,  a  kindred  principle,  put  to  shame  those 
covetous  professors,  who  uphoard  treasure  for  themselves,  as  if  orphans,  and 
widows,  and  the  children  of  want,  had  ceased  from  among  men.  Time  fails  me  to 
speak  of  his  other  high  excellencies;  the  strength  and  calmness  of  his  feeling, 
his  gravity  and  cheerfulness,  his  rare  pleasantness,  and  exhaustless  resources 
in  conversation,  and  his  most  exemplary  manner  of  life  in  his  family.  I  shall 
leave  his  defects  to  be  reported  by  those  who  would  remind  us  that  human  nature 
is  imperfect;  only  begging  them,  if  they  censure  his  excitability,  and  his  too 
great  confinement  at  homo,  to  imitate  his  nobleness  in  retraction,  and  to  remem- 
ber what  an  invalid  he  was  the  last  twenty  years,  how  open  his  door  ever  stood 
to  visitors,  and  what  a  good  use  he  made  of  retirement.  It  being  our  purpose 
by  these  remarks  to  stir  and  strengthen  in  our  minds  a  just  sense  of  the  dispen- 
sation, which  has  taken  him  from  us,  we  choose  rather  to  ^member  to  what  a 
height  of  excellence  he  attained,  than  that  he  did  not  rise  beyond  it. 

"  It  does  not  alleviate  the  sadness  of  the  event  we  deplore,  that  it  occurred 
not  unexpectedly,  but  by  means  of  a  very  lingering  illness,  which  slowly 
enfeebled  his  frame,  until  it  could  no  longer  perform  the  least  function  of  life. 
On  his  own  account  we  rejoice  that  the  days  of  his  patient  suffering  are  ended; 
but  he  had  not  yet  numbered  threescore  years  and  ten,  and  the  force  of  his 
mind  was  never  greater  than  at  the  moment  he  ceased  to  breathe. 

"  He  departed  prematurely,  in  the  full  strength  of  his  intellectual  powers;  and 
that  dispase  should  have  so  long  interfered  with  the  use  of  those  powers  bofort 
his  hour  came,  only  gave  cause  in  a  less  degree  for  the  same  grief  which  his 
death  more  loudly  calls  for.  But  let  us  now  cease  from  recollections  of  what 
we  have  lost,  whether  by  the  infirmity  of  his  years,  or  the  too  soon  completion 


358  PBESBTTBBIAir. 

of  them,  to  secure  in  our  breasts,  if  possibler,  an  indelible  stamp  of  the  precious 
lesson  of  his  dying  conduct. 

'*  He  glorified  God  in  his  death.  Having  protracted  his  pastoral  labours  until 
his  breath  became  too  short  for  the  purpose  of  continuous  utterance,  he  reluct- 
antly concluded,  as  he  was  wont  to  say  to  his  friends,  that  his  work  for  the 
Church  and  his  Qod  was  done,  and  all  that  remained  for  him  now  was  to 
prepare  for  his  change.  And  how  seriously  did  he  set  himself  about  that 
most  momentous  of  all  the  undertakings  that  mortal  men  are  concerned  with ; 
choosing,  as  the  scene  of  it,  a  country  retreat,  and  there  amid  the  quiet  for  which 
he  always  pined,  ordering  his  conversation  and  reading,  his  prayers  and  medita- 
tions, with  constant  reference  to  the  great  event — whereby,  while  he  established 
his  own  heart  in  the  faith  of  the  Gospel,  the  hope  of  immortality,  and  confidence 
in  the  fullness  of  God's  forgiving  mercy,  he  became  so  instinct  with  these  Divine 
themes,  that  with  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer,  he  indited  for  the  edification  of 
survivors  a  short  treatise  on  each  of  them.  His  favourite  books  now  were  those 
of  the  most  spiritual  and  heavenly  strain,  whereof  the  '  Saints  Rest '  of  Baxter 
was  almost  always  found  with  the  Bible  upon  the  stand  beside  him.  Of  Baxter's 
work  especially  he  would  speak  in  strong  terms  of  commendation,  at  the  same 
time  remarking — '  there  is  no  book  to  be  compared  with  the  Bible,  and  if  I  might 
prefer  one  part  of  that  blessed  book  before  others,  I  would  say  I  love  the  Psalms  the 
best;  I  can  always  find  in  them  something  more  expressive  of  my  feelings  than 
my  own  language.'  At  the  last  Communion  service  of  the  Church  within  whose 
bounds  he  resided,  which  was  but  a  little  while  before  his  death,  he  took  part  in 
the  distribution  of  the  sacred  symbols;  and  in  a  manner  which  revealed  his 
assurance  that  he  should  never  so  officiate  again.  Solemn  from  a  sense  of  a  near 
eternity,  and  with  a  heart  enlarged  with  the  love  of  Christ,  and  the  hope  of  very 
soon  being  with  Him, — ^he  addressed  his  fellow- worshippers  on  the  great  things 
of  their  common  faith,  far  beyond  his  strength.  His  soul  henceforth  spread  her 
wings  for  the  world  of  rest.  He  said  to  a  friend, — '  I  have  a  strange  difficulty, 
and  you  will  perhaps  think  strangely  of  it;  I  am  at  a  loss  what  to  pray  for;' — 
and  added,  in  a  most  solemn  tone,  and  with  his  eyes  lifted  to  Heaven, — '  God 
knows  I  am  willing  that  whatever  He  pleases  shall  be  done.'  His  triumph  over 
the  fear  of  death  was  complete.  '  I  have,'  said  he,  '  been  looking  the  case  between 
God  and  myself,  over  and  over  and  over  again,  and  though  I  see  enough  to 
Justify  God  in  casting  me  ofi^,  a  thousand  times  and  more,  my  conviction  of  my 
interest  in  Christ  is  so  firm,  that  I  cannot  make  myself  afraid;  the  only  thing  I 
fear  is,  that  I  have  not  fears  enough.'  He  remarked  on  the  last  Sabbath  evening 
of  his  life,  'I  am  almost  home,  and  I  thank  God  that  T  am.  I  went  astray 
from  Him,  but  in  his  rich  mercy  He  brought  me  back.  I  am  unworthy  of  the 
least  of  his  mercies,  and  if  I  may  lie  down  beside  his  footstool,  or  if  He  will 
even  put  me  under  it,  I  will  take  the  very  lowest  place  in  Heaven.'  He  needed 
some  refreshment,  ifnd  when  the  cup  was  handed  to  him,  he  took  it  and  said, 
'0  God,  bless  this  cup — I  think  I  have  a  covenant  right  to  it.'  A  few  hours 
before  he  died,  he  asked  a  brother  in  the  ministry  to  pray  for  him,  and  specified 
this  petition — '  pray  that  God  will  do  with  me  just  as  He  pleases.'  '  Mark  the 
perfect  man,  and  behold  the  upright,  for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace.'  " 

Hoping,  my  dear  Sir,  that  you  may  have  great  assistance  and  success  in  the 
work  that  you  are  engaged  in, 

I  am,  with  the  highest  respect,  yours, 

THOMAS  H.  SKIKNBB. 


JAMBS  PATBIOT  WILSON.  359 


FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  PATTOK,  D.  D. 

Vsw  YoMLK,  March  18,  1848. 

My  doar  Brother:  I  knew  the  Rev.  Dr.  James  P«  Wilson;  for  my  earliest 
recollections  of  the  pulpit  are  associated  with  him.  So  far  as  known  to  me,  his 
was  the  flnt  church  that  I  ever  attended,*-my  parents  being  members  of  that 
congregation.  He  was  a  man  of  strong  peculiarities  arising  from  the  strength  of 
his  mind  and  affections.  His  sense  of  right  was  not  only  clear  and  vigorous  but 
powerfully  influential.  Before  his  conversion,  when  practising  at  the  Bar,  he 
secured  to  himself  the  enviable  reputation  of  "  the  honest  lawyer."  He  not  only 
would  not  take  advantage  of  any  mistake  on  the  part  of  an  opponent,  but  would 
candidly  admit  the  points  of  strength  and  justice  which  lay  on  that  side.  He 
would  refuse  to  defend  a  client  who  obviously  had  the  wrong  side,  and  uniformly 
advised  him  to  go  and  settle  the  business  without  delay. 

Naturally  Dr.  Wilson  was  of  a  highly  excitable  temperament,  but  he  was  ena- 
bled by  grace  so  to  keep  it  in  subjection  that  it  seldom  gained  the  mastery.  Per- 
haps an  exception  should  be  made  when  engaged  in  a  close  argument — then  he 
could  not  bear  any  interruption.  I  remember  two  incidents  which  will  illustrate 
my  meaning.  Once,  while  he  was  preaching,  a  young  child  in  the  gallery  began 
to  fret  and  made  some  little  noise.  Immediately  the  Doctor  turned  round,  and 
said  with  evident  irritation — **  Take  that  child  out — Take  that  child  out; "  and 
then  proceeded  with  his  discourse.  At  another  time,  perceiving  some  mischievous 
tendencies  in  one  of  his  sons,  sitting  in  a  pew  near  the  pulpit,  he  stopped  abruptly 
in  his  discourse,  and  said, — "  Sammy,  go  home;  go  home," — ^motioning  at  the 
same  time  with  his  hand  towards  the  door.  Any  gesture  with  the  Doctor  was 
the  certain  sign  of  an  unusual  degree  of  emotion. 

He  was  peculiar  in  the  use  of  the  first  person  plural;  always  saying, — "10s 
think  "  or  "  we  advise,"  Ac.  Once  when  lecturing  on  a  diflSicult  portion  of  Scrip- 
ture, alter  ginng  the  opinions  of  some  half  dozen  or  more  of  learned  commenta- 
tors, with  his  reasons  for  not  a'dopting  them,  he  said, — *'  Now  you  will  ask,  what 
is  our  opinion :  we  as  an  indMdwU  think,"  Ac. 

When  speaking  of  Nicodemus,  as  referred  to  in  th9  third  chapter  of  John,  he 
would  uniformly  say, — "  There  was  a  gerUUman  of  the  Pharisees  called  Nicode- 
mus." And  when  commenting  on  the  parable  of  the  ten  Virgins,  he  used  to  call 
them  the  "ten  }foung  ladUa." 

Perhaps  he  was  the  only  clergyman  in  the  United  States,  who  had  not  only 
read  all  the  Greek  and  Latin  fathers,  but  who  almost  literally  lived  among  them. 
He  was  perfectly  fkmiliar  with  them  all,  and  knew  the  peculiar  views  of  each. 
All  who  have  read  the  articles,  signed,  '*  The  Lay  Elder,"  in  the  Christian  Spec- 
tator, can  form  some  idea  of  the  extent  of  his  Patristical  learning.  It  is  the 
current  tradition  that  among  the  last  efforts  that  he  ever  made  from  the  pulpit, 
be  recommended  to  his  people,  so  far  as  they  had  opportunity,  to  make  them- 
selves familiar  with  the  Greek  and  Latin  Fathers.  His  fondness  for  this  depart- 
ment of  study  had  grown  almost  into  a  passion,  and  he  was  desirous  that  his 
people  should  reap  the  advantage  from  this  kind  of  intercourse  with  the  men  of 
othor  ages,  which  he  thought  he  had  received  himself. 

He  was  caieftd  to  a  fanlt  not  to  give  the  least  trouble  to  his  friends;  and  his 
soUeitude  in  Ms  respect  not  unfrequently  led  him  to  decline  their  urgent  invita- 
tions to  pass  some  time  with  them  in  the  summer  at  their  country  residences. 
And  when,  as  a  very  rare  thing,  he  accepted  their  invitations,  he  was  sure  to 
carry  with  him  his  own  towel,  and  use  it  instead  of  the  one  placed  in  his  room. 
There  was  not  the  semblance  of  pride  or  fastidiousness  in  this:  it  originated 
afanply  in  his  unwilUngness  to  give  trouble,  where  it  could  possibly  be  avoided. 


S^  PBSSBTTSBIAK. 

He  was  emtnentlj  tha  friend  of  joang  ministes,  and  wa«  always  happy  in  for- 
nishing  them  with  the  results  of  his  experience  and  his  investigations  of  the  Word 
of  God.  He  seemed  particularly  fond  of  communicatiDg  to  them  the  conclusions 
at  which  he  had  arriyed  in  respect  to  the  meaning  of  difficult  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture; and  there  are  not  a  few  who  have  availed  themselves  of  his  profound 
researches. 

Conceiviog  that  his  publisher  had  not  acted  fairly  concerning  a  book  that  bo 
had  printed  for  him,  he  would  not  allow  his  next  work, — I  think  it  was  his  work 
on  the  Principles  of  Grammar, — to  bo  published  by  any  bookseller;  but  had  it 
printed  and  then  sold  in  the  store  of  a  personal  friend,  who  was  in  the  hardware 
business;  nor  could  the  book  be  procured  except  at  that  particular  place. 

Every  body,  who  has  any  knowledge  of  Dr.  Wilson,  knows  that  he  was  an 
eminently  great  and  good  man.  But  he  was  also  a  man  of  strongly  marked 
peculiarities,  or  if  you  please,  eccentricities;  and  I  have  thought  that  I  should 
better  subserve  your  purpose  by  attempting  to  give  some  idea  of  these,  than  by 
dwelling  upon  those  more  general  characteristics  with  which  his  usefulness  was 
chiefly  identified. 

Yours  truly, 

WILLIAM  PATTON. 

FROM  THE  REV.  EZRA  STILES   ELY,  D.  D. 

Phii.a]>bi«phza,  October  1,  1817. 

My  dear  Brother :  I  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request,  though  I  am  not  sure 
that  I  have  any  thing  to  communicate  that  will  materially  aid  you  in  your  con- 
templated sketch. 

The  Rev.  James  Patriot  Wilson,  D.  D.,  I  believe,  never  wrote  his  name  in  full, — 
not  because  he  disliked  it,  but  because  he  was  even  fastidiously  modest.  As  his 
father  was  a  noted  Whig  of  the  American  Revolution,  he  intended  his  son  should 
be,  as  he  was,  a  decided  republican  Patriot.  Both  father  and  son  were  honest 
Presbyterians,  and  yet  they  adopted  a  somewhat  modified  form  of  Presbyterian- 
ism,  verging  a  little  nearer  to  Congregationalism  than  some  of  their  co-pres- 
byters. 

When  James  A.  Bayard,  the  distinguished  Senator  in  Congress  from  Delaware, 
was  a  member  of  the  Bar  with  Mr.  Wilson,  the  former  was  wont  to  say  that  the 
latter  gentleman  was  the  only  antagonist  in  any  cause,  who  broke  his  rest;  but 
that  when  he  was  to  meet  Wilson  in  the  morning,  it  kept  him  studying  all 
night. 

Doctor  Wilson  was  very  kind  and  hospitable  in  his  social  intercourse;  but  he 
could  not  endure  the  thought  of  remaining  under  obligations  for  any  favour  con- 
ferred.    As  an  instance  of  this  peculiarity,  the  Rev.  Mr.  P ,  a  brother  in  the 

ministry,  who  was  intimate  with  him,  gave  him  a  small  root  of  rhubarb,  when 
he  had  occasion  for  some;  and  Dr.  Wilson  immediately  divided  a  small  pocket 
memorandum,  composed  of  four  goat  skin  leaves,  and  insisted  that  his  friend 
should  receive  half.  When  Mr.  P.  bantered  him  on  the  subject,  he  replied  that 
he  could  not  bear  to  receive  the  least  gift  without  making  some  return. 

He  once  refused  to  receive  some  oranges  from  an  old  lady  of  his  congregation, 
saying  in  his  usual  style  of  regal  plurality, — "  We  can  buy  oranges  when  we 
wish  for  them."  Not  long  after,  at  his  own  house,  he  offered  the  same  lady  a 
fine  large  apple  from  his  mantel-piece;  but  she,  shrugging  up  her  shoulders, 
declined  receiving  it,  saying, — "  We  can  purchase  apples,  when  we  wish  for 
them." 

In  his  private  intercourse  with  men.  Dr.  Wilson  was  instructive,  gentle,  and 
amusing,  but  in  public  debate  he  was  ardent  and  impatient  of  contradiction.  On 
account  of  the  regret  which  he  often  experienced  in  the  review  of  his  undue 


JAMES  PATRIOT  WILSON.  3gX 

exdteiDent  on  these  oceasioDs,  he  frequently  absented  himself  from  meetings  of 
the  Presbyterjr,  and  sometimes  expressed  an  unwillingness,  *'  lest  he  should  put 
his  hand  into  the  lion's  mouth,"  to  attend  the  meetings  of  the  General  Assem- 
bly. He  was  as  confiding  as  a  child  in  respect  to  persons  against  whom  some 
prejudice  had  not  been  introduced  into  his  mind ;  and  when  convinced  of  error, 
no  one  could  be  more  prompt  than  he  in  acknowledging  it. 

I  have  heard  Dr.  Ashbel  Green  say  of  himself  and  Dr.  Wilson  that  they  were 
both  proud  men;  but  **  I  am  proud,"  said  Dr.  Green,  "  and  know  it;  he  is  proud 
and  is  ignorant  of  it."  You  may  say  in  truth  that  Dr.  Wilson  was  a  great  and 
good  man,  having  a  mixture  of  pride  with  his  humility,  and  of  severity  with  his 
mildness;  that  he  had  more  learning  than  almost  any  of  his  contemporaries;  that 
be  was  admired  and  beloved  by  his  congregation;  and  fell  asleep  in  Jesus  with 
the  simplicity  of  a  babe  in  Christ,  and  yet  with  all  the  dignity  and  profound  anti- 
cipations of  a  Christian  Philosopher. 

Yours  very  affectionately^ 

EZRA  STILES  ELY. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  HALL,  D.  D. 

Trextox,  June  12,  1867. 

My  dear  Sir :  Whoever  recollects  Dr.  Wilson  must  be  conscious  of  a  revival  of 
the  reverential  impression  that  was  produced  by  his  presence.  His  tall  figure, 
slow  gait,  placid  and  benevolent,  but  fixed  and  thoughtful  countenance,  took  the 
notice  of  every  one  who  met  him.  In  his  company,  or  in  the  pulpit,  the  same 
quiet  visible  dignity,  insured  the  highest  deference  from  the  spectator.  For  some 
prophylactic  purpose,  Dr.  Wilson  was  in  the  habit  of  bleeding  himself  with  a 
lancet,  and  whatever  sanitary  effect  the  depletion  may  have  had,  it  maintained 
that  paleness  which,  in  connection  with  the  prominence  and  regularity  of  the 
features,  and  the  settled  composure  of  the  countenance,  suggested  the  idea  of  a 
noble  statue.  Death  did  but  little  to  increase  the  resemblance  to  the  marble;  and 
I  am  sure  that  those  who  saw  that  remarkable  face,  after  the  spirit  had  passed 
away,  will  never  forget  its  more  than  artistic  beauty. 

Dr.  Wilson's  attractiveness  as  a  preacher,  was  doubtless  owing,  in  some  mea- 
sure, to  thes^ physical  peculiarities.  Whether  his  sermons  were  always  under- 
stood or  not  by  every  one,  his  personal  appearance,  and  the  invariable  solemnity 
of  his  manner,  alike  in  praying  and  preaching,  appeared  to  impart  a  grateful 
seriousness  to  the  congregation.  There  was  no  animation,  but  that  which  was 
spiritual  and  intellectual.  During  all  the  years  within  my  memory,  (which 
were  those  only  after  the  removal  of  the  place  of  worship  from  Market  Street  to 
Washington  Square,)  he  sat  through  the  sermon  on  a  high-seated  chair:  after 
reading  the  text  he  closed  the  Bible,  and  set  it  aside ;  he  would  then  discourse 
for  a  full  hour,  without  a  gesture,  and  scarcely  with  any  change  of  intonation — 
his  whole  manner  indicative  of  the  most  complete  self-possession  and  ease,  with- 
out the  slightest  symptom  of  forgetfulness  of  respect  to  the  audience.  In  warm 
Weather,  he  sometimes  wore  a  light  gown,  and  had  a  fan  convenient  to  his  hand 
which  he  would  use  gently,  for  minutes  together,  as  he  proceeded  in  his  sermon, 
without  the  least  embarrassment  to  himself  or  his  hearers.  Indeed,  the  fiinning 
came  in  quite  congruously  with  the  whole  fiuniliarity  of  the  posture,  and  the  con- 
versational flow  of  the  discourse. 

The  sermons  themselves  were  highly  appreciated  and  enjoyed  by  those  who  had 
a  taste  for  critical  exegesis,  and  who  could  and  would  give  attention  to  a  dose, 
continuous  series  of  reasoning.  Dr.  Wilson  did  not  conceal  the  steps  of  gram- 
matical and  philosophical  study  by  which  he  had  come  to  his  interpretation  of 
the  text,  nor  the  adverse  conclusions  of  other  students,  whether  as  to  translation 
or  doctrine.    It  is  an  extraordinary  and  suggestive  fact,  that  with  such  a  man- 

VoL.  IV.  46 


362  FR«SBTTERIAK. 

ner,  and  with  sucli  matter,  and  at  such  leDg;th,  Dr.  Wilson  kept  the  attention  of 
laiig^e  andienoes,  year  after  year,  so  long  as  his  health  permitted  his  voioe  to  he 
heard  over  his  spacious  church.  One  reason,  howeTer,  was,  that,  having  his  eye 
free  to  loolc  upon  the  whole  congregation,  and  haying  to  draw  his  calm,  logical 
discourse  ftom  the  stores  of  his  mind,  without  the  least  assistance  from  notes,  he 
could  not  endure  disturbances  which  most  clergymen  can,  or  have  to,  tolerate. 
Many  anecdotes  are  related  of  the  coolness  with  which  he  disposed  of  the  causes 
of  such  embarrassment;  at  one  time  pausing  for  an  instant  to  say,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  his  own  pew,  "Samuel,  my  son,  go  home;  "  at  other  times,  with  equal 
publicity  directing  a  restless  child,  or  wandering  dog,  to  be  removed. 

I  ought  not  to  convey  the  impression  that  Dr.  Wilson's  sermons  were  wholly 
of  the  erudite  description.  Sometimes  the  entire  discourse  was  upon  the  com- 
monplace topics,  and,  after  the  conclusion  of  his  closest  arguments,  was  impressed 
in  a  few  sentences  of  appeal  to  the  emotions,  which  had  the  greater  effect  from 
its  being  unusual.  The  style  of  his  published  productions  is  stiff  and  obscure: 
he  was  always  more  given  to  reading  than  writing,  and  his  experience  at  the  Bar 
had  helped  his  readiness  of  utterance;  but  his  extemporaneous  sermons  were  as 
plain  in  their  language,  as  they  were  easy,,  natural  and  flowing,  in  their  delivery. 
His  public  prayers  were  unim passioned,  but  made  deeply  devout  by  their  calm 
solemnity,  and  the  manifest  evidence  that  his  words  were  indeed  spoken  under 
a  sense  of  the  Divine  presence. 

Dr.  Wilson's  private  life  was  very  recluse.  His  taste,  perhaps,  even  more  than 
his  feeble  constitution,  kept  him  in  his  study,  and  made  him  willing  to  seclude 
himself  from  social  intercourse  with  those  he  most  esteemed,  and  whom  he  was 
happy  to  meet  when  circumstances  brought  it  about.  His  heart  was  not  cold: 
he  was  not  indifferent  to  the  condition  of  the  people  of  his  charge;  but  he  thought 
he  could  accomplish  most,  according  to  his  position,  by  devoting  himself  to  the 
work  of  the  pulpit.  He  was  a  very  independent  and  liberal  churchman;  and 
would  probably  have  liked  to  see  some  modification  of  the  existing  rules  of  our 
system.  He  had  no  relish  for  mere  forms,  or  reverence  for  their  authority. 
He  did  not,  for  instance,  approve  of  the  Presbyterial  inquest  of  Sessional 
Records.  I  think  he  would  have  preferred  throwing  open  the  Communion  table, 
like  the  other  ordinances,  to  all  worshippers  upon  their  own  responsibility,  %fter 
proper  instruction.  But  he  was  not  the  man  to  disturb  the  Church  by  urging 
his  peculiar  opinions. 

The  last  days  of  this  eminent  man  were  marked  by  the  humility,  sincerity, 
quietness,  which  were  so  characteristic  of  his  life.  They  were  spent  in  the  retire- 
ment of  the  country,  and  throughout,  in  the  full  possession  of  his  faculties.  He 
used  to  say,  at  that  time,  that  if  he  had  a  partiality  for  any  one  part  of  the 
Scriptures,  it  was  for  the  Psalms,  as  he  could  always  find  in  them  expressions 
for  bis  own  emotions.  He  was  so  peaceful  in  the  view  of  death,  that  he  tried  in 
vain  to  find  something  to  arouse  his  fears,  and  said  that  this  absence  of  natu- 
ral dread  of  the  great  change,  was  the  only  thing  that  gave  him  uneasiness. 
He  called  himself  *'  the  un worthiest  of  the  unworthy,*'  but  found  no  limit  to  his 
confidence  in  the  efficacy  of  the  righteousness  of  the  Divine  Substitute,  and 
looked,  with  ineffable  hope,  to  the  possession  of  a  place,  however  humble,  in  his 
presence. 

Regretting  that  my  recollections  of  this  venerable  man  are  so  circumscribed, 
and  glad  to  make  even  the  slightest  contribution,  in  honour  of  his  memory, 

I  remain  very  truly  yours, 

JOHK  HALL. 


JAKS8  FATRI0T  WILSON.  303 


FROM  TH15  REV.  ALBERT  BARNES. 

Pbilaoblphia,  February  15, 1851. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  In  your  letter  of  January  27th,  you  request  me  to  fumrsh 
you  some  notices  of  the  late  Rey.  James  P.  Wilson,  D.  D.,  my  predecessor  in 
the  pastoral  office  in  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  this  city.  You  ask  only 
for  my  personal  recollections  of  him  in  connection  with  the  general  impression 
he  made  upon  me. 

My  personal  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Wilson  was  very  slight.  I  became  Pastor 
of  the  Church  in  June,  18dO.  Dr.  Wilson  had  resigned  his  pastoral  charge  about 
a  year  before,  and  had  retired  to  a  farm  which  he  had  purchased  in  Buclts 
County  in  this  State.  I  had,  on  one  occasion,  about  the  year  1827'»  heard  him 
preach,  but  had  no  acquaintance  with  him»  and  my  intercourse  with  him  was 
limited  to  the  few  visits  which  I  made  to  him  in  Harts  villa,  after  I  bec&me  Pastor 
of  the  Church.  Ho  never  visited  the  city  after  I  succeeded  him  in  the  pastoral 
office. 

His  general  character  as  a  preacher  is  too  well  known,  and  will  be  too  fully 
described  by  others,  to  make  it  proper  that  I  should  attempt  any  description  of 
it.  On  the  only  occasion  on  which  I  ever  heard  him  preach,  several  circum- 
stances, however,  struck  me  as  remarkable.  His  personal  appearance  was  very 
impressive  and  solemn.  He  was  very  pale  and  apparently  feeble.  He  sat  in  the 
pulpit,  and  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do,  used  a  large  fon.  He  had  a  very 
dignified  air,  and  his  whole  manner  was  calm,  collected  and  solemn.  What 
first  arrested  my  attention  particularly  in  his  pulpit  performances,  was  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  read  the  Scriptures.  It  was  a  chapter  in  the  Gospel,  by  John. 
His  reading  was  accompanied  by  brief  explanatory  remarks,— 'I  thought  the 
most  clear  Mid  interesting  exposition  of  the  Bible  that  I  had  ever  witnessed.  It 
w&s  80  simple,  so  plain ^  so  striking,  that  at  the  time  it  occurred  to  me  that  he 
could  better  prepare  a  Commentary  for  the  use  of  Sunday  sohools,  than  any 
man  I  had  ever  met  with.  His  sermon  was  equally  clear,  impressive  and 
solemn,  and  what  was  most  remarkable  about  it,  was  a  very  clear  and  beautiful 
exposition  of  the  ninth  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  which  he  quoted 
from  memory,  and  commented  on  as  accurately  as  if  he  had  had  the  passage  before 
him.  He  used  no  notes  of  any  kind.  His  preaching  at  first  seemed  to  be  merely 
conversational.  He  sat  and  talked  to  the  people  before  him,  as  a  gentleman 
might  be  expected  to  do  in  his  own  parlour.  Soon,  however,  I  forgot  entirely 
the  man — his  fan,  his  sitting,  and  his  somewhat  singular  habit  of  lifting  up  and 
down  his  watch  chain;  when,  for  a  moment,  he  laid  down  his  fan,  and  I  became 
wholly  absorbed  in  what  he  was  saying,  and  to  me  it  was  then  of  no  importance 
what  he  was  doing,  or  whether  he  made  many  gestures  or  none.  I  have  never 
in  my  life  found  myself  more  absorbed  in  the  wbfed  on  which  a  public  speaker 
was  discoursing,  than  I  was  on  that  occasion.  And  what  was  true  of  myself 
seemed  to  be  true  of  the  entire  congregation. 

My  personal  acquaintance  with  him,  which  I  have  said  was  all  subsequent  to 
that,  was  while  he  resided  at  Hartsville.  He  was  in  feeble  health,  and  had 
removed  there,  as  he  informed  me,  that,  among  other  reasons,  he  might  have  the 
advantage  of  retirement  and  leisure  to  reflect  on  the  great  change  which  he  did 
not  regard  as  remote.  He  had  withdrawn  fi-om  all  the  duties  of  a  pastor,  and  at 
the  same  time  from  all  active  participation  in  ecclesiastical  affairs.  Those  he 
regarded  as  appropriately  belonging  to  the  pastors  of  the  churches.  As  I  knew 
him  personally,  he  was  as  perfect  a  model  as  I  have  ever  seen  of  a  Christian 
gentleman.  He  was  kind  and  courteous  in  an  eminent  degree;  he  was  dignified 
and  urbane  in  his  manner;  he  was  affable  and  instructive  in  his  conversation; 
he  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  affairs  of  his  farm,  and  took  a  pleasure  in  showmg 


364  PBBSBTTEBIAir. 

me  his  improTements,  and  stating  his  plans;  he  kept  himself,  and,  I  think, 
intended  to,  from  the  turmoils  of  the  Church  and  the  world;  he  employed  much  of 
his  time  in  his  favourite  studies,  jet  gradually  more  and  more  limiting  his  reading 
to  books  of  practical  religion.  To  me  personally  he  rendered  essential  service. 
He  endorsed  and  defended  the  sentiments  which  I  preached,  and  his  entire  influ- 
ence was  exerted  to  secure  my  being  happily  settled  among  the  people  of  his 
former  charge.  I  regard  it  as  among  the  most  cherished  recollections  of  the  past 
that  I  was  permitted  to  form  this  acquaintance  with  him,  and  I  owe  much  of  the 
peace  and  comfort  of  my  ministry  here  to  the  &ct  that,  for  a  period  of  six 
months,  in  his  intercourse  with  his  people  who  visited  him,  and  in  every  way  in 
which  he  had  occasion  to  exert  any  influence,  he  commended  me  to  his  people, 
and  helped  me,  when  young,  by  his  counsel,  as  I  was  entering  on  a  most  arduoos 
field  of  labour. 

I  am  very  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

ALBERT  BARNES. 


-•♦- 


UZAL  OGDEN,  D.  D  * 

1805—1822. 

Ukal  Oqden  was  a  descendant  of  David  Ogden,  one  of  the  early  settlers 
of  Newark,  and  a  son  of  Uzal  Ogden,  who  was  a  highly  respectable  mem- 
ber, and  a  Warden,  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  He  was  born  in  Newark, 
(one  authority  has  it  Newton,  Sussex  County,)  N.  J.,  about  the  year  1744. 
His  education,  immediately  preparatory  to  entering  the  ministry,  was  con- 
ducted by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Chandler,  a  distinguished  Episcopal  clergyman,  of 
Elizabethtown.  He  went  to  England  and  received  both  Deacon's  and 
Priest's  orders,  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Episcopal  Palace  at  Fulham,  Middle- 
sex, from  the  then  Bishop  of  London,  on  the  Slst  of  September,  1773. 
At  the  same  time,  he  received  from  the  same  Prelate  a  commission  to 
"preach  in  Sussex  County,  or  elsewhere,  within  the  Province  of  New 
Jersey,  in  North  America." 

After  his  return  to  this  country,  he  married  Mary,  daughter  of  Samuel 
Oottvemeur,  of  New  Jersey.  They  had  ^seven  children, — ^four  sons  and 
three  daughters.  His  wife's  death  preceded  his  own  by  many  years.  Two 
of  his  children, — a  son  and  a  daughter,  still  (1857)  survive. 

For  several  years  after  he  commenced  his  ministry,  he  laboured  as  a 
missionary  chiefly  in  Sussex  County,  N.  J.;  but  in  April  1779,  Trinity 
Parish  in  Newark  being  without  a  Rector, — his  father,  then  a  Warden, 
was  requested  to  write  to  him  to  desire  him  to  come  and  visit  them. 
Whether  any  further  negotiation  took  place  at  that  time  does  not  appear ; 
but  in  November,  1785,  a  definite  invitation  to  the  Rectorship  was  extended 
to  him,  which  he  finally  accepted  in  1788, — the  parish  having  been  vacant 
nine  or  ten  years.  During  a  part  of  this  time,  Mr.  Ogden  had  officiated  in 
New  York,  and  had  occasionally  supplied  the  Church  of  which  he  subse- 
quently became  Rector.     After  he  assumed  the  Rectorship,  he  preached 

•  MSS.  from  hu  granddaajrhter,— Min  H.  M.  Iloodj  Hon.  Chief  JoBtioe  Honiblower;  Anher 
Glfford^  Eiq. ;  and  Samuel  H.  Congmr^  Eaq. 


UZAL  OaMSK.  3Q5 

for  some  yean,  onoe  every  Sunday,  in  a  chapel  oonneoted  with  Trinity 
Parish,  at  a  place  called  at  that  time  *' Second  Rivers,"  bat  now  known 
as  Belleville,  on  the  West  side  of  the  Passaic  Biver,  aboat  four  miles  North 
of  Newark. 

In  1798,  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by 
the  College  of  New  Jersey. 

From  1799  to  1805,  Dr.  Ogden's  relations  to  the  Episcopal  Church  were 
of  a  somewhat  equivocal  character,  and  a  controversy  ensued,  which  finally 
resulted  in  his  joining  the  Presbyterian  Body.  As  this  controversy  seems 
to  have  been  of  a  complicated  nature,  and  to  have  formed  the  subject  of 
very  contradictory  statements,  rather  than  attempt  to  exhibit  it  in  its  details, 
or  hasard  an  opinion  of  its  merits,  I  have  thought  best  simply  to  present 
the  extracts  relating  to  it,  from  the  Becords  of  the  Diocese  of  New  Jersey, 
and  of  the  Presbytery  of  New  York ;  for  the  former  of  which  I  am  obliged 
to  the  politeness  of  the  Bt.  Bev.  Dr.  Doane,  the  present  Bishop  of  the 
Diocese ;  for  the  latter  to  that  of  the  Bev.  Dr.  Krebs,  the  present  Stated 
Clerk  of  the  Presbytery. 

FROM  THE  RECORDS  OF  THE  DIOOESE. 

**  Bev.  Uzal  Ogden,  D.  D.,  Bector  of  Trinity  Church,  Newark,  elected 
Bishop  of  New  Jersey,  August  16,  1798.  . 

*'  Consecration  refused  by  General  Convention  in  June,  1799,  on  the 
ground  that  doubts  existed  in  the  minds  of  some  members  of  the  Conven* 
tion  whether  all  the  Priests,  who  voted  in  this  Convention,  were  qualified 
according  to  the  meaning  of  the  Canon. 

"Whereupon  a  special  Convention  of  New  Jersey  in  October,  1799, 
declared  the  constitutionality  of  the  election,  and  asked,  according  to  the 
Canons,  (a  majority  of  the  Standing  Committee  consenting,)  that  he  be 
consecrated  without  delay  by  three  Bishops. 

"Nothing  further"  (Bishop  Doane  goes  on  testate)  "is  recorded  till 
1804,  when,  at  the  New  Jersey  Convention  in  June,  on  a  memorial' from 
the  Congregation  of  Trinity  Church,  Newark,  stating  difficulties  between 
themselves  and  their  Bector, — ^the  Bev.  Dr.  Ogden,  he  was,  by  the  Conven- 
tion, requested  to  resign  on  a  pension  from  Trinity  Church  of  $250  per  annum. 
This  he  refused.  At  a  special  Convention  in  December,  1804,  the  Stand- 
ing Committee,  with  the  advice  and  consent  of  a  Bishop,  were  authorised 
to  suspend  Dr.  Ogden  from  ministerial  duty  in  New  Jersey,  if  he  persisted 
in  refusing  to  resign.  Just  before  this,  Dr.  Ogden  withdrew  from  the 
American  Church,  and  declared  his  intention  to  officiate  in  Trinity,  Newark, 
as  Priest  of  the  Church  of  England. 

"  On  the  9th  of  May,  1805,  the  Standing  Committee,  with  the  aid  and 
consent  of  Bishop  Moore,  of  New  York,  suspended  Dr.  Ogden  from  minis- 
terial duty  in  New  Jersey." 

FROM  THE  RECORDS  OF  THE  PESBTTERT  OF  NEW  YORK. 

"  October  2,  1805.  The  Bev.  Dr.  Uxal  Ogden,  a  member  of  the  Pro- 
testant Episcopal  Church,  applied  to  the  Presbytery  of  New  York  to  be 
received.  The  letter  was  referred  to  Dr.  Bodgers,  Mr.  Bichards,  &c.,  for 
consideration  of  it,  and  of  the  accompanying  documents. 

"Same  day.  The  Committee  report^,  and  was  discharged,  and  leave 
given  to  withdraw  the  application. 


366  PBSSBYTSEIAN. 

**'Dr.  MoWhorter,  Mr.  Hittyar,  tnd  Mr.  Griffin,  were  appointed  to  o<m- 
verse  with  Dr.  Ogden,  and  obtain  farther  information. 

**  October  16, 1806.  The  Committee  in  the  case  of  Dr.  Ogden  presented 
certain  letters  and  other  papers,  which  were  read.  From  these  documents 
it  appeared  that,  although  Dr.  Ogden  had  been  suspended  for  several  months 
from  the  exercise  of  his  ministerial  functions,  by  the  authority  of  the  Pro* 
testant'Episcopal  Church,  on  account  of  his  refusal  to  resign  the  Rectorship 
of  Trinity  Church  in  Newark,  yet,  by  his  recent  resignation  of  said  Rector- 
ship, the  ground  of  his  suspension  was  removed.  It  also  appeared  that,  in 
the  judgment  of  a  respectable  minister  of  the  Episcopal  Church, — a  mem- 
ber of  the  Committee  of  Convention,  by  which  the  sentence  of  suspension 
was  issued,  the  suspension  had  virtually  ceased. 

*'  The  Presbytery,  having  considered  the  whole  case,  agreed  to  receiye 
Dr.  Ogden  as  a  member  of  their  body,  on  his  adopting  the  Confession  of 
Faith  and  Form  of  Government  of  our  Church,  and  satis&ctorily  answer^ 
ing  the  questions  usually  put  to  ministers  connecting  themselves  with  us. 

**  October  16,  1806.  Dr.  Ogden  appeared  in  Presbytery,  and  having 
adopted  the  Confession  of  Faith  and  Form  of  Government  in  the  Presbyte- 
rian Church,  and  come  under  the  engagements  usually  required  of  ministers 
connecting  themselves  with  us,  was  received  as  a  member  of  Presbytery, 
and  took  his  seat  accordingly."  . 

After  the  change  in  his  ecclesiastical  relations,  Dr.  Ogden  never  had  a 
stated  charge,  but  preaehed  oceasiooally  in  different  places,  as  he  fonnd 
opportunity.  He  died  on  the  4th  of  November,  1822,  in  the  seventy-ninth 
year  of  his  age. 

Dr.  Ogden  seems  to  have  been  very  earnest  and  devout  in  his  religious 
feelings,  and  to  have  carried  into  and  through  his  ministry  a  burning  zeal 
for  the  salvation  of  souls.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  allowed  himself  the 
largest  liberty  in  the  exercise  of  his  clerical  function,  without  much  regard 
to  the  judgment  of  most  of  his  brethren.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  fre- 
quently offering  extemporaneous  prayers,  instead  of  using  the  regular  service, 
especially  when  he  held  meetings,  as  he  often  did,  at  private  houses.  His 
sermons  were  sometimes  of  an  extraordinary  length, — extending  to  an 
hour  and  three  quarters  or  more.  There  is  a  journal  still  extant,  kept  by 
a  friend  of  Dr.  Ogden,  who  accompanied  him,  about  the  year  1787,  on  a 
missionary  tour  in  West  Jersey,  which  illustrates  his  remarkable  seal,  as 
well  as  his  great  gift  at  preaching  long  sermons.  Thb  journal  was  published 
in  one  of  the  Newark  papers,  in  1819. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Ogden's  publications : — Letter  to  the  uncon- 
verted, 1768.  The  Theological  Preceptor,  or  Youth's  Religious  Instructer; 
containing  a  Summary  of  the  principles,  rise  and  progress  of  Religion,  from 
the  creation  of  the  world  to  the  consummation  thereof;  together  with  moral 
reflections,  &c.,  and  a  Sketch  of  the  argument  in  favour  of  Christianity;  in 
a  series  of  Dialogues,  1772.  An  Address  to  the  youth  of  America,  1772. 
A  Letter  to  a  master  of  a  family ;  wherein  the  duty,  reasonableness,  and 
advantage  of  Family  Worship  are  considered.  To  which  are  annexed  Family 
Prayers,  1772.  The  Christian's  Mirror.  Examine  yourselves  whether  ye 
be  in  the  faith,  1772.  A  Sermon  on  Practical  Religion,  (without  date). 
A  Sermon  on  Practical  Religion,  delivered  at  Newark,  No.  II.,  1779.  A 
Sermon  delivered  at  Roxbnry,  in  Morris  County,  at  the  Funeral  of  Mrs. 
Elisabeth  Haokett,  relict  of  Colonel  John  Haokett,  1781.    A  Sennim  on 


VZAL  OQDEK.  S67 

Praotical  Eeligion,  No.  III.,  1782.  A  Sennon  delivered  at  Morristown 
before  the  Fraternity  of  Free  and  Accepted  Masons  of  Lodge  No.  10,  in 
the  State  of  New  Jersey,  1784.  An  Address  to  those  persons  in  Elizabeth- 
town,  and  Newark,  and  in  their  vicinity,  in  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  who 
bave  lately  been  seriously  impressed  with  a  desire  to  obtain  salvation.  To 
which  is  annexed  a  Prayer  adapted  to  a  person  in  a  state  of  penitence,  1785. 
A  Sermon  delivered  in  St.  Peter's  Church  in  the  city  of  Perth  Amboy, 
before  a  Convention  of  Clerical  and  Lay  Delegates  of  the  Protestant  Epis« 
copal  Church  in  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  1786.  Five  Sermons  on  impor- 
tant subjects,  delivered  in  St.  George's  and  St.  Paul's  Chapels  in  the  city 
of  New  York,  1788.  Antidote  to  Deism :  the  Deist  unmasked ;  or  an 
ample  refutation  of  all  the  objections  of  Thomas  Paine  against  the  Christian 
Religion,  as  contained  in  %  pamphlet  entitled  ''The  Age  of  Reason;" 
addressed  to  the  citizens  of  these  States.     2  vols.  12mo.,  1795. 

FROM  ARCHER  GIFFORD  ESQ. 

Newark,  March  2,  1867. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  have  a  distinct  recollection  of  Dr.  Ogdcn,  who  was  at  one  time 
Rector  of  Trinity  Church,  which  I  have  attended  from  my  youth.  His  life  was 
a  variable  one,  and  notwithstanding  many  severe  conflicts,  was,  as  I  have  learned, 
irreproachable.  My  earliest  recollection  of  any  Law  proceedings,  on  entering 
the  office  where  I  served  my  term  in  this  city,  is  of  sundry  papers  under  a  pro- 
ceeding of  mandamus  against  the  Corporation  of  Trinity  Church,  to  compel 
them  to  surrender  the  keys,  and  give  him  the  temporalities.  This  was  about 
the  3'ear  1804r-05— before  my  time,  but  immediately  preceding  my  entrance  at 
school. 

Dr.  Ogden  was  in  person  quite  portly,  of  large  features,  of  slow  gait,  and 
dressed  in  rather  an  antique  style.  He  was  very  courteous  and  kind  in  his 
manner,  and  was  more  than  willing  always  to  bestow  a  word  of  praise  whore  he 
could  do  it  with  a  good  conscience.  After  a  sermon  by  a  young  minister  in 
Trinity  Church  one  night,  a  year  or  two  before  the  Doctor's  decease,  (where  he 
frequently  attended  in  the  evening,)  I  saw  him  take  the  clergyman's  hand  very 
affectionately,  and  heard  him  say — "Thank  you,  Sir, — thank  you  for  your 
evangelical  discourse." 

I  am  informed  that  Dr.  Qgden  was  rather  a  popular  speaker  in  the  early  stage 
of  his  ministry,  but  later  in  life  his  voice  was  much  affected  and  broken.  In  his 
general  appearance  and  manner  I  always  thought  he  bore  a  strong  resemblance 
to  Dr.  McWhorter,  with  whom  he  was  in  very  friendly  relations.  Though  the 
dispute  between  him  and  his  congregation,  as  to  their  respective  rights,  resulted 
in  bis  becoming  a  Presbyterian,  he  never  would  acknowledge  that  he  had  become 
alienated  from  the  Episcopal  Church;  and  when  spoken  to  on  the  subject  by 
a  person  who  communicated  the  circamstance  to  me,  he  promptly  replied, — 
"No,  Sir,  I  have  not  sacrificed  my  former  principles;  I  still  hold  to  the  thirty- 
nine  Articles,  which  are  the  product  of  minds  not  varying  in  their  views  from 
meet  of  those  I  now  associate  with.'' 

I  am  told  that  Dr.  Ogden,  after  leaving  oar  Church,  performed  much  useful 
•ervioe  as  a  missionary  in  the  destitute  parts  of  New  Jersey;  but  several  of  his 
last  years,  I  think,  were  passed  here  chiefly  in  retirement. 

Very  truly  and  respectfyiy,  dear  Sir, 

Your  friend  and  servant, 

ARCHER  GIFFORD. 


368  PBBSBTTXUAN. 


FROM  THE  B£y.  JOHN  McDOWELL.  D.  D. 

Pbiladklphia,  Febraarj  12, 1357. 

Rey.  and  dear  Sir :  M7  recollections  of  Dr.  Ogden  are  rather  general  than 
particular,  and  yet  they  are  Tery  distinct.  I  knew  him  well  for  many  years; 
have  seen  him  under  Tarious  circumstances;  have  often  heard  him  preach;  was 
present  when  he  was  examined  and  admitted  a  member  of  the  New  York  Pres- 
bytery; and  delivered  an  Address  at  his  Funeral,  in  his  own  house.  I  regarded 
him  as  a  truly  excellent  man,  and  am  glad  to  co-operate  in  any  effort  to  honour 
his  memory. 

His  personal  appearance  was  at  once  imposing  and  venerable.  He  was  aboat 
six  feet  in  height,  and  every  way  well  proportioned.  He  wore  the  large  grey  wi^ 
of  that  day,  which  of  itself  was  enough  to  brine  an  awe  upon  the  spirit.  He 
was  very  strongly  evangelical  in  his  religious  views,  and  his  sermons  always  left 
an  impression  that  he  was  sincerely  and  earnestly  engaged  in  his  Master's  work; 
but  he  was  apt  to  be  prolix  and  diffuse  in  his  treatment  of  a  subject,  and  wag 
famous  for  multiplying  divisions  and  subdivisions  almost  indefinitely.  He  was 
a  zealous  friend  of  revivals  of  religion,  during  his  whole  ministry.  In  1784,  a 
powerful  revival  commenced  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  at  Elizabeth  town, 
which  lasted  two  years.  The  Congregation  was  then  without  a  pastor, — Mr. 
Caldwell  having  been  killed;  and  without  a  place  of  worship, — ^their  church  edi- 
fice having  been  burned.  Many  of  the  subjects  of  that  revival  were  living,  after 
I  settled  in  Elizabethtown,  and  were  among  the  most  devoted  Christians  whom 
I  remember  to  have  met  with.  I  have  heard  them  say  that  Dr.  Ogden,  at  that 
time,  often  preached  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  that  great  numbers  of  Presby- 
terians went  to  hear  him,  and  considered  themselves  much  benefitted  by  his 
ministrations.  He  was  highly  esteemed  throughout  the  whole  region  as  a  man 
of  integrity  and  piety,  and  as  a  fine  specimen  of  venerable  old  age.  Towards 
the  close  of  his  ministry  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  he  was  brought  into  unpleasant 
relations  with  a  portion  of  his  parish;  but  I  do  not  now  distinctly  remember 
the  merits  of  the  controversy,  though  I  am  quite  sure  that  there  was  nothing  in 
connection  with  it  that  left  the  semblance  of  a  stain  upon  Dr.  Ogden 's  character. 

Yours  fraternally, 

JOHN  McDowell. 

FROM  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  H.  COX,  D.  D. 

Lx  Rot,  N.  Y.,  March  15, 1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  The  late  Rev.  Uzal  Ogden,  D.  D.,  of  Newark,  N.  J.,  was  well 
known  to  me, — increasingly  from  1811  to  his  decease.  He  was  a  venerable 
co-presbyter  with  me  in  the  earlier  stages  of  my  ministry,  and  was  consistently 
esteemed  by  all  who  knew  him. 

Dr.  Ogden  was  a  man  of  learning.  He  had  an  extensive  library,  and  was 
addicted  to  habits  of  study,  observation,  and  reflection,  the  fruits  of  which  wen 
obvious  in  all  his  public  demonstrations.  Both  the  pulpit  and  the  press  attested 
the  respectability  of  his  contributions.  He  published  sermons,  essays,  pamphlets, 
on  various  subjects  and  occasions.  The  work  which,  so  far  as  I  know,  most 
illustrates  his  reputation,  is  his  Antidote  to  Deism,  in  two  volumes,  published 
in  reply  to  Paine's  '*  Age  of  Reason."  If  that  work  is  much  a  compilation, 
quoting  from  numerous  authors  of  excellence  and  fame,  ancient  and  modern,  I 
am  sure  also  ihkt  it  is  no  less  valuable  on  that  account;  that  it  evinces  research 
and  erudition,  seldom  equalled;  that  it  shows  thought,  method,  and  mastery  of 
the  subject,  in  which  few  could  surpass  him;  and  that  among  the  many  answers 
to  that  blasphemous  production,  there  was  none  better  adapted  to  instruct  and 


J 

i 


UZAL  OGDEK.  /  3gQ 

edify  the  people,  or  to  ]ive  and  last  wherever  it  ^vi^tt^o^m.  ^t  has  kept  its.place 
in  my  own  library  for  scores  of  years;  and  I  never  nl^w^ven  passingly^  with- 
oat  a  renewed  impression  of  its  worth;  nor  would  I  ezoejif  up  pislpoife  that  of 
Bishop  Watson  in  comparison.  I  should  be  glad  to  see  another  edition  of  it,  in 
these  days,  with  some  notes,  and  a  fitting  introduction,  by  a  competent  hand. 

Dr.  Ogden  was  well  read  in  History,  especially  Ecclesiastical.  In  the  dogmas 
of  ages,  in  the  antiquities  of  the  Church,  in  the  writings  of  the  fathers,  he  greatly 
excelled.  His  patristic  lore  would  have  adorned  any  station,  even  at  the  top  of 
the  pyramid  of  the  hierarchy  of  England.  In  this  he  had  scarce  a  peer  in  the 
country.  His  theological  views  were  both  evangelical  and  practical.  In  man* 
ners,  he  was  calm,  dignified,  consistent;  and  a  real  gentleman  of  the  school  of 
Washington.  He  was,  withal,  a  man  of  exemplary  humility,  meeting  the  trials 
of  life  with  the  equanimity  of  enlightened  faith  and  humble  hope  in  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

After  his  accession  to  our  Presbyterian  Church,  he  was  never  settled  in  the 
ministry;  but  preached  for  his  brethren  as  occasion  offered,  and  often  performed 
a  voluntary  mission  through  the  rural  districts  of  New  Jersey.  All  this,  I 
believe,  was  done  at  his  own  charges,  and  because  he  loved  the  work,  the  cause, 
the  brethren,  and  the  Master. 

On  one  occasion,  as  I  well  recollect,  the  Presbytery  met  in  Newark,  when 
myself  was  officiating  as  its  Clerk;  and  the  question  was,  in  reference  to  a 
remarkable  candidate,  Q/rdcMi — or  noil  For  one  I  resolved  against  his  hopes, 
on  the  score  of — too  much  ignorance;  after  trying  to  be  kind  and  complying  as 
possible.  His  piety  was  pleaded,  his  natural  gifts,  the  call  unanimous  of  a  small 
church  in  the  country,  and  withal  his  general  popularity.  On  several  accounts, 
I  felt  deeply  perplexed;  but  could  not  vote  for  him,  and  did  not.  It  was  our  rule  to 
call  the  roll,  for  a  vote,  with  any  remarks  preceding.  When  I  called  the  name 
of  Dr.  Ogden,  the  old  gentleman  ro.se.  We  all  listened  with  special  interest,  and 
well  were  we  paid  for  it.  He  gave  his  reasons  for  a  negative-— and  they  were 
eloquent,  weighty  and  influential,  as  the  banner  speech  of  the  occasion.  Oh!  how 
scathing  was  his  animadversion  on  an  ignorant  ministry — as  incongruous,  as 
preposterous,  as  destructive,  and  as  utterly  precluded  by  the  very  terms  4f  the 
commission.  He  showed  from  history,  from  experience,  from  the  nature  of 
things,  what  weak  and  erring  policy  it  was,  like  that  of  Jeroboam  of  old,  to 
patronize  incompetency,  and  sanction  ignorance  in  office,  ministering  at  the  altars 
of  God:  evincing  too,  that  often  those  who  would  favour  the  immorality,  as  he 
characterized  it,  would  show  their  better  wisdom  afterward,  in  avoiding  and 
degrading  the  ordained  ignoramus,  and  at  all  events  would  be  found  never  with 
those  who  would  call  him  to  become  their  own  pastor. 

It  was  nobly  and  well  done — yet  the  vote  carried,  as  I  well  remember;  mine 
the  duty  to  count  and  report;  eleven,  ay«,  ten  aoy  and  five  fiwiAxt^att.  Sup- 
ported by  such  authority  and  such  argumentation,  I  was  only  deeper  in  my  con- 
viction of  the  right — and  the  subsequent  history  has  awfully  accused  the  affirm- 
ative, and  vindicated  the  wisdom  of  Dr.  Ogden,  with  too  much  evidence  of  its 
raetitude. 

"  From  such  Apostles,  oh!  ye  Presbyters 

"  Preserve  the  Church ;  and  lay  not  careless  hands 

"  On  skulls  that  cannot  teach  and  will  not  learn.'' 

I  am  sorry  that  I  could  not  do  more  justice  to  the  memory  of  such  an  honoured 
person,  but  trust  that  I  have  written  the  substantial  truth.  Dr.  Qgden  lived  to 
a  good  old  age,  and  died,  honoured  by  Christians,  and  greatly  respected  by  the- 

whole  community. 

Tour  brother  in  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 

S.  H.  COX. 
Vol.  IV.  47 


370  PBBSBTTSBIAlf. 


SAMUEL  PORTER  WILLIAMS  » 

1805—1826. 

Sahusl  Porter  Williams,  a  son  of  Esekiel  and  Prudence  Williama, 
was  born  at  Wethersfteld,  Codd.,  February  22,  1779.  His  fttmilj  was 
greatly  distiuguished,  especially  in  the  clerical  line, — Solomon  Stoddard  of 
Northampton  having  been  his  great-grandfather  on  the  mother's  side,  and 
William  Williams  of  Hatfield, — another  of  the  great  lights  of  his  time,  sus- 
taining the  same  relation  to  him  on  the  father's  side.  Several  others  also 
of  the  Williams  family,  who  were  less  remote  from  him  in  point  of  time, 
were  among  the  prominent  clergymen  of  their  day  in  New  England. 

Having  been  early  destined  to  a  literary  life,  he  entered  Yale  Gol« 
lege,  in  1792,  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  and  graduated  in  1796.  Though  it 
does  not  appear  that  he  fell  into  any  vicious  habit  during  this  period,  his 
extreme  youth  prevented  him  from  realizing  the  full  benefit  of  a  collegiate 
course,  and  he  seems  to  have  subsequently  reproached  himself,  at  least  with 
criminal  inattention  and  neglect.     He  says,  *'  My  collegiate  life  is  past,  and 

with  it  four  years  of  ■ .     I  have  forever  to  mourn  the  neglect  of  their 

.precious  advantages.     Time,  reputation,  money,  all  squandered.     I  resolve 
to  redeem  that  which  is  lost.'' 

For  some  years  after  he  left  College,  he  was  engaged  in  mercantile  busi- 
ness,— ^in  which,  however,  he  was  not  successful.  At  this  period,  he  made 
no  pretensions  to  religion,  nor  is  it  known  through  what  instrumentality  his 
mind  first  received  a  serious  direction ;  but  it  appears  from  his  papers  that 
he  became  a  communicant  in  March,  1808;  and  that  he  made  a  profession 
of  his  faith  with  the  belief  that  he  had  felt  the  sanctifying  power  of  Divine 
truth.* 

His  attention  was  now  directed  to  the  study  of  Theology,  with  a  view  to 
his  entering  the  ministry.  He  pursued  his  studies,  first,  at  New  Haven, 
under  the  direction  of  President  Dwight,  and  afterwards  at  Springfield,  with 
his  brother-in-law,  the  Kev.  (afterwards  Dr.)  Bezaleel  Howard.  He  was 
licensed  to  preach  at  West  Springfield,  April  10,  1805,  and  preached  his 
first  sermon  at  Amherst,  the  next  month ;  and  such  was  his  popularity  that 
be  soon  received  an  invitation  from  Springfield,  the  place  where  he  had  in 
part  prepared  for  the  ministry,  to  settle  as  a  colleague  with  his  instmoter. 
The  settlement,  however,  owing  to  some  peculiar  circumstances,  never  took 
place.. 

He  had  already  received  two  other  invitations  to  settle — one  from  Deer- 
field,  Mass., — the  other  from  Mansfield,  Conn.  He  chose  the  latter  place, 
and  was  ordained  there,  January  1,  1807.  The  Sermon  was  preached  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Parsons  of  Amherst. 

The  church  and  parish  with  which  he  now  became  connected,  were  expe- 
riencing the  effects  o(  a  violent  controversy.  The  Kev.  John  Sherman, 
their  late  Pastor,  had  avowed  himself  a  Unitarian,  and  had  published 
a  book  in  defence  of  his  peculiar  views ;  in  consequence  of  which  he  was 
dismissed  from  his  charge,  though  a  portion  of  his  congregation  adopted  his 
opinions.     This  minority  consented  to  the  settlement  of  Mr.  Williams,  with 

•  Memoir  preflxed  to  his  Swmonf .— If S.  fkom  Hon.  Chief  Juftioe  WiUiant. 


SAMUEL  FOBTKK  WILLIAMS.  371 

ah  vodentaadkig  that  they  should  be  allowed,  without  molestatio&y  to  retain 
their  oonneotioD  with  the  chnroh.  This  mixed  character  of  his  audience 
seems,  for  the  first  two  years,  to  have  eonsiderably  modified  the  style  of  his 
preaching;  but  at  length  he  began  to  preach  more  explicitly  on  the  points 
in  dispates — the  conseqaence  of  which  was  that  he  incurred  the  displeasure 
of  those  whose  opinions  he  was  understood  to  assail.  In  addition  to  this, 
his  salary  proved  inadequate  to  the  support  of  his  family,  and  his  repeated 
appeals  to  the  people  in  relation  to  it  were  unsuccessful.  In  this  state  of 
things,  which  seemed  to  promise  but  little  of  either  comfort  or  usefulness,. 
he  was  dismissed  from  his  pastoral  charge,  September  7,  1817. 

Previous  to  his  removal  from  Mansfield,  he  had  received  invitations  from 
several  of  the  most  respectable  churches  in  our  large  cities  to  preach  to 
them,  with  a  view  to  settlement.  He,  however,  accepted  an  invitation  from 
the  Church  in  Northampton,  to  labour  as  -a  temporary  supply,  in  connec* 
tion  with  his  venerable  relative,  the  Pastor  of  that  Church, -^the  Rot.  Solo- 
mon Williams.     Here  he  continued  two  years. 

In  December,  1820,  he  was  invited  to  preach  to  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church  in  Newburyport,  then  vacant  by  the  removal  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dana 
to  the  Presidency  of  Dartmouth  College.  Here  he  produced  at  once  a 
powerful  impression;  and  they  unanimously  invited  him  to  become  their 
Pastor.  He  accepted  the  call,  and  was  installed  on  the  8th  of  February, 
1821. 

Daring  the  few  years  of  his  ministry  at  Newburyport,  he  laboured  with 
much  acceptance  and  success.  But  disease,  in  the  form  of  dyspepsia,  had, 
for  some  time,  been  making  its  inroads  upon  his  naturally  vigorous  consti- 
tution ;  and,  during  the  last  year  of  his  life,  he  was  so  much  enfeebled,  as 
to  bi3  fit  for  little  active  effort.  His  last  public  service  was  a  Thanksgiving 
Sermon,  in  November,  1826,  on  *'  the  Value  of  Life.*'  He  died  on  the 
23d  of  December  following,  in  the  joyful  confidence  of  entering  on  a  better 
life.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Leonard  Withington, 
of  Newbury,  from  II.  Cor.  v.  7. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Mr.  Williams'  publications : — A  Sermon  at  the 
installation  of  the  Rev.  William  Andrews,  Danbury,  1813.  An  Inquiry 
into  the  state  of  the  Churches,  &o. :  A  Sermon  preached  in  several  congre- 
gations by  appointment  of  the  Consociation  of  Windham  County,  1816^ 
The  Good  Minister :  A  Discourse  in  three  parts,  preached  in  the  First  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  Newburyport,  in  consequence  of  the  installation  of  the 
author,  1821.  A  Sermon  at  the  ordination  of  the  Rev.  William  Williams, 
Salem,  1821.  A  Sermon  at  Exeter  on  the  Annual  Thanksgiving,  1821. 
Plea  for  the  orphan :  A  Sermon  delivered  on  the  anniversary  of  the  Female 
Charitable  Society  of  Newburyport,  1822.  An  Address  before  the  Young 
Men's  Auxiliary  Education  Society  of  Newburyport,  1822.  Walking  with 
God:  A  Sermon  before  the  Education  Society  of  the  young  men  of  Boston, 
on  their  fifth  anniversary,  1824.  Messiah's  Question :  A  Sermon  prepara- 
tory to  the  Communion,  1824.  The  Faithful  Minister's  Monument :  A  Ser- 
mon preached  at  the  Funeral  of  the  Rev.  John  Giles,  Pastor  of  the  Second 
Presbyterian  Church,  Newburyport,  1824.  Duties  of  Congregations  to 
their  Pastors :  A  Sermon  preached  at  Newburyport  at  the  installation  of 
the  Rev.  Daniel  Dana,  D.  D.,  1826.  Historical  account  of  the  First  Pres- 
byterian Church  and  Society  in  Newburyport,  addressed  to  the  Congregation 
worshipping  in  Federal  Street,  1826. 


372  PRESBTTEBIAK. 

The  year  after  Mr.  WilliamB*  death,  twenty  of  his  SermoDS  were 
in  an  octayo  volume,  together  with  a  brief  Memoir  of  his  life. 

In  1801,  Mr.  Williams  was  married  to  Mary  Hanford  Wells,  who  died  in 
1815, — the  mother  of  six  children.  In  1817,  he  was  married  to  Sarah 
Pierpont  Tyler,  and  by  this  marriage  had  other  six  children.  The  second 
Mrs.  Williams  suryived  her  husband. 


FROM  THE  REV.  LEONARD  WITHINGTON,  D.  D. 

NawBuar,  October  19, 1854. 

Rey.  and  dear  Sir:  The  sad  disaster  of  which  wo  have  recently  read  in  the 
papers,  reminds  me  of  my  promise  to  you.  It  seems  that  two  of  the  children 
of  my  old  friend,  Samuel  P.  Williams,  have  sunk  with  the  ''Arctic  Steamer"  into 
the  bosom  of  the  sea.  Such  is  the  probability;  though  it  is  barely  possible  that 
one  of  them  at  least  may  have  been  picked  up  in  a  boat.  But  I  haye  yery  little 
hope;  and  the  incident  fills  my  mind  with  interesting  and  mournful  recollec- 
tions. 

I  drew  up  myself  the  biographical  sketch  which  is  prefixed  to  a  yolume  of  his 
sermons,  published  in  1827;  and  there  is  in  that  yolume  an  extract  from  the 
Funeral  Sermon.  On  reviewing  these  pieces,  I  find  they  conform  to  my  present 
impressions,  and  contain  the  substance  of  all  I  can  say  of  his  talents  and 
character. 

He  came  into  this  r^ion  at  the  close  of  1820,  and  I  heard  him  preach  in  the 
oyening  of  the  Sabbath  of  his  first  performances.  The  sermon  made  the  exact 
impression  that  was  eyer  after  made  by  his  preaching.  He  wandered  in  a 
wilderness  of  flowers;  he  heaped  figure  on  figure;  there  was  a  redundance  of 
fancy;  his  yoice  was  melodious  and  his  action  graceful;  and  yet  there  was  less 
precision  in  the  thought  than  splendour  in  the  clothing.  I  remember  he  illus- 
trated an  illustration  by  an  illustration — thus  he  said  "  that  the  Christian's 
crown  in  glory  was  like  the  sun,  self  balanced,  a  full  orbed  circle,  replete  with 
radiance  and  seen  by  its  own  light."  Now  this  was  exactly  the  man — he  run 
so  swiftly  among  the  bowers  of  his  ornamental  garden,  that  you  sometimes  (at 
least  I  did)  lost  sight  of  the  direction  of  the  path  in  which  his  argument  was 
moving.  And  yet  I  should  make  a  very  false  impression,  if  I  should  lead  you 
to  suppose  that  his  whole  discourse  was  a  vague  bundle  of  figures.  He  always 
made  the  intended  impression;  he  always  stung  the  sinner's  conscience;  and 
this  he  did  by  those  intervals  of  light  and  piercing  truth,  with  which  he  inter- 
spersed his  metaphorical  roses.  He  seldom  preached  a  sermon  that  was  all  logic, 
and  neyer  one  that  was  all  rhetoric.  If  he  presented  a  cloud,  flashes  of  light 
were  continually  coming  out  of  the  cloud.  Ho  might  be  compared  to  one  of 
those  revolving  lights  off  our  coast — (for  example  the  one  now  at  the  Isle  of 
Shoals) — ^you  lost  him  for  a  moment,  but  he  was  sure  to  peer  out  again,  and  the 
same  red  gleam  met  the  waiting  eye.  However,  his  sermons  lost  immensely  by 
the  printer's  ink — his  yoice,  so  melodious,  was  a  constant  stimulant,  and  his 
emphasis  a  perpetual  comment. 

As  a  man,  though  decided  and  sometimes  hitting  you  a  little,  he  was  the  most 
transparent  man  I  ever  knew.  He  was  my  neighbour  for  about  six  years ;  and 
our  intercourse  was  never  interrupted  for  a  moment — it  was  always  cordial  and 
sincere.  As  I  have  said  before, — Secretum  et  ailentium  §ju8  non  /tmer««.  He 
always  wore  his  purposes  written  on  his  forehead — ^there  were  no  dark  hints,  no 
malignant  insinuations,  no  doubtful  allusions,  no  backhanded  complimentji, 
implying  censure;  but  all  was  bold,  open  and  sincere.  The  impression  his 
character  left  on  the  people  out  of  his  immediate  Society,  was  very  &yourabl&— 
he  was  uniycrsally  respected  as  a  man  of  decision,  talents,  and  piety. 


SAMUEL  FOBTBB  WILLIAMS.  373 

The  mora  I  reflect,  the  more  I  am  oonvinoed  that  the  art  of  preaching  depends 
less  on  following  an  abstract  pattern,  than  on  each  individual's  bringing  out  his 
own  peculiar  qualities  to  a  personal  perfection.  Every  preacher  has  his  own 
idiosffncraciea,  which  he  is  to  consider,  to  correct,  as  far  as  he  can,  and  to  culti- 
vate according  to  the  line  of  their  tendency.  In  a  word,  he  is  to  do  hia  best. 
This  is  the  secret  of  almost  all  the  excellence  we  see  in  tbe  world.  Preachers 
are  like  trees — the  elm  has  its  beauty;  the  oak,  the  pine,  the  cedar,  and  the 
maple;  and  of  productive  trees  each  bears  its  appropriate  fruit.  Cultivation 
ahould  always  lead  nature  in  its  own  direction;  and  this  is  a  part  at  least  of 
what  Paul  meant  when  he  said  to  Timothy — **  Neglect  not  the  gift  that  is  in 
thee."  The  success  of  Mr.  Williams  as  a  preacher  was  principally  owing  to 
this — having  never  passed  through  any  of  our  Theological  Schools,  he  had  never 
been  hammered  into  a  generic  model.  He  had  the  sagacity  to  see  that  he  had 
some  budding  powers  of  his  own;  and  self-culture  cherished  them,  until  they 
blossomed  into  beauty,  and  ripened  into  fruit. 

Of  a  man  so  successful  in  the  viva  voce  exhibitions  of  religion,  you  may  wish 
to  know  the  personal  appearance.  He  was  not  a  demure,  meek,  and  sombre 
looking  man — such  a  form,  for  instance,  as  we  attribute  to  the  Quakers:  indeed 
the  broad  brim  would  not  have  suited  his  head — he  would  himself  have  smiled 
at  such  an  incongruous  combination.  He  was  tall  in  person,  quick  and  firm  in 
his  step,  manly  in  his  motions,  giving  you  the  air  of  a  military  man,  rather 
than  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel.  Our  Saviour  has  said — *'  When  ye  fast,  be  not 
as  the  hypocrites  of  a  sad  countenance;  for  they  disfigure  their  faces.'*  The 
gait  and  person  of  Mr.  Williams  was  a  living  exemplification  of  this  precau- 
tionary direction — cheerful  without  levity,  and  careless  of  shadowy  solemnities, 
to  secure  tbe  object  most  solemn  of  all. 

Very  truly  yours, 

LEONARD  WITHINOTON. 


-♦#- 


EPHRAIM  PUTNAM  BRADFORD  * 

1805—1845. 

Ephraim  Putnam  Bradford  was  born  in  Milford,  N.  H.,  December 
27,  1776.  He  was  the  third  of  eight  children  of  Captain  John  Bradford 
and  Sarah  his  wife,  once  of  Milford,  and  afterwards  of  Hancock.  His 
father  commanded  a  company  of  militia  during  a  part  of  tbe  Kevolutionary 
struggle,  and  was  attached  to  the  command  of  General  Stark.  He  was  the 
officer,  who,  after  the  defeat  of  Colonel  Baum,  in  the  first  part  of  the  battle 
of  Bennington,  discovered  the  approach  of  a  large  reinforcement  of  Hes- 
sians, under  Colonel  Breyman,  and  gave  to  the  American  General  the 
timely  intelligence  which  led  to  the  arrangements  that  completed  the 
victory. 

Tonng  Bradford  spent  his  early  years  in  labouring  upon  a  farm.  He 
was  the  subject  of  deep  religious  impressions  from  childhood ;  and  he 
referred  his  hopeful  conversion  to  an  early  period  of  his  life.  His  boyhood 
and  yonth  were  marked  by  a  serious  and  thoughtful  habit,  and  a  disrelish 
for  the  usual  sports  of  the  young.     With  a  mind  uncommonly  inquisitive, 

•  Dr.  Wbiton*f  Fan.  Senn.— CongregatioDal  Journal,  1845.— MS.  from  hif  ikmil/. 


374  FBBSBTTERTAK. 

And  an  mrdent  lore^of  booki,  Keeariy  resolred  on  the  tttcintnent  of  a  ed- 
legiate  ednoation,  and- as  soon  as  he  came  of  age,  he  bent  all  his  energies  to 
the  accomplishment  of  this  object.  In  due  time  he  was  prepared  for  Col- 
lege, entered  at  Cambridge,  and  graduated  in  180B — having  for  a  class  mate 
the  late  Dr.  Pajson.  Having  spent  a  short  time  after  his  graduation  in 
teaching  a  school,  he  entered  on  a  course  of  theological  study  under  the 
direction  of  the  Eev.  Dr.  Lathrop  of  West  Springfield.  Here  he  continued 
during  the  greater  part  of  a  year,  and  made  a  highly  faTOurable  imprsBsion 
upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  plaee,  and  espeoially  upon  his  venerable 
iastructer. 

In  May,  1805, — shortly  after  he  received  lieense  topreaoh,  he  was  invited 
to  preach  as  a  candidate  in  New  Boston,  N.  H.;  and  tiiongh  the  parish,  pre- 
vious to  his  going  among  them,  had  been  unhappily  divided,  they  quickly 
became  united  under  his  ministrations,  and  he  was  ordained  and  installed 
as  their  Pastor  by  the  Presbytery  of  Londonderry  on  the  26th  of  February, 
1806,  as  successor  to  the  Rev.  Solomon  Moor.* 

Mr.  Bradford  soon  rose  to  distinction  among  the  minbters  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, and,  during  a  pastorate  of  forty  years,  exercised  great  influence  not 
only  in  his  own  parish  but  throughout  the  whole  region  in  which  he  lived. 
In  the  controversy  relative  to  Dartmouth  College,  from  1815  to  1819,  he 
was  one  of  a  committee  of  three  appointed  by  the  Legislature  to  investigate 
its  condition.  A  vacancy  occurring  in  the  Presidency  of  the  College,  he 
was  spoken  of  extensively  as  a  suitable  person  to  succeed  to  the  office. 

Mr.  Bradford's  ministry  may  be  regarded  as  having  been  a  more  than 
ordinarily  successful  one.  While  a  healthful  tone  of  religious  feeling  gen- 
erally pervaded  his  church,  there  were  several  seasons  of  much  more  than 
common  religious  interest  among  them,  as  the  result  of  which  considerable 
accessions  were  made  to  the  number  of  communicants.  A  revival  in  the 
winter  of  1814-15  added  about  forty;  one  in  1831,  about  sixty;  and  one 
in  1835,  nearly  the  same  number.  None  of  the  revivals  that  occurred 
under  his  ministry  took  on  the  form  of  fanatical  excitements,  owing  no 
doubt  in  a  great  measure  to  the  caution  and  firmness  with  which  he  watched 
and  resisted  every  tendency  to  excess.  Daring  his  whole  ministry,  the 
peace  of  his  parish  scarcely  sustained  the  least  interruption. 

Mr.  Bradford  was  married  September  1, 1806,  to  Mary  Manning,  daughter 
of  Deacon  Epbraim  and  Mrs.  Mary  Barker  of  Amherst,  N.  H.  They  had 
twelve  children,  ten  of  whom,  with  their  mother,  survived  their  father. 

He  generally  enjoyed  vigorous  health,  and  during  a  period  of  thirty-nine 
years  was  not  prevented  from  performing  the  public  services  of  the  sanctuary 
for  more  than  five  or  six  Sabbaths.  In  January,  1845,  in  consequence  of 
exposure  to  cold  and  fatigue,  he  became  seriously  ill,  and  was  taken  off 
from  his  labours  for  several  months.  He  returned  to  them  in  June  follow- 
ing, and  continued  them,  though  not  without  much  infirmity,  till  near  the 
close  of  life.  He  preached  on  the  Sabbath  immediately  preceding  that  on 
which  be  died,  with  great  interest — his  subject  was  *' the  unpardonable  sin." 
In  the  course  of  that  week,  he  was  prostrated  by  a  violent  cold,  which  ter^ 
minated  in  croup.  On  the  last  day  of  his  life,  awaking  from  sleep,  he 
remarked  to  his  wife  that  he  had  never  preached  to  his  people  with  more 

•SoLOVOH  Moor  waa  born  in  Kowtown,  IreUncU  in  1736;  wm  gradnated  »t  tlio  Univoni^ 
of  GlMgow  in  1768 ;  wm  intUUed  Paf  tor  of  the  Chnidi  in  Now  Boitoo,  Septembor  8. 1768 :  and 
diid  M*j  28,  1808,  ogod  ilzty^Ton. 


EPHRAIK  FUTKAM  BRADFORD.  .37.5 

dmroMB  tliui  ob  that  day.  *^  Are  you  sot  aware/'  replied  she^  <*  that  jou 
are  sick,  and  have  not  heen  out  of  your  room  to*day  ?"  Recalled  by  her 
qaeetion  to  a  eoDsciousness  of  the  reality,  he  replied, — **  Oh,  I  suppose  it 
mmt  be  so.'^  He  told  her  that  the  text  from  which  he  had  supposed  him- 
self preaching,  was  Mark  iz.  1 — **  There  be  some  of  them  that  stand  here, 
which  shall  not  taste  of  death,  till  they  have  seen  the  Kingdom  of  Qod 
come  with  power.*'  He  died  on  Sabbathr  evening,  December  14,  1845, 
and  his  Funeral  was  attended  on  Thursday  following,  when  an  appropriate 
Sermon  was  delivered  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Whiton  of  Antrim. 

Mr.  Bradford's  publications  are  an  Address  before  the  Handellian  Musical 
Society^  New  Boston,  1807 ;  a  Sermon  before  the  Legislature  of  New 
Hampshire  at  the  General  Election,  1821 ;  a  Disoourse  commemorative  of 
the  character  of  the  Bev.  Moses  Bradford,*  Francestown,  N.  H.,  1838 ;  and 
a  Sermon  at  the  Funeral  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Harris  of  Dunbarton. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JAMES  J.  McCOLLUM. 

Bradford,  Mass.,  Jannary  8,  1867. 

My  dear  Sir:  It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  endeavour  to  comply  with  your  request 
to  furnish  a  few  personal  recollections  of  the  late  Rev.  Mr.  Bradford  of  Now 
Boston.  To  recall  and  embody  in  language  my  impressions  of  this  excellent 
man  is  truly  a  labour  of  love.  I  knew  him  for  about  twenty  years.  From  early 
boyhood  I  had  the  greatest  reverence  for  him,  and  when  I  came  afterward  to 
know  him  intimately,  and  to  look  upon  him  as  a  friend  and  adviser,  and  a  father 
in  the  ministry,  the  deeper  feeling  of  affection  by  no  means  diminished,  but 
increaaed  rather,  my  reverence  for  him.  The  time  I  spent  in  his  pleasant  and 
hospitable  home  I  have  always  regarded  as  among  the  most  profitable  as  well  as 
deligfatful  portions  of  my  life. 

Mr.  Bradford  was  a  most  genial  man.  It  was  always  sunshine  when  he  was 
present.  He  had  a  large  warm  heart,  and  you  could  not  come  near  him  without 
finding  it  out.  There  was  a  constant  overflow  of  goodness  and  kindness  that 
won  the  hearts  of  all  that  had  much  to  do  with  him.  He  was  of  course  a  uni- 
versal favourite.  Clergy  and  laity,  learned  and  unlearned,  the  refined  and  the 
uncultivated,  persons  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes,  *' young  men  and  maidens,  old 
men  and  children," — all  were  almost  alike  interested  in  him.  Hence  he  was 
always  welcome,  whenever  he  went  among  the  neighbouring  towns.  Every  body 
knew  him  about  as  well  as  they  did  their  own  minister.  Men  would  leave  their 
work  in  the  fields,  as  they  saw  him  riding  by,  and  women  would  run  out  of  their 
houses  to  see  him  a  moment,  and  speak  a  word  with  him,  if  they  could  do  no 
more.  But  if  they  could  persuade  him  to  go  into  the  house,  and  tarry  all  night, 
they  made  a  perfect  jubilee  over  it.  So  numerous  were  his  acquaintances  among 
laymen,  especially  within  the  bounds  of  the  Londonderry  Presbytery,  to  which 
he  belonged,  that  he  was  rarely  allowed  to  spend  much  time  at  the  homes  of  his 
clerical  brethren.  The  people  waylaid  him  in  his  journeys,  and  would  have  him 
tarry  with  them,  if  by  any  means  they  could  compass  it.  It  was,  however,  with 
literary  men,  particularly  with  his  ministerial  brethren,  that  the  genial  nature 
of  Mr.  Bradford  shone  forth  most  conspicuously.  Here  his  conversational  talents 
appeared  to  the  greatest  advantage;  and  I  think  he  was  the  best  talker  I  ever 
met  with,  when  he  felt  perfectly  at  his  ease.  The  first  time  I  was  ever  at  his 
house,  I  spent  several  days  with  him;  and  the  variety  and  richness  of  his  con- 
versation, and  his  inexhaustible  resources,  that  seemed  continually  to  overflow, 

*  MoSRS  Bradtorr  waf  bora  ia  Caatmrlnirr,  Cobb.,  Ib  ITSft;  wm  nRdoalod  tA  Dartmonth 
ColloM  in  17S6;  was  ordainod  Pastor  of  tbo  Chanh  ia  VouMiitowBy  Boptonber  S,  1790;  waa 
January  1, 1827;  aod  died  in  1838. 


376  PR£8BTT£aiAK. 

perfectly  amased  me.  It  wee  a  cold  and  dreary  jonruey  I  liad  taken  to  Tisit 
him.  I  climbed  over  bleak  hills,  and  plunged  through  deep  ralleys,  and 
ploughed  through  immense  snow  drifts  in  the  face  of  the  fiercest  winds,  to  reach 
his  dwelling;  but  one  hour's  conversation,  if  I  could  have  had  no  more,  would 
have  amply  repaid  me  for  all  my  toil  and  trouble.  I  had  hardly  reached  his 
house  before  he  launched  forth  in  a  stream  of  talk,  that  scarcely  ceased  its  flow 
for  all  the  waking  hours  of  five  days;  and  all  the  time  he  was  interesting,  instruct- 
ive, witty  and  fresh  as  at  the  be^nning.  The  conversation  of  course  took  a  wide 
range.  Politics,  religion,  theology,  literature,  ancient  and  modern,  science  and 
social  life,  all  came  in  for  a  share.  I  was  particularly  struck  with  his  classical 
taste  and  acquisitions.  His  allusions  to  the  classics,  his  quotations  from  them, 
his  anecdotes  respecting  them,  and  his  keen  relish  of  their  beauties,  would  lead 
one  to  suppose  he  had  made  classical  literature  the  one  absorbing  study  of  his 
life.  But  when  the  conversation  turned  upon  modem  literature,  he  seemed 
equally  at  home.  What  is  commonly  called  the  English  Classics  were  his  espe- 
cial delight;  and  with  the  great  men  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries, 
he  seemed  as  well  acquainted  as  he  was  with  his  own  neighbours.  Anecdotes 
of  Johnson,  Burke,  Pitt,  and  Fox,  constantly  enlivened  his  conversation. 

But  even  a  slight  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Bradford  gave  one  an  impression  of 
something  in  him  better  than  wit,  and  learning,  and  good  nature — you  could  not 
be  with  him  long  without  feeling  that  he  was  a  man  of  deep,  earnest,  but  unpre- 
tending, childlike  piety.  From  every  subject  of  conversation,  and  at  all  times, 
the  transition  to  a  religious  theme  seemed  perfectly  easy  and  natural.  From  the 
midst  of  a  hearty  laugh  at  some  odd  anecdote  or  quaint  conceit,  he  frequently 
fell  into  a  vein  of  spiritual  conversation  that  was  truly  refreshing  to  the  soul. 
There  was  no  cant  about  him,  no  effort  to  seem  good,  no  airs  put  on  for  the  occa- 
sion, but  his  religion  seemed  to  underlie  his  whole  character;  and  wander  in  his 
talk  where  he  might,  he  was  never  free  from  this,  to  him  most  interesting  of  all 
subjects;  and  at  the  proper  time,  and  in  the  best  and  easiest  manner,  he  fell  into 
a  train  of  remark  that  showed  the  depth  and  richness  of  his  Christian  expe- 
rience.    ''  Out  of  the  abundance  of  his  heart  his  mouth  spake." 

As  a  preacher,  Mr.  Bradford  was  deservedly  very  popular.  It  was  always 
thought  a  great  treat  in  the  whole  region  round  about  to  hear  him  preach.  And 
any  where,  whether  among  acquaintances  or  strangers,  he  made  a  very  strong 
impression.  It  could  not  well  be  otherwise.  His  noble  commanding  person,  his 
rich  musical  voice,  his  natural,  graceful  and  earnest  manner,  his  distinct  articu- 
lation, and  his  great  simplicity  of  style  and  delivery,  could  not  fail  to  attract 
attention.  Of  his  excellencies  as  a  preacher  I  must  speak  only  in  general  terms, 
for  I  never  had  the  privilege  of  hearing  him  except  as  a  mere  youth.  While  a 
boy,  I  remember  being  very  much  impressed  with  a  sermon  of  his  before  the 
Communion,  at  a  meeting  of  the  Londonderry  Presbytery  in  the  old  church  of 
the  West  Parish  of  Londonderry;  and  the  whole  scene  is  as  distinctly  before  my 
mind  as  if  it  occurred  but  yesterday.  The  old  high  pulpit  with  its  curious  sound- 
ing board,  and  the  square  pews,  the  Communion  table  extending  down  the  broad 
aisle,  the  large  congregation,  the  venerable  forms  of  the  older  ministers,  now  for 
the  most  part  in  their  graves,  the  tall  portly  form  of  the  preacher,  the  clear  bell-like 
tones  of  bis  voice,  his  deep  solemnity,  and  his  simple  natural  earnestness,  all  are 
stamped  indelibly  on  my  memory.  The  sermon,  I  presume,  was  a  great  one, — 
for  the  clergy  drank  it  in  most  eagerly,  and  the  congregation  were  solemn  and 
attentive,  and  some  of  them  at  least  in  the  neighbourhood  where  I  was  were 
almost  constantly  in  tears.  What  strikes  me  now  as  most  remarkable  in  that 
sermon,  is  the  fact  that  it  was  so  plain  and  simple  thai  I,  a  mere  child,  was  able 
to  understand  most  of  it,  and  to  retain  not  a  little  of  it.  The  exposition  of  the 
text,  though  learned,  was  yet  brought  down  to  my  childish  comprehension,  and 
to  this  day  I  have  never  gained  a  clearer,  or  it  seems  to  mo  more  correct,  idea  of 


EPUKAIK  FUTJKAM  BRADFOBD.  S77 

the  diiBcttlt  pwnge  of  Seripture  on  which  the  sermon  wm  founded.  I  sospeet 
this  was  the  general  character  of  his  preaching — a  pUin,  simple,  earnest  presen- 
tation of  the  truth  to  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  his  hearers. 

In  personal  appearance  Mr.  Bradford  was  striking.  He  was  a  tall,  full,  well 
proportioned  roan,  with  a  tendency  to  corpulency,  which,  toward  the  last  of  his 
life,  yery  much  increased  upon  him.  In  his  younger  days,  he  must  have  heen  a 
very  handsome  man:  as  I  remember  him  at  forty,  he  was  one  of  the  noblest 
looking  men  I  ever  saw.  It  was  manifest  also  that  he  owed  nothing  to  dress — 
he  was  very  careless  and  even  slovenly  in  regard  to  it — in  fact  he  rarely  seemed 
to  think  any  thing  about  it.  If  he  ever  paid  any  particular  attention  to  the  sub- 
ject, or  apologized  for  his  carelessness,  as  I  have  known  him  do,  it  was  always 
oat  of  regard  to  the  feelings  of  other  people. 

His  manners  were  easy,  graceful  and  winning.  H(^  put  you  at  your  ease  as 
soon  as  you  entered  his  presence.  The  youngest,  most  bashful  and  uncultivated 
of  his  people  found  no  difficulty  in  saying  to  him  whatever  they  had  to  say.  He 
was  too  polite  a  man  to  insist  upon  the  mere  forms  of  politeness,  and  make  one 
feel,  all  the  time  he  was  with  him,  as  if  he  was  in  danger  of  committing  some 
mortal  breach  of  etiquette.  With  those,  however,  who  were  formal  and  precise, 
he  could  be  formal  and  precise  too.  I  once  knew,  quite  a  contention  in  bowing, 
and  scraping,  and  waving  of  the  hand  between  him  and  the  very  urbane  Presi- 
dent John  Wheelock  of  Dartmouth  College;  and  the  country  pastor  fairly  got 
the  better  of  the  polite  President. 

As  a  pastor,  my  impression  is  that  Mr.  Bradford,  at  least  after  I  knew  him, 
was  not  very  systematic  and  regular.  He  had  a  great  many  demands  made  upon 
his  time;  a  great  many  things  to  do,  aside  from  his  regular  vocation,  and  it  would 
not  bo  strange  if  he  sometimes  deferred  certain  parochial  duties  longer  than  was 
desirable.  What  he  actually  did,  however,  I  am  inclined  to  think  was  well  and 
thoroughly  done.  A  short  time  before  his  death,  he  told  me  he  went  through  his 
parish,  calling  at  every  house, — ^reading  the  Scriptures,  conversing  religiously 
with  the  family,  and  offering  prayer  with  them.  Such  a  visitation  as  this  once 
in  five  years  would  be  likely  to  do  more  good  than  half  a  dozen  fitshionaUe  min- 
isterial calls.  Of  Mr.  Bradford's  Theology  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  say  much. 
He  was  a  Presbyterian  of  the  Old  School.  He  was  strongly  attached  to  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  both  as  to  its  doctrine,  and  its  discipline.  But  he  was  by 
no  means  bigoted  or  illiberal.  He  loved  all  who  gave  evidence  that  they  loved 
"  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity." 

I  have  extended  these  remarks  so  far  that  I  have  space  but  for  one  anecdote 
of  him;  and  this  goes  to  show  what  an  impression  he  sometimes  made  upon 
strangers. 

During  the  last  sickness  of  Mr.  Bradford,  and  while,  in  &ct,  he  was  dying,  a 
package  was  sent  to  the  hou.se.  Mrs.  Bradford  directed  it  to  be  carried  upstairs, 
and  put  out  of  the  way  somewhere;  and,  amid  the  trying  scenes  through  which 
she  and  her  family  were  called  to  pass,  thought  no  more  of  it.  Some  days  after 
the  sad  event  that  had  made  her  a  widow,  and  her  children  fatherless,  she  hap- 
pened to  think  of  that  package  again.  She  found  it,  and  opened  it.  It  contained 
a  valuable  present  with  a  letter.  The  substance  of  the  letter  was  that  the  writer 
had  not  seen  Mr.  Bradford  for  more  than  forty  years,  but  he  had  a  most  vivid 
recollection  of  him,  and  wished  at  that  late  day  to  testify  his  respect  for  him  and 
gratitude  to  him.  '*  When  you  were  a  young  man,  a  member  of  Harvard  Col- 
lege/*  continues  the  letter  writer,  "  you  came  to  Groton  to  visit  a  fellow-student 
of  yours,  then  keeping  school  in  our  town.  I  slept  in  the  same  room  with  your- 
self and  friend.  I  listened  to  your  conversation.  It  gave  me  new  and  nobler 
views  of  life — it  had  a  great  effect  on  my  character  and  subsequent  life,  and  if  I 
have  done  any  good  in  the  world,  much  of  it  mast  be  credited  to  the  eonversa* 

Vol.  rV.  48 


37S  PBSWTTIBIAK. 

tion  of  that  night.'^    3%e  write  •l.thAi  leiter  wb  ih^  w«ll  ksown  Amot  Law- 
reace  of  Boston. 

I  am  afraid  I  have  already  written  more  than  70a  will  care  to  read,  and  I  will 
now  subacribe  myself 

Yoors  with  great  respect, 

JAMES  J.  MoCOLLUM. 

FROM  THE  REV.  THOMAS  SAVAGE. 

BxnroaD,  N.  H.,  February  18,  1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  Iwcame  acquainted  with  the  Rer.  Mr.  Bradford  more  than 
thirty  years  ago;  and,  as  we  were  settled  in  contiguous  parishes,  my  acquaint- 
ance with  him  continued  to  the  dose  of  his  useful  life.  My  recollections  of  him 
are  exceedingly  pleasant,  and  the  service  you  haye  asked  of  me  is  any  thing  else 
than  a  burden. 

As  a  preacher,  Mr.  Bradford  never  &iled  to  inspire  interest  in  his  audience. 
Indeed  there  are  few  who  surpassed  him  in  the  qualifications  of  a  public  speaker, 
whether  we  consider  the  impressiveness  of  his  elocution,  the  classical  elegance 
of  his  style,  or  his  fine  appearance  in  the  pulpit.  His  dignified  mien,  his  voice 
which  was  melody  itself,  and  his  countenance  beaming  with  kindness,  are 
impressed,  and  long  will  be,  on  all  who  heard  him.  Nothing  was  wanting  but 
more  systematic  habits  of  study,  to  have  placed  him  among  the  very  brightest 
lights  of  the  pulpit.  He  did  not  generally  write  out  his  sermons,  and  during  the 
latter  part  of  his  life  preached  often  without  any  written  preparation.  His 
prayers,  always  comprehensive  and  fervent,  were  specially  appropriate  on  public 
occasions,  so  that  sometimes  nothing  could  exceed  them  in  adaptedness  to  the 
circumstances, — whether  at  a  funeral,  ordination,  or  other  occasion  of  public 
interest. 

As  a  pastor,  it  may  be  said  the  ease  is  rare  in  which,  for  to  long  a  time,  a 
minister  holds  so  strong  a  personal  influence  among  his  people.  His  parish 
extended  over  a  rough,  uneven  territory  of  hills  and  vallies,  and  consisted 
chiefly  of  families  descended  from  the  Scotch  Irish, — families  inheriting  all  the 
warmth  of  affectionate  regard  for  ministers,  that  marked  their  ancestry.  For 
forty  years  he  laboured  among  them.  At  their  hospitable  homes  he  was  a 
frequent  and  welcome  guest/— imparting  pleasure  wherever  he  went;  uniting  in 
himself  the  affectionate  father,  the  faithful  reprover)  and  the  sympathizing 
friend.    He  was  beloved  by  all,  and  to  him  might  be  applied  the  description — 

"  The  service  past,  around  tho  pious  man, 

"With  ready  zeal,  each  honest  rustic  ranj 

**  E'en  children  followed  with  endearing  wile, 

'^  And  pluck'd  his  gown  to  share  the  g<x>d  man's  smile.'' 

Mr.  Bradford  was  greatly  esteemed  by  his  brethren  in  the  ministry.  Seldom 
have  I  known  one  who  had  naturally  more  of  generous  and  kindly  feeling,  or 
who  exhibited  more  of  that  feeling  in  his  various  relations.  In  the  very  last 
conversation  I  had  with  him,  I  remember  his  remarking  with  regret  upon  the 
comparative  reserve  which  neighbouring  ministers  sometimes  practise  towards 
each  other — *'  they  are  polite  and  courteous,"  said  he,  "  but  I  wish  they  were 
more  cordial  and  affectionate." 

More  perhaps  than  most  ministers,  his  influence  extended  beyond  the  imme- 
diate sphere  of  his  labours.  In  all  the  neighbouring  towns, — indeed  I  may  say, 
throughout  the  State,-~he  was  greatly  respected,  and  his  presence  was  always 
cordially  welcomed  by  persons  of  all  classes.  In  ecclesiastical  councils  he  dis- 
played rare  wisdom  and  tact,  and  as  a  presiding  officer  nothing  could  exceed  the 
felieity  of  hia  manner,  uniting,  as  it  did  remarkably,  the  "suaviter  in  mode*' 
with  the  *'  fortiter  in  re.** 


JSTJ^^RAIII  JPtnmiM  'B&ADFORD.  879 

He  had  a  yean  of  pleasantry  which  oocasionally  showed  itself,  and  sometimes 
with  a  little  sharpness.  He  was  a  decided  Federalist  of  the  old  school;  hut 
among  his  people  the  complexion  of  politics  was  Jefferaonian.  Passing  one  day 
through  a  neighhouring  town,  he  met  on  the  road  a  strong  politician  of  the  latter 
school.  It  was  a  time  of  party  excitement,  and  Mr.  Bradford  had  probably 
taken  some  occasion  to  show  his  colours.  The  individual  who  had  been  among 
his  admirers,  accosted  him^"  Mr.  Bradford,  I  do  not  like  you  as  well  as  I  used 
to  " — **  Well,  really,  Mr.  — ,"  was  the  reply, — "  I  like  you  as  wdl  as  I  ever 
did." 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  that,  amid  the  moltifarioiia  duties,  of  a  rural  pastor, 
he  retained  his  love  for  some  of  the  branches  of  CoUege  stody<-*partioolarly,  to 
the  dose  of  life  he  read  the  Latin  and  Greek  classics  with  the  relish  and  ardour 
of  youth. 

Mr.  Bradford  had  reached  a  good  old  age  before  he  was  called  away  from 
earthly  scenes.  His  death,  which  occurred  on  Sabbath  eyening,  was  peaceful 
and  beautiful.  And  as  we  assembled  at  his  Funeral,  all  felt  that  they  had  lost  a 
&ther — all  could  heartily  respond  to  the  words  of  the  text  selected  for  the  occa- 
sion— '^  Deyout  men  carried  Stephen  to  his  burial,  and  made  great  lamentation 
over  him.''  And  all  recognised  the  portrait,  as  the  preacher  thus  spoke  of  him 
io  the  sermon — *'Kind  in  disposition,  courteous  in  manners,  dignified  b^ond 
most  men  in  personal  appearance;  possessing  a  voice  capable  of  filling  the  largest 
edifice,  yet  melodious  and  finely  modulated;  free  from  bigotry  and  rancour, 
imbued  with  candour,  exemplary  as  a  man  and  a  Christian,  deyoted  to  his  work 
as  a  minister,  he  conciliated  in  a  degree  unusual  the  affection  and  confidence  of 
the  community." 

Allow  me  to  close  this  communication  with  a  brief  extract  from  a  letter  which 
I  lately  received  from  my  kinsman,  the  Hon.  James  Savage  of  Boston,  who  was 
a  member  of  the  same  class  with  Mr.  Bradford  in  Harvard  College: — 

*'  A  single  pleasant  recollection  of  Bradford  remains  fifty-six  or  eight  years 
with  me.  He  interposed  to  prevent  a  censure  falling  on  me  for  some  petty 
disquiet  to  a  Tutor  from  another  hand  than  mine,  but  of  which  I  had  been 
sospected.  How  it  was  done  is  unknown  to  me,  whether  himself  or  some  other 
class  mate  was  shown  to  be  the  momentary  mischief-maker;  but  he  came  to  give 
me  the.  caution  that  I  was  suspected,  and  must  not  furnish  any  ground  for 
encouragement  of  such  suspicion,  as  he  had  turned  the  officer's  aspect  in  a  differ- 
ent direction.  He  might  naturally  enough  suppose  that  I  was  liable,  of  my  own 
mere  motion,  to  exhibit  any  overflow  of  mercurial  boyishness;  but  probably 
hoped  that  I  would  be  on  my  guard  for  time  to  come,  lest  hia  reputation  might 
suffer  in  being  surety  for  my  conduct. 

*'  No  doubt  we  should  have  been  better  acquainted,  but  he  was  nearly  nine 
years  older,  I  guess,  than  myself;  and  his  chum,  with  whom  he  went  through 
the  four  years  curriculum,  if  my  memory  serves,  was  of  a  less  attractive  temper- 
ament. For  that  is  the  quality  by  which  I  would  characterize  him,  and  to  which 
my  solitary  anecdote  abore  told  furnishes  proof." 

I  am  yours  truly, 

THOMAS  SAVAGE. 


SAMUEL   WHELPLET  * 

1806—1817. 

SAinTXL  Whklplst  was  born  in  Stockbridge,  Mass.,  in  the  year  1766. 
His  parents,  Samuel  and  Hannah  Whelplej,  removed  from  Wilton,  Fur- 
field  County,  Conn.,  and  settled  on  a  &rm  in  the  Northeast  part  of  Stock- 
bridge,  where  the  grounds  were  still  covered  with  the  primeval  forests. 
Their  condition  was  that  of  new  settlers,  procuring  their  means  of  subsis- 
tence by  subduing  and  cultivating  wild  lands.  They  secured  a  comfortable 
living,  though  they  were  by  no  means  in  other  than  moderate  circumstances. 

Both  the  parents  were  Baptists,  belonging  to  a  small  Church  which 
worshipped  in  two  private  houses,  one  of  which  was  a  little  South  of  the 
dividing  line  between  Stockbridge  and  Lenox,  and  the  other  North  of  it. 
In  this  Church  the  father  was  a  deacon.  He  died  November  29,  1809, 
aged  eighty.  The  inscription  on  his  monument  is — '*  Dignified  in  manners, 
and  rich  in  the  resources  of  his  own  mind,  he  lived  usefully  and  died  in 
peace." 

The  family  were  uncommonly  fond  of  reading,  particularly  of  reading 
hutory.  This  was  remarkably  true  of  Samuel,  and  from  very  early  life. 
In  his  boyhood  and  youth  he  was  large  for  one  of  his  age  ;  was  fond  of 
•port,  and  averse  to  labour  ;  was  rash  and  reckless  from  the  strength  of  his 
feelings,  but  chargeable  with  no  vice ;  was  awkward  and  ungainly  in  his 
appearance ;  but  when  he  got  hold  of  a  book,  he  devoured  it  with  the 
utmost  avidity.  He  gave  decisive  evidence  then  of  possessing  a  vigorous 
and  discriminating  mind.  What  he  read  he  understood  and  remembered. 
Hu  advantages  for  acquiring  knowledge  were  small,  except  what  arose  from 
the  intelligence  of  his  father's  family,  and  he  became  intelligent  himself, 
mainly  by  the  force  of  his  mental  powers, — by  reading  and  reflection. 

He  embraced  the  denominational  sentiments  of  his  parents,  and  though 
he  studied  Theology  under  Dr.  Stephen  West,  and  greatly  valued  his 
instructions,  and  venerated  his  character,  (as  is  evident  from  a  sketch  of 
Dr.  West  given  in  the  celebrated  work  of  which  Mr.  Whclpley  was  the 
author,  styled  the  **  Triangle,**)  he  nevertheless  became  a  Baptist  preacher. 
He  was  ordained  Pastor  of  the  Church  of  which  his  father  was  deacon,  or 
with  a  view  of  preaching  to  it,  June  21,  1792.  Elder  John  Leland 
preached  the  ordination  Sermon,  and  the  service  was  performed  in  the  open 
air.  After  preaching  for  some  time  to  this  church,  he  went  to  West  Stock- 
bridge,  where  a  Baptist  Church  was  formed  in  1792,  and  a  church  edifice 
erected  in  1794.  He  laboured  there  several  years,  and  at  the  same  time 
was  engaged  in  instructing  youth.  While  he  was  at  West  Stockbridge,  the 
people  at  Green  River,  N.  Y.,  erected  a  church  edifice  without  particular 
reference  to  any  denomination ;  and  having  learned  that  Mr.  Whelpley  was 
more  than  ordinarily  free  from  a  spirit  of  sectarism.  and  having  heard 
much  of  his  reputation  as  a  popular  preacher,  they  determined  to  make  an 
effort  to  engage  his  services.  The  effort  was  successful,  and  he  supplied  this 
singularly  constituted  congregation  for  some  time,  with  great  acceptance. 

•  M8S.  from  Rot.  David  D.  Field,  D.  D.,  Rev.  Timothy  Woodbridge,  B.  D.,  and  Hod. 
Lowis  Condlot. 


SAMJBL  WHELPLET.  ggX 

About  1798,  he  removod  from  Oreen  Birer  to  Morristown,  N.  J.,  where 
he  took  charge  of  an  Academy.  This  removal  was  understood  to  have  been 
effected  through  the  influence  of  the  Rev.  (afterwards  Dr.)  James  Richards, 
who  was  at  that  time  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Morristown. 
During  his  residence  here,  he  often  supplied  Dr.  Richards'  pulpit,  as  well 
08  other  pulpits  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  was  regarded  as  a  preacher  of 
very  decided  talent.     As  an  instructor,  also,  he  gained  a  high  reputation. 

In  1806,  Mr.  Whelpley,  having  changed  his  views  on  the  subject  of  Bap- 
tism resolved  to  transfer  his  ecclesiastical  relations  to  the  Presbyterian 
Church.  Accordingly,  on  the  24th  of  April,  of  that  year,  he  made  appli- 
cation by  letter  to  be  received  as  a  member  of  the  Presbytery  of  New  York. 
The  Presbytery  agreed  to  receive  him  on  condition  of  his  adopting  the  Con- 
fession of  Faith  and  Form  of  Government  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and 
answering  satisfactorily  the  usual  questions  put  to  ministers  under  similar 
circumstances.  On  the  8th  of  October  following,  Mr.  Whelpley  appeared, 
and  having  complied  with  the  several  requisitions,  was  recognised  as  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Presbytery.  In  October,  1809,  the  Synod  of  New  York  and 
New  Jersey  divided  the  Presbytery  of  New  York,  and  by  that  act,  Mr. 
Whelpley  was  set  off  to  the  Presbytery  of  Jersey.  In  July,  1814,  having 
been  dismissed  by  his  own  request  from  the  Presbytery  of  Jersey,  with  a 
view  to  being  received  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  York,  he  was  thus  received, 
and  continued  in  this  connection  till  his  death. 

In  the  early  part  of  1809,  he  removed  from  Morristown  to  Newark, 
and  opened  a  school  there, — about  the  same  time  that  his  friend  Dr.  Rich- 
ards took  charge  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church.  Here,  too,  he  had  a 
high  standing  as  a  teacher,  and  his  occasional  services  in  the  pulpit  also 
were  greatly  prized. 

In  the  latter  part  of  1809,  a  hemorrhage  at  the  lungs,  with  some  other 
alarming  symptoms,  suggested  to  Mr.  Whelpley  the  importance  of  betaking 
himself  for  a  time  to  a  more  Southern  climate.  Accordingly,  having  pro- 
vided a  suitable  person  to  take  charge  of  his  school,  he  went  to  Savannah, 
taking  with  him  his  son, — Philip  Melancthon,  and  leaving  the  rest  of  his 
family  at  Newark.  His  health  improved  so  far  that  he  was  enabled  to  take 
charge  of  a  small  school,  by  means  of  which  the  expenses  of  his  residence 
and  those  of  his  son  at  Savannah,  were  nearly  met.  He  received  great 
kindness  from  Dr.  KoUock,  and  other  distinguished  residents  of  the  place, 
but  his  feeble  health,  his  embarrassed  circumstances,  and  a  protracted  sepa- 
ration from  his  family,  rendered  his  sojourn  there  more  like  a  period  of  exile 
than  an  agreeable  visit.  He  returned  to  his  &mily  and  his  school  at  New- 
ark, sometime  in  the  year  1811,  with  hiB  disease  still  preying  upon  him, 
though  its  force  had  seemed  to  be  somewhat  abated. 

In  1814,  Mr.  Whelpley  left  Newark  and  went  to  live  in  New  York, 
where,  for  a  short  time,  he  taught  a  very  popular  boys'  school.  His  son, 
Melancthon,  having  in  due  time  been  licensed  to  preach,  and  become  the 
Pastor  of  the  Wall  Street  Church, — the  father  relinquished  his  school,  and 
resided,  during  the  short  period  of  his  life  that  remained,  in  his  son's  family. 
It  was  at  this  period  (1816  and  1817)  that  he  wrote  the  **  Triangle"— a 
work  that  appeared  in  a  series  of  numbers,  designed  to  prove  the  superiority 
of  what  was  commonly  called  the  New  England  Theology  to  the  stricter 
form  of  Calvinism.     All  acknowledged  that  it  was  a  work  of  no  inoonaider- 


3g2  PBSSBTTBBrAV^. 

able  power ;  bot  il  met  the  serereet  eendeimiAtion  on  the  one  band, 
it  was  reeeiyed  with  the  higbeet  praise  on  tbe  other. 

Mr.  Wbelplej*8  health,  which  had  long  been  extremely  frail,  at  length 
sunk  80  low  that  he  was  no  longer  capable  of  any  active  exertion.  He  Ian- 
gaished  for  some  tone  in  a  state  of  great  debility,  and  died  while  the  Pres- 
bytery to  which  he  belonged  was  in  session,  Jnly  14, 1817,  in  the  fifiy-first 
year  of  his  age.  Dr.  Spring  yisited  him  on  his  death-bed,  but  found  him 
unable  to  hold  conrersation.  To  a  question  which  the  Doctor  put  to  him, 
he  replied  in  a  way  that  indicated  that  his  mind  was  at  peace,  and  then 
added — '^My  dear  brother,  let  that  be  the  last  question,"— -owing,  as  was 
supposed,  to  a  difficulty  of  speaking. 

Mr.  Whelpley*s  piJ[>ltcatioDS  are  a  Compend  of  Ancient  and  Modem 
History ;  a  Sermon  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul,  delivered  at  Newark, 
1804;  Thoughts  on  the  state  of  departed  Souls:  a  Sermon  delivered  at 
Morris  tow  u,  1807 ;  a  Sermon  entitled  **  The  destruction  of  wicked  nations;" 
Letters  on  Capital  Punishment  and  War,  addressed  to  GovemcHr  Strong ;  an 
Oration  delivered  at  Morristown  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1809 ;  [he  wae  too 
unwell  at  the  time  to  deliver  it,  and  it  was  pronounced  in  a  most  gracefal 
and  attractive  manner  by  his  son,  Philip  Melancthon,  who  was  then  but 
sixteen  years  of  age;]  the  Triangle  in  five  Numbers,  1817. 

Mr.  Whelpley  was  married  sometime  before  he  left  Stockbridge  to  Nancy 
Race  of  West  Stockbridge.  They  had  at  least  three  children,  two  of  whom 
entered  the  ministry.  The  elder,  Fhilip  Melancthon^  is  the  subject  of  a 
distinct  notice  in  this  work.  The  younger,  Samuel  PT.,  was  settled  at  Platts- 
burg,  N.  Y.,  and  afterwards  at  East  Windsor,  Conn.,  and  at  a  still  later 
period,  taught  a  school  in  Providence,  B.  1.  He  died  not  far  from  the 
year  1850.  He  published  an  Address  before  the  Peace  Society  of  Hartford 
County,  1830. 

FROM  THE  HON.  THEODORE  FRELINGHUTSEN,  LL.  D. 

New  BacMBwiCK,  March  22, 1851. 

My  dear  Sir :  I  have  duly  received  your  letter  of  inquiry  concerning  the  elder 
Mr.  Whelpley,  and  I  regret  that  my  materials  for  a  reply  are  so  scanty  as  to 
promise  little  aid  to  your  proposed  sketch  of  him.  I  knew  him  first,  from  hear- 
ing him  preach  occasionally  at  Basking  Ridge,  when  I  was  there  as  a  boy  at 
school,  from  1800  to  1802.  Then  I  had  a  general  acquaintance  with  him  after 
he  came  to  live  at  Newark, — the  place  of  my  own  residence,  though  I  saw  less 
of  him  from  the  fact  that  my  professional  labours  at  that  time  called  me  much 
away  from  home.  My  impressions  concerning  him  are  rather  general;  but  such 
as  they  are,  1  cheerfully  communicate  them  to  you. 

I  know  in  general  that  Mr.  Whelpley  was  highly  respected  in  our  community, 
as  a  teacher,  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and  a  Christian  gentleman.  His  school, 
while  be  was  at  Newark,  was  in  high  repute,  and  I  believe  there  were  few  more 
competent  or  thorough  teachers  in  his  day.  I  occasionally  heard  him  preach  in 
Dr.  Richards'  pulpit,  and  was  always  gratified  and  edified  by  his  public  services. 
His  sermons  showed  a  mind  trained  to  close  and  consecutive  thought,  while  the 
most  prominent  characteristic  of  his  manner  was  a  deep  and  all-pervading 
solemnity.  Sometimes  a  train  of  thought  would  be  heard  from  him,  that  would 
bring  every  hearer  to  a  pause,  and  make  the  most  Hght-bearted  think  of  eternity 
and  its  awful  disclosures.  In  consequence  of  his  health  being  delicate,  he  was 
subject  to  a  nervous  aflfeolien,  that  reached  to  his  general  temperament,  and  often 
cast  a  doud  over  his  natural  cheerfulness.     Had  his  health  been  firm,  his  popu. 


SAI1U2L  MTHELPLET.  3g3 

Uiiij  and  usefulnesv,  both  ia  the  pulpit  and  ovt  of  it  j  would  probably  bare  been 
mach  increased.  As  it  was,  he  enjoyed  a  high  reputation^  and  accomplaabed 
much  good. 

Very  truly  and  repectfully  yours, 

THEODORE  FRELIN6H17TSEH. 

FROM  THE  HON.  LEWIS  CONDICT, 

MBMBBB  or  COVQaBM. 

MoRBisTOWN,  N.  J.,  September  II,  1848. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  It  would  be  exceedingly  gratifying  to  me,  if  it  were  in  my 
power,  to  contribute  any  thing  that  would  help  materially  to  illustrate  the 
character  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Whelpley.  He  was  indeed  my  neighbour  and 
intimate  friend  for  many  years;  but  the  leading  features  of  his  character  come 
out  so  strikingly  in  his  writings,  with  which  you  are  of  course  well  acquainted, 
that  I  can  hardly  hope  to  communicate  any  thing  that  will  even  strengthen  the 
impression  you  have  received  from  them.  It  was  through  the  influence  of  Dr. 
Richards,  our  Pastor,  that  he  came  to  this  place,  and  when  the  Doctor  went  to 
Newark,  he  quickly  rejoined  him  there.  I  believe  they  always  continued  in  the 
most  close  and  intimate  relations. 

In  person,  Mr.  Whelpley  was  tall  and  slender,— -considerably  more  than  six 
feet,  and  remarkably  erect.  Ilts  countenance  was  highly  intelligent, — grave 
and  thoughtful,  but  not  repulsive;  his  features  were  strong  and  well  defined; 
his  visage  thin;  his  face  and  head  remarkably  long;  his  forehead  high,  though 
not  unusually  broad;  and  his  whole  exterior  gave  you  the  impression  of  a  man 
of  commanding  intellect.  His  manners  were  not  copied  from  the  dancing  master 
or  the  dandy;  but  were  those  of  a  New  England  gentleman  of  the  Old  School; . 
though,  owing  to  the  circumstances  of  his  education,  without  any  extraordinary 
degree  of  refinement. 

Mr.  Whelpley  was  unquestionably  a  man  of  marked  genius.  He  had  an 
uncommouly  inventive  mind,  and  a  highly  prolific  imagination.  His  imagination, 
however,  was  under  a  rigid  control,  and  he  had  always  a  purpose  to  answer 
when  he  suffered  it  to  come  into  exercise.  His  preaching  was  rich  in  well 
digested  evangelical  thought,  arranged  with  logical  precision  and  skill,  but  it  was 
as  far  as  possible  from  possessing,  or  aiming  at,  any  of  the  more  showy  qualities. 
His  manner  was  deeply  impressive,  and  seemed  to  show  the  workings  of  a  spirit 
that  was  at  home  amidst  the  great  realities  which  formed  the  themes  of  his  dis- 
•ourses.  His  published  Sermons,— one  especially  on  the  '*  state  of  departed 
souls,"  show  with  what  simplicity  and  beauty  as  well  as  awful  solemnity,  he 
was  capable  of  presenting  Bivine  truth.  The  publication  by  which  he  is  best 
known, — the  Triangle,  evinces  greater  power  probably  than  had  generally  been 
ascribed  to  him,  before  it  appeared.  As  it  was  of  a  strongly  controversial 
character,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  it  should  meet  with  universal  favour. 
It  is  valuable  at  this  day,  not  merely  as  a  rare  specimen  of  vigorous,  glowing 
composition,  but  as  marking  a  particular  stage  in  the  controversy  between  the 
Old  and  New  School  in  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

Mr.  Whelpley  was  a  most  diligent  student — few  men  studied  and  read  as  much, 
and  slept  as  little,  as  he.  I  often  visited  him,  but  I  rarely  found  him  without  a 
book  in  hand,  and  if  at  the  tea-table,  his  book  was  sure  to  be  at  his  elbow. 
He  was  particularly  fond  of  History,  and  a  great  proficient  in  it,  as  is  shown  by 
his  Tolnme  on  Ancient  History, — a  work  which  enjoyed  much  popularity,  and 
waa  axtenstv^y  used  in  its  day.  He  occasionally  amused  himself  by  writing 
poetry;  and  among  his  poetical  effusions  is  an  ode  occasioned  by  the  death  of 
General  Washington,  which  was  sung  in  our  church,  after  a  commemorative 
Disooune  by  Dr.  Richards. 


384  PRE81ITTERIAK. 

He  had  desenredly  a  rtry  high  reputation  as  a  teacher;  though  his  health  was 
alvrays  delicate,  and  his  habits  of  severe  application,  both  in  his  school  and  in 
his  study,  doubtless  contributed  to  increase  his  infirmities.  His  school  was,  in 
a  pecuniary  sense,  highly  productire;  and  a  man  fond  of  money,  would  have 
accumulated  something  from  the  profits  of  it.  But  money  seemed  to  have  no 
attraction  for  him,  any  further  than  as  a  means  of  supplying  the  immediate  neces- 
sities of  his  family. 

Mr.  Whelpley,  during  his  residence  here,  was  known  more  as  a  teacher  than 
a  preacher;  though  he  often  preached  for  Dr.  Richards,  and  also  supplied  the 
pulpit  of  the  Baptist  Congregation.  But  it  was  after  his  remoral  to  Newark 
that  he  acquired  his  greatest  popularity  as  a  preacher.  Then  his  high  intellectual 
powers,  as  exhibited  in  the  pulpit,  seem  to  have  been  fully  estimated,  and  while 
he  was  always  listened  to  by  large  and  attentive  audiences,  the  most  cultivated 
and  respectable  class  were  his  greatest  admirers. 

With  sincere  respect  and  esteem, 

I  am  your  friend  and  obedient  servant, 

LEWIS  CONDICT. 


-♦♦- 


WILLIAM  H.  BARR,  D.  D  * 

1806—1843. 

William  H.  Barb  was  born  in  Bowan  (now  Iredell)  County,  N.  C, 
about  the  year  1779.  His  parents  were  in  the  respectable  walks  of  life, 
and  though  not  wealthy,  were  able  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his  college 
education,  and  all  his  other  expenses,  previous  to  his  entering  on  public  life. 
His  father,  James  Barr,  was  an  elder  in  Fourth  Creek  Church,  and  was 
killed  when  the  son  was  at  an  early  age,  by  the  falling  of  a  tree.  His 
mother's  maiden  name  was  Elizabeth  McCorkle.  Both  braocbes  of  his 
parentage  were  eminently  pious.  After  going  through  his  preparatory 
course,  under  the  Rev.  Dr.  James  Hall,  he  entered  Hampden  Sidney  Col* 
lege,  and  was  graduated  in  1801,  during  the  Presidency  of  the  Kev.  (after- 
wards Dr.)  Archibald  Alexander. 

He  was  the  subject  of  religious  impressions  in  early  life,  and,  while  in 
College,  exhibited  a  decided  Christian  character.  Soon  after  his  graduatioii, 
having  resolved  upon  the  study  of  Theology,  he  placed  himself  under  the 
care  of  the  Concord  Presbytery,  as  a  candidate  for  the  ministry,  and  his 
theological  studies  were  conducted  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hall. 

He  was  licensed  to  preach  in  1806 ;  and,  almost  immediately  after,  was 
appointed  by  the  Synod  of  the  Carolinas,  to  itinerate  as  a  missionary  in  the 
lower  parts  of  South  Carolina.  His  preaching,  wherever  he  went,  was 
received  with  marked  approbation,  and  he  was  solicited,  in  several  places, 
to  accept  a  pastoral  charge;  but  bis  health,  at  that  time,  was  not  sufficiently 
firm  to  justify  it.  In  February,  1809,  he  visited  Upper  Long  Cane  Church, 
Abbeville  District,  S.  C,  on  an  invitation,  and  in  the  autumn  of  that  year, 
received  a  unanimous  call  from  the  Congregation  to  become  their  Pastor* 
He  accepted  the  call,  was  shortly  after  ordained  and  installed,  and  remained 
in  that  relation  till  his  death,  which  occurred  January  9,  1848. 

*  MS.  from  David  Lwly,  Eiq. 


WILLIAM  n.  BARR.  Ogg 

On  the  18th  of  August,  1812,  be  was  married  to  Rebecca,  daughter  of 
Ilngh  llcid,  one  of  the  elders  of  his  Church.  They  had  four  sons  and 
three  daughters.     Two  of  his  sons  became  lawyers. 

He  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Franklin 
College,  Georgia,  in  1824. 


FROM  THE  HON.  ALEXANDER  BOWIE. 

CHJLSOXUiOa  OF  THB  NOBTHEftN  DIVISION  IN  THK  STATE  OV  ALABAMA,, 

Talladboa,  Ala.,  March  21, 1849. 

Dear  Sir:  Tour  favour  of  the  25th  of  December  last  has  just  reached  me.  I 
comply  with  pleasure  with  your  request  for  my  recollections  of  the  late  Dr.  Barr, 
and  my  impressions  of  his  character. 

My  acquaintance  with  him  con^menced  near  the  close  of  the  year  1809.  About 
that  time,  on  my  return  from  College,  I  found  him  in  charge  of  the  Upper  Long 
Cane  Presbyterian  Church,  near  the  village  of  Abbeville  in  South  Carolina.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  impressions  made  upon  me  by  t^e  first  sermon  I  heard  him 
preach.  I  do  not  recollect  whether  I  had  any  personal  acquaintance  with  him, 
before  I  heard  him  from  the  pulpit.  Whether  I  had  or  not,  his  general  appear- 
ance, the  tones  of  his  voice,  and  his  antiquated  pronunciation  of  words,  were 
little  calculated  to  awaken  in  mo  any  lofty  expectations  of  his  rhetorical  powers. 
In  person,  and  voice,  and  manner,  he  was  peculiar.  If  you  never  saw  him,  imagine 
a  tall  and  exceedingly  lean  man,  of  a  sallow  (almost  cadaverous)  complexion; 
with  as  little  of  the  Chesterfield  in  his  gait  or  manners  as  you  can  well  conceive; 
speaking  with  a  harsh  grating  voice,  and,  notwithstanding  his  excellent  education 
and  powerful  intellect,  retaining  many  of  the  inaccuracies  of  pronunciation  of  his 
earlier  years,  and  you  will  have  a  tolerably  correct  conception  of  the  man. 
Although  I  h&d  heard  him  spoken  of  as  an  eloquent  preacher,  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  that  it  was  a  vulgar  error.  When  he  began  the  services,  my  atten- 
tion was  soon  powerfully  arrested.  In  his  prayer  before  the  sermon  there  was  a 
fervour,  a  deep  toned  piety,  a  lofty  eloquence,  a  something  in  the  voice  and 
manner,  that  seemed  almost  unearthly.  I  began  to  feel  that  I  was  in  the 
presence  of  an  intellectual  man.  -He  began  his  sermon — there  was  no  halting  or 
stumbling — no  straining  for  words  or  ideas ;  but  an  uninterrupted  and  unhesi- 
tating flow  of  pure  classical  language.  His  subject,  if  I  recollect  right,  led  him 
to  portray  the  awful  doom  of  the  finally  impenitent.  His  personal  appearance, 
and  the  sepulchral  tones  of  his  voice,  doubtless  added  much  to  the  effect  of  his 
fervid  eloquence;  but  when,  in  addition  to  his  own  powerful  language,  he  called 
to  his  aid  copious  quotations  fVom  some  of  the  most  thrilling  passages  of  Milton 
and  Toung,  the  effect  was  electrical,  and  my  hair  almost  stood  on  end  !  When 
he  closed  the  discourse,  I  no  longer  doubted  the  correctness  of  the  opinion  I  had 
heard  expressed  of  his  eloquence  as  a  preacher.  His  style  of  preaching,  how- 
ever, was  so  unique,  so  unlike  that  of  the  highly  educated  ministers  of  the 
present  day,  that  it  is  impossible  justly  to  compare  him  with  them.  His  ser- 
mons were  the  very  opposite  of  diffuse.  His  power  of  condensation, — that 
rarest  talent  of  public  speakers,  was  eminently  great;  and  although  his  sermons 
were  very  short,  (never,  or  rarely,  exceeding  thirty-five  minutes  in  length,)  it 
was  a  common  remark  of  his  intelligent  hearers  that  he  always  seemed  to  have 
exhausted  his  subject.  And  he  so  rivet  ted  the  attention  of  his  audience,  that  I 
generally  found  my  mind  sufficiently  fatigued  when  he  closed.  He  possessed  a 
rare  talent  for  eviscerating  his  text.  Perceiving  almost  intuitively  the  strong 
points  of  his  subject,  he  addressed  himself  to  them,  and  never  wasted  the 
powers  of  his  body  or  the  energies  of  his  mind  on  unimportant  topics.  His 
definitions  were  remarkably  precise  and  intelligible;  and  his  illustrations*  oC 

Vo:..  IV.  40 


3g6  PBESBYTEBIAN. 

obscure  passages  of  Seriptare  bj  facts  from  ancient  history,  were  peculiarly 
pertinent  and  satisfactory.  lie  was  not  in  the  habit  of  writing  out  his  sermons, 
bat  they  were  well  and  carefully  studied;  and  his  powers  as  an  extemporaneous 
speaker  were  seldom  equalled.  I  listened  with  pleasure  to  him  almost  every 
Sabbath  for  twenty-five  3'ears;  and  in  all  that  time  I  do  not  think  I  ever  heard 
him  utter  an  ungrammatical  or  unfinished  sentence,  or  hesitate  an  instant  for  a 
word  or  expression.  But  his  pronunciation,  as  I  have  intimated  before,  was 
sometimes  almost  horrible.  For  instance  he  invariably  pronounced  the  word 
"  satiety  "  as  if  it  was  spelt  aashity !  Although  he  always  used  the  most  appro- 
priate and  expressive  language,  he  cared  much  less  for  words  and  their  pronun- 
ciation, than  for  ideas. 

In  respect  to  his  faith  and  his  practice,  he  was  a  thorough-going, old-Jmshioned 
Presbyterian.  Some,  at  the  present  day,  would  call  him  ultra.  Time  and  expe- 
rience will  attest  whether  his  rigid  adherence  to  the  time-honoured  usages  of  his 
denomination  was  an  error  or  not.  "  Non  nostrum,  inter  vos,  tantas  componere 
lites."  He  has  been  censured  by  some  because  he  did  not  encourage  the 
establishment  of  a  Sunday  School  in  his  church.  This  censure  would  perhaps 
be  withdrawn,  if  his  reasons  were  more  generally  known.  His  was  a  very  large 
country  congregation,  covering  more  than  ten  miles  square,  in  which  it  would 
have  been  exceedingly  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  assemble  any  consider- 
able portion  of  the  children  for  instruction.  The  population,  too,  within  his 
bounds,  was  almost  entirely  Presbyterian,  and  the  youth  very  generally  received 
faithful  parental  instruction  at  home.  In  addition  to  these  facts,  the  Doctor, 
during  the  warm  season, — from  May  to  October, — instructed  Bible  classes, 
embracing  all  the  young,  and  many  of  the  aged,  of  his  congregation,  every  Sab- 
bath, before  the  morning  service.  The  State,  moreover,  had  provided  a  liberal 
system  of  free  school  instruction  for  the  children  of  the  poor,  which  rendered  it 
unnecessary  to  use  the  Sabbath  for  mere  literary  instruction.  These,  I  know, 
were  some  of  his  reasons  for  not  establishing  a  Sunday  School  in  his  church. 

He  has  been  blamed  too  for  his  supposed  opposition  to  what  are,  in  common 
parlance,  termed  "  revivals  "  and  *'  revival  preaching."  To  some  extent  this 
objection  is  unjust,  because  founded  on  a  misconception  of  his  real  views.  The 
intimate  and  cordial  friendship  with  which  the  Doctor  honoured  me  throughout 
our  long  acquaintance  to  the  close  of  his  life,  enables  me,  I  think,  to  present  his 
opinions  on  this  subject,  as  they  were  entertained  by  himself.  He  believed  that 
the  faithful  preaching  of  the  sublime  truths  of  the  Gospel,  with  the  forcible  pre- 
sentation of  its  motives  and  sanctions,  was  the  only  instrumentality  that  was 
either  requisite  or  proper  for  the  conversion  of  sinners; — that  urging  upon  the 
impenitent  any  considerations  or  motives,  not  expressly  set  forth  in  the  Word  of 
God,  or  fairly  deducible  from  it,  was  (to  use  a  legal  phrase)  *'  travelling  out  of 
the  record,"  and  therefore  improper.  He  was,  therefore,  most  decidedly  opposed 
to  what  he  was  in  the  habit  of  calling  ''  mechanical  means  "  to  get  up  an  excite- 
ment at  religious  meetings;  and  he  probably  distrusted  the  genuineness  of  con- 
versions, where  such  means  were  used,  and  followed  by  what  he  deemed  their 
natural  result, — mere  animal  excitement.  But  it  is  not  true  that  he  was  opposed 
to  revivals.  He  only  preferred  a  solemn,  deep  and  silent  work  of  grace,  resalt- 
ing  from  the  plain,  but  warm  and  heart-searching,  exhibition  of  Gospel  truth, 
under  the  blessing  of  God,  to  that  other  work  called  a  revival,  where  those 
objectionable  means  are  used,  and  where  there  is  often  more  apparent  feeling,  and 
supposed  conversions  are  more  numerous.  To  illustrate,  in  some  degree,  his 
views  and  feelings  on  this  point,  I  will  relate  an  incident  which  occurred  in  my 
familiar  intercourse  with  him.  We  were  riding  together  one  day,  when  our  con- 
versation turned  upon  this  subject.  After  giving  me  his  views  very  fully  and 
freely  of  revivals,  (so  called,)  I  remarked  to  him  that  though  he  had  never  had 
any  great  external  exhibition  of  religiouJB  excitement  in  his  church,  I  did  not 


WILLIAM  H.  BARB.  387 

tbink  he  had  great  cause  for  discouragement ;  that  I  had  been  a  pretty  close  and 
somewhat  interested  observer,  {ind  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  had  had  a  steady 
and  encouraging  increase  of  his  church-membership  ever  since  he  had  been  the 
Pastor  of  that  people.  *'  Yes,"  replied  he,  with  much  warmth  and  animation, 
*'  since  I  have  preached  to  this  congregation,  about  twenty-five  years,  there  have 
been  added  to  the  church  an  average  of  about  fourteen  new  members,  every 
year — we  have  had  a  continued  revival."  And  I  will  add  that  I  do  not  recollect 
a  single  instance  in  which  any  one  who  joined  his  Church,  on  a  profession  of  his 
faith,  during  that  time,  was  ever  subjected  to  church  discipline,  or,  in  the  eyes 
of  his  brethren  or  the  world,  dishonoured  his  profession  by  an  unchristian  walk. 

In  his  intercourse  with  the  people  of  his  charge  he  was  kind  and  affectionate; 
but,  being  under  the  necessity  of  attending  to  a  farm,  (his  salary  being  insuffi- 
cient for  the  support  of  his  family,)  he  visited  but  little.  He  was  constiti»- 
tionally  incapable  of  being  a  kalf-tDay  man  in  any  thing;  and  consequently  at  a 
period  of  great  political  excitement  in  South  Carolina,  his  feelings  became 
strongly  enlisted  with  the  dominant  party  in  that  State.  In  this,  however,— 
whether  right  or  wrong,  he  did  but  follow  the  example  of  most  of  his  brethren 
of  every  denomination.  They  very  generally  took  sides.,  and  many  of  them 
becamo  quite  warm  partisans.  Yet  I  do  not  think  his  political  feelings  ever 
caused  him  to  relax  in  his  Christian  ministrations.  Towards  the  close  of  life, 
he  suffered  much  Arom  general  bad  health,  in  connection  with  chronic  rheuma- 
tism ;  yet  when  able  to  ride  to  the  church,  he  was  never  absent  from  his  post. 

I  have  thus,  my  dear  Sir,  given  you  a  very  imperfect  sketch  of  the  late  Dr. 
Barr.  I  hope  you  will  excuse  the  remarks  on  the  subject  of  his  optntotis,  which 
do  not  probably  come  within  the  scope  of  what  you  expected  from  me.  I  found 
it  impossible  to  avoid  those  matters  in  giving  you  my  ''impressions  of  his 
character," — particularly  as  many  of  his  fHends  in  the  South  think  that  those 
opinions  justly  derogate  from  his  character.  I  confess  freely  that  I  am  not  one 
of  those  who  so  think.  In  my  estimation,  he  was  a  great  and  good  man, — not 
without  defects, — for  who  is  without  them  ? — but  in  all  that  constitutes  the 
character  of  a  Christian  preacher,  excelled  by  few.  I  parted  with  him  on  my 
removal  to  Alabama  in  1835,  with  much  regret;  and  except  once,  never  saw  him 
again.  He  lingered  and  suffered  a  few  more  years,  and  then  died,  as  it  was 
believed,  "the  death  of  the  righteous."  His  wife  is  my  near  relative,  and  my 
partialities  may  have  caused  me  to  appreciate  his  talents  and  worth  too  highly. 
I  believe,  however,  that  the  concurrent  opinions  of  all  his  intelligent  acquaint- 
ances will  substantially  sustain  mine. 

With  sincere  wishes  for  the  success  and  usefulness  of  your  praise-worthy 
enterprise, 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 

Tours  truly  and  faithfully, 

A.  BOWIE. 


358  PRESBYTERIAN. 


WILLIAM  SHIELDS  REID,  D.  D. 

1806—1853. 

FROM  THE  REV.  C.  R.  VAUGHAN. 

Ltnchbubo,  Ya.,  Judo  n,  1857. 

My  dear  Sir :  I  am  happy  to  render  any  service  in  my  power  in  aid  of  an 
effort  to  commemorate  my  venerable  and  excellent  friend, — ^the  late  Rev. 
Dr.  William  S.  Reid.  I  succeeded  him  immediately  in  his  pastoral  charge, 
and,  during  the  last  four  years  of  his  life,  was  in  such  relations  with  him  as 
gave  me  the  best  opportunity  for  becoming  acquainted  with  his  character, 
lu  addition  to  that,  I  have  mingled  with  all  classes  in  this  community  who 
kiiew  him  for  many  years,  and  thus  have  gathered,  without  any  liability  to 
mistake,  the  prevailing  sentiment  in  respect  to  him.  The  leading  facts  of 
hid'  history  have  been  furnished  me  from  the  most  authentic  sources. 

William  Shields  Reid,  the  second  son  of  his  parents,  was  bom  in 
West  Nottingham  township,  Chester  County,  Pa.  on  the  2l8t  of  April, 
1778.  Roth  his  paternal  and  maternal  grandparents  emigrated  from  Ire- 
land about  the  year  1740.  His  father,  Adam  Reid,  was  a  farmer  of  mod- 
erate means  and  honourable  character,  and  his  mother,  whose  maiden 
name  was  Martha  Shields,  was  a  woman  of  marked  and  decided  piety. 
Becoming  in  early  life  a  subject  of  grace,  and  professing  religion  at  the 
age  of  fifteen,  he  determined  on  devoting  himself  to  the  ministry,  and 
at  once  set  himself  to  acquire  the  necessary  education.  His  father  was 
not  able  to  give  him  material  assistance  in  his  scheme,  and  he  determined 
with  characteristic  energy  to  do  without  assistance.  During  the  intervals 
of  his  labour  on  the  farm,  he  devoted  himself  assiduously  to  the  study  of 
the  Latin  Grammar, — preparing  himself  to  teach  a  small  school  until  he 
got  means  to  take  him  to  College;  entered  in  due  time  at  Princeton;  and, 
after  encountering  a  variety  of  vicissitudes,  graduated  with  honour  in  the 
year  1802.  On  leaving  Princeton,  he  went  to  Georgetown,  D.  C,  and 
was  engaged  for  two  years  as  an  assistant  teacher  in  an  Academy, — at 
the  same  time  prosecuting  his  theological  studies  under  the  direction  of 
the-  Rev.  Dr.  Balch.  He  afterwards  removed  to  Sheperdstown,  Va.,  where 
he  continued  his  studies  with  Dr.  Moses  Hoge,  under  the  superintendence 
of  the  Winchester  Presbytery.  After  remaining  here  for  some  time,  he 
visited  the  town  of  Winchester  during  the  sessions  of  the  Synod  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  there  met  the  Rev.  (afterwards  Dr.)  Archibald  Alexander,  who 
was  at  that  time  President  of  Hampden  Sidney  College,  and  was  seeking 
home  one  to  succeed  to  the  Professorship,  which  had  been  rendered  vacant 
by  tlie  removal  of  Mr.  (afterwards  the  Rev.  Dr.)  John  H.  Rice  to  the 
pastorship  of  a  church  in  that  vicinity.  He  proposed  to  Mr.  Reid  to  take 
the  place,  and  he  consented  to  do  so, — fully  expecting,  however,  to  return 
and  spend  his  life  in  his  native  State.  When  Dr.  Alexander,  about  two 
years  after,  accepted  a  call  to  Philadelphia,  Mr.  Reid  succeeded  him  as 
President  of  the  College.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery 
of  Winchester  in  the  spring  of  1806,  and  retained  his  connection  witi  the 
College  some  eighteen  months  afterwards, — making  in  all  about  five  years. 

During  his  residence  at  Hampden  Sidney  College,  he  became  attached  to 
Clementina  F.,  a  daughter  of  Colonel  Samuel  W.  Venable, — one  of  the 


WILLIAM  SHIELDS  REID.  3^ 

wealthiegt  and  most  prominent  citiiens  of  that  county ;  and,  the  offer  of 
marriage  being  accepted,  the  design  of  returning  to  Pennsylvania  iras  aban? 
doned.  He  was  married  on  the  12th  of  December,  1807  ;  and,  selecting 
Lynchburg,  in  the  County  of  Campbell,  as  a  favourable  location,  h<» 
romoved  thither  with  his  wife  in  1808,  and  spent  the  remainder  of  his  long 
and  useful  life  in  the  service  of  that  community.  He  at  once  opened  a  school 
for  males,  as  a  means  of  support,  and  at  the  same  time  commenced  a  regU" 
lar  and  systematic  effort  to  build  up  a  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  village. 
After  preaching  the  Gospel  here  a  number  of  years,  he  succeeded,  in  1816, 
in  organising  a  church,  though  he  was  not  installed  as  its  Pastor  till  1822. 
The  church  which  was  thus  established,  grew  under  his  able  and  judicious 
culture,  and  I  may  add  his  generous  pecuniary  sacrifices,  into  one  of  the 
most  harmonious  and  well  disciplined  bodies  of  Christians  in  the  State.  It 
was  the  marked  Church  of  the  day,  and  so  continued  until  the  time  of  the 
schism,  which  unfortunately  occurred,  to  mar  its  peace,  about  the  year  1830. 

But  the  efforts  of  this  excellent  man  were  by  no  means  oonfined  to  his 
pastoral  charge.  His  school  was  in  fact  his  principal  field  of  labour,  and 
the  main  channel  Qf  his  influence.  The  salary  which  he  received  from  his 
congregation  was  never  adequate  to  the  support  of  his  large  family,  and 
thus  he  was  compelled  by  necessity  to  continue  in  the  business  of  teaching. 
His  school  which,  after  a  while,  became  a  boarding  school  for  young  ladies, 
stood  first  among  similar  institutions  in  Virginia.  Its  average  attendance 
for  many  years  was  upwards  of  sixty,  and  the  influence  which  he  exerted  in 
forming  the  characters  of  wives  and  mothers,  is  beyond  all  estimate.  Many 
entered  it  ignorant,  and  left  it  accomplished  ;  and  many  entered  it  impeui* 
tent,  and  left  it  the  children  of  grace.  This  school  continued  to  flourish 
without  abatement  until  his  health  began  seriously  to  decline,  when  he 
finally  abandoned  it,  and  continued  to  labour,  as  fiir  as  his  health  would 
permit,  in  the  pulpit  alone.  He  became  utterly  incapacitated  for  public 
labour  in  the  year  1848,  resigned  his  charge,  and  afterwards  lived  in  retire- 
ment in  the  bosom  of  a  devoted  and  affectionate  family, — serving  the  church 
by  his  prayers,  and  illustrating  the  Gospel  by  the  serene  and  elevated  char* 
acter  of  his  piety,  until  at  length  he  was  called  to  his  reward. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  Mr.  Reid  by  the 
Trustees  of  the  College  at  which  he  was  graduated,  in  1834. 

Dr.  Reid  was  a  man  of  vigorous  talents  and  uncommon  energy  of 
character.  As  a  preacher,  he  was  distinguished  for  the  clearness  of  his 
yiews,  for  a  rapid  and  animated  elocution,  and  for  a  decided  and  uncom- 
promising adherence  to  the  doctrines  of  his  own  Church.  The  amount  of 
labour  he  performed  at  some  periods  of  his  life  is  almost  incredible — teaching 
a  large  school,  providing  for  a  family,  preaching  twice  in  the  week  and  twice 
on  the  Sabbath,  together  with  all  the  incidental  and  occasional  work  of  a 
Pastor.  For  a  period  of  seven  years,  he  scarcely  ever  slept  an  entire  night ; 
and,  during  three  of  those  years,  he  never  slept  in  a  bed  when  at  home,  but 
slept  in  a  chair  with  the  head  of  an  invalid  daughter  resting  on  his  shoulder. 
He  was  tried  by  many  labours  and  many  sorrows,  and  came  out  of  all, 
bearing  that  sculptured  beauty  that  never  fails  to  spring  from  beneath  the 
chisel  of  the  Lord.  He  was  remarkable  for  the  grace  and  dignity  of  his 
manners.  Perhaps  scarcely  any  man  of  his  time  was  able  to  give  an  equal 
charm  to  the  ceremony  of  marriage.  His  feelings  were  strong,  but  under 
admirable  control ;  and  his  natural  benevolence  was  moulded  by  the  ^race 


390  PRXSBTTSRIAK. 

«f  the  €h>Bpel  into  the  most  tender  and  sympathetic  disposition.     I  am  not 
aware  that  any  man  has  ever  lived  in  this  community  for  whom  a  ven- 
eration so  profound  was  mingled  with  an  affection  so  strong.     His  Christian 
character  was  uncommonly  elevated, — distinguished  for  humility,  for  serene 
and  equable  trust  in  Christ,  for  tenderness  of  affection,  and  for  a  hope  that 
never  seemed  to  suffer  even  a  momentary  eclipse.     This  was  pre-eminently 
exemplified  in  his  death.     It  is  seldom  that  there  is  witnessed  so  much  of 
sustained  and  elevated  joy  and  peace  in  death,  as  in  the  case  of  this  ven- 
erable saint.     The  expressions  that  fell  from  his  lips  were  full  of  the  con- 
solations of  the  Qospel.     Christ  was  all  his  hope ;  and  this  was  constantly 
the  theme  of  his  addresses  to  those  who  visited  him.     He  is  alUsufficient — 
all'SuficieTit  both  for  life  and  for  deaths  broke  repeatedly  from  his  lips. 
He  was  asked,  on  one  occasion,  whether,  if  he  had  his  whole  life  to  live 
over  again,  he  would   spend  it  in  preaching  the  Gospel.     He  replied — 
'^  Oh  yes ;  had  I  my  whole  life  to  live  again,  I  should  only  preach  with 
the  more  earnestness  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified.      He  is  the  only 
Saviour,  and  He  is  all-sufficient."     He  was  asked  one  evening  by  the  Rector 
•f  the  Episcopal  Church  in  this  place,  if  he  now  found  the  atonement  of 
Christ  a  sufficient  ground  for  his  hopes  ;  and  his  reply  deserves  to  be  remem- 
bered— "  Nothing  less  would  do — nothing  more  could  be  conceived."     He 
requested  that  nothing  should  be  said  of  him  but  that  he  had  departed  in 
peace ;  but  when  it  was  suggested  to  him  that  perhaps  his  dying  testimony 
to  the  value  of  the  Gospel  might  be  of  service  to  the  cause  of  Christ,  he 
consented  that  such  notrce  of  his  dying  exercises  as  his  elders  might  approve, 
should  be  given  to  the  world.     About  a  fortnight  before  his  death,  he  was 
thought  to  be  dying,  and  his  room  was  filled  with  weeping,  yet  comforted, 
friends.     The  scene  that  ensued  will  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who  wit- 
nessed it.     The  old  minister,  raised  on  pillows  to  facilitate  his  breathing, 
addressed  the  sorrowing  friends  around  him,  with  a  countenance  radiant 
with  the  mysterious  joys  of  Gospel  grace,  and  poured  out  his  testimony  to 
the  fulness  of  Christ  in  life  and  death,  with  a  vividness  of  thought  and  a 
tenderness  of  feeling,  that  could  leave  no  doubt  of  the  reality  and  value  of 
the  hope  that  sustained  him.     One  by  one,  his  children  and  his  servants 
advanced  to  his  side,  received  his  admonitions,  and  left  him  to  mourn  for 
themselves,  and  almost  envy  his  situation.     He  left  messages  for  his  brethren 
of  the  Presbytery  of  West  Hanover,  and  the  Synod  of  Virginia;    and, 
sighing  out,  with  an  inexpressible  sense  of  repose  in  his  face,  —  *' There  is 
peace  in  death  as  well  as  in  life,'' — he  closed  the  most  impressive  testimony 
I  have  ever  witnessed  to  the  reality  and  the  preciousness  of  the  Gospel 
hope  of  salvation.     So  he  continued  to  testify  to  the  end.     His  disease  suf- 
fered him  to  linger  long  on  the  verge  of  the  grave — long  enough  to  test 
thoroughly  his  spirit  of  submission;  and  though  eager  to  depart,  **Not  my 
will  but  thine  be  done"  was  often  on  his  lips.     At  last,  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  23d  of  June,  1853,  while  the  sinking  sun  shone  upon  his  face,  he 
gently  passed  away.     His  body  was  committed  to  the  grave,  two  days  after 
his  decease,  by  an  immense  concourse  of  citizens,  all  of  whom  realized  that 
the  Church  and  the  world  shared  together  in  a  loss  too  great  not  to  be  felt, — 
too  peculiar  to  be  easily  repaired.     I  may  mention  that,  on  the  day  of  the 
Funeral, — though  it  occurred  at  a  busy  season  of  the  year, — the  stores  were 
dosed,  and  business  generally  suspended,  and  every  suitable  public  demon- 


WILLIAM  SHIELDS  REID.  39^ 

stration  made  (hat  eould  be,  in  honour  of  the  memorj  of  that  venerable 
man. 

Dr.  Reid  was  the  father  of  thirteen  children,  —  three  sons,  and  ten 
daughters.  Mrs.  Reid  died  in  the  assured  hope  of  entering  into  rest,  on  the 
11th  of  August,  1841,  in  the  fiftj-fourth  year  of  her  age. 

Yours  very  truly, 

C.  R.  VAUGIIAN. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  EARLY,  D.  D., 

BISHOP  or  THS  MBTHODIST  EPISCOPAL  CHUaCH  SOUTH. 

Ltmohburg,  July  2, 1867. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  was  first  introduced  to  the  Rev.  William  S.  Reid  about 
the  year  1810,  and  became  intimately  acquainted  with  him  when  I  came  to  this 
place  to  reside  in  1821.  I  was  frequently  associated  with  him  in  the  benevolent 
institutions  of  the  Church  and  of  the  country;  often  heard  him  preach,  and 
communed  with  him  at  the  Lord's  table  in  his  church,  and  sometimes  found  him 
in  the  Methodist  Congregation  communing  with  them;  and  such  was  his  kind- 
ness to  my  family  that,  in  making  his  pastoral  visits,  especially  when  I  was  long 
absent  from  home,  he  would  see  and  pray  with  them,  and  speak  to  them  words 
of  Christian  encouragement  and  comfort;  and  this  he  continued  as  long  as  his 
health  would  allow. 

As  a  gentleman,  Dr.  Reid  was  bland  in  his  manners,  and  kind  and  respectful 
in  his  intercourse.  As  a  teacher,  he  was  extensively  known,  and  educated  more 
young  ladies  than  any  other  man  ever  did  in  this  community;  and  often,  by  his 
seasonable  and  faithful  counsels  and  admonitions,  left  the  most  salutary  and 
enduring  impressions  on  their  minds.  As  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  he  never 
oompromitted  himself  nor  his  cause.  He  mingled  cheerfulness  and  gravity  in 
due  proportions.  While  he  would  never  be  suspected  of  a  want  of  fidelity  to 
the  principles  or  institutions  of  his  own  Church,  ho  showed  that  his  Christian 
sympathies  reached  far  beyond  it,  and  that  he  could  cordially  fraternize  and 
co-operate  with  all — ^no  matter  by  what  name  they  might  be  called — who  love 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity.  The  effect  of  this  was,  that  he  was  held  in 
high  esteem  by  other  denominations,  and  I  may  say,  was  a  general  favourite  in 
the  Christian  community.  Hb  devotion  to  the  best  interests  of  society  and  of 
the  Church  was  manifested  in  his  considerate  and  earnest  regard  for  great  prin- 
ciples of  truth  and  duty,  in  all  the  relations  of  life  and  in  every  field  of  labour. 
In  his  preaching,  he  was  evangelical  and  instructive,  rightly  dividing  the  word 
of  truth;  in  prayer  he  was  devout,  fervent  and  highly  gifted;  and,  in  his  pastoral 
labours,  eminently  faithful  and  exemplary.  By  his  meek,  humble  and  kindly 
spirit,  and  by  his  active  and  well  directed  efforts  in  different  departments  of 
society,  he  has  left  an  enduring  mark  upon  the  community  in  which  he  lived. 

His  departure  from  the  world  was  worthy  of  the  purity  and  elevation  of  his 
Christian  life.  After  having  served  God  and  his  generation  faithfully,  through 
a  long  course  of  years,  he  finally  lay  down  to  die.  And  there,  surrounded  by 
his  dear  children,  and  many  devoted  friends,  he  blessed  them  and  spoke  to  them 
of  his  unwavering  confidence  in  the  Saviour,  and  the  joyful  hope  he  had  of  being 
soon  at  rest  in  his  bosom.  Every  thing  that  he  said, — ^nay  the  very  expression 
of  his  countenance,  showed  that  his  peace  was  as  a  river.  In  this  frame  of 
serene  triumph,  bordering  upon  ecstacy,  he  continued  several  days,  until  at 
length  the  silver  cord  yielded*  and  the  spirit  winged  its  way  to  its  glorious 
home. 

Very  truly  yours, 

JOHN  EARLY. 


.^2  PRfiSBTTEUIAN. 


FROM  THE  REV.  W.  H.  KINCKLE, 

EBCfOB  Of  8T>  TAVJ/B  (BPUCOPJUL)  OBUftOH,  LTVCHBlTBa. 

Ltvohbubo,  Ya.y  July  29,  1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  comply  with  jour  request  for 
some  estimate  of  the  character  of  the  late  Dr.  Reid  of  this  place;  bat  I  believe 
I  can  better  serve  your  purpose  by  sending  you  an  extract  from  a  Sermon 
that  I  preached  immediately  after  his  death,  when  my  impressions  in  respect  to 
him  were  more  vivid,  than  by  any  thing  that  I  could  write  now,  after  the  lapse 
of  several  years.  I  am  only  sorry  that  want  of  time  prevented  a  fuller  ezhibi* 
tion  of  one  of  the  loveliest  characters  which  it  has  ever  been  my  privilege  to 
know;  and  I  feel  bound  to  add  that,  high  as  is  the  estimate  I  expressed  of  the 
worth  of  that  devoted  man  of  God,  it  falls  below,  rather  than  exceeds,  the  trath. 
You  will  have  in  your  collection,  I  doubt  not,  the  names  of  many  who  have  been 
more  conspicuous  before  the  Christian  public,  but  none,  I  am  sure,  that  walked 
more  humbly  with  God,  or  laboured  more  disinterestedly  for  the  Kingdom  of 
Christ.     The  conclusion  of  the  Discourse  above  referred  to  is  as  follows:—- 

'*  I  must  now  crave  your  indulgence,  while  I  add  a  few  words  in  reference  to 
the  devoted  servant  of  God,  to  whom  I  alluded  in  my  opening  remarks.  I  wish 
I  had  time  to  portray  at  length  the  multiplied  excellencies  of  his  character.  For 
ten  years  I  have  been  on  terms  of  the  most  friendly  and  fraternal  nature  with 
him,  and  I  stand  here  to-day  to  say,  to  the  glory  of  God's  grace,  what  was  said 
of  the  eminently  pious  Archbishop  Leighton, — *  I  never  once  saw  him  in  any 
other  temper  than  that  which  I  wished  to  bo  in  the  last  moment  of  my  life.' 
My  honoured  predecessor,*  in  the  charge  of  this  congregation,  commended  him 
to  me,  at  my  coming  to  this  place,  as  a  clerical  acquaintance,  of  enlarged  and 
liberal  feelings,  with  whom  I  would  find  it  pleasant  to  hold  intercourse.  I  have 
found  his  testimony  abundantly  verified  by  my  own  observation.  I  number  the 
hours  spent  in  his  society  among,  not  the  most  pleasant  only,  but  the  most  (H^ofit- 
able,  of  my  life.  lie  was  to  me  '  Paul  the  aged,'  and  often  have  I  been  by  turns 
humbled,  instructed,  and  refreshed,  by  the  lessons  of  a  ripe  Christian  expe- 
rience, which  fell  from  his  lips. 

*'He  had,  in  various  ways,  been  afflicted,  during  a  large  portion  of  his  life, — 
and  not  in  vain.  Trials  had  done  their  appointed  work  on  him,  and  carried  his 
personal  piety  to  a  point  of  excellence,  far  beyond  the  ordinary  standard.  There 
was  a  strength  of  faith  in  God,  and  a  thoroughness  of  childlike  submission  to 
the  Divine  will,  and  a  degree  of  gentleness,  peace,  and  meek  self-possession  in 
the  habitual  frame  of  his  mind,  which  I  contemplated  with  feelings  amounting 
to  veneration.  Besides  these  direct  fruits  of  affliction,  there  were  other  traits 
of  character,  which  shone  in  him  with  conspicuous  lustre.  His  humility  was 
remarkable.  He  had  been  a  useful  man.  In  the  pulpit  and  school-room,  he 
had  served  this  community  for  nearly  half  a  century.  In  season  and  out  of 
season,  in  face  of  reproach  as  well  as  when  all  was  smiling,  had  he  gone  in  and 
out  among  his  fellow-men,  doing  his  duty  in  the  fear  of  God.  By  scores  and 
hundreds  are  persons  to  be  found,  both  in  town  and  country,  who  are  either  the 
seals  of  his  ministry  in  the  Lord,  or  the  creditable  specimens  of  his  scholastic 
training.  He  was  also,  in  the  latter  years  of  his  life  particularly,  a  man  whom 
all  delighted  to  honour.  Good  and  bad,  they  of  his  own  household  of  faith,  and 
those  of  other  creeds,  all  united  to  do  him  reverence.  But  he  was  as  humble, 
unobtrusive  and  self-renouncing,  as  if  he  had  been  the  least  and  obscurest  of  all 
saints.  Ilis  conversations,  prayers,  and  favourite  hymns,  breathed  a  spirit 
which  gave  all  its  honours  to  his  Master,  and  asked  for  himself  no  higher  boon 
than  to  lie  at  his  feet,  a  debtor  to  sovereign  grace  for  mercy.     Then  there  was 

*  Bishop  AtkiDflon  of  North  Caroliqa. 


WILLIAM  SHIELDS  REID.  g^ 

hit  benevoUnce  of  heart — I  never  heard  him,  daring  my  ten  years  intercourse 
with  him,  utter  an  unkind  sentiment  or  allusion.  Past  wrongs  seemed  to 
have  utterly  fiided  away  from  lus  memory,  and  the  sunshine  of  love  and  good- 
will  beamed  out  from  his  heart  towards  every  human  being.  Over  and  over 
have  I  had  occasion  to  admire  his  sympathy  with  the  afflicted,  his  deep  grati- 
tude for  attentions  and  favours  which  loving  hands  would  show  him,  his  affec- 
tionate interest  in  the  welfare  of  others,  and  his  expanded  charity  toward  all 
**  that  love  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity."  But  to  me  the  crowning  glory 
of  his  character  was  his  lave  for  Christ.  Like  St.  Paul  in  the  text,  he  could  in 
deed  and  truth  say,  *'  To  me  to  live  is  Christ."  '*  Christ  and  Him  crucified  " 
was  with  him  more  than  a  Jbaro  doctrine,  which  his  sacred  office  required  him  to 
preach.  It  was  a  truth  graven  on  the  tablets  of  his  inmost  soul,  and  endeared 
to  him  by  a  life-experience  of  its  preciousness.  No  theme  was  sweet  to  his  ear 
as  that.  No  unwilling  assent  was  his  to  the  Gospel — ^no  accepting  it  as  the  way 
of  safety  for  him,  because  he  could  do  no  better.  It  was  his  choice,  his  boast, 
his  joy>  his  all  in  all.  It  was  a  plan  that  fully  met  his  wants  as  a  sinner — a 
plan  that  had  saved  him,  and  sent  so  many  of  his  own  family  and  flock  on  before 
to  Heaven.  He  wanted  nothing  more — he  could  do  with  nothing  less.  He 
preached  it  in  public;  he  taught  it  from  house  to  house;  ho  bore  blessed  testi- 
mony to  it  in  the  closing  weeks  of  his  life.  When  such  was  his  devotion  to  the 
Gospel,  you  will  not  be  surprised  to  hear  that  the  Master,  whom  he  so  greatly 
honoured,  also  honoured  him  by  granting  him  a  departure  radiant  with  fulness 
of  peace  and  hope.  His  dying  chamber,  so  long  as  he  was  able  to  speak,  was  a 
privileged  spot  be^^ond  the  common  walk  of  men.  There  was  no  display,  no 
excitement,  no  tumultuous  raptures,  ho  effort  at  making  memorable  dying 
remarks.  All  was  quiet,  simple,  unaffected,  self-forgetting,  in  perfect  harmony 
with  the  calm,  dignified  loveliness  of  his  life.  When  I  told  him,  on  one  occasion, 
how  encouraged  I  felt  to  go  and  preach  the  Gospel  of  my  Saviour  with  increased 
earnestness,  and  a  stronger  conviction  of  its  truth,  from  seeing  how  calmly  it 
was  enabling  him  to  die,  it  seemed  to  be  a  thought  that  had  not  occurred  to  him 
that  the  manner  of  his  departure  was  of  interest  to  any  one,  and  with  sweet 
humility  he  replied,  '  I  am  thankful  if  it  has  that  effect.' 

''  But  I  must  close  my  hasty  sketch.  Pardon  me,  if  I  have  detained  you  too 
long.  I  have  lost  a  valued  friend.  We  were  of  different  Communions,  but  of 
one  heart.  He  was  more  than  twice  my  age;  but  that  only  made  me  revere, 
love,  and  look  up  to  him  the  more.  I  have  lost  a  friend,  whose  character,  beau- 
tiful with  the  reflected  graces  of  his  Lord,  was  a  model  I  delighted  to  study. 
This  humble  tribute  to  departed  worth  is  but  a  poor  expression  of  what  I  feel 
in  view  of  this  dispensation  of  Providence.  Such  as  it  is,  I  lay  it  on  his  grave 
with  filial  affection,  and  pray  God  that  that  mantle  of  Elijah  may  fall  on  Elisha, 
and  that  after  as  pure  and  useful  a  life  as  his,  I  may  die  as  tranquil  a  death,  and 
meet  him  again  to  exchange  our  suspended  intercourse  below  for  the  eternal  fel- 
lowship of  Heaven." 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  very  sincerely  yours, 

W.  H.  KINGKLE. 

Vol.  TV.  50 


394  PBESBTTERIAK. 


JOHN  JOHNSTON,  D,  D  * 

1806—1865. 

John  Johnston  was  bom  in  the  township  of  Montgomery  and  County 
of  Ulster,  but  now  township  of  Crawford  and  County  of  Orange,  State  of 
New  York,  on  the  28th  of  January,  1778.  His  parents  were  both  from 
the  North  of  Ireland,  but  they  met  for  the  first  time  on  this  side  the  ocean. 
His  father  was  brought  up  in  connection  with  the  Episcopal  Church,  his 
mother  with  the  Presbyterian  Church,  in  Ireland :  she,  after  her  arrival  in 
this  country,  became  a  member  in  full  communion,  while  he  became  an 
attendant  on  Presbyterian  worship,  and  was  actively  engaged  in  promoting 
the  interests  of  a  church  of  that  denomination. 

In  his  early  youth,  he  was  put  to  work  upon  his  father's  farm,  and  by 
that  means  greatly  invigorated  his  naturally  feeble  constitution.  In  the 
autumn  of  1794,  when  he  was  in  his  seventeenth  year,  he  became  tempo- 
rarily a  clerk  in  a  store  a  few  miles  from  his  father's  residence.  The  next 
spring,  being  at  home  to  pass  the  Sabbath,  his  father  inquired  of  him  how 
he  wished  to  be  employed  in  life ;  and  referred  it  to  his  choice  whether  to 
be  a  farmer,  or  a  merchant,  or  to  be  educated  for  a  profession.  He  instantly 
chose  the  latter ;  and  having  remained  at  home  a  few  months  to  assist  his 
father  in  gathering  in  the  harvests  of  the  year,  he  entered  upon  a  course 
of  study  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Freeman,t  Pastor  of 
the  Congregation  of  Hopewell.  Here  he  continued  till  the  spring  of  1797, 
when,  in  consequence  of  the  removal  of  Mr.  Freeman  to  take  charge  of 
the  Congregation  of  Bethlehem,  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  distant,  it  became 
necessary  for  him  to  seek  another  instructor.  He  accordingly  became  a 
member  of  an  Academy,  about  a  mile  from  the  village  of  Montgomery, 
under  the  direction  of  a  Mr.  Neely.  After  remaining  here  two  years,  Mr. 
Neely  relinquished  the  charge  of  the  Academy,  and  young  Johnston  was 
removed  to  an  Academy  at  Kingston,  of  which  Mr.  Timothy  T.  Smith, 

•  Memoirs  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Carnaban. — MS.  from  the  Rer.  Dr.  Fonyth. 

t  JoNATRAir  Fbebman  wAfl  bom  at  Woodbridgo,  N.  J.,  April  4,  1765.  His  paternal  anocfl'- 
toTS,  were  from  England ;  his  maternal  from  France.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  on  the  3d  of 
May,  1793,  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  York,  and  was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  the 
Church  in  Hopewell,  on  the  28th  of  May,  1794.  After  remaining  here  about  fonr  years,  be 
resigned  his  cbarffe,  and  in  1797,  removed  to  Newburgh,  where  he  laboured  till  October,  1805. 
He  then  became  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Bridgeton,  N.  J.,  where  he  died  on  the  17th  of  Novem- 
ber,  1822.  He  was  married  to  a  daughter  or  the  Rev.  Nathan  Ker  of  Goshen.  He  received 
the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  frpm  Columbia  College  in  1800,  and  fh)m  the  College  of  New 
Jersey  in  1809.  He  published  n  Sermon  on  the  day  appointed  by  the  General  Assembly  as  a 
day  of  Solemn  Humiliation,  Fasting,  and  Prayer,  1798;  a  Discourse  on  Psalmody,  delivered 
before  the  Presbytery  of  Hudson,  1801;  a  Baptismal  Catechism,  1811;  a  Baptismal  Dialogue 
between  a  group  of  Anabaptist  writers  and  myself,  1812.  Ho  also  contriouted  largely  to 
several  religious  periodicals.  He  possessed  a  vigorous  mind,  was  a  highly  respectable  scholar, 
faithful  pastor,  and  acceptable  preacher. 

The  Rev.  Nathan  Ker,  mentioned  above,  was  a  son  of  William  and  Katharine  Ker,  and 
was  bom  in  Freehold,  N.  J.,  on  the  7th  of  September,  (0.  S.)  1736.  Having  been  hopefully 
converted  in  early  life  under  the  preaching  of  the  Rev.  William  Tennent,  he  became  in  due 
time  a  student  at  Princeton  College,  where  he  graduated  in  1761.  The  next  year  he  was 
licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick,  and  on  the  17th  of  August,  176.3,  was 
ordained  by  the  same  Presbyteiy  to  the  work  of  the  Gospel  ministry.  Shortly  after,  he  was 
settled  as  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Goshen,  N.  Y.,  where  he  remained  till  his  death,  which  took 
place  on  the  14th  of  December,  1804,  in  the  sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age.  He  was  a  xealons 
Whig  in  the  Revolution,  and  served  for  some  time  as  a  voluntary  Chaplain  in  the  American 
army.  He  was  a  man  of  a  well  balanced  and  well  cultivated  mind,  enlarged  and  liberal  views, 
earnest  piety,  and  extensive  influence.  He  published  a  Sermon  in  the  American  Preacher 
(Vol.  TV,)  entitled  **  God*s  Sovereignty  in  oonferrlng  means  and  grace,*'  1793. 


JTOHK  J0H5ST0N.  395 

tfterwards  Professor  of  languages  in  Union  College,  was  Principal.  Here 
he  remained  until  the  close  of  September,  when  he  was  called  home  on 
account  of  the  sudden  death  of  his  father. 

One  consequence  of  this  event  he  supposed  would  be  that  he  should  be 
obliged  to  change  his  plans  for  life,  and  instead  of  prosecuting  a  collegiate 
course,  return  and  assist  in  the  support  of  the  family, — he  being  the  eldest 
of  five  children.  His  excellent  mother,  however,  was  unwilling  that  he 
should  thus  be  disappointed;  and  she  proposed  to  endeavour  to  keep  the 
fomilj  together,  and  provide  means  to  enable  him  to  carry  out  his  cherished 
purpose  of  obtaining  a  collegiate  education.  In  order  to  secure  the  requi- 
site funds,  it  was  resolved  that  a  portion  of  the  stock  on  the  farm  should 
be  disposed  of;  and  in  the  urgency  of  the  case,  the  young  scholar  did  not 
scruple  to  become  a  drover.  In  company  with  a  neighbour,  who  was  in  the 
habit  of  driving  cattle  into  the  Counties  of  Dutchess  and  Westchester,  he 
addressed  himself  with  great  alacrity  to  this  new  employment,  and  by  this 
means  obtained  all  the  money  necessary  for  his  immediate  wants. 

Having  parted  with  his  company,  he  stopped  at  Yorktown  on  his  return, 
and  took  lodgings  for  the  night.  Here  a  painful  feeling  of  solitude  came 
over  him,  as  he  reflected  that  he  was  in  the  midst  of  strangers,  and  there 
was  no  person  who  cared  for  him  within  his  reach.  In  this  state  of  mind 
he  retired  to  rest,  and  in  the  morning,  about  daylight,  was  waked  by  two 
little  boys  lying  in  a  trundle-bed  near  him,  talking  about  God — asking 
whether  God  could  see  them, — whether  he  could  see  them  in  the  dark, — 
whether  he  could  see  them  if  they  covered  their  heads  with  a  blanket ;  and 
other  similar  questions.  Their  conversation  arrested  his  attention,  and  left 
a  deep  and  enduring  impression  upon  his  mind.  Some  forty  years  after  the 
occurrence,  Mr.  Johnston  happened,  during  a  meeting  of  Synod  in  New 
York,  to  be  dining  at  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Potts,  with  some  twenty 
others, — ministers  and  ruling  elders,  and  he  related  this  circumstance  as 
illustrative  of  the  important  influence  which  apparently  trivial  events  often 
have  in  deciding  character  and  destiny.  One  of  the  gentlemen  at  the  table 
inquired  when  and  where  the  circumstance  occurred ;  and  on  being  told,  he 
said,  with  quivering  lips,  and  eyes  filled  with  tears — **  I  was  one  of  those 
two  little  boys,  and  am  here  as  a  ruling  elder  in  the  Presbyterian 
Church."  ^ 

In  October,  1799,  he  was  admitted  a  member  of  the  Junior  class  in  the 
College  of  New  Jersey.  As  he  approached  the  close  of  his  collegiate 
course,  his  mind  became  deeply  and  painfully  exercised  in  regard  to  a  pro- 
fession. His  predilections  were  all  for  the  ministry,  but  his  fear  was  that 
he  had  not  the  requisite  spiritual  qualifications.  From  the  time  he  heard 
the  two  little  boys  talk  about  God  seeing  them  in  the  dark,  and  covered 
with  a  blanket,  he  had  had  serious  impressions  ;  and  those  impressions  were 
now  revived  and  deepened.  After  much  meditation,  and  prayer,  and 
receiving  the  advice  of  a  judicious  minister,  he  resolved  on  devoting  him- 
self to  the  ministry.  He  became  a  member  of  the  Church  of  Goodwill,  in 
the  autumn  of  1801,  a  few  weeks  after  he  was  graduated. 

He  now  returned  to  Princeton,  and  commenced  his  theological  studies 
under  Dr.  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith  ;  but,  in  consequence  of  the  burning  of 
the  college  edifice  and  library  in  March  following,  the  theological  students 
dispersed,  and  he,  after  making  a  short  visit  to  his  mother,  crossed  the  Alls* 
ghany  Mountains,  and  went  to  study  under  the  Rev.  Dr.  McMillan,  the 


^9g  PRESBTTERIAK. 

Apostle  of  Western  PennsylTMiia.  Here  he  reaiained  about  %  year  and 
eight  months,  during  which  time  he  had  abundant  opportunities  of  witness- 
ing those  strange  physical  phenomena  that  characterised  the  memorable 
revival  of  that  period.  He  seems  to  have  had  no  doubt  of  the  genuineness 
of  the  work,  though  there  was  much  connected  with  it  that  he  could  neither 
understand  nor  approve. 

In  the  summer  of  1803,  he  was  taken  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery 
of  Ohio,  as  a  candidate  for  the  Gospel  ministry.  He  was  now  strongly 
urged  to  take  license  to  preach  at  once,  and  to  engage  in  the  work  of  a  mis* 
sionary  ;  but  to  this  he  qpuld  not  consent.  As  his  means  of  support  were 
nearly  exhausted,  he  determined  to  suspend  his  studies  for  a  season,  and 
return  to  the  East  side  of  the  Mountains  and  engage  in  teaching.  Accord* 
inglyi  on  the  1st  of  December,  1803,  he  took  leave  of  that  part  of  the 
country,  where  he  felt  that  he  had  been  greatly  benefitted  both  intellectually 
and  spiritually,  and  directed  his  course  towards  the  Eastern  shore  of  Mary- 
land,— having  previously  made  arrangements  for  teaching  in  the  family  of 
a  gentleman  who  resided  there.  On  arriving  at  the  place,  however,  he 
found,  to  his  great  disappointment,  that,  in  consequence  of  his  having  been 
delayed  beyond  the  appointed  time,  another  person, — a  young  man  from  New 
England,  had  been  engaged,  and  that,  therefore,  he  had  lost  the  opportunity. 
He  was  directed  to  another  gentleman,  who,  it  was  understood,  wanted  a 
teacher;  but  he  too,  it  proved,  was  already  supplied.  He  then  returned  in 
a  state  of  great  depression  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Nichols,  by  whom  he  had 
first  expected  to  be  employed,  and  the  result  of  the  conference  between  them 
was  that  Mr.  Johnston  was  retained,  agreeably  to  the  original  arrange* 
ment, — Mr.  N.  resolving  to  pay  the  other  young  man  whom  he  had  engaged, 
for  whatever  trouble  or  inconvenience  might  be  occasioned  to  him.  He 
accordingly  remained  in  this  family  till  May,  1805,  and,  during  the  time, 
made  the  acquaintance  of  many  of  the  distinguished  families  in  Maryland^ 
and  was  an  attendant  at  the  Episcopal  Church. 

After  having  thus  spent  a  very  pleasant  year  and  a  half  as  a  private  tutor, 
he  returned  to  Princeton,  placed  himself  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery 
of  New  Brunswick,  and  resumed  his  theological  studies  under  the  direction 
of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Henry  Kollock,  then  Professor  of  Theology  in  the  College 
of  New  Jersey.  In  the  autumn  succeeding,  he  was  appointed  Tutor  in  the 
College.  He  accepted  (he  office,  and  held  it  for  one  year,  in  connection  also 
with  that  of  Assistant  Librarian, — at  the  same  time  vigorously  prosecuting 
his  theological  studies.  On  the  8th  of  October,  1806,  he  was  licensed  to 
preach  the  Gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick,  and  immediately 
after  returned  to  visit  his  friends  in  Orange  County,  N.  Y. 

From  the  Presbytery  of  Hudson  he  received  appointments  to  preach  in 
Newburgh,  New  Windsor,  Florida,  and  Pleasant  Valley, — all  of  which  con- 
gregations were  then  vacant.  He  was  invited  to  settle  in  each  of  these 
places,  but  ultimately  determined  to  accept  the  call  from  the  united  Churches 
of  New  Windsor  and  Newburgh,  as  successor  to  the  Rev.  Eleazar  Burnet.* 
He  commenced  his  regular  service  in  connection  with  these  churches  in 
April,  1807,  and  his  ordination  and  installation  took  place  at  New  Windsor, 

*  Elbasar  Burnet  wm  graduated  »t  Princeton  in  1799;  wiu  lioented  to  prenoh  by  the  Prei- 
bvtery  of  New  York  in  1804 ;  wm  ordjOned  and  ioBtalled  at  Newburgh  on  the  20th  of  November, 
1805;  and  died  at  New  Brunswick,  N.  J.,  on  the  22d  of  NoTomber,  1806.  He  waa  labouring 
under  a  pulmonary  di«eaee  at  the  time  of  hia  ordination.  lie  was  diatingnisbed  for  a  quiet, 
jimiablo  and  devout  apirit. 


JOHN  JOHNSTON.  897 

on  the  5th  of  August  following, — on  which  occasion  the  Bev.  Andrew  Kingt 
presided. 

On  the  27th  of  January,  1807,  he  was  married  to  Mary,  daughter  of 
Banit;!  Ball,  of  Orange  County.  They  had  been  brought  up  in  the  same 
neighbourhood,  and  had  been  mutually  attached  and  pledged  to  the  mar- 
riage relation  for  several  ^ears.  They  were  eminently  suited  to  each  other, 
and  were  fellow -helpers  in  all  that  was  good  during  a  period  of  forty-eight 
years.     They  had  nine  children, — four  sons  and  five  daughters. 

Mr.  Johnston  began  his  labours  at  Newburgh  and  New  Windsor  by  preach- 
ing one  sermon  in  each  place  on  the  Sabbath-;  but,  as  this  arrangement  was 
found  inconvenient,  he  afterwards  preached  a  whole  Sabbath  alternately  in 
the  two  places.  In  April,  1810,  he  was  released  from  the  charge  of  New 
Windsor, — the  Congregation  of  Newburgh  having  presented  through  the 
Presbytery  a  call  for  the  whole  of  his  services,  promising  him  a  larger  salary 
than  he  had  previously  received  from  both  congregations.  Here  he  con- 
tinued till  the  close  of  his  life. 

From  the  commencement  of  his  ministry  to  its  close,  he  was  a  model  of 
diligence  and  fidelity,  and  his  labours  may  be  said  to  have  been  eminently 
successful.  Kevivals  of  religion  took  place  among  his  people  in  the  years 
1812-13, 1815-10,  1819-20,  1824-25,  1831,  and  1843.  As  the  result  of 
these  revivals,  with  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his  ordinary  ministrations,  his 
church  became  large  and  prosperous,  embodying  no  small  amount  of  Chris- 
tian energy  and  efficiency,  and  enlisting  vigorously  in  the  great  benevolent 
movements  of  the  day. 

At  the  time  of  his  settlement,  and  for  some  years  after,  he  was  accus- 
tomed, as  his  predecessors  had  done  before  him,  to  baptize  all  children  who 
were  presented,  irrespective  of  the  question  whether  their  parents  were  in 
communion  with  the  Church.  He  came  at  length  to  have  scruples  on  the 
subject,  and  those  scruples  were  increased  by  refiection,  until  he  was  finally 
brought  to  a  full  conviction  that  the  practice  of  indiscriminate  baptism  was 
unscriptural  and  of  evil  tendency.  He  accordingly  announced  to  his  people 
his  change  of  opinion,  and  his  intended  change  of  practice,  on  the  subject, 
but  he  did  it  in  so  discreet  and  conciliatory  a  manner,  that  he  was  enabled 
to  carry  out  his  purpose  without  serious  opposition. 

In  the  division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  which  took  place  in  1837,  Mr. 
Johnston  was  found  heartily  with  the  Old  School,  though  he  greatly  deplored 

t  AvDBiw  KiVQ  WM  born  in  North  Carolinft  in  1748,  and  wm  graduated  at  the  College  of 
Kew  Jenejr  in  1773.  He  stadied  Theology  under  Dr.  Witherepoon,  and  wae  probably  licensed 
by  the  Pretbyterf  of  New  York  in  1775.  He  began  his  labours  in  Goodwill  or  Wallkill,  as  a 
utated  supply  in  October,  1776,  and  on  the  11th  of  June,  1777,  wa«  ordained  and  installed  Pas- 
tor of  the  Congregation,  in  which  relation  he  continued  until  his  death,  which  occurred  on  the 
16th  of  November,  1815.  He  was,  in  a  great  measure,  the  father  of  the  Presbytery  of  Hud- 
son, and  during  his  ministry  the  Congregation  of  Goodwill  was  greatly  prospered,  being  one  of 
the  largest  in  that  part  of  the  State.  Though  he  was  not  a  learned  theologian,  nor  in  the  com- 
mon aooeptation  of  the  phrase  a  popular  preaeher,  few  of  his  contemporaries  were  more  success- 
ful in  the  work  of  the  ministry.  He  was  emphatically  a  ptace-maktr.  The  Kecords  of  the 
Presbytery  to  which  he  belonged,  contain  numerous  letters  and  resolutions  drawn  up  by  him 
with  a  view  to  remove  difficulties  in  which  congregations  bad  been  inrolved.  The  same  Records 
•how  that  the  Presbytery  was  especially  requested,  in  various  instances,  **  to  bare  Father  King 
sent  as  one  of  the  Committee  to  endeavour  to  make  peace."  br  churches  which  were  then  in  a 
disturbed  state.  The  peace  of  his  own  church  was  unbroken  during  the  whole  of  his  long  pa«- 
tofatc.  Mr.  Kins  was  twice  married.  His  first  wife  was  Jane  Trimble  of  Wallkill,  br  whom 
he  bad  sereral  ehildren,  most  of  whom  died  in  infancy.  His  son  Jam$»  graduated  at  the  Col- 
lege of  New  Jersey  in  1807)  studied  Law,  and  practised  his  profession  In  Albany  till  his  deaths 
which  oeenrred  in  1B41.  Mr.  King's  leeoiid  wife  wa«  th«  widow  of  the  Rer.  uHbert  Snowden 
oC  Cranbeny,  N.  J**  ^  whom  h*  iMd  two  MM. 


S9g  PBSSBTTERIAlf. 

the  manifold  contentions  and  alienations  by  which  it  was  preceded  and 
attended. 

Mr.  Johnston  was  a  punctual  and  diligent  attendant  on  the  judicatories 
of  the  Church.  He  was  fourteen  times  a  Commissioner  to  the  General 
Assembly,  and  was  a  delegate,  at  different  periods,  from  the  General  Assem- 
bly to  the  General  Association  of  Connecticut,  Massachusetts,  and  New 
Hampshire,  and  the  General  Convention  of  Vermont. 

In  1817,  he  was  elected  a  Director  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Prince- 
ton ;  and  in  1840,  a  Trustee  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  In  1848,  he 
was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Lafayette 
College. 

In  the  summer  of  1854,  Dr.  Johnston  commenced  a  series  of  lectures 
which  he  called  a  review  of  his  ministry.  He  had  delivered  seven,  and 
intended  to  deliver  two  more,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  an  illness  which 
confined  him  for  six  weeks,  and  prevented  him  from  ever  resuming  the 
course.  As  soon  as  it  was  found  that  he  was  likely  to  be  incapable  of  any 
further  public  service,  a  committee  of  hb  congregation  waited  upon  him, 
requesting  him  to  give  himself  no  trouble  in  regard  to  the  supply  of  the 
pulpit, — assuring  him  that  they  would  themselves  attend  to  it,  and  that  his 
usual  salary  should  be  paid  to  him  till  the  close  of  his  life.  He  immediately 
wrote  to  Princeton  to  secure  the  services  of  a  young  man  from  the  Semi- 
nary— and,  having  accomplished  his  wish,  his  mind  was  at  rest  on  that  subject. 
He  was  now  for  some  time  shut  up  in  his  chamber,  suffering  severely  from  an 
attack  of  rheumatism.  As  he  had  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  meet  once 
more  with  the  Trustees  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  he  was  invited  to 
come  to  Princeton  a  week  before  Commencement,  (June,  1855,)  in  the  hope 
that  a  brief  visit  among  his  old  friends  might  serve  to  recruit  his  health. 
He  went  accordingly,  attended  the  meeting  of  the  Board,  and  participated  in 
their  deliberations;  but  it  was  the  last  public  duty  he  ever  performed.  He 
reached  home  two  days  after  Commencement,  but,  instead  of  being  benefit- 
ted, had  evidently  been  injured,  by  the  journey.  He  suffered  severely  through 
the  month  of  July ;  and  about  the  first  of  August,  another  roost  painful 
malady  set  in,  which  brought  his  life  to  a  close  on  the  23d  of  that  month. 
His  Funeral  was  very  numerously  attended  on  the  26th, — clergymen  of  the 
Presbyterian,  Episcopal,  Baptist  and  Methodist  Churches,  taking  part  in  the 
service.  The  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Potts  of  New 
York. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  FORSYTH,  D.  D., 

PBOVBiSOa  IK  THB  THIOLOOIOAL  SBinNAaT  OF  THB  A880CIATB  BBFOaiCXD   CBITBCa 

AT  NKWBUBQH. 

K  BWBuaoH.  26th  January,  1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  friend :  It  gives  me  much  pleasure  to  send  you  my  recollections 
of  my  venerable  friend,  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Johnston,  who,  for  so  many  years, 
exorcised  his  ministry  in  my  native  town.  I  owe  it  as  a  debt  to  his  memory, 
and  yet  I  cannot  promise  to  send  you  much  of  a  personal  kind  that  will  possess 
very  special  interest. 

Dr.  Johnston  was  settled  in  Newbnrgh  long  before  I  was  bom,  and  my  earliest 
remembrance  of  him  is  that  of  a  man  well  up  in  years,  and  in  fact  bearing 
decided  marks  of  old  age;  though  he  was  not,  of  course,  so  far  past  the  meri- 
dian of  life  as  to  my  childish  imagination  beseemed  to  be.    This  outward  seem- 


JOHN  JOHNSTON.  899 

ing  was,  as  I  may  say,  completely  reversed  by  the  wig  he  wore  during  the  last 
twenty  or  twenty-five  years  of  his  life,  which  rejuvenated  him  in  a  remarkable 
degree.  Until  within  a  few  months  of  his  decease,  his  step  was  unusually  quick 
and  elastic,  his  general  health  was  good,  so  that,  when  past  threescore  and  ten, 
most  persons  would  have  taken  him  for  a  much  younger  man  than  he  was  in  fact. 
Indeed.  I  remember  to  have  been  greatly  surprised  myself  when  he  told  me  his 
age.  His  physical  constitution  was,  apparently,  by  no  means  one  of  the  iron 
kind,  yet  few  men  who  have  lived  so  long  as  he  did,  have  suffered  less  from  dis- 
ease. Your  vegetarian  reader  will  be  delighted,  I  am  sure,  to  learn  that  Dr. 
Johnstou  never  tasted  animal  food,  unless  upon  a  few  rare  occasions,  as  a  matter 
of  curiosity,  just  to  see  tiow  it  tasted.  But  I  should  add  that  his  abstinence  was 
in  no  way  connected  with  conscientious  scruples  about  the  lawfulness  of  using 
such  food. 

At  the  period  of  Dr.  Johnston's  settlement  in  Newburgh,  the  town  was  a  per- 
fect hot-bed  of  infidelity.  With  a  few  noble  exceptions,  the  leading  politicians 
of  the  place,  the  most  eminent  lawyers  and  physicians,  were  all  more  or  less 
imbued  with  the  principles  and  the  spirit  of  Tom  Paine.  That  wretched  apos- 
tate, and  apostle  of  infidelity,  Blind  Palmer,*  who  figures  pretty  largely  in  Grant 
Thorburn's  reminiscences,  often  visited  the  village,  and  was  cordially  welcomed 
by  a  club  bearing  the  name  of  **  The  Society  of  Ancient  Druids."  There  were 
at  that  time  only  two  churches  in  existence, — namely,  the  Presbyterian,  and  the 
Associate  Reformed,  or  Scottish  Presbyterian,  and  in  both  of  them  religion  was 
at  a  low  ebb.  Indeed,  I  can  hardly  conceive  of  a  harder  and  more  forbidding 
field  than  that  which  Dr.  Johnston  undertook  to  cultivate,  when  ordained  Pas- 
tor of  the  Church  at  Newburgh.  Yet  he  lived  to  see  the  barren  waste  (in  measure 
at  least)  bloom  like  a  garden  of  the  Lord,  and  he  was  permitted  to  gather  from 
it  a  large  harvest  of  precious  fruit.  Long  before  he  finished  his  course  and  entered 
into  his  rest,  the  once  formidable  ranks  of  infidelity  had  so  completely  disap- 
peared, that  it  would  not  have  been  easy  to  find  an  avowed  unbeliever,  and  few 
towns  could  be  named  in  which  the  proportion  of  church  going  and  Sabbath 
observing  population  is  greater  than  that  of  Newburgh.  And  while  this  pleasing 
result  is  not  to  be  traced  exclusively  to  Dr.  Johnston's  labours,  yet  they  had 
much  to  do  with  it. 

This  statement  might  have  surprised  you  somewhat,  if  you  had  had  only  a 
limited  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Johnston.  He  had  not  a  particle  of  the  polemic 
in  his  pature,  and  I  very  much  doubt  whether  he  ever  preached  a  single  sermon 
aimed  directly  at  infidelity.  He  was  not  an  eloquent  man;  he  would  not  be 
called  a  learned  man ;  neither  was  he  remarkable  for  intellectual  force.  From  tho 
outset  of  his  ministry, — as  I  have  learned  from  himself, — he  became  convinced 
that  the  most  effectual  weapon  with  which  to  meet  and  beat  down  scepticism  was 
not  the  Christian  evidences,  but  the  Qospel  itself.  This  he  thoroughly  under- 
stood, and  ho  preached  it  in  a  plain,  simple,  earnest  way.    His  sermons  were 

*  BuHV  Palvvb  was  a  native  of  Canterbury,  Conn. ;  waa  graduated  at  Dartmonth  Collei^e 
In  1787;  studied  Theology  and  was  licensed  to  preach,  bnt  very  soon  discarded  the  Calvinistio 
syitem,  and  by  one  or  two  steps  landed  in  Deism.  The  change  in  bis  views  must  have  eom- 
meneed  at  a  voir  eariy  period :  for  I  have  in  my  powession  a  letter  addressed  to  Dr.  Mono, 
dated  September  25,  1791,  in  woich  he  avows  his  departure  from  the  oommon  orthodox  ereed, 
and  nyt-^"  I  presume.  If  I  ever  change,  it  will  be  to  a  greater  degree  of  heresy."  In  the 
aiif  mn  of  1790,  he  removed  to  Augusta,  Ga.,  where  he  seems  to  have  been  engaged  in  some 
litecaiy  pursuits  between  one  and  two  vears,  and  among  other  things,  collected  material  for  Dr. 
Horse's  Geogmphv.  After  this,  he  lived  for  several  years  in  Philadelphia,  then  removed  to 
New  York,  and  afterwards  returned  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  died  in  180<i,  aged  forty-two. 
He  never  eeaeed  to  be  a  preacher,  but  much  the  greater  part  of  his  ndnistiy  was  a  bold  and 
earnest  advoca^  of  Deism.  He  was  at  the  head  of  the  Columbian  lUuminati,  a  Deistleal  Club 
at  New  York,  established  about  1801,  whose  professed  aim  was  to  momote  moral  science,  against 
raligloM  and  political  imposture.  He  was  blind  from  his  youto.  He  published  an  Oration 
dallvnwi  an  tin  Fourth  of  JBly>  1797 ;  and  a  volume  entiUed  «  The  Piinelplei  «f  Nature," 
1802. 


400  PRESBTTERIAX. 

solid  and  serious,  in  no  sense  elaborate,  equally  remote  from  metaphysical  refine- 
ment, the  show  of  logic,  and  flights  of  rhetoric,  but  abounding  in  pungent  appeals, 
and  delivered  with  a  manifest  tenderness  of  feeling,  which  was  sometimes  per* 
haps  excessive  and  a  little  out  of  place.  However,  this  last  peculiarity  was  less 
observable  in  his  latter  years. 

But  his  labours  out  of  the  pulpit  had  as  much,  possibly  more,  to  do  with  the 
success  of  his  ministry  than  his  sermons  in  it.  lie  was  an  exemplary  and  inde- 
fatigable pastor.  He  '*  dwelt  among  his  own  people."  He  was  a  man  of  very 
warm  heart,  genial  temper,  quick  in  his  sympathies,  lively  in  conversation,  fond 
of  getting  and  giving  news,  especially  such  as  related  to  the  Church.  He  loved 
to  mingle  in  the  social  gatherings  of  good  people  who  were  intelligent  and  not 
over  fashionable,  and  no  one  could  be  more  ready  than  he  to  minister  to  the 
innocent  merriment  and  enjoyment  of  the  evening  by  playful  anecdote  and 
pious  remark.  Such  a  pastor,  circulating  as  he  did  perpetually  among  his  flock, 
visiting  and  consoling  the  sick,  the  sorrowing,  the  poor,  the  aged,  could  not  fail 
to  win  for  himself  a  warm  place  in  their  affections. 

From  an  early  period  of  his  ministry.  Dr.  Johnston  was  led  to  take  so  much 
interest  in  the  numerous  sceptics  of  the  village  and  its  vicinity,  as  to  keep  his 
eye  upon  them,  and  to  ascertain,  so  far  as  he  could,  how  they  lived  and  how  they 
died.  The  habit  of  gathering  biographical  and  historical  facts  grew  upon  him, 
as  he  advanced  in  years,  and  he  ultimately  collected  a  large  store  of  information 
respecting  men  and  families  belonging  to  the  town  of  Newburgh,  and  the  County 
of  Orange.  He  was  in  this  respect  a  good  deal  like  the  late  excellent  Dr.  Pierce 
of  Brookline,  Mass.;  and  I  am  sure  that  if  the  two  venerable  worthies  had 
chanced  to  meet  in  the  evening  at  the  house  of  a  common  friend,  they  would  have 
made  ''a  night  of  it,"  to  use  an  Irish  phrase,  in  reciprocal  queries  about  the 
men  and  events  of  past  times.  Dr.  Johnston  could  have  given  you  a  pretty  full 
account  of  the  life  and  death  of  all  in  this  county  who  had  taken  a  prominent 
part  in  the  propagation  and  defence  of  infidelity.  And  if  he  could  have  been 
induced  to  put  his  copious  memoranda  into  a  shape  fit  for  the  press,  the  volume 
would  have  furnished  some  illustrious  instances  of  the  triumph  of  Grace,  and  some 
scarcely  less  remarkable  examples  of  Divine  judgment. 

Dr.  Johnston  vf-as  a  most  devoted  Presbyterian.  He  was  born  and  bred,  he 
lived  and  died,  in  the  communion  of  the  Presbyterian  Church;  and  he  seemed 
to  regard  the  General  Assembly  (Old  School)  as  the  most  august  convention  of 
men  in  the  wide  world.  In  a  historical  sermon  preached  some  years  before  his 
death,  he  described  his  feelings,  when  first  informed  that  he  was  to  be  chosen  by 
the  Assembly — of  which  he  was  a  member — a  Director  of  the  Seminary  at 
Princeton.  The  account  was  exceedingly  amusing.  The  good  man  could  hardly 
have  been  thrown  into  a  more  perturbing  flutter,  if  told  that  he  had  been  elected 
to  one  of  the  chairs  of  Theology.  He  held  the  office  of  Director  for  many  years, 
and  I  do  not  believe  that  he  was  ever  absent  from  a  meeting  of  the  Board,  unless 
prevented  by  serious  illness.  Princeton,  and  all  her  interests,  were,  indeed,  dear 
to  him  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.  He  never  missed  a  meeting  of  Presbytery  or  of 
Synod,  if  it  was  in  his  power  to  attend.  His  social  nature  found  free  scope  in 
these  assemblies  of  the  brotherhood.  He  dearly  loved  the  places  and  the  seasons 
which  afforded  him  opportunity  of  enlarging  his  acquaintance  with  good  people; 
and  I  fancy  that  he  rarely  went  abroad  without  bringing  back  some  new  Chris- 
tian friendship,  the  bond  of  which  he  took  care  to  keep  bright  by  occasional 
kindly  epistles. 

I  will  close  this  letter  with  a  curious  coincidence.  The  three  oldest  churches 
in  Newburgh  are  the  Presbyterian  (American),  the  Episcopal  (or  English  as  it 
is  often  styled),  and  the  Associate  Reformed  (Scottish  Presbyterian).  Of  the 
first  named  Dr.  Johnston  was  pastor  fifty  years  lacking  a  few  months,  and  this 
was  his  first  and  only  charge.     Of  the  second  the  Rev.  Dr.  Brown  has  been 


JOHK  JOHNSTOK.  401 

rector  for  forty  jeara,  and  this  ia  hia  firat  and  only  charge.  Of  the  third  the 
ReT.  Dr.  McCarroll  has  been  pastor  a  little  more  than  thirty  years,  and  this  too 
IS  hi9  first  and  only  charge.  I  question  if  any  town  can  give  a  more  striking 
example  of  pastoral  permanence.  During  this  long  period,  these  excellent  minis- 
ters of  Christ,  though  belonging  to  different  branches  of  the  Church,  laboured 
side  by  side,  without  a  quarrel,  without  a  jar,  or  I  should  rather  say,  in  most 
cordial  and  unbroken  friendship. 

Believe  me  to  remain 

Very  afibctionatdy  yours, 

JOHN  FORSYTH. 


-•♦- 


JOHN  CHESTER,  D.  D  * 

1807—1829. 

John  Chester  was  born  at  Wethersfield,  Conn,,  in  Aagost,  1785.  Hia 
father  was  Col.  John  Chester,  an  officer  in  the  Revolutionary  army,  and  a 
gentleman  of  great  respectability  and  influence.  His  mother,  who  was  a 
Miss  Huntington  of  Norwich,  was  a  lady  of  fine  talents  and  accomplish* 
ments,  and  of  eminent  piety.  The  son,  in  his  earlier  years,  seems  to  have 
been  distinguished  rather  for  uncommon  buoyancy  of  spirits,  and  an  exu- 
berance of  good-nature,  than  for  any  strongly  marked  intellectual  develop- 
ments. At  an  early  period,  he  was  placed  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Backus  of  ^ethlem,  (afterwards  President  of  Hamilton  College,)  with  a 
view  to  his  preparation  for  a  collegiate  course;  and,  though  he  became 
greatly  endeared  to  his  instructer  by  his  amiable  and  social  qualities,  he 
had  a  fondness  for  sport,  that  was  hardly  compatible  with  any  high  degree 
of  literary  improvement.  In  the  year  1800,  he  was  admitted  a  member  of 
Yale  College ;  and  up  to  the  period  of  his  graduation  in  1804, — though  he 
was  greatly  beloved  by  all  who  knew  him,  he  had  given  no  indications  of 
the  vigour  of  mind,  or  the  amount  of  usefulness,  which  he  was  destined  to 
attain. 

At  one  period  of  his  college  life,  he  betrayed  some  erratic  tendencies, 
which  occasioned  considerable  solicitude  to  some  of  his  friends,  and  especi- 
ally to  his  Tutor,  the  late  President  Davis  of  Hamilton  College.  Mr.  D. 
called  him  to  his  room,  and  addressed  him  substantially  as  follows: — *'  Col* 
lege  is  a  place  of  trial  and  danger,  where  some  rise  and  others  sink.  .  The 
Faculty  have  noticed  the  course  of  a  member  of  your  class  with  no  little 
concern  and  grief.  He  is  a  young  gentleman  of  highly  respectable  connec- 
tions, and  good  talents,  and  at  the  beginning  of  his  ooUege  course  promised 
well ;  but  they  fear  that  a  sad  change  is  coming  over  him, — they  obaerve  par- 
ticularly that  he  seems  to  be  forming  some  new  associations,  which  they 
regard  as  ominous  of  evil.  I  have  resolved  upon  reclaiming  that  young 
man,  if  I  can.  But  unless  I  can  have  some  one  to  second  my  endeavours* 
I  have  no  hope  of  success.  And  now,  Chester,  you  and  I  together  can 
save  him;  and  will  you  help  me  in  the  matter?"    Chester,  by  this  time, 

•  OMtMuy  Nottsti  of  Dr.  Chettor.— MS8.  from  bli  fftmUj^  Bor.  Dr.  T.  M.  Cool^i  sod  Hon. 
B»F.  Birtltr. 

Vol.  IV.  U 


402  PRMBTTJBRIAV. 

perceived  tlie  drift  of  ihe  Totor's  remarks,  and,  barstiDg  into  tears,  sud, — 
'*I  will  try."  Many  years  after  this,  the  Tator  and  his  pupil  met  in  a  pal* 
pit  in  Philadelphia,  where  the  latter  preached.  At  the  close  of  the  service. 
Dr.  Chester  took  President  Davis  by  the  hand,  and,  referring  to  their  for- 
mer relations,  thanked  him  most  affectionately  for  the  influence  he  had 
exerted  in  College  to  save  him  from  ruin. 

Soon  after  his  graduation,  he  seems  to  have  been  deeply  impressed  with 
the  idea  that  his  college  life  had  been  passed  to  little  purpose,  and  to  have 
formed  rei^olutions  that  gave  quite  a  different  complexion  to  his  future 
course.  His  mind  came  gradually  under  the  influence  of  religious  truth, 
until  he  believed  that  he  had  felt  its  renovating  power;  and  the  result  was 
that  he  determined  to  give  himself  to  the  Christian  ministry.  Having 
engaged  temporarily  as  teacher  of  a  school  in  Hatfield,  Mass.,  he  prosecuted 
his  theological  studies,  at  the  same  time,  under  the  direction  of  the  Kev. 
Dr.  Joseph  Lyman  ;  and  in  1807,  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Association 
of  Hartford  County,  Conn.  After  preaching  for  a  short  time  successiyely  at 
Marblehead  and  Springfield,  Mass.,  and  receiving  calls  to  settle  in  Middle- 
town,  Conn.,  and  in  Cooperstown,  N.  Y.,  he  was  ordained  and  installed 
on  the  2l8t  of  November,  1810,  as  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Hudson,  N.  Y. 

The  field  to  which  he  was  now  introduced,  was,  in  some  respects,  a  diffi- 
cult one.  Besides  the  ordinary  disadvantages  growing  out  of  the  division 
of  a  comparatively  small  population  into  several  denominations,  with  their 
several  places  of  worship  to  sustain,  the  Presbyterian  Church  had  been  for 
some  time  before  Dr.  Chester's  accession,  without  a  Pastor ;  and  the  con- 
gregation, never  large,  had  very  much  dwindled  away.  He  had,  therefore, 
in  fact,  to  gather  a  congregation,  as  well  as  to  stir  up  the  feOble  church; 
and  he  was  eminently  successful  in  each  of  these  duties.  He  remained  at 
Hudson,  labouring  with  great  acceptance,  till  his  removal  to  Albany  in  the 
autumn  of  1815. 

The  Presbyterian  church  edifice  in  Albany  having  become  too  strait  for 
the  congregation,  it  was  resolved  to  erect  a  new  one,  and  form  a  new 
religious  Society ;  and  some  of  the  most  influential  individuals  connected 
with  the  enterprise,  had  their  eye  upon  Mr.  Chester,  from  the  beginning,  as 
a  suitable  person  to  become  its  Pastor.  In  due  time  a  call  was  actually 
made  out  for  him,  of  which  he  signified  his  acceptance;  and  his  installation 
by  the  Presbytery  of  Albany  took  place  on  the  3d  of  November.  From 
^is  period  till  1828,  he  devoted  himself  with  untiring  assiduity  to  the  best 
interests  of  his  flock,  and  indeed  to  all  the  temporal  and  spiritual  interests 
of  humanity  within  his  reach. 

On  the  Ist  of  June,  1818,  Mr.  Chester  was  married  to  Rebecca,  daughter 
of  that  eminent  philanthropist,  Robert  Ralston,  of  Philadelphia. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  npon  him  by  Union  Col- 
lege in  1821.  He  was  Moderator  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presby 
terian  Church  in  1828. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year  1827,  Dr.  Chester  began  to  develop 
symptoms  of  disease,  which  awakened  serious  apprehensions  in  his  friends 
that  his  usefulness,  and  even  his  life,  might  bo  drawing  to  a  close.  For 
aome  time,  he  resisted  their  earnest  requests  that  he  should  temporanly 
suspend  his  labours,  and  give  himself  to  relaxation,  if  not  use  more  positive 
measures  for  his  relief;  but  in  the  spring  of  1828,  he  found  his  health  so 


JOHN  Chester;  403 

niiioh  impaired  that  he  reluctantly  yielded  to  their  wishes,  and  joameyed 
Scnith  as  far  as  the  White  Salphar  Springs  in  Virginia.  He  remained  there 
three  weeks,  during  which  time  he  was  not  a  little  encouraged  to  hope  that 
the  waters  might  be  instrumental  of  his  complete  restoration ;  and  this  hope 
he  expressed  in  a  touching  letter  addressed  to  the  Trustees  of  his  congre- 
gation, coupled,  however,  with  a  sentiment  of  entire  resignation  to  the  will 
of  an  oyermling  Providence. 

But  the  hope  which  this  letter  expressed,  as  well  as  that  which  it 
awakened  among  his  anxious  charge,  was  destined  to  be  but  the  harbinger 
of  disappointment.  He  returned  indeed ;  but  it  was  only  to  stand  for  the 
last  time  before  his  beloved  flock,  and  bid  his  friends  what  proved  a  final 
fiwewell.  His  last  meeting  with  them  in  public  was  a  scene  of  the  deepest 
interest.  Before  the  close  of  the  morning  service,  he  requested  the  oongre^ 
gation  to  join  him  in  the  singing  of  that  inimitable  hymn, — *' Jesus,  lover 
of  my  soul ;"  and  his  rich  and  melodious  voice,  mingling  with  the  voices 
of  many  of  his  charge,  in  the  utterance  of  sentiments  which,  in  the  uncer- 
tainty of  his  earthly  prospects,  had  become  more  dear  to  him  than  ever, 
produced  an  effect  from  which  the  most  insensible  could  not  escape.  After 
the  singing,  he  addressed  the  congregation  for  a  few  moments  with  deep 
emotion,  and  on  his  pronouncing  the  benediction,  requested  the  male  mem- 
bers to  remain  after  the  rest  had  retired.  He  then  read  to  them  a  brief 
but  most  touching  communication,  which  fortunately  is  still  preserved,  in 
which  he  expressed  his  apprehensions  that  the  interests  of  his  congregation 
might  suffer  by  reason  of  his  protracted  separation  from  them  consequent 
upon  his  illness,  and  begged  permission  to  resign  his  pastoral  charge.  No 
sooner  had  he  retired  to  give  them  opportunity  to  act  on  the  subject  of  his 
resignation,  than  they  declined  the  acceptance  of  it  in  the  most  grateful 
spirit,  at  the  same  time  conveying  to  him,  with  their  affectionate  wishes, 
leave  of  absence  for  one  year. 

After  this,  Br.  Chester  contemplated  a  voyage  across  the  ocean,  and  was 
actually  making  his  arrangements  for  it,  when  his  disease  took  on  a  more 
alarming  type,  and  seemed  to  betoken  the  near  approach  of  death.  At  this 
time  he  was  in  Philadelphia,  at  the  residence  of  his  venerable  father-in- 
law,  and  here  he  remained  till  the  12th  of  January,  1829,  when  death 
released  him  from  his  sufferings.  In  his  last  days  and  hours,  Chris- 
tianity breathed  continually  from  his  lips,  in  expressions  of  submission  and 
thanksgiving ;  of  good-will  to  his  friends  and  of  confidence  in  his  Redeemer. 
Though  the  people  of  his  charge  were  not  unprepared  for  the  sad  intelli- 
gence, yet  they  were  deeply  affected  by  it,  and  it  drew  from  them  the 
warmest  demonstrations  of  gratitude  for  his  services,  and  of  respect  for  his 
memory.  The  Trustees  of  his  Church  immediately  sent  a  request  to  his 
nearest  relatives,  that,  if  it  should  be  consistent  with  their  feelings,  they 
would  allow  his  remains  to  find  their  final  resting  place  in  the  midst  of  his 
devoted  people.  An  answer,  however,  was  at  once  returned,  evincing  indeed 
the  most  tender  and  delicate  respect  for  the  request,  but  intimating  that  it 
would  be  more  grateful  to  his  bereaved  family  that  the  body  should  not  be 
removed  from  Philadelphia.  Of  coarse  the  Trustees  veadily  yielded  t« 
their  prior  claim,  though  they  did  not  fiul  to  testify  their  regard  for  his 
memory  by  erecting,  shortly  after,  a  suitable  monument  in  their  own  burying 
plaoe. 


404  rtS»TTIRIAK. 

On  tlie  morniBg  4>£  the  Sabbaik  ionneJKafcely  snooeediag  hit  deiih«  aa 
ftffeotiog  and  eloquent  Disooyrae  vas  delivered  with  reference  to  the  oTeni, 
by  the  Rev.  A.  T*  HopkioB,  (the  late  Br.  Hopkins  of  Buffalo,)  who  was 
tt^en  engaged  as  a  temporary  supply ;  and,  on  the  seoond  Sabbath  oioniiDg* 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Nott,  President  of  Union  Callege,  administered  the  aaoramesi 
of  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  at  the  close  of  his  discourse,  pronounced  a  eulegj 
on  Br.  Chester,  and  incidentally  on  that  immortal  statesman,  Bewitt  Glintan 
also,  who  had  been  a  member  of  the  oongregation,  and  had  died  but  a  few 
months  before, — 4n  a  strain  of  the  most  pathetic  and  lofty  eloquence.  In 
the  evening  of  the  same  day,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tueker,  then  of  Troy,  delivered 
a  Funeral  Sermon,  in  which  he  presented  a  just  and  faithful  sketch  of  hia 
lamented  friend,  the  materials  for  which  had  been  supplied  to  him  by  a  loog 
and  familiar  aoquaintance.  These  several  tributes,  with  the  exception  of 
that  by  Mr.  Hopkins,  are  included  in  a  small  volume  of  obituary  notioea  of 
Dr.  Chester,  published  shortly  after  his  death. 

Dn  Chester's  publications  consisted  of  a  Sermon  before  the  Columbia 
Missiouary  Society,  1818 ;  a  Sermon  in  commemoration  of  the  Landing  of 
the  Pilgrims,  1820;  a  Sermon  before  the  Albany  Moral  Society,  1821; 
and  a  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  Rev.  Axel  Backus,  B.  B.,  prefixed  to  a 
volume  of  his  Sermons,  1824.  He  was  also  a  liberal  contributor  to  the 
Columbian  Magasine,  a  periodical  published  in  Hudson  during  hia  residence 
there. 

Br.  Chester  was  the  father  of  seven  children, —^  two  of  whom  died  ia 
infancy.  Mrs.  Chester  died  at  the  house  of  her  son*in*law,  Martin  B. 
Inches,  in  Dedham,  Mass,  October  28,  1866,  aged  sixty-six  years. 

Br.  Chester  and  myself  were  natives  of  the  same  State,  and  passed  our 
early  years  at  no  great  distance  from  each  other.  He  was,  however,  so 
much  my  senior  as  to  be  in  the  ministry  before  I  had  passed,  my  boyhood ; 
and  though  I  had  long  heard  of  him  as  a  popular  preacher,  I  never  hap- 
pened to  see  him  till  a  short  time  before  I  entered  the  ministry  myself. 
The  interest  which  I  felt  in  him  had  been  not  a  little  increased,  from  the 
fftct  that  a  near  relative  of  mine,  a  young  man,  had  sat  under  his  ministry 
for  some  time  at  Hudson,  and  used  to  speak  not  only  of  his  popularity  as 
a  preacher,  but  of  his  generosity  as  a  man,  in  terms  of  no  measured  praise. 
While  I  was  in  Yale  College,  he  delivered  one  year  the  address  before  the 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  which,  owing  to  some  circumstances  that  I  could 
not  control,  I  failed  of  hearing.  The  subject  of  it,  however,  I  remember, 
was  the  connection  between  scienee  and  religion ;  and  the  critics  about  old 
Yale  pronounced  it  an  excellent  performance. 

The  first  time  that  I  remember  to  have  seen  Dr.  Chester  was  while  I 
was  a  student  at  Princeton,  when  he  preached  the  Annual  Sermon  before 
the  Board  of  Birectors  of  the  Seminary.  He  had  by  that  time  become 
very  corpulent,  insomuch  that,  when  he  entered  the  church,  I  thought  I 
had  rarely  seen  a  larger  man.  He  moved,  however,  with  an  elastic,  grace- 
ful step,  and  passed  into  the  pulpit  in  a  way  that  betokened  any  thing  but 
infirmity.  When  he  opened  his  lips,  I  was  struck  with  the  remarkable 
shrillneBO  of  his  voice,  as  contrasted  with  his  imposing  personal  appearance; 
but  his  voice  was  uncommonly  distinct,  as  well  as  sweet — ^far  more  pene- 
trating than  many  voices  that  I  have  heard,  of  much  larger  compass.  His 
sermon  did  not  seem  to  have  been  written  specially  for  the  occasion,  and  if 
my  memory  serves  me,  he  officiated  in  the  place  of  some  one  who  had  unex* 


JOHH  GHESTBR.  405 

peetedly  Hiiled;  neTertlieless,  the  Idiole  service  was  highly  edifying  and 
aooeptable.  The  discourse  was  strongly  evangelical  in  its  tone,  and  86me- 
whal  ornate  In  its  style ;  and  the  manner  was  simple  and  gracefnl,  earnest 
mod  impressive.  I  remember  one  or  two  of  his  iSigares  to  this  day,  which  I 
then  thought,  and  still  think,  exceedingly  beauttfal. 

My  first  introduction  to  the  Doctor  was  in  the  antumn  of  1820,  when  I 
met  him  at  Norwalk,  Conn.,  at  the  ordination'  of  Mr.  Sylvester  Eaton.* 
He  had  long  been  mtimate  with-  Mr.  Edton,  and  had  looked  upon  him,  I 
believe,  during  his  education,  as  a  sort  of  protege,  and  hence  had  consented 
to  m&ke  the  journey  from  Albany  to  preach  his  ordination  sermon.  The 
two  tnen  were  in  some  respects  alike,  both  in  appearance  and  character — 
both  were  <y(  a  fine  portly  habit — both  had  countenances  beaming  with  good* 
nature — both  had  warm  and  generous  hearts;  and  both,  by  their  great 
frankness  and  uncommon  social  qualities,  kept  every  body  around  them  in 
bright  sunshine.  Br.  Chester,  though  a  Presbyterian  by  adoption,  was  a 
Congregationalist  by  birth  and  education ;  and  he  was  evidently  quite  at 
home  in  meeting  his  Congregational  brethren,  as  they  were  delighted' with 
the  opportunity  of  welcoming  him.  His  sermon  on  the  occasion  was  less 
imaginative,  and  apparently  more  elaborate,  than  the  one  I  heard  at  Princeton ; 
it  was  full  of  evangelical  thought,  well  digested  and  felicitously  expressed — 
in  short,  it  was  well  fitted  to  the  taste  of  a  cultivated  New  England  audience, 
and  was  received  with  many  expressions  of  favour.  But  the  most  remark- 
able thing  about  it  was  the  address  to  the  pastor  elect ;  for,  in  conformity 
with  the  New  England  style,  it  included  such  an  address ;  and  I  doubt  not, 
also,  that  it  was  prompted  by  the  peculiar  relations  which  the  preacher  and 
pastor  elect  sustained  to  each  other.  He  introduced  his  address  with  *'  My 
dear  Eaton  ;"  and  as  he  proceeded,  his  emotions  became  so  strong  as  almost 
to  impede  his  utterance.  It  seemed  as  if  the  fountains  of  feeling  in  his 
great  heart  were  about  to  be  broken  up ;  and  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say 
to  any  body  who  ever  knew  Sylvester  Eaton,  that  kit  kind  spirit  too  wae 
stirred  to  its  lowest  depths.  It  awakened  the  sympathy  of  the  audience  in 
ft  high  degree,  and  every  body  felt  that  even  if  there  had  been  less  of 
instruction  and  solid  thought  in  the  body  of  the  discourse  than  there  really 
was,  the  deficiency  would  have  been  made  up  by  the  extraordinary  pathos 
and  power  of  the  close.  Though  I  had  never  spoken  with  Dr.  Chester 
before,  and  my  acquaintance  with  him  then  was  limited  to  a  few  hours,  I 
felt,  on  taking  leave  of  him,  that  I  could  never  think  of  him  but  as  a  friend, 
and  that  I  would  never  needlessly  forego  any  opportunity  of  renewing  my 
intercourse  with  him. 

My  next  meeting  with  him,  I  think,  was  in  the  summer  of  1821.  I  had 
just  experienced  a  heavy  domestic  affliction,  and  reached  Albany  on  Satur- 
day, on  a  journey  to  Niagara  Falls,  which  I  had  taken  to  recruit  my  health 
and  spirits.     I  met  him  in  the  street,  soon  after  my  arrival,  and  he  greeted 

•  fiTLvasTnt  Batov,  a  iod  of  Abel  Baton,  i^m  born  in  Chaibam,  Colnmbia  Conntf  ,  N.  Y., 
Aoguft  t2,  1790;  was  fitted  for  College  partlv  under  bu  brother,  Profogeor  Amot  Eaton,  and 
partly  nnder  the  Rev.  Dr.  Porter  of  Catekill;  was  graduated  at  WUlianM  College  in  1816; 
•tadied  Theology  al  the  Prineeton  Tbeologieal  Seminary;  was  lieenaed  to  preaeb  by  the  Pres- 
brUiy  of  Albany  in  1818;  was  ordained  Pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in  Norwalk, 
donn.,  in  the  antunin  of  1820,  and  was  dismissed  in  1827;  was  settled  as  Pastor  of  the  First 
Ptwbyteriaa  Cbniob  in  BolTalo  in  April,  1829,  and  was  dismissed  In  September,  1834;  wae 
settled  as  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Ghureh  in  Patterson,  K.  J.,  in  1834,  and  was  dismissed 
about  1837;  was  settled  shortly  after  in  Ponghkccpsie,  N.  Y.,  where  he  remained  about  four 

Sn.    He  spent  the  last  year  of  his  life  moetly  at  Patterson,  but  died  at  Troy,  wbere  two  of 
brotbers  redded,  May  14,  1844,  aged  fifty -tbree  years. 


406  PUSBTTEBIAM. 

me  in  his  luually  eheerful  and  animated  tone,  which  led  me  to  eoppese,  for 
the  moment,  that  perhaps  he  was  not  aware  of  the  affliction  which  had  over- 
taken roe ;  and  I  thought  it  no  more  than  proper  that  I  should  advert  to  it. 
'^  Yes,"  said  he,  '*  I  know  all  about  it ;  the  paper  has  been  sent  to  me ;  but 
I  shall  talk  with  yon  more  about  it  by  and  by."  He  subsequently  referred 
to  it  with  great  tenderness.  I  had,  during  the  Sabbath,  much  delightful 
conversation  with  him,  that  showed  that  his  heart  was  full  of  tender  Chris- 
tian feeling.  I  did  not  hear  him  preach,  but  he  offered  a  prayer  at  the  dose 
of  the  afternoon  service  that  was  remarkable  for  its  appropriateness,  fervour, 
and  pathos.  I  recollect  the  interest  which  he  expressed  to  me  in  behalf  of 
8ome  poor,  suffering  woman  in  his  congregation ;  and  he  apologized  for  not 
waiting  to  see  me  off  in  the  morning,  on  the  ground  that  her  ease  was  an 
urgent  one,  and  must  immediately  be  looked  after. 

In  the  spring  of  1827,  I  passed  a  few  hours  in  Albany,  and  had  another 
interview  with  Dr.  Chester.  It  was  just  at  the  time  when  the  new  measure 
dispensation  was  opening  upon  the  Churches,  with  all  its  thunderings  and 
lightnings,  and  other  appalling  demonstrations.  Many  churches  in  Western 
New  York  were  already  convulsed,  others  were  beginning  to  tremble,  and 
no  church  might  feel  too  confident  of  its  own  stability.  Many  excellent 
people  stood  aghast  at  what  was  doing, — fearing,  on  the  one  hand,  to  help 
forward  the  work  lest  they  should  lend  an  influence  in  aid  of  delusion; 
and  fearing,  on  the  other,  to  oppose  it,  lest  they  should  be  found  fighting 
against  Ood.  Dr.  Chester  seemed  to  me  to  feel  little  embarrassment  on  the 
subject.  He  doubted  not  that  some  good  was  accomplished ;  but,  on  the 
whole,  he  regarded  the  excitement,  especially  in  its  remoter  bearings,  as 
adverse  to  the  interests  of  genuine  religion.  He  was  not  without  serious 
apprehension  that  the  influence  might  reach  his  own  congregation ;  and 
though  he  seemed  to  have  made  up  his  mind  to  admit  and  cherish  whatever  of 
good  might  come,  he  was  firmly  determined  to  set  his  face  as  a  flint  against 
the  peculiarities  of  the  new  system.  His  conduct  subsequently  was  in  full 
accordance  with  this  determination.  He  never  could  be  otherwise  than 
gentle  and  kind,  even  in  opposing  what  he  considered  error  and  delusion ; 
but  though  the  current  set  in  against  him  with  tremendous  power,  he  always 
remained  steadfast  to  his  own  convictions. 

My  only  remaining  interview  with  Dr.  Chester,  to  which  I  think  proper 
to  advert,  was  the  last  that  I  ever  had  with  him.  I  had  heard  of  his 
declining  health  through  the  summer  of  1829,  and  was  surprised  one  day  to 
deceive  a  message  from  him  that  he  had  arrived  at  the  house  of  one  of  his 
friends,  who  lived  in  my  parish,  (my  residence  was  then  in  Massachusetts,) 
with  a  request  that  I  would  not  wait  for  hiiu  to  call  upon  me,  as  he  wished, 
on  account  of  his  feeble  health,  to  avoid  all  unnecessary  exertion.  I  imme- 
diately called,  agreeebly  to  his  suggestion,  and  was  not  a  little  shocked  to 
observe  the  change  that  had  come  over  him  from  the  time  of  my  seeing  him 
before.  I  doubt  not  that  my  countenance  revealed  my  surprise ;  and  I 
could  not  help  telling  him  that  he  looked  very  ill.  But  he  answered  me 
with  his  usual  cheerfulness  and  buoyancy,  assuring  me  that  he  was  much 
better  than  he  had  been,  and  pleasantly  intimating  that  I  had  a  sharp  eye 
for  seeing  the  dark  side.  He  was  then  making  his  arrangements  to  go  to 
Europe,  whence  I  had  just  returned ;  and  he  promised  to  let  me  know  more 
specifically  when  he  should  sail,  that  I  might  send  him  letters  of  introduc- 
tion to  some  of  my  friends.     But  notwithstanding  his  spirits  were  so  good, 


JOatf  GHKSXEB.  407 

I  oonld  not  but  feel  sad  misgiviDgs  in  regard  to  bis  prospects ;  nor  was  I  at 
all  disappointed  tbat  it  tamed  out  tbat  I  never  saw  bim  again.  I  beard 
from  time  to  time  tbat  bis  disease  seemed  to  be  rapidly  gaining  upon  him, 
until  at  lengtb  tbe  intelligence  met  my  eye,  in  the  New  York  Observer, 
tbat  botb  his  labours  and  sufferings  were  closed  by  death. 

As  I  succeeded  Dr.  Chester  in  tbe  pastorate  a  few  months  after  bis 
decease,  I  bad  of  course  the  best  opportunity  of  judging  of  the  estimate  in 
which  be  was  held  by  bis  own  people,  and  by  the  community  generally  in 
which  be  lived ;  and  I  found  everything  as  my  personal  knowledge  of  him 
would  have  led  me  to  expect.  His  congregation  all  seem  to  have  looked 
vp  to  him,  not  merely  as  a  pastor,  but  as  an  affectionate  friend,  to  whom  it 
was  their  privilege  to  confide  everything.  Perhaps  I  should  be  justified  in 
saying  tbat,  while  he  never  intentionally  neglected  any  body  belonging  to 
his  pastoral  charge,  he  was  more  frequently  to  be  heard  of  at  the  extremes 
of  society  than  among  tbe  middle  class ;  for  while  his  early  associations,  as 
well  as  cultivated  taste,  naturally  attracted  bim  to  tbe  higher  circles,  his 
humane  and  sympathising  spirit  rendered  bim  at  home  in  the  habitations  of 
the  poor  and  wretohed.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  him,  as  I  have 
often  heard,  to  be  seen  going,  with  his  basket  of  provisions  on  his  arm,  to 
minister  to  tbe  wants  of  some  needy  family.  Some  who  used  to  be  the 
sharers  of  his  bounty,  I  have  beard  pour  blessings  upon  his  memory,  with 
floods  of  tears,  declaring  with  the  same  breath,  that  whatever  their  attach- 
ment  to  me  might  be,  I  could  never  fill  the  place  in  their  hearts  which  had 
been  allotted  to  him.  Though  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  has  passed 
Binoe  be  was  taken  to  his  rest,  his  memory  is  still  cherished  in  the  congre- 
gation with  undiminished  gratitude  and  reverence ;  and  though  comparatively 
few  remain  who  were  actually  embraced  in  his  charge,  or  have  intelligent 
recollections  of  his  ministry,  yet  the  parents  have  taught  their  children  to 
reverence  him,  and  more  than  one  generation  must  pass  away  before  his 
name  will  cease  to  be  among  them  as  a  household  word. 

I  cannot  forbear  to  record  an  incident  which  occurred  a  few  years  ago,  as 
illustrative  of  the  affectionate  remembrance  in  which  Dr.  Chester  is  still 
held  by  his  former  flock.  A  married  daughter  of  his,  passing  the  winter  in 
Albany,  expressed  a  wish  that  her  child  should  be  baptized  in  the  church 
which  is  so  intimately  associated  with  the  memory  of  her  father.  Her  wish 
was,  of  course,  cordially  responded  to,  and,  on  a  Sabbath  afternoon,  the 
baptism  took  place.  I  have  not  often  witnessed  a  scene  more  tender  and 
interesting  in  its  associations.  Tbe  name  of  her  child  was  John  Chester. 
The  service  was  performed  on  the  spot  where  she  had  herself  been  baptized, 
seme  twenty-five  years  before.  The  young  mother  maintained  a  dignified 
composure  while  the  ordinance  was  administered,  though  she  was  evidently 
'  struggling  with  strong  emotions.  And  I  believe  the  whole  congregation 
sympathized  with  her.  Tbe  name  of  her  venerable  father,  pronounced  over 
one  of  his  grandchildren,  where  he  had  himself  baptized  not  a  small  number 
who  were  then  present,  I  doubt  not,  quickened  the  pulsations  of  many  a 
heart.  Almost  every  eye  seemed  to  wander  after  the  child  as  it  was  carried 
from  the  church,  as  if  it  bad  been  some  bright  little  creature  dropi>ed  down 
from  tbe  skies.  Tbe  whole  scene  was  a  beautiful  but  involuntary  tribute  to 
the  memory  of  one  who  had  long  since  passed  away,  but  whose  exalted 
Tirtiiefl  gratitude  still  keeps  in  fresh  remembrance. 


40g  PEESBTTERIAK. 


PROM  THE  HON.  MARTIK  VAK  BtTREK. 

PRXSIDBMT  OF  THK  VMITBD  BTATK8. 

LivPBHWALP,  April  1ft,  1848. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  am  much  gratified  that  your  kind  letter  baa  afforded  me  an 
opportunity  to  express  my  opinion  of  the  late  Dr.  Chester. 

I  was  well  acquainted  with  him  at  Hudson,  and  subsequently  at  Albany.  My 
deceased  wife  joined  his  church  at  Hudson,  and  continued  a  member  until  her 
death.  It  is  now  many  years  since  his  decease;  but  his  many  and  sterling 
virtues  are  yet  fresh  in  my  recollection;  and  I  can  truly  say  that  it  has  not  been 
my  fortune  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  any  minister  of  the  Qospel,  with  whose 
sincerity  as  a  Christian,  or  goodness  as  a  man,  I  was  more  strongly  impressed. 

Accept,  Rev.  Sir,  assurances  of  my  g^eat  respect  and  sincere  regard. 

M.  VAN  BUREN. 


FROM  THE  HON.  B.  F.  BUTLER, 
▲TToavBT  OBvaaAL  or  tbb  vhitbd  btaibs. 

Nbw  TorK;  May  18, 1866. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  knowledge  of  Dr.  John  Chester  began,  while  I  was  a  law- 
student  in  the  city  of  Hudson.  I  attended  on  his  ministry  in  that  place  for  two 
or  three  years ;  but  I  was  then  a  mere  youth,  and  had  very  little  personal  inter- 
course with  him. 

Early  in  1815, 1  became  a  resident  of  Albany,  and  on  his  settlement  there  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  same  year,  I  again  became  a  member  of  his  congregation, 
and  so  remained  (except  for  a  short  period,  while  residing  in  another  place,) 
until  his  death  in  1820.  I  was  for  about  a  twelvemonth,  in  the  early  part  of  his 
residence  in  Albany,  and  while  we  were  both  unmarried,  a  member  of  the  same 
&mily  with  him,  as  a  fellow-boarder.  I  had  thus,  as  you  perceive,  good  oppor- 
tunity for  becoming  acquainted  with  his  personal  and  public  character,  and  in 
compliance  with  your  request  I  will  proceed  to  sketch  its  prominent  traits. 

Speaking  first  of  his  natural  endowments,  I  should  say  that,  in  addition  to  a 
large  stock  of  common  sense,  he  was  blessed  with  a  kindly  and  genial  disposi- 
tion; with  quick  perceptions;  with  much  facility  in  acquiring  knowledge — more 
especially  by  his  own  observation  of  men  and  things;  and  with  more  than 
common  aptness  in  communicating  to  others  whatever  he  himself  knew.  These 
qualities,  enlarged  and  hallowed  by  an  earnest  and  elevated  piety,  and  united  to 
a  sincere  love  of  souls,  made  him  a  judicious,  acceptable  and  useful  minister  of 
the  Gospel.  In  regard  to  his  professional  learning  and  attainments,  I  am  ill- 
qualified  to  judge;  but  I  do  not  suppose  that  they  were  remarkable.  The  pro- 
visions for  extended  theological  study  in  his  youth  were,  as  is  doubtless  well 
known  to  you,  very  scanty,  and  I  believe  that  the  advantages  enjoyed  by  him,  in 
this  respect,  were  not  peculiar.  But  he  was  a  diligent  student  and  true  lover  of 
the  Bible;  was  fond  of  reading;  was  familiar  with  the  standard  literature  of 
our  language,  and  kept  pace  with  the  general  advance  in  theological  and  other 
science. 

Without  being  a  great  pulpit  orator,  he  was  a  popular  and  successful  preacher. 
His  sermons  for  the  Sabbath  were  carefhlly  composed  and  written  out,  and  were 
read  from  his  manuscript,  but  freely  and  with  a  good  deal  of  action.  His  voice 
was  clear  and  musical;  his  elocution,  naturally  animated  and  pleasing,  was  ren- 
dered the  more  impressive  by  a  noble  presence;  and  he  always  commanded  the 
attention  of  his  audience  during  his  entire  discourse.  In  his  weekly  lectures  he 
used  only  brief  notes,  trusting  chiefly  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  always 


speaking  with  fluency,  and  offcett  with  great  earfiestnesis  afid  power.  His  extern* 
poraneoos  addresses  were  usually  felicitous;  and  at  Funerals  especially,  were 
tooehingly  appropriate.  His  heart  was  full  of  sympathy  with  the  joys  and  the 
sorrows  of  others;  and  in  this  fact  lay  much  of  his  influence  for  good  with  his 
own  people  and  in  the  commtmity. 

While  his  teaching  distinctly  and  always  conformed  to  the  leading  doctrines 
of  the  Church  to  which  he  belonged ,  he  did  not  often  preach  purely  doctrinal 
sermons.  In  the  selection  of  topics  for  the  pulpit,  he  preferred  those  which  set 
forth  the  grace  and  love  of  God  in  the  gift  of  the  Sayiour,  the  fulness  and  free^ 
ness  of  the  Gospel  offer,  the  duty  and  blessedness  of  receiving  it  with  gratitude 
and  love,  and  of  honouring  it  by  a  holy  and  beneficent  life.  He  was  fond  of 
preaching  what  Blair  calls  *'  characteristical  sermons,"  and  succeeded  in  making 
them  interesting  and  instructive.  He  also  frequently  discoutsed  on  the  precepts 
of  the  Decalogue,  and  on  the  moral  duties  inculcated  in  the  New  Testament, 
though  he  was  very  far  from  being,  in  any  sense  of  the  word,  a  legalist.  He 
held,  with  all  his  heart,  to  the  great  Protestant  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith; 
but  he  thought  the  Epistle  of  James,  and  the  preceptive  parts  of  Paul's  Epistles, 
not  less  a  part  of  the  Sacred  Canon  than  the  dogmatic  portions  of  the  writings 
of  the  great  Apostle,  and  their  inculcation,  from  the  desk,  equally  important. 

His  style  of  composition,  more  especially  in  the  early  part  of  his  ministry, 
was  often  too  florid  to  bear  the  test  of  a  severe  criticism.  But  it  was  always 
pleasing  to  a  general  audience,  and,  as  he  advanced  in  age  and  experience,  it 
improved  in  simplicity  and  good  taste. 

He  was  exceedingly  fond  of  music,  and  possessed,  I  suppose,  a  good  know- 
ledge of  the  science.  He  paid,  as  I  know,  great  attention  to  its  culture  in  the 
congregation,  and  his  clear  and  melodious  voice  was  always  blended  with  theirs 
in  this  part  of  Divine  worship. ,  Soon  after  his  settlement  in  Albany,  he  prevailed 
on  his  people  to  introduce  into  their  service  the  use  of  the  organ, — a  thing  not 
then  common  in  the  churches  of  our  denomination. 

Dr.  Chester  was  truly  a  Christian  gentleman.  He  possessed  a  native  dignity 
and  elegance  of  manners;  was  perfectly  at  ease  himself  on  all  occasions;  and 
had  the  happy  faculty  of  putting  others,  of  whatever  condition,  at  ease  in  his 
presence.  In  entering  the  pulpit,  and  in  his  behaviour  there,  he  was  entirely  free 
from  anything  like  awkwardness  or  embarrassment.  He  studied  so  to  adapt  to 
each  other  the  various  parts  of  the  service,  as  to  render  them  throughout  harmo- 
nious and  interesting.  Each  part  would  be  performed  by  him  with  readiness 
and  freedom — ^and  this  on  special  occasions  as  well  as  in  matters  of  ordinary 
routine.  In  administering  the  Lord's  Supper,  the  warm  sensibilities  of  his 
nature  were  particularly  displayed ;  and  when  the  time  came  for  presenting  the 
elements  to  the  members  of  the  Church  Session,  he  always  addressed  to  them  a 
few  words  of  tender  and  respectful  exhortation  and  encouragement,  and  without 
any  affectation  of  humility,  so  deported  himself  as  to  make  it  evident  that  he 
esteemed  them  co-workers  with  him  in  the  service  of  the  Great  Master.  In  the 
baptism  of  children,  the  way  in  which  he  took  them  in  his  arms,  sprinkled  on 
them  the  pure  element,  and  returned  them  to  their  parents,  will  never  be  for- 
gotten by  those  whose  ofispring  were  by  him  initiated  into  the  Church  of  God. 

He  manifested  his  discretion  and  tact  in  readily  availing  himself  of  any  public 
event  or  extraordinary  circumstance,  in  the  religious  exercises  of  the  day,  and  in 
accommodating  them  to  the  exigencies  of  the  occasion.  On  very  warm  days  in 
summer,  or  very  cold  ones  in  winter,  he  would  so  abridge  each  of  the  exercises 
as  to  dismiss  the  congregation  at  the  earliest  appropriate  hour. 

He  was  remarkable  for  his  attention  to  the  smallest  courtesies  of  life,  and  for 
the  kindliness  and  grace  with  which  be  performed  them.  Not  only  his  personal 
manners,  but  his  official  duties,  were  distinguished  by  this  characteristic.  He 
treated  all  persons  with  a  frank  civility — aged  persons  and  women  with  marked 

Vol.  IV.  52 


410  PBBSBTTE&IAir. 

deference.  After  his  merriage,  it  wm  iits  habit,  when«rer  Mrs.  Chester  attended 
public  worship,  to  accompany  her  to  the  charch;  to  conduct  her  to  the  pew;  to 
open  the  pew  door;  and  to  see  her  duly  seated;  before  taking  his  own  place  in 
the  pulpits  I  mention  this,  because  it  illustrates  the  point  to  which  I  refer,  and 
may  help  those  who  did  not  know  him,  to  understand  the  character  of  the  man. 

He  was  a  large-hearted  and  public-spirited  man.  He  was  an  early  and 
efficient  promoter  of  all  the  great  schemes  of  Christian  philanthropy  set  on  foot 
during  his  time.  Nor  were  his  efforts  in  this  way  confined  to  objects  of  a 
religious  nature.  Every  measure  intended  to  encourage  the  diffusion  of  useful 
knowledge,  received  his  ready  support. 

He  was  a  man  of  active  habits;  had  a  natural  talent  for  business;  and  was 
capable  of  influencing,  and  of  combining  in  united  effort,  other  minds.  In  every 
enterprise  with  which  he  was  associated,  he  was,  therefore,  a  leader— and  this, 
rather  from  the  qualities  of  his  mind  and  his  genial  temper,  than  from  any 
ambition  of  leadership. 

He  was  fond  of  society;  and  being  every  where  a  welcome  guest,  must  have 
found  it  difficult,  especially  after  he  came  to  reside  in  Albany,  to  command  the 
time  needful  for  pulpit  preparations  and  pastoral  duties.  Yet  these  were  never 
neglected  by  him. 

In  logical  power  and  in  effective  oratory.  Dr.  Chester  was  doubtless  surpassed 
by  many  of  his  contemporaries.  But  in  the  happy  combination  of  the  several 
qualities,  which,  in  our  country,  are  best  adapted  to  make  a  competent  and  use- 
ful minister  of  the  Gospel,  he  had,  I  apprehend,  few  superiors  in  his  day  and 
generation. 

I  cannot  close  these  slight  notices  of  his  character,  without  adding  to  them 
for  myself,  ray  heartfelt  thanks  to  Him  who  *'  holds  the  Stars  in  his  right  hand," 
that  He  was  pleased  to  raise  up  and  send  forth  John  Chester,  and  to  make  me 
one  of  those  to  whom  he  ministered. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 

With  sincere  respect  and  affection, 

Very  truly  yours, 

B.  F.  BUTLER. 


EDWARD  LUTWYCHE  PARKER  * 

1807—1850. 

Edward  Lutwyche  Parker  was  born  in  Litchfield,  N.  H.,  July  28, 
1785.  He  was  named  for  Edward  Goldstone  Lutwyche,  an  English  gentle- 
man of  education  and  fortune,  and  a  particular  friend  of  his  father.  He 
was  a  grandson  of  the  Kev.  Thomas  Parker,  who  was  born  at  Cambridge, 
December  7,  1700;  was  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1718;  was 
ordained  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Dracut,  Mass.,  probably  in  1721 ;  and 
died  March  18,  1765,  aged  sixty-five.  He  was  the  son  of  Dr.  Jonathan 
Parker  an  eminent  physician,  who  was  graduated  at  Harvard  in  1762,  and 
died  in  September,  1791,  leaving  a  family  of  ten  children,  of  whom  Edward, 
then  six  years  old,  was  the  youngest  but  one.  His  mother  was  a  lady  of 
much  more  than  ordinary  culture,  and  possessed  great  firmness  of  purpose, 
besides  being  a  consistent  and  devout  Christian. 

•  Memoir  prefixed  to  the  Histoxy  of  Londondeny. 


EDTTABB  LUTWTOHB  PARKER.  411 

Bdwardf  the  youngest  eon,  was  an  uneommonly  attractive  and  promis- 
ing boy,  and  a  great  favourite  both  in  and  out  of  the  family.  Before  he 
was  five  years  old,  he  had  three  very  narrow  escapes  from  death ;  twice 
from  drowning,  and  once  from  an  attack  of  a  domestic  animal,  the  marks 
of  which  always  remained.  His  early  advantages  of  education  were 
extremely  limited,  being  confined  to  two  or  three  of  the  elementary 
branches.  At  the  age  of  about  twelve,  he  went  to  live  with  his  brother, — 
a  store-keeper,  in  Bedford,  N.  H.,  in  the  capacity  of  clerk.  Here  he  was 
surrounded  with  influences  unfavourable  to  the  formation  of  a  virtuous 
character ;  but  he  resolutely  and  successfully  resisted  them.  When  he  had 
reached  the  age  of  fifteen,  the  failure  of  his  brother  in  business  threw  him 
out  of  employment ;  in  consequence  of  which  he  went  to  reside  with  another 
brother,  who  was  a  physician  in  Topsham,  Mass.,  with  a  view  to  act  as 
clerk  in  his  druggist's  shop.  But  here  the  moral  atmosphere  was  still 
more  deeply  contaminated ;  and,  after  about  a  year,  he  formed  a  purpose 
to  escape  from  it  by  returning  to  his  native  place.  He  did  so,  perform- 
ing the  journey  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  on  foot,  in  the  month  of 
March. 

We  next  find  him  engaging  himself  as  an  apprentice  to  a  shoe-maker  in 
Billerica,  Mass.;  but  when  his  friends  became  apprized  of  it,  they  objected 
so  strongly  to  his  continuing  in  that  business,  that  he  was  finally  induced  to 
abandon  it.  On  returning  home,  and  finding  himself  without  employment, 
hOf  in  connection  with  his  brother,  purchased  a  wood  lot,  and  engaged  in 
cutting,  drawing,  and  rafting  lumber.  In  the  winter  following, — being  now 
seventeen  years  of  ago, — he  engaged  as  teacher  of  a  district  school  in  Der- 
ryfield,  (now  Manchester,)  N.  H.;  and  though  his  qualifications  were  by  no 
means  as  ample  as  could  have  been  desired,  he  satisfied  his  employers  so 
well  that  they  invited  him  to  return  in  the  same  capacity  the  next  year. 

After  this  varied  and  somewhat  trying  experience,  he  determined,  by  the 
advice  of  his  friends,  to  prepare  himself  for  the  study  of  medicine.  He 
accordingly  entered  the  Academy  at  Londonderry,  then  under  the  charge  of 
Mr.  Samuel  Bumham,  and  became  a  boarder  in  the  family  of  the  Bev.  Jon- 
athan Brown,*  then  minister  of  the  East  parish,  whom  he  was  destined  to  suc- 
ceed in  the  pastoral  office  in  a  little  more  than  six  years.  It  was  during 
his  connection  with  this  school,  and  in  consequence  of  listening  to  an 
impressive  sermon,  that  he  was  put  upon  a  course  of  reflection  that  marked 
the  beginning  of  a  new  life.  He  now  relinquished  his  purpose  of  studying 
medicine,  and  resolved  to  become  a  minister  of  the  Gospel. 

About  this  time,  Mr.  Parker,  on  account  of  some  peculiar  circumstanc  ^s 
connected  with  the  parish,  which  he  deemed  unfavourable  to  his  progress  in 
both  knowledge  and  piety,  left  the  Academy,  and  placed  himself  under  the 
instruction  of  the  Kev.  Dr.  Wood  of  Boscawen,  N.  H.  Here  he  remained, 
with  the  exception  of  some  time  spent  in  teaching,  until  he  entered  College. 
During  his  residence  at  Boscawen,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  he  united  with 
the  church  of  which  Dr.  Wood  was  pastor.  Of  the  diligence  and  success 
with  which  he  pursued  his  studies,  some  idea  may  be  formed  from  the  fact 
that  in  two  years  and  three  months  after  he  entered  the  Academy  at  Lon- 
donderry, he  joined  the  Junior  class  in  Dartmouth  College,  having  been 

•  JofTATBAir  Bbowk  wfts  bom  in  Pittsfleld,  K.  II.  in  1757;  wu  graduated  at  Dartmooth 
College  in  1789;  was  ordained  and  installed  at  minister  of  the  East  parbh  in  Londonderry  in 
1795;  was  dismiased  at  his  own  reqaest  in  September,-  1804;  and  died  in  the  plaoe  where  ha 
had  ezereised  bis  ministry,  in  February,  1888,  in  the  eighty -fiitt  year  of  hit  age. 


412  pBESETtniAir. 

engaged  for  more  than  nine  months  of  Mb  period  in  teaching  a  sohool.  Be 
went  to  Hanover  on  foot,  carrying  all  hia  effects  with  hitn. 

Baring  his  collegiate  conrse,  he  was  in  great  pecuniary  straits,  and  was 
obliged  to  support  himself  by  devoting  no  small  portion  of  his  time  to 
teaching;  but  he  still  maintained  a  high  rank  as  a  scholar,  and  besides 
acquitting  himself  honourably  in  every  part  of  the  prescribed  course,  found 
some  time  to  devote  to  the  study  of  Theology.  This  study  he  continued 
after  his  graduation,  under  Professor  Shurtleff,  for  several  mooths.  On  the 
20th  of  October,  1807,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Oospel  by  a  commit- 
tee of  the  Grafton  Presbytery.  During  part  of  the  succeeding  winter,  he 
availed  himself  of  the  theological  instruction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Burton  of 
Thetford,  Vt. 

In  the  spring  of  1808,  Mr.  Parker  took  charge  of  the  Academy  in  Salis- 
bury, N.  H.,  for  six  months,  residing  in  the  family  of  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Worcester,  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  that  place.  From  Salisbury  he  went  to 
Columbia,  Conn.,  where  he  preached  to  great  acceptance  for  a  number  of 
Sabbaths,  and  received  a  call  to  settle,  which,  however,  from  his  unwilling- 
ness to  enter  the  ministry  without  more  mature  preparation,  he  thought  proper 
to  decline.  He  now  placed  himself  under  the  instruction  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Worcester  of  Salem,  resided  in  his  family,  occasionally  assisted  him  in  his 
pastoral  duties,  and  taught  a  school  connected  with  his  Society.  He  always 
looked  back  upon  this  period  of  his  life,  as  having  had  a  most  important 
bearing  upon  his  subsequent  usefulness. 

During  his  residence  at  Salem,  as  he  passed  through  the  East  parish  of 
Londonderry,  now  Derry,  on  his  way  to  visit  his  friends  in  his  native  place, 
he  was  invited  to  supply  the  pulpit  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  for  two 
Sabbaths.  This  led  to  further  engagements,  and  ultimately  to  his  receiving 
a  call  to  become  the  Pastor  of  the  Church.  He  accepted  the  call,  and  was 
ordained  on  the  12th  of  September,  1810, — the  Rev.  Dr.  Worcester,  his 
friend  and  recent  instructer,  preaching  the  sermon. 

In  1811,  he  was  married  to  Mehetabel.  daughter  of  Deacon  Stephen 
Kimball  of  Hanover,  N.  H.,  who  survived  him,  after  having  been  a  most 
devoted  helper  in  his  responsible  duties  for  thirty-nine  years.  They  had 
four  children, — two  sons  and  two  daughters. 

Mr.  Parker's  ministry  was  distinguished  less  by  striking  incidents  than 
by  a  uniform  course  of  diligence,  fidelity,  and  usefulness.  It  was  obvious 
to  all  that  he  was  a  close  imitator  of  his  great  Master,  who  went  about 
doing  good.  His  parish  stretched  over  a  large  territory,  and  for  about 
thirty  years  of  his  ministry,  contained  nearly  four  hundred  families.  And 
what  added  to  the  difficulty  and  the  weight  of  his  charge  was,  that,  previous 
to  his  settlement,  there  had  existed  a  bitter  controversy  between  the  two 
Societies  which  had  finally  united  under  htm,  and  it  required  the  utmost 
vigilance  and  discretion  to  keep  the  embers  of  strife  from  rekindling  into  a 
flame.  But  he  held  on  the  even  tenor  of  his  way,  year  after  year, 
strengthening  the  tie  that  bound  him  to  his  people,  and  multiplying  the 
monuments  of  his  usefulness  around  him,  until,  after  a  somewhat  protracted 
ministry,  he  was  called  suddenly  from  his  labours  to  his  reward. 

He  had  naturally  a  vigorous  constitution,  and,  for  the  first  thirty-six 
years  of  his  ministry,  was  absent  from  his  pulpit  only  seven  Sabbaths  on 
account  of  ill  health.  Between  three  and  four  years  before  his  death,  he 
experienced  the  brst  symptom  of  the  disease  (angina  pectoris)  which  finally 


EDWARD  hWSWTQBM  PARKEB.  413 

ienniaateji  lis  lifb.  From  thiB  ti«>e,  he  feU  tbai  Us  hold  on  life  was 
extremely  precarious^  and  was  habitually  looking  for  a  sudden  death ;  but  he 
was  still  able  to  attend  to  his  duties  without  iDterruption,  and  without  much 
embarrassment ;  and  during  the  last  few  mouths  of  his  life  particularly,  he 
exhibited  more  than  his  ordinary  cheerfulness.  On  the  first  Sabbath  in 
July,  1850,  he  exchanged  pulpits  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Day,  Pastor  of  a 
Church  in  a  neighbouring  village,  and  in  the  afternoon  preached  what 
proved  to  be  his  last  sermon  from  the  text — *'  The  soul  that  sinneth,  it 
shall  die."  It  was  a  discourse  marked  by  extraordinary  solemnity  and 
power,  and  suggested  to  some  of  his  hearers  the  probability  that  his  work 
was  nearly  accomplished.  At  a  late  hour  in  the  afternoon,  he  attended  a 
third  service  at  a  school-house, — which  he  conducted  with  his  usual  anima* 
tion  and  interest.  He  set  out  to  return  home,  and  when  he  had  gone  about 
half  the  distance,  and  was  within  a  mile  and  a  half  of  his  dwelling,  his 
horse  stumbled  and  fell.  Ho  ran  back  a  few  rods  to  a  Mr.  Clark's — 
the  nearest  house,  to  call  assistance;  but  he  remarked  to  Mr.  C. — no  doubt 
from  a  consciousness  of  the  danger  attending  exoessiye  exertion — that  he 
must  return  slowly,  and  would  then  assist  him  in  attending  to  the  horse. 
On  returning  to  his  carriage,  he  stooped  over  the  horse,  either  to  prevent 
him  from  rising  suddenly,  or  to  loosen  some  part  of  the  harness, — when  his 
friend  heard  him  groan,  and  saw  him  in  the  act  of  falling  forward.  He 
immediately  caught  him,  and  the  next  moment  found  himself  in  contact 
with  a  corpse.  It  was  at  so  late  an  hour  that  the  tidings  of  his  death  were 
not  circulated  much  that  evening;  but  when,  early  the  next  morning,  the 
long  protracted  tolling  of  the  bell  announced  some  extraordinary  calamity, 
and  the  explanation  quickly  followed  that  it  was  nothing  less  than  the 
death  of  the  Pastor,  the  whole  parish  seemed  literally  a  scene  of  deep 
mourning.  His  Funeral  was  attended  on  the  Wednesday  following,  when 
several  of  the  neighbouring  clergymen  shared  in  the  solemn  service  ;  and  on 
the  Sabbath  following,  an  appropriate  Funeral  Discourse  was  addressed  to 
the  bereaved  congregation  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Whiten*  of  Antrim, — Mr. 
Parker's  early  and  intimate  friend. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Mr.  Parker's  publications : — A  Sermon  on  the 
death  of  Deacon  John  Crocker,  1814.  A  Sermon  on  the  death  of  John 
Pinkerton,  1816.  A  Sermon  on  the  death  of  James  Parker,  of  Bedford, 
N.  H.,  1822.  A  Sermon  at  the  ordination  of  the  Rev.  Abijah  Cross,  at 
Salisbury,  N.  H.,  1824.     A  Sermon  on  the  Supreme  Divinity  of  Jesus 

*  JoHV  Milton  Whitoit,  the  eldest  eon  of  Dr.  Ifmel  Whiton,  wm  born  %i  Wioofaendony 
Haas.,  Aagust  1, 1786;  entered  the  Freshman  class  in  Dartmouth  College  in  1801^  and  after 
remiuning  there  nearly  three  years,  transferred  his  relation  to  Tale  College,  where  he  graduated 
io  1S05;  taught  an  academic  sohool  in  Litcbfteld,  8oath  Farms,  Conn.,  for  one  year  after  his 
graduation;  studied  Theology*  chiefly  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Austin  of  Worcester; 
was  ordained  and  installed  rator  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Antrim,  N.  H.,  September  28, 
1808;  resigned  his  charge  January  1,  1853;  shortly  after  became  acting  Pastor  of  a  Conp^ca- 
tional  Church  in  Bennington,  N.  U., — foar  miles  from  his  former  residence,  and  oontiaued  m  uat 
relation  till  his  death,  which  occurred  on  the  27th  of  September,  1856.  He  received  the  degree 
of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  College  of  New  Jersey  in  1848.  He  published  a  Sermon  at  the 
ordination  of  Samuel  H.  Tolman,  at  Shirley,  Mass.,  1814;  a  Sermon  at  the  ordination  of  Otis 
C.  Whiton ;  [who  was  bom  at  Wincbendon,  Mass. ;  was  graduated  at  Dartmouth  College  in 
1815;  was  ordained  Pastor  of  the  Second  Congrogationil  Church  in  North  Yarmouth,  Me., 
February  18,.1818;  was  dismissed  July  17, 1822;  and  died  in  1845;]  Sketches  of  the  History 
of  New  Hampshire,  1834:  a  Sermon  on  Temperance,  1845;  a  Sermon  at  tho  Funeral  of  the 
Ber.  Ephmin  P.  Bradfoid,  1846;  Hittoiy  of  tho  town  of  Antrim,  N.  H.»  1853;  FanwoU 
Sotbmni  at  Antrim,  1862. 


414  PRESBTTERIAN. 

Christ,  1827.  A  Senium  on  the  death  of  the  Rer.  Amasa  A.  Hayes,*  mi 
Londonderry,  1830.  A  Sermon  on  the  death  of  Elder  Samnel  Bamham, 
1834.  A  Sermon  on  the  death  of  Nanoy  M.  Clarke,  1839.  A  Sermon  on 
the  death  of  the  Rev.  Calvin  Catler,t  1844.  History  of  Londonderry, 
(posthumous,)  1851. 

FROM  THE  REV.  DANIEL  DANA. 

Newburtport,  November  6, 1856. 

Dear  Sir :  I  cheerfully  comply  with  year  reqnest  for  my  recollections  of  the 
late  Rev.  Mr.  Parker  of  Londonderry,  as  I  have  a  high  estimate  of  his  character, 
and  had  every  opportunity  I  could  desire  for  knowing  him.  My  acquaintance 
with  him  commenced  when  he  was  settled  at  Londonderry  in  1810,  and  continued 
till  the  close  of  his  life.  During  the  whole  of  this  interval,  I  was  in  the  most 
fraternal  relations  with  him,  often  met  him  in  social  life  as  well  as  on  public 
occasions,  and  for  several  years  our  residences  were  only  four  miles  distant  from 
each  other.  I  was  providentially  prevented  from  attending  his  Funeral,  though  I 
felt  his  death  to  be  a  painful  bereavement. 

Mr.  Parker  was,  in  person,  rather  below  the  middle  height,  and  of  a  slender 
frame,  though  his  motions  were  quick  and  easy,  and  indicated  what  he  really 
possessed,— excellent  health.  His  countenance  was  indicative  of  great  kindli- 
ness and  benignity,  and  was  by  no  means  wancing  in  marks  of  intellectual 
vigour.  His  mind  was  symmetrical,  well  balanced,  and  well  developed,  rather 
than  brilliant — ^he  had  excellent  judgment,  strong  common  sense,  and  a  quick 
discernment  of  human  character,  but  was  not,  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the 
word,  a  genius.  His  countenance  was  a  faithful  index  to  his  moral  qualities — he 
possessed  an  amiable  and  gentle  spirit,  while  yet  he  was  by  no  means  wanting  in 
strength  of  purpose.  His  manners  were  agreeable  and  conciliatory,  well  fitted 
to  disarm  prejudice,  and  to  make  and  keep  friends.  He  was  highly  esteemed, 
and  I  believe  deservedly  so,  wherever  he  was  known. 

As  a  preacher,  Mr.  Parker  had  a  high  rank  in  the  region  in  which  he  lived. 
His  sermons  were  generally  carefully  elaborated,  and  were  rich  in  evangelical 
instruction.  His  style,  though  without  much  ornament,  was  perspicuous  and 
chaste,  and  well  fitted  to  impress  the  truths  he  delivered.  Ills  voice,  though  not 
very  loud,  was  clear  and  pleasant,  and  his  enunciation  so  distinct  that  he  could 
easily  be  heard  through  a  large  house.  He  did  not  abound  in  gesture,  and  had 
no  excess  of  animation;  but  his  manner  in  preaching  as  well  as  in  prayer  was 
marked  by  unusual  solemnity,  and  one  could  hardly  listen  to  him  without  per- 
ceiving that  his  mind  was  deeply  impressed  with  eternal  realities.  His  sermons 
were,  I  believe,  generally  written,  though  he  was  ready  in  extemporaneous 
speaking,  when  occasion  required.  In  Church  Courts  and  on  other  public  occa- 
sions, he  always  bore  a  respectable  part,  though  I  am  not  aware  that  he  was  in 
this  regard  particularly  distinguished.  He  was  a  model  of  professional  industry, 
and  never  allowed  any  of  his  moments  needlessly  to  go  to  waste.  On  the  whole, 
I  regard  him  as  having  been  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  ability,  of  fine  moral 
and  Christian  qualities,  of  extensive  usefulness  as  a  minister  of  Christ,  and  wdl 
worthy  of  a  place  among  the  wise  and  excellent  whom  your  work  is  designed  to 
commemorate. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Affectionately  yours, 

DANIEJ.  DANA. 

•AHA!  A  AvSTiv  Hayks  ^tm  bom  ia  Oranby,  Oonn.,  in  1T06;  wm  mdnated  at  Tale  Col- 
lege io  1B24;  wm  ordained  and  instAlled  Paator  of  the  Seoond  Presbytenan  Chareh  in  LondoB* 
deny,  N.  H.,  June  25,  1828;  and  died  Ootober  2.3,  1830,  aged  thirty-two. 

t  Calvin  Cutler  was  born  at  Onildhall,  Vt..  in  1791 ;  was  graduated  at  Dartmonth  Collece 
Id  1819;  became  Paator  of  tlie  Chnroli  in  Windham,  N.  II.,  in  April,  1628;  and  died  in  ISU. 


SAMUEL  KSL8ET  NELSON.  41g 


SAMUEL  KELSEY  NELSON  * 

1807—1827 

Samuel  Kblsey  Nblson,  the  eldest  child  of  Henry  and  Anna  (Kelsey) 
Nelson,  was  born  near  Jonesborough,  in  Washington  County,  East  Ten- 
nessee, on  the  9th  of  October,  1787.  At  an  early  age  he  had  some  inclina- 
tion for  mercantile  life,  bat  subsequently  determined  to  study  a  profession. 
At  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  was  graduated  at  Washington  College,  then  under 
the  care  of  the  venerable  Dr.  Doak.  Immediately  after  his  graduation,  he 
went  to  Kentucky,  and,  after  teaching  a  school,  for  a  short  time,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Danville,  commenced  the  study  of  Law  under  the  direction 
of  his  relative,  (Colonel  John  Allen,  then  one  of  the  most  eminent  lawyers 
in  the  Southwest.  But,  before  he  had  been  long  thus  engaged,  his  mind 
was  awakened  to  a  deep  sense  of  the  importance  of  eternal  things,  and  he 
resolved,  in  better  strength  than  his  own,  that  the  remainder  of  his  life 
should  be  given  to  the  service  of  his  Redeemer.  He  began  at  once  to 
meditate  the  purpose  of  entering  the  ministry,  and,  contrary  to  the  wi.she:», 
and  even  the  expostulations,  of  many  of  his  friends,  he  abandoned  all 
thoughts  of  the  Law,  returned  to  Tennessee,  and  entered  on  a  course  of 
theological  study  under  his  former  preceptor.  Dr.  Doak.  Having  been 
licensed,  in  1807,  by  the  Holston  Presbytery,  he  entered  upon  the  duties 
of  the  ministry,  and  was  engaged  for  some  time  in  preaching  in  South  Car- 
olina, and  also  at  different  places  in  Tennessee.  He  then  directed  his  course 
again  to  Kentucky,  resolved  that  hid  best  energies  should  be  enlisted  in  the 
conflict  with  infidelity  and  irreligiou,  which  were  then  especially  rife,  in  the 
larger  towns  and  among  the  higher  classes,  in  that  State.  The  Church  at 
Danville,  being  then  vacant,  were  glad  to  avail  themselves  of  his  services, 
and  so  acceptable  was  ho  that  they  soon  presented  him  a  unanimous  call, 
which  resulted  in  his  being  installed  as  their  Pastor  in  1809. 

Though  Mr.  Nelson,  in  various  ways,  exerted  a  powerful  influence  for 
good,  from  the  commencement  of  his  labours  in  Kentucky,  it  cannot  be 
said  that  his  ministry,  on  the  whole,  was  eminently  blest  to  the  conversion 
of  men ;  though,  in  this  respect,  it  was  not  singular — for,  during  much  the 
greater  part  of  the  period  of  its  continuance,  a  general  spiritual  dearth  pre- 
vailed among  the  Presbyterian  Churches  throughout  that  region.  He  was 
not,  however,  suffered  to  go  to  his  grave,  without  witnessing  the  long  wished 
for  change  in  the  state  of  his  congregation.  In  1826,  during  his  absence 
from  home,  a  revival  of  great  power  commenced  among  them ;  and,  on  his 
return,  he  entered  into  it  with  a  leal  that  was  truly  apostolic.  As  a  part 
of  the  result,  he  was  privileged  to  see,  at  the  next  Communion,  fifty  or 
more  persons  added  to  the  Church.  This  season  of  refreshing  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  served  at  once  greatly  to  encourage  him  in  his  labours, 
and  prepare  him  for  the  sudden  termination  of  them,  which  he  was  then 
unconsciously  approaching. 

To  Mr.  Nelson,  it  is  understood,  belongs  the  honour  of  having  been  the 
principal  founder  of  Centre  College,  Danville.    For  this  he  laboured  with 

*CtlTiiil«lleMMaslii«,  1827.-~HS8.  from  Hn.  Dr.  DvM  Neleoii,  Rer.  Dr.  Clelftod,  J.T. 
hmdiML,  Etq.,  Hon.  C.  S.  Todd,  ud  J.  A.  Jaoobi,  Esq. 


416  PKSSBTTXSIAK. 

consummate  skill  and  untiring  assiduity.  It  was  throngli  his  efforts, — 
seconded  indeed  by  those  of  several  other  able  men,  that  an  Act  was 
obtained  from  the  Legislature  of  Kentucky,  placing  the  institution  under 
the  control  of  a  Board  of  Trustees  appointed  by  the  Synod,  upon  the  psty- 
ment  into  its  treasury  of  twenty  thousand  dollars.  This  sum  was  raised  by 
the  ministers  of  the  Synod  giving  their  individual  bonds  for  the  amount ; 
and  Mr.  Nelson  headed  the  subscription  with  a  note  of  eight  hundred 
dollars. 

Mr.  Nelson's  public  spirit  was  strikingly  evinced  in  the  interest  he  took  in 
founding  and  fostering  the  Kentucky  Asylum  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb, 
which  also  was  situated  within  the  bounds  of  his  congregation ;  and  it  was 
with  his  zeal  to  promote  the  interests  of  this  institution  that  his  lamented 
death  was  associated.  He  went,  in  the  spring  of  1827,  by  appointment  of 
its  Board  of  Trustees,  to  Tallahasse,  Fa.,  to  negotiate  some  matters  in 
which  the  institution  was  specially  interested.  He  had  been  there,  engaged 
in  his  mission,  for  several  weeks ;  when,  on  the  evening  of  the  7th  of  May, 
as  he  was  pouring  out  a  tumbler  of  water,  he  was  attacked  with  »  sudden 
illness  which  terminated  his  life  in  twenty  minutes.  He  only  remarked  that 
there  was  an  excessive  palpitation  of  his  heart.  A  physician,  being  at 
hand,  bled  him,  but  to  no  purpose.  When  he  became  sensible  that  he  was 
dying,  he  seemed  anxious  to  spend  his  last  breath  in  saying  something  for 
the  spiritual  benefit  of  those  around  him;  and,  while  he  affectionately 
exhorted  them  to  prepare  to  die,  he  calmly  expressed  the  hope  that  they 
might  find  as  little  to  terrify  or  agitate  them  in  the  last  hour  as  he  did. 
The  news  of  his  death  overwhelmed  his  congregation  with  surprise  and 
distress,  and  the  general  impression  throughout  the  State  was  that  a  public 
benefactor  had  fallen. 

Mr.  Nelson  was  married,  shortly  after  his  settlement  at  Danville,  to 
Nancy,  daughter  of  the  Hon.  Isaac  Shelby,  a  hero  of  the  Revolution,  and 
afterwards  Governor  of  Kentucky.  She  died  at  Danville  in  August,  1815, 
in  her  twenty-third  year, — rendering,  in  her  death,  as  she  had  done  in  her 
life,  the  highest  testimony  to  the  value  of  the  Gospel.  On  the  26th  of 
February,  1817,  Mr.  Nelson  was  married,  a  second  time,  to  Maria,  daughter 
of  John  Reid,  of  Springfield,  Clerk  of  Washington  County,  Ky., — a  lady 
of  great  beauty,  loveliness,  and  intelligence.  He  had  two  children  by  each 
marriage.  He  left  a  widow  and  two  children,  but  the  whole  family  is  now 
(1857)  extinct. 

FROM  THE  HON.  C.  S.  TODD. 

Shelbtville.  Ky.,  7tb  July,  1857. 
Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  Samuel  K.  Nelson  dates 
back  to  the  summer  of  1815.  I  first  met  him  at  the  house  of  Governor  Shelby, 
one  of  whose  daughters  he  had  married,  and  another  of  whom  shortly  after 
became  my  own  wife.  The  relations  into  which  we  were  thus  brought  by  mar- 
riage were  the  occasion  of  no  inconsiderable  intercourse  between  us,  and  I  had 
not  only  the  opportunity  of  making  personal  observation  upon  his  more  promi- 
nent characteristics,  but  also  the  means  of  knowing  the  estimation  in  which  he 
was  held  in  circles  in  which  he  was  best  known.  Though  I  never  sat  statedly 
under  his  preaching,  I  heard  him  often  enough  to  form  a  correct  idea  of  its 
character,  and  I  think  I  shall  be  in  little  danger  of  mistaking  in  my  reprdenta* 
tion  of  it. 


SAMUEL  KELSEY  NELSON.  4X7 

Mr.  Nelson  was  a  stoutly  built  man,  with  a  frame  of  admirable  proportions, 
and  of  more  than  ordinary  muscular  strength.  He  had  a  fine  large  head,  and 
a  countenance  expressive  at  once  of  mildness  and  decision,  though  his  features 
were  not  remarkable  for  a  symmetrical  development.  He  had  one  of  the  roost 
intensely  blue  eyes  that  I  ever  saw;  and  it  was  to  this  especially  that  he  was 
indebted  for  the  general  benignity  of  his  aspect.  His  hair  inclined  to  be  of  a 
sandy  complexion.  He  was  uncommonly  easy  and  gracefhl  in  his  movements, 
and  would  pass  in  any  society  as  a  well-bred  and  accomplished  gentleman.  He 
was  of  a  social  and  genial  turn,  and  a  very  agreeable  companion.  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  known  a  man  who  could  adapt  himself  better  than  he  to  all 
orders  of  intellect  and  all  classes  of  society.  To  say  nothing  of  his  professional 
qualifications,  he  was  eminently  fitted  to  be  a  popular  man. 

The  most  prominent  feature  in  the  intellectual  character  of  Mr.  Nelson  seems 
to  me  to  have  been  an  almost  intuitive  discernment  of  human  character — an 
ability  to  detect  at  a  glance  the  motives  and  principles  which  govern  men's  con- 
duct— a  strong  common  sense  that  saw  intuitively  what  was  fitting  and  proper 
to  every  occasion.  This  rendered  him  at  once  a  wise  counsellor,  and  a  skilful 
manager;  and  he  turned  it  to  good  account  in  things  secular  as  well  as  religious. 
I  remember  to  have  heard  Governor  Shelby  once  say  of  him, — and  I  have  no 
doubt  of  the  truth  of  the  remark, — that  he  would  have  made  a  capital  lawyer; 
and,  indeed,  when  he  abandoned  his  original  purpose  of  studying  Law,  and  deter- 
mined to  enter  the  ministry,  there  were  those  who  spoke  of  it  with  regret  as  a 
loss  to  the  legal  profession.  He  had,  I  think,  little  of  the  imaginative,  and  in 
that  respect  was  the  exact  opposite  of  his  brother  David ;  but  for  all  that  quali- 
fies for  practical  life,  and  for  taking  an  efficient  and  successful  direction  of  affairs, 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  his  superior. 

The  peculiar  mental  characteristic  to  which  I  have  referred,  more  than  any 
other,  impressed  itself  upon  his  preaching.  I  cannot  say  that  he  was  distin- 
guished for  any  striking,  much  less  dazzling,  qualities,  or  for  what  would  com- 
monly be  called  power  in  the  pulpit;  nor  did  he  make  any  great  display  of 
learning — and  indeed  he  could  not  be  considered  as,  in  any  high  sense,  a  learned 
man;  but  he  had  great  skill  in  exploring  the  recesses  of  the  human  heart;  he 
drew  his  illustrations  chiefly  from  within  the  range  of  ordinary  observation;  and 
he  never  uttered  a  sentence  that  was  not  level  to  the  comprehension  of  the  hum- 
blest of  his  hearers.  His  manner  was  earnest  and  affectionate,  but  was  accom- 
panied with  very  little  action.  He  preached  either  without  any  manuscript  or 
from  short  notes;  but  he  was  always  fluent  and  spoke  apparently  without  effort, 
and  frequently  in  a  soft  undertone  that  won  greatly  upon  his  audience.  On  the 
whole,  he  was  an  interesting  and  edifying,  though  not  a  powerfully  impressive, 
preacher. 

I  never  met  Mr.  Nelson  in  a  deliberative  body,  but  I  should  hazard  little  in 
saying  that  he  must  have  shone  there  with  no  common  lustre.  His  great  know- 
ledge of  human  nature,  his  bland  and  gentlemanly  manner,  his  ready  utterance, 
his  calm  and  dignified  self-possession,  must  have  g^'^en  him  an  important  influ- 
ence in  the  different  Judicatories  of  the  Church. 

Mr.  Nelson  was  naturally  a  benevolent  and  public  spirited  man,  and  it  was  in 
the  execution  of  an  important  public  trust  that  he  went  away  to  die.  The 
tidings  of  his  death  were  moumfiilly  responded  to  in  every  circle  in  which  he 
had  been  known.    He  has  left  behind  him  a  highly  honoured  name. 

I  am,  as  ever,  yours  truly  and  affectionately, 

C.  S.  TODD. 

ToL.  IV.  63 


418  PRESFrTKSIAV. 


JOHN  McINTTRE  * 

1807—1852. 

John  MoIntt&b,  a  son  of  Daniel  and  Anne  (Stuart)  Mclntyre,  was 
born  in  Angust,  1750,  in  the  parish  of  Lismore  and  Appin,  Argyleshire* 
Scotland.  His  parents  were  both  exemplary  members  of  the  Chnroh  of 
Scotland.  His  mother  was  brought  up  a  Roman  Catholic ;  and,  in  consequence 
of  her  conversion  to  the  Protestant  faith,  her  father  disinherited  her  and  ban- 
ished her  from  his  house  ;  but  her  marriage,  taking  place  not  long  after  this, 
secured  to  her  another  home.  When  he  was  seven  years  old  he  lost  his  father ; 
and  his  mother  subsequently  married  a  man  of  intelligence  and  piety,  who 
faithfully  discharged  the  duties  of  a  Christian  parent  toward  his  step-son. 
His  first  decisive  religious  impressions  he  received  at  the  age  of  fourteen. 
Kef  erring  to  this  early  experience,  he  says, — **  While  other  boys  and  myself 
were  playing, — in  the  midst  of  the  play,  I  fell  suddenly  to  the  ground » 
under  a  deep  and  overwhelming  conviction  that  I  was  a  great  sinner,  and  in 
danger  of  perishing  forever.  Lying  on  the  ground,  and  looking  up  to 
Heaven,  the  impression  seemed  to  be  fixed  in  my  mind  that  if  I  withdrew 
my  eyes  from  thence,  I  should  be  sent  to  hell."  How  long  he  remained  in 
this  state,  or  when  his  troubled  spirit  was  composed  to  rest,  does  not  appear  ; 
but  from  that  time  the  fear  of  God  evidently  began  to  govern  his  actions ; 
for  he  speaks  of  having  been  *' nicknamed  by  the  boys  'preacher  Mcln- 
tyre,"* and  of  some  one  having  said  to  him, — **  John,  poor  boy;  your 
father  was  a  good  man,  but  did  not  make  a  fool  of  himself  about  religion, 
as  you  do.'*  About  this  time,  he  seems  to  have  been  much  troubled  in 
respect  to  the  worldly  prospects  of  himself,  and  a  younger  sister,  whom  he 
would  fain  have  prevented  from  encountering  the  dangers  and  trials  incident 
to  service ;  and  he  entered  into  a  solemn  covenant  with  Ood,  that  if  He 
would  grant  him  the  necessary  guidance  and  support,  he  would  be  devoted 
to  Him  as  long  as  he  lived. 

That  he  might  be  near  his  sister,  he  bound  himself  to  a  shoe-maker  in 
the  city  of  Glasgow;  but,  finding  the  employment  little  to  his  taste,  he 
bought  his  indentures,  and  returned  to  the  Highlands,  where  he  became  a 
shepherd  in  the  employ  of  a  wealthy  land-owner.  At  the  age  of  twenty, 
he  here  publicly  professed  his  faith  in  Christ ;  and  was  soon  after  placed 
in  circumstances  that  were  well  fitted  to  test  the  strength  of  his  principles. 
Having  acted  as  shepherd  for  several  years,  he  entered  into  an  engagement 
with  a  gentleman  who  was  not  only  irreligious  himself,  but  unwilling  to 
tolerate  religion  in  those  who  were  in  his  employ.  Learning  that  this  pious 
man  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  his  Bible  with  him  to  the  hillside,  and  of 
reading  as  he  had  opportunity,  he  told  him  that  he  might  take  his  choice, — 
to  quit  his  Bible  or  his  place ;  to  which  the  young  man  promptly  replied, — 
**  My  Bible  is  my  companion  by  day  and  by  night,  and  I  will  never  consent 
to  part  from  it.*'  The  gentleman,  however,  in  whose  service  he  seems  still 
to  have  continued,  afterwards  came  to  have  different  views  of  religion,  and 
upon  repeating  the  inquiry  whether  he  continued  to  read  his  Bible,  and 
being  again  answered  in  the  affirmative,  mildly  replied, — "  Well  if  yon  serve 

*MS8.  fhrni  U0  famUy  aoA  B«v.  Bobert  Tato. 


JOHN  HctlHTTBE.  4}  9 

your  Qod  faithfully,  yon  will  Berve  me  faithfully."  While  in  the  employ- 
ment of  this  gentleman,  he  formed  a  matrimonial  connection  with  a  young 
lady  by  the  name  of  Catharine  McCalum,  whom  he  represents  as  having 
been  "very  pious."     This  took  place  on  the  15th  of  December,  1789. 

About  eighteen  months  after  his  marriage,  he  embarked  for  the  United 
States  of  America,  and  landed  at  Fort  Johnson,  Brunswick  County,  N.  C, 
November  11,  1791, — having,  during  the  voyage,  buried  his  first-born 
child.  His  first  place  of  settlement,  after  his  arrival  in  the  country,  was 
the  upper  part  of  the  County  of  Cumberland,  N.  C,  where  he  lost  his  first 
wife,  about  the  close  of  the  year  1793.  By  this  marriage  he  had  two 
children.  In  1795,  he  formed  a  second  matrimonial  oonneotion  with  Mary 
Wright  of  Chesterfield  District,  S.  C,  who  became  the  mother  of  two 
children,  both  of  whom  died  in  infancy ;  and  she  did  not  long  survive  them. 
In  1801,  he  married  his  third  wife,  Sarah,  daughter  of  John  McOolman, 
who  resided  near  Cheraw,  S.  C;  and  by  this  marriage  also  he  had  two 
children, — ^both  daughters, — at  the  birth  of  the  second  of  which  the  mother 
died  suddenly.  On  the  10th  of  December,  1812,  ho  was  married,  for  the 
fourth  time,  to  Mary,  the  widow  of  Archibald  Graham,  of  Cumberland 
County,  N.  C. ;  and  by  this  marriage  had  three  children.  She  died  in  April, 
1835.  The  whole  number  of  his  children  by  the  several  marriages  was 
nine, — only  five  of  whom  survived  to  mature  age. 

From  Cumberland  County  Mr.  Mclntyre  removed  to  Chesterfield  Distriei 
in  South  Carolina,  about  the  year  1801.  In  December,  1804,  he  attended 
a  camp-meeting,  during  the  great  revival  which  prevailed  at  the  South  and 
West,  where  his  mind  became  much  agitated  in  respect  to  his  own  spiritual 
state,  and  he  was  even  led  strongly  to  doubt  the  genuineness  of  his  previous 
religious  experience ;  but,  after  the  most  careful  scrutiny  of  his  feelings, 
he  was  brought  back  to  the  persuasion  that  he  had  really  felt  the  power  of 
renewing  grace.  This,  however,  seems  to  have  constituted  an  epoch  in  his 
religious  life ;  for,  from  about  this  period,  he  felt  a  strong  desire  to  preach 
the  Gospel;  though  his  advanced  age,  his  limited  education,  and  especially 
the  convictions  of  his  friends,  were  all  against  it.  The  result  was  that, 
after  much  reflection  and  prayer,  he  commenced  his  Latin  Grammar,  when 
in  his  fifty* third  year,  under  the  instruction  of  a  Mr.  Smylie,*  in  Richmond 
County,  N.  C.  Having  laboriously  pursued  his  studies  until  the  autumn  of 
1807,  he  was  lioensed  to  preach  on  the  25th  of  September  of  that  year, 
by  the  Orange  Presbytery,  and  sent  on  a  missionary  tour  to  the  Marl- 
borough District,  S.  C.  After  labouring  for  two  years  as  a  licentiate,  he 
was  ordained  to  the  full  work  of  the  Gospel  ministry,  July  1,  1809. 

The  field  #f  Mr.  Mclntyre^s  labours  was,  mostly,  in  the  county  of  Robe- 
son, N.  C.  For  nearly  thirty  years,  he  supplied  the  four  Churches  of  Phila- 
delphia, Bethel,  Lumberbridge,  and  St.  Paul's;  but  in  1832,  he  relinquished 
his  charge  of  the  church  of  Philadelphia,  and  confined  himself  to  the 
remaining  three.  He  laboured  with  untiring  assiduity,  and  very  consider- 
able success,  until  1838,  when,  by  reason  of  the  infirmities  of  advancing 
age,  he  resigned  his  charge.  In  the  course  of  that  year,  he  visited  m 
daughter,  who  lived  in  Georgia,  near  the  Alabama  line,  where,  finding  a  few 
scattered  Presbyterians  without  the  regular  ministration  of  the  Ooapel,  he, 
with  his  characteristic  zeal,  gathered  them,  and  undertook  their  pastoral 

•  Dr.  Veole  mqt^  a  Hr.  MeMUltti. 


lf20  PBESBTTERIAir. 

4n*er8ight  for  two  jeara.  At  the  expiration  of  that  time,  be  returned  to 
North  Carolina ;  and,  though  he  found  himself  unable  to  officiate  anj  longer 
in  the  pulpit,  his  zeal  was  still  unabated,  and  he  spent  mnch  of  his  time  in 
Tisiting  the  funilies  of  his  former  friends,  with  a  yiew  to  the  promotion  of 
their  spiritual  interests.  This  course  he  pursued  until  near  the  close  of 
life.  He  died  at  the  residence  of  his  son-in-law,  Mr.  Alexander  Perculs, 
on  the  17th  of  November,  1852,  in  the  one  hundred  and  third  year  of  his 
age.  He  wondered  why  his  blessed  Saviour  delayed  so  long  to  call  him 
home.  The  powers  of  speech  and  recognition  fsiled  him  in  his  last  moments ; 
but  a  placid  expression  of  countenance  bore  witness  that  all  was  peace 
within,  and  taken  in  connection  with  his  previous  life,  that  all  would  be 
peace  and  joy  forever.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rer. 
*John  R.  Mcintosh,  recently  Principal  of  Floral  College — now  (1855)  in 
Bufaula,  Ala. 

PROM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  TATE. 

Sill's  Cremk.,  New  Hanover  County,  N.  C,  7 
March  18, 1867.  ) 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  I  am  quite  willing  to  render  you  any  aid  in  my  power  in 
endeavouring  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  my  lamented  and  venerable  friend, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Mclntyre;  but  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  eighty-three  years  of 
age,  and  am  labouring  under  the  ordinary  infirmities  of  that  period,  you  will 
not  expect  from  me  any  thing  like  a  formal  analysis  of  Mr.  M.'s  character.  All 
I  shall  attempt  will  be  to  state  to  you  my  general  impressions  concerning  him, 
and  perhaps  give  you  a  few  facts  or  incidents  to  justify  them.  He  and  I  were 
well  known  to  each  other  for  many  years,  though  I  was  about  eleven  years  older 
in  the  ministry  than  he,  having  been  licensed  to  preach  in  1796. 

I  may  say  in  general  that  all  the  constituents  of  an  honest  and  just  citizen,  of 
a  faithful  husband,  of  a  tender  father,  of  a  sympathizing  master,  and  above  all 
of  a  laborious,  zealous,  and  successful  minister,  were  concentrated  in  thi.s 
humble  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  his  name  will  long 
remain  embalmed  in  the  grateful  remembrance,  not  only  of  his  immediate  rela- 
tives, but  of  many  who  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  his  acquaintance  and  ministra* 
tions. 

One  of  his  most  striking  characteristics  as  a  minister  was  his  zeal  for  the 
purity  of  the  Church.  He  was  disposed  to  guard  its  avenues  with  great  care. 
Especially  in  seasons  of  revival,— and  such  seasons  were  not  un frequent  in  con- 
nection with  his  labours, — he  was  strongly  opposed  to  hasty  admissions  to  Com- 
munion, considering  that  the  excitement  attendant  on  such  scenes  creates  special 
danger  of  self-deception.  Persons  whose  experience,  upon  an  examination, 
seemed  of  a  more  doubtful  character,  he  would  kindly  suggest  ha^  better  wait 
for  further  light  and  progress;  while  those  who  gave  more  satisfactory  evidence 
of  a  renewed  heart,  he  would  admit, — ^still  warning  them  against  false  hope,  and 
reminding  them  that  they  were  acting  upon  their  own  solemn  responsibility. 

Mr.  McTntyre  was  pre-eminently  a  man  of  a  devout  spirit;  and  he  manifested 
it  under  all  circumstances,  and  in  some  ways  that  were  unusual.  For  instance, 
it  was,  I  believe,  his  invariable  custom,  if  any  person,  especially  any  young  man, 
eame  to  his  house  to  pass  the  night,  to  ask  him  to  take  a  walk  with  him  in  the 
evening;  and  having  walked  two  or  three  hundred  yards  on  the  great  road,  till 
he  reached  a  certain  spot  that  was  marked  by  an  old  log,  lying  on  the  ground,  he 
would  fall  upon  his  knees,  and  engage  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  in  most  fer- 
vent prayer.  I  have  myself  been  a  witness  to  this,  I  think,  on  three  different 
oocasions. 


JO^N  mgctttbs.  42ji 

Mr.  Mclntyre  never  shrunk  from  any  dutj,  however  unexpectedly  he  may 
have  been  called  to  it.  He  never  lost  sight  of  Paul's  injunction  to  Timothy — 
'*  Be  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season."  Whilst  attending  a  meeting  of 
Presbytery  at  one  of  my  Churches, — ^a  good  many  Scotch  people  being  there, — 
he  was  requested  to  preach  to  them  a  sermon  in  Gaelic;  and  he  did  it  at  once, 
and  greatly  to  their  satisfaction.  I  have  always  understood  that  he  excelled  in 
preaching  in  that  language.  At  another  meeting  of  Presbytery  at  another  of 
my  Churches, — the  last  Moderator  being  absent,  it  was  found  somewhat  difficult 
to  get  a  minister  to  preach  the  opening  sermon.  Brother  Mclntyre  rose  and 
said — ^"If  none  of  you  will  preach,  I  will,  though  I  am  an  old  man;"  and  he 
actually  did  preach,  much  to  the  gratification  of  the  Presbytery,  as  well  as  of  a 
large  assembly.  To  that  Presbytery  a  call  was  sent  up  for  the  ministerial  ser- 
vices of  Mr.  Neil  McRoy,  and  a  motion  or  application  made  for  his  immediate 
ordination.  As  it  became  a  question  whether  he  should  be  ordained  then,  or  at 
an  adjourned  meeting  of  Presbytery,  Mr.  Mclntyre  rose  and  spoke  earnestly 
in  favour  of  ordaining  him  at  once,  on  the  ground  that  the  case  not  only  justified 
but  required  it;  and  well  do  I  remember  how  the  tears,  large  and  warm,  were 
chasing  each  other  down  his  furrowed  cheeks,  as  he  concluded  his  remarks  by 
spying} — '*  Brethren,  I  wish  we  had  a  hundred  such  men  to  ordain  as  Mr. 
McRoy."  The  Rev.  Malcolm  McNair,*  who  was  a  distinguished  preacher  and 
an  excellent  man  in  his  day^  was  often  a  co-adjutor  with  Mr.  Mclntyre  in  minis- 
terial services.  At  one  of  his  friend's  churches,  Mr.  McNair  attended  on  a 
Communion  occasion,  and  having  preached  four  or  five  sermons,  observed  to  Mr. 
Mclntyre  that  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  go  home.  "Why  go  home?" — 
was  the  reply.  *'  Because  my  stock  of  sermons  has  run  out,"  said  Mr.  McNair. 
"  Oh,  mon,"  answered  the  veteran  minister,  "  that  will  never  do— do  you  not 
see  that  a  good  and  great  work  is  begun,  and  is  going  on  prosperously — you  mu^^t 
not,  you  cannot,  leave  this  great  and  interesting  assembly  of  people."  Mr. 
McNair  again  said — **  If  you  want  me  to  preach  more,  I  must  go  home  and  get 
a  new  supply  of  sermons."  **  But,*'  rejoined  Mr.  Mclntyre,  **  can't  you  take  a 
new  text,  mon,  and  get  along  in  that  way,  without  going  after  more  sermons  ?" 
I  think  the  result  of  the  conference  was  that  Mr.  McNair  remained — certainly 
an  extensive  and  powerful  revival  followed,  as  the  fruits  of  which  large  numbers 
were  added  to  the  Church.  Never  was  this  excellent  man  more  in  his  element 
than  on  Communion  occasions.  He  seemed  always  to  be  refreshed  and  strength- 
ened by  partaking  of  these  Heavenly  privileges.  Of  the  palms  of  victory,  the 
crowns  of  glory,  the  white  robes  of  righteousness  and  salvation,  the  joyful  and 
eternal  rest, — all  that  pertains  to  the  idea  of  Heaven,  he  would  speak  in  straina 
of  love  and  sweetness,  well  becoming  these  immortal  themes. 

Mr.  Mclntvre  was  an  earnest  believer  in  the  doctrines  set  forth  in  our  Confes- 
sion  of  Faith,  and  was  jealous  of  any  departure  from  them.  Though  he  camo 
into  the  ministry  at  so  late  a  period  in  life,  and  under  many  disadvantages,  it  can- 
not be  doubted  that  he  rendered  very  important  service  to  the  Church,  and  that 
he  will  be  found  among  those  who  have  turned  many  t^  nghteousness. 

I  am  very  respectfully  yours, 

ROBERT  TATE. 

^Malcolx  McNaib  wm  born  in  Robeson  County,  N.  C,  Angnst  24,  1776;  was  for  a 
while  a  member  of  Dr.  MoGorkle^s  school  in  Rowan,  but  finished  his  coarse,  classical  and 
tlMologieal,  nnder  Dr.  Caldwell  of  Onilford,  at  whose  school  he  became  hopefViUy  pious.  On 
the  25th  of  Ck)tober,  1799,  he  was  taken  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery  of  Orange,  and  on 
the  27th  of  March,  1801,  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel.  On  the  2d  of  June,  1803,  he  was 
ordained  and  inat&lled  Pastor  of  Centre  and  Ashpole  Chnrohes  in  Robeson  Coanty,  and  Laurel 
Hill  In  RJehmond  County,  and  in  preaehinit  to  these  congregations  and  others  in  the  neighbour- 
hood,  he  passed  his  lifoi  which  was  brought  to  a  close  on  the  4th  of  August,  1822.  He  ie 
represented  as  having  been  a  man  of  a  most  gentle  and  kindly  spirit^  and  an  eloquent 
pveaener* 


422  PBBSBTTEBIAK. 


FROM  THE  REY.  ADAM  GILCHRIST. 

FatittetilUi  N.  C,  October  4, 1855. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  regret  that  I  am  able  to  furnish  from  my  own  personal  recol- 
lections but  a  yery  meagre  account  of  the  yenerable  father  concerning  whom  you 
inquire;  but  I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  avail  myself  of  the  more  extended  recol- 
lections of  a  brother  in  the  ministry,  and  thus  to  meet  your  wish  much  more 
lolly  than  I  could  otherwise  have  done. 

My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Mclntyre  commenced  at  a  meeting  of  the  Presby- 
tery of  Fayetteville,  in  the  winter  of  1841,  and  was  restricted  to  a  very  few 
occasions,  when  the  meetings  of  our  Church  Courts  and  our  Sacramental 
seasons,  brought  us  together.  I  beheld  a  man  striking  in  his  appearance,  strong 
and  fervent  in  his  expressions,  to  whom  his  brethren  seemed  involuntarily  to 
defer,  not  merely  from  his  age,  but  from  his  long  established  reputation  for  piety. 
But  the  old  gentleman,  at  that  timc^even,  began  to  exhibit  evidence  of  infirmity, 
so  that  when  I  next  met  him  at  the  meeting  of  the  Synod  of  North  Carolina  in 
1844, — being  on  the  committee  of  religious  exercises,  I  was  afraid  to  give  him 
any  prominent  part,  having  understood  that,  through  &ilure  of  memory,  he 
would  sometimes  begin  in  Gaelic  and  end  in  English,  and  the  reverse;  and  that 
he  frequently  mingled  exhortation  and  prayer  in  the  same  exercise.  It  was, 
therefore,  with  much  solicitude  that  I  requested  him  to  close  the  Synodical  ser- 
vice with  prayer  and  the  benediction.  To  the  delight  of  the  numerous  congre- 
gation, he  performed  the  part  assigned  him  with  great  propriety  and  fervour. 
His  language  was  forcible,  his  voice  clear  and  strong,  and  there  was  an  unction 
and  impressiveness  in  all  that  he  said,  which  made  its  way  to  every  heart,  and  I 
believe,  brought  tears  from  many  in  the  Assembly.  This,  if  I  mistake  not,  was 
tile  last  meeting  of  a  public  body  which  he  attended,  though  he  was  subsequentljc 
sometimes  present  at  Sacramental  meetings,  and  assisted  at  the  table. 

Allow  me  here  to  relate  an  anecdote  concerning  him,  which  I  had  from  one  of 
his  intimate  friends.  There  were  several  ministers  seated  beside  one  of  our  coun- 
try churches,  before  the  commencement  of  the  services,  one  of  whom  was  Father 
Mclntyre.  The  conversation  that  took  place,  regarded  past  times,  when  some  of 
the  elder  brethren,  then  departed,  used  to  attend;  and  while  one  after  another 
had  something  to  say  concerning  their  excellencies,  the  good  Father  was  heard 
to  burst  into  a  broad  laugh.  The  rest  turned  their  faces  towards  him  with 
surprise,  supposing  that  what  they  witnessed  was  to  be  referred  to  the  imbecility 
•f  age.  **  But,"  said  he,  '*  Brethren,  you  must  excuse  me;  I  was  thinking  how 
happy  those  dear  departed  friends  now  are  in  the  presence  of  God — I  felt  a  long- 
ing to  be  with  them;  and  I  thought  how  blessed  a  thing  it  would  be  if  the  Master 
should  call  me  up  from  the  midst  of  the  services  to-day — ^the  thought  was  so 
delightful  that  I  could  not  refrain  from  laughing."  This  longing  to  depart  and 
be  with  Christ  was  pre-eminently  the  characteristic  of  his  later  years ;  insomuch 
that,  when  accosted  by  his  family  in  the  morning  with  the  usual  inquiry  concern- 
ing his  health;  he  would  sometimes  answer — ''Too  well;  I  feel  disappointed;  I 
had  hoped  to  be  with  my  Saviour  before  morning." 

Among  the  most  prominent  traits  of  his  character  were  simplicity,  honesty, 
and  humility.  lie  had  never  taken  the  first  lesson  in  dissimulation — ^you  might 
always  be  sure  that  his  words  and  actions  were  a  faithful  ^representation  of  what 
was  in  his  heart.  While  he  had  no  affectation  of  humility,  it  was  impossible  to 
be  in  his  company  even  a  short  time,  without  being  convinced  that  he  was  of  a 
meek  and  lowly  spirit.  He  was  introduced  on  one  occasion  to  an  aged  gentle- 
man, who  inquired  if  he  was  the  preacher  Mclntyre,  who  used  to  be  called 
"  Wrestling  Jacob."  His  reply  was  **  I  know  not  what  other  people  may  have 
called  me;  but  this  T  know, — that  I  deserve  no  such  honourable  name." 


JOHN  3(cIKTTR6.  42S 

The  old  gentleman  used  to  dwell  with  mucli  interest  on  the  great  ftdTuitAge  he 
had,  while  a  shepherd,  wandering  over  the  iiills  of  his  native  land,  for  reading 
and  meditating  upon  the  Scriptures.  There  he  stored  his  mind  with  precious 
texts;  and  there  he  treasured  thoughts  which  he  found  of  great  use  to  him,  when 
he  came,  after  many  years,  to  engage  in  the  work  of  the  ministry.  His  imme- 
diate intellectual  training  for  his  profession  was  somewhat  limited;  hut,  heing 
naturally  of  a  strong  mind,  retentive  memory,  and  discriminating  judgment,  few 
of  his  ministerial  associates  surpassed  him  in  substantial  usefulness. 

Having  made  himself  familiar  with  some  of  the  best  writers  on  Divinity  and 
practical  religion,  he  was  always  prepared  to  defend  his  own  Tiews  of  truth 
against  the  objections  of  gainsayers.  His  de^  acquaintance  with  the  opera- 
tions of  the  Spirit  made  him  a  valuable  counsellor  to  the  convicted  and  the 
tenapted.  Though  he  was  thoroughly  Galvinistic  in  his  creed,  no  man  in  the 
r^on  in  which  he  laboured  was  probably  more  beloved  by  those  whose  theologi- 
cal views  differed  materially  from  his  own.  His  preaching,  if  not  always  con- 
nected, was  always  sensible,  and  sometimes  marked  by  very  considerable  power. 
In  Gaelic  I  believe  he  was  rather  more  at  home  than  in  English,  although  he 
preached  readily  in  both  languages.  Sometimes,  when  the  word  he  sought  did 
not  readily  spring  to  his  recollection,  he  used,  in  the  richest  of  Scotch  tones, 
after  pausing  a  second,  to  burst  out — "  Oh  for  a  dure  (door)  of  utterance ^  as 
well  as  a  dure  of  entrance." 

In  stature  Father  Mclntyre  was  of  the  medium  height,  with  a  firm  and  com- 
pact frame,  indicating  strength  and  endurance.  He  was  noted  for  his  yigorous 
health.  His  temperament  was  naturally  ardent,  but  was  sweetly  restrained  by 
grace,  and  always  under  control.  His  countenance  beamed  with  benevolence,  and 
betokened  a  mind  at  peace  within.  He  was  social  in  his  disposition  and  habits. 
He  was  peculiarly  happy  in  winning  the  hearts  of  children;  and  none  could  with 
more  ease  give  conversation  a  religious  turn  in  the  mixed  circle.  He  was  a  faith- 
ful reprover  of  sin,  and,  whether  in  the  Church  or  the  Presbytery,  he  hesitated 
not  to  bring  the  discipline  of  Christ's  house  to  bear  on  flagrant  offenders. 

I  am  very  sincerely  and  fraternally 

Yours  in  Gospel  bonds, 

A.  GILCHRIST. 


-•♦- 


JAMES  PATTERSON  * 

1808—1837. 

Jambs  Pattbbson  was  born  on  the  17th  of  March,  1779,  at  Ervina, 
Bucks  County,  Pa., — a  beautifol  tract  of  country  on  the  Western  shore  of 
the  Delaware.  His  maternal  ancestors,  who  were  distinguished  for  their 
piety,  emigrated  from  the  North  of  Ireland,  some  time  before  the  American 
Revolation,  and  settled  in  Basking  Hidge,  N.  J.  When  he  was  in  his 
third  year,  his  parents  removed  from  Ervina  to  Strasbnrg,  Franklin  County, 
Pa.y  where  they  cultivated  a  small  farm, — the  son  assisting  his  father  in  his 
agricultural  porsiiits.  From  his  earliest  years  he  eyinced  great  natural 
kiodoeas  and  gentleness  of  spirit,  which  rendered  him  a  favonrite  with  his 
friends  and  associates. 

.    *  Memoir  by  Rev.  Bobert  Adair.— MB.  firom  B.  E.  Rodfus,  D.  J>. 


424  PBBSBTTERIAK. 


WbeB  he  wu  in  hk  sixteenth  year,  an  incident  oeonrred,  which  had  a 
meet  important  bearing  on  his  subsequent  history.  As  he  was  crossing  the 
Potomac  River,  he  fell  in,  and  contracted  a  violent  cold,  in  consequence  of 
which,  he  was,  for  a  long  time,  disabled  for  labouring  on  the  farm.  This 
seems  to  have  first  suggested  to  him  the  idea  of  obtaining  a  classical  educa- 
tion as  a  means  of  support.  And  another  still  more  imporUnt  effect  was 
that  it  gave  a  new  and  ultimately  a  better  direction  to  his  thoughts  on  the 
subject  of  religion ; — for,  though  he  had  had  the  benefit  of  a  pious  mother's 
instructions  and  prayers,  he  does  not  appear,  up  to  thb  time,  to  have  had 
any  special  concern  for  his  immortal  interests.  With  very  inadequate  views 
of  the  gracious  provisions  of  Christianity,  he  struggled  on  for  nearly  two 
years,  a  stranger,  as  he  believed,  to  the  power  of  renewing  grace;  but,  at 
length,  the  clouds  which  had  hung  around  him  so  long,  broke  away,  and  his 
heart  was  cheered  with  the  tokens  of  God's  forgiving  mercy.  He  always 
supposed  that  that  protracted  season  of  deep  mental  suffering,  amounting 
frequently  to  anguish,  might  have  been  avoided,  by  bis  being  suitably 
enlightened  in  regard  to  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  evangelical  constitution  ; 
though  he  considered  this  experience  as  having  been  eminently  important  as 
qualifying  him  for  one  of  the  most  difficult  and  delicate  parts  of  pastoral 
duty. 

As  soon  as  he  had  resolved,  in  the  strength  of  Divine  grace,  that  he  would 
devote  himself  to  the  service  of  God,  he  began  to  meditate  the  idea  of  pre- 
paring himself  for  the  ministry ;  but  while  his  excellent  mother  encouraged 
him  in  this  from  the  beginning,  the  suggestion  met  with  little  favour  from 
his  father,  who  thought  that  he  could  ill  be  spared  from  his  place  on  the 
fiirm.  He,  however,  felt  constrained  by  both  duty  and  inclination,  to  go 
forward,  and,  if  possible,  become  a  minister  of  the  Gospel;  and,  accord- 
ingly, with  a  little  bundle  in  his  hand,  and  just  four  dollars  in  his  pocket, 
he  left  home  to  become  a  member  of  a  classical  school  in  Shippensburg. 
Through  his  whole  academical  and  collegiate  course,  he  was  greatly  strait- 
ened for  pecuniary  means,  being  dependant  chiefly  on  occasional  loans  from 
a  brother-in-law,  and  the  avails  of  his  mother's  industry  and  frugality. 

In  due  time  he  entered  Jefferson  College,  where  he  maintained  an  excel- 
lent standing,  both  as  a  Christian  and  a  scholar,  and  graduated  in  1804. 
Immediately  on  leaving  College,  he  went  to  Trenton,  N.  J.,  where  he  was 
employed  for  some  time  as  a  classical  teacher.  Thence  he  removed  to 
Princeton,  with  a  view  to  prosecute  his  theological  studies  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Ilev.  Dr.  Smith,  then  President  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey, 
and  of  Dr.  KoUock,  the  Professor  of  Divinity.  In  1806,  he  was  appointed 
Tutor  in  the  same  institution,  and  held  the  offioe  two  years.  Having  gone 
through  his  theological  course,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the 
Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick  on  the  5th  of  October,  1808.  In  June  of 
the  following  year,  he  was  called  to  the  Church  of  Bound  Brook,  N.  J., 
and,  having  accepted  the  call,  was  ordained  and  installed  on  the  9th  of 
August  following.  His  early  sermons  were  written  with  great  care,  and  in 
a  somewhat  rhetorical  style ;  but  he  subsequently  became  convinced  that 
greater  simplicity  and  directness  better  become  the  pulpit,  and,  under  this 
impression,  he  discarded  every  thing  like  ornament,  and  vibrated  to  what 
some  might  consider  the  opposite  extreme. 

Mr.  Patterson's  ministry  at  Bound  Brook,  though  on  the  whole  a  happy 
and  successful  one,  was  not  of  long  continuance.     It  had  been  common  in 


jAjas  FAvnBam.  42$ 

thai  ehurch  to  bapiiie  the  obildren  of  those  who  were  not  eommTinioaiitB ; 
and  Mr.  P.,  having  become  satisfied  that  this  practice  was  not  sustained  by 
Seriptore  and  was  adverse  to  the  parity  of  the  Church,  and  having  laboured 
unsuccessfully  to  eflfect  a  change,  finally  came  to  the  resolution  to  resign  his 
pastoral  charge.  He  accordingly  did  resign  it  in  June,  1813  ^  and  in  review- 
ing this  part  of  his  ministry,  he  makes  this  record — '*  It  pleased  the  Oreat 
Head  of  the  Church  to  bless  my  poor  labours,  while  there.*' 

On  the  13th  of  February,  1813,  Mr.  Patterson  was  married  to  Sarah, 
daughter  of  Halsted  Coe,  of  Newark,  N.  J.,  a  lady  of  highly  respectable 
connections, — in  whom  he  found  in  every  respect  a  most  congenial  spirit, 
and  an  efficient  helper  in  his  work.  They  had  ten-  children, — six  sons  and 
four  daughters.  Two  of  the  sons  were  educated  at  Amherst  College,  and 
one  at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania.  Two  of  them  entered  the  medi- 
cal profession. 

On  the  27  th  of  September,  1813,  Mr.  Patterson  was  unanimously  chosen 
Pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  of  the  Northern  Liberties  in  Phila- 
delphia; and,  having  signified  his  acceptance  of  the  call,  was  dismissed  on 
the  20th  of  October  to  join  the  Presbytery  of  Philadelphia,  and  was  installed 
on  the  11th  of  January,  1814.  Prior  to  this,  the  First  Church  of  the 
Northern  Liberties  was  connected  with  the  Second  Church  of  the  city,  and, 
in  common  with  that,  was  under  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jane- 
way  and  the  Bev.  (now  Dr.)  Thomas  H.  Skinner.  This  connection  had 
been  amicably  dissolved  under  the  impression  that  the  field  in  the  Northern 
Liberties  might  be  more  advantageously  occupied  by  one  individual,  who 
should  give  to  it  his  whole  time  and  energies.  It  was  in  many  respects  a 
difficult  and  nnpromising  field;  but,  under  the  faithful  and  persevering 
labours  of  Mr.  Patterson,  there  was  gathered  from  it  a  rich  spiritual 
harvest. 

Mr.  Patterson's  ministry,  especially  from  the  time  of  his  settlement  in 
Philadelphia,  was  characterized  by  glowing  zeal,  and  intense  and  incessant 
activity.  He  seems  to  have  acted  habitually  under  the  influence  of  a  deep 
concern  for  the  salvation  of  souls.  Several  instrumentalities  for  bringing 
the  Gospel  in  contact  with  the  minds  of  the  young,  or  of  the  multitude, 
are  believed  to  have  originated  with  him.  No  matter  in  what  circumstances  ' 
he  might  be  placed,  his  mind  seems  to  have  been  always  teeming  with  plans 
for  doing  good ;  and,  though  some  of  those  plans  might  not  commend  them- 
Belvcs  to  the  judgment  of  his  more  conservative  brethren,  he  never  faltered 
in  his  efforts  to  carry  them  out,  so  long  as  he  could  persuade  himself  of 
their  beneficent  tendency.  There  were  many  revivals  of  religion,  and 
some  of  them  of  great  power,  in  connection  with  his  labours ;  and  to  pro- 
duce and  maintun  such  a  state  of  things  his  efforts,  both  in  and  out  of  the 
pulpit,  seem  to  have  been  specially  designed.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say 
that,  in  the  difficulties  which  bsued  in  the  division  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  he  sympathized  fully  with  the  New  School;  and  regarded  that 
branch  of  the  Church  as  treated  by  their  brethren  with  great  and  unmerited 
severity. 

It  was  only  for  a  short  time,  however,  after  the  division,  that  he  lived,  to 
deplore  it.  In  October  following,  he  spent  several  days  in  the  country, 
labouring  in  two  protracted  meetings ;  at  the  latter  of  which  he  took  a 
severe  cold.  The  Sabbath  after  his  return  from  this  meeting,  though  com- 
plaining of  indisposition,  he  wont  to  the  house  of  God,  expecting  to  per* 

Vol.  IV.  54 


4M  f^msmauAM. 

fonn  (he  nanal  fittrvioa;  but  wben  he  acose  to  anaoaiwe  laa  text,  he  £mhiA 

himself  so  ill  as  to  be  nnable  to  piroeeed.  The  next  day  he  felt  so  mwk 
better  that  he  went  to  Baltimore  to  tfttend  the  meeting  of  the  S jnod  of 
Philadelphia.  He  preached  on  the  two  suooeeding  Sabbaths,  though  in  great 
feebleness ;  and  on  Monday,  the  6th  of  November,  he  called  a  physician 
who  pronounced  his  disease  to  be  a  slight  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  His 
case,  however,  was  not  considered  alarming  during  the  week,  and  he  was 
able  to  walk  about  His  chamber,  and  spoke  of  being  able  to  preach  on  the 
following  Sabbath.  The  next  Monday,  however,  an  unfavourable  change 
took  place,  and  from  that  time  he  gradually  sunk,  until  the  next  Friday 
morning,  (November  17|  1837,)  when  he  died, — ^in  the  fifty-ninth  year  id 
his  age,  and  the  twenty-eighth  of  his  ministry.  A  Sermon  commemoratiTe 
of  his  life  and  character  was  preached  in  the  church  in' which  he  had  minis- 
tered, by  the  Rev.  Albert  Barnes,  on  the  second  Sabbath  after  his  death, 
and  was  published.  In  1840,  there  was  published  a  Memoir  of  his  life  by 
the  Rev.  Robert  Adair. 

During  the  twenty-three  years  that  he  exercised  his  ministry  in  Philadel- 
phia, he  received  into  the  Church  1790  members — ^an  average  of  74  a 
year. 

Mr.  Patterson's  publications  consisted  of  a  Missionary  Sermon  and  seve- 
ral tracts. 


FROM  THE  REV.  THOMAS  BRAINERD,  D.  D. 

PHUADXtpiiiA,  August  6, 1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  James  Patterson  began  in  1827, 
and  extended  to  the  time  of  his  death.  For  nearly  one  year  I  sat  under  his 
ministry,  and  was  often  a  guest  at  his  house.  I  always  regarded  him  as  a  very 
extraordinary  man. 

His  person  was  strikingly  impressive.  At  least  six  feet  in  height,  and  so  lank 
that  beseemed  still  taller;  eyes  black,  and  set  deep  in  his  head;  coal  black, 
straight  hair;  skin  dark,  and  complexion  so  pale  as  often  to  seem  cadaverous; 
high  cheek  bones  and  large  mouth; — all  wrought  by  labour,  responsibility »  ner- 
vous sympathy  and  feeble  health,  into  an  expression  grave — almost  sad; — his 
eyes  often  streaming  with  tears,  and  his  voice  in  its  higher  tones,  shrill,  pierdng, 
lugubrious  or  severe,  he  seemed  like  an  old  prophet  of  Israel  risen  from  the 
dead, — a  messenger  from  another  world,  come  to  warn  the  wicked  to  flee  the 
wrath  to  come.  And  this  impression  might  be  deepened  by  the  style  of  his 
preaching.  It  was  sometimes  tender,  gentle,  affectionate.  His  smile  in  the 
pulpit  was  like  the  sun  breaking  through  clouds, — pensive  but  fascinating.  His 
gentleness  in  public  addresses  was  rare,  but  beautiful  from  its  pathos  and  sin- 
cerity. 

But  his  general  aspect  in  the  pulpit  was  stern  and  severe.  His  mission  was  to 
sinners.  His  great  office  rebuke  and  warning.  His  main  motive  the  terrors  of 
the  Almighty.  The  thunders  of  the  law  he  wielded  with  terrific  power.  His 
denunciations  of  guilt  were  scathing;  his  predictions  of  coming  wrath  graphic 
and  overwhelming. 

In  his  family  or  social  circles,  in  general  intercourse  with  the  world,  he  was 
most  courteous,  benevolent,  gentlemanly.  He  loved  an  anecdote,  relished  wit, 
and  enjoy^ed  a  hearty  laugh;  but  when  he  entered  on  a  religious  service,  he 
seemed  to  be  imbued  with  the  most  awful  apprehension  of  human  guilt  and 
danger,  and  to  be  wrought  to  the  most  despera^s  efforts  to  save  souls  from 
death. 


jAjmBVJJsaamm.  4SkT 


Bm  Ai^ft  of  fr«MhiDg  and  modes  of  inflseitoe  WMr«  no  doalit  modified  by  bis 
early  position.  He  was  iooated  in  the  suburbs  of  the. city »  among  the  poor,  the 
illiterate,  the  animalized,  the  stupid,  the  heathenish.  He  most  gain  their  atten- 
tion. He  must  draw  them  to  church.  Hence  he  circulated  adyertisements; 
pasted  pious  placards  on  the  walls;  announced  novel  subjects;  took  wonderful 
texts,  and  wrought  out  queer  illustrations.  And  when,  by  the  ^yelp  of  God,  he 
had  roused  and  attracted  the  multitude,  he  felt  tliat  the  case  was  urgent;  that 
he  must,  at  all  hazards,  and  by  any  means  lawful,  however  novel,  bring  them  to 
submit  to  Qod.  Revival  excitements  first  filled  his  church;  and  he  had  a  tend- 
ency perhaps  to  suppose  that  these  alone  were  periods  of  blessing;  and  for  the 
recurrence  of  these  ho  mainly  laboured  and  prayed. 

His  particular  antipathy  was  a  Christianity  that  would  not  towrk  for  God. 
Caring  nothing  for  money  himself,  he  was  impatient, with  the  rich,  because  they 
used  their  wealth  for  themselves,  rather  than  for  the  salvation  of  men.  Imagin* 
ing  that  many  preachers  were  ambitious  of  popularity  by  humouring  the  taste 
and  refinement  of  their  more  wealthy  and  fashionable  congregations,  he  used  to 
censure  them  severely.  And  perhaps  sometimes  fell  himself  into  the  opposite 
extreme  of  raw  denunciation  and  semi-rudeness,  if  not  recklessness,  in  the 
pulpit.  So  prominent  was  this  trait,  that  ho  always  believed  his  brethren  in 
some  of  the  wealthier  churches  were  afraid  to  ask  him  to  preach  in  their 
pulpits. 

Such  impressions,  tinging  his  public  services,  had  a  tendency  rather  to 
alienate  from  him  the  more  wealthy,  tasteful,  refined  classes;  and  at  the 
same  time  made  him  the  more  popular  with  the  masses,^-especially  with  the 
poor. 

His  sermons  were  seldom  written  out.  He  delighted  to  get  some  novel,  start- 
ling thought,  that  *'  came  right  home,"  as  he  was  wont  to  say;  and  then  carry 
it  oat  by  illustrations  drawn  from  every  day  life.  His  efforts  were  very  unequal ; 
sometimes  marked  by  crudeness  and  bad  taste;  but  in  listening  to  him  nearly  a 
wh<de  year,  I  remember  no  discourse  that  had  not  some  original  touches;  nor 
one  that  did  not  seem  to  make  a  good  moral  impression  on  his  congregation. 
His  holy,  sympathetic,  benevolent,  prayerful  and  humble  life,  gave  him  authority; 
and  among  the  masses,  in  spite  of  his  occasional  severity  and  personality,  he 
had  great  popularity.  In  direct  and  personal  efforts  to  convert  sinners  to  God, 
perhaps  he  has  had  no  superior  in  this  land  since  the  days  of  Whitefield. 

He  was  always  burdened  with  this  responsibility,— to  save  sinners.  He 
worked  himself;  he  made  his  elders,  his  church-members,  work.  *'  Work,  work, 
work  !"  was  the  burden  of  his  appeals  through  the  press,  of  his  exhortations 
to  his  ministerial  brethren,  and  of  his  sermons  and  lectures.  His  reproofs  of 
his  brethren  for  indolence  or  apathy  were  frequent  and  earnest;  but  as  they 
were  kind,  were  always  cheerfully  borne.  He  kept  the  fire  burning  at  home. 
He  travelled  often  and  far  to  labour  in  revivals.  He  started  scores  of  little  meet- 
ings, where  his  church-members  might  exhort  and  pray.  For  years  he  gathered 
crowds  to  hear  the  Gospel,  on  Kensington  Common,  Sabbath  afternoons;  and 
not  unfrequently  he  issued  little  printed  bulletins,  to  be  circulated  gratuitou^y, 
to  stir  up  somebody  '*  to  abound  in  the  work  of  the  Lord." 

As  a  result,  all  over  this  section  of  country, — I  might  say  all  over  the  West, — 
here  and  there  will  be  found  persons  who  refer  their  first  serious  impressions  to 
the  labours  of  ''  Father  Patterson."  And  such,  reflecting  his  spirit,  are  almost 
always  burning,  and  sometimes  uhining  lights. 

He  was  a  good  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew  scholar.  He  had  read  much;  but 
his  taste  lay  in  the  writings  of  the  Fathers,  and  old  Divines,  from  which  he 
imported  many  a  stirring  thought  and  quaint  illustration.  His  mental  accumu- 
Utions  seemed  to  be  in  lumps  rather  than  links.  His  whole  mental  structure 
was  marked  by  impulsive  genius  rather  than  symmetrical  judgment.    His  spirit 


42S  PSMBTTIBIAir. 

Wtt8  noble— hia  power  wooderfol — ^bat  he  foUoir ed  a  track  that  it  would  be 
for  others  to  enter,  unless  they  were  like  him  in  his  peculiar  strocture. 

As  illustrations  of  the  man,  I  will  state  fitcts,  which  I  believe  can  all  be 
yerifled. 

At  a  little  prayer-meeting  in  the  house  of  an  unconverted  man,  Mr.  Patterson 
called  upon  him  to  pray,  lie  declined;  said  he  never  prayed.  "  Then  yoa  ought 
to  begin,"  said  Mr.  Patterson;  ''you  ought  to  pray."  The  man  treiabied, 
yielded — and  attempted  prayer.    It  resulted  in  his  hopeful  conversion. 

Mr.  Patterson  once  set  a  prominent  church -member,  and  myself,  then  a  yery 
young  man,  to  visit  some  of  his  members  who  did  not  come  up  to  his  help  in 
one  of  his  revivals.  We  made  but  one  or  two  calls — of  course  were  coldly 
received;  and  then  turned  to  visit  some  of  the  more  devoted  members  of  the 
church.  We  dreaded  to  make  our  report  to  Mr.  Patterson,  expecting  a  reproof 
for  shunning  the  cross.  But  he  only  laughed  heartily.  '  IJust  right, "  said  he; — 
**  whip  the  free  horses — you  will  never  bring  up  the  drones  !'* 

On  a  certain  occasion  he  said,  in  a  circle  of  his  brethren,  that  he  thought  min- 
isters ought  to  be  humble  and  poor,  like  their  Master.  "  I  have  often  prayed," 
said  he,  **  that  I  might  be  kept  humble.  I  neyer  prayed  that  I  might  be  poor. 
I  oould  trust  Btutantpood  Street  Church  for  that !  /" 

In  one  of  the  principal  churches,  at  a  Union  Monthly  Concert,  Mr.  Patterson 
rose  to  exhort.  **  I  have  thought,"  said  he,  **  that  one  of  these  great  rich  men 
died,  and  went  up  to  Heaven.  Paul,  grown  to  be  a  tall  Archangel,  ran  to  meet 
him,  and  bent  down  to  inquire  what  was  doing  for  Christ  in  Philadelphia. 
How  are  Sunday  Schools  prospering  ^  '  I  don't  know — I  never  enter  one.' 
How  are  Religious  Tracts  succeeding  ?  '  I  never  inquired.'  How  is  the  great 
work  of  Missions  advancing  in  China  ?  '  I  learned  the  price  of  tea,  but  never 
asked  or  read  about  Missions.'  Oet  nut !  says  Paul,  this  is  no  place  for  you  ! 
All  here  sympathize  with  the  cause  of  Christ  on  the  Earth." 

I  might  multiply  these  illustrations  of  his  peculiarities.  But  they  are  enough 
as  a  specimen  of  the  man.  He  had  foibles,  prejudices,  and  great  imprudences. 
Half  the  world  around  him  professed  to  despise  or  hate  him,  living;  but  when 
it  was  announced  that  he  was  dead,  there  was  one  unanimous  lament  through- 
out the  city.  His  praise  was  on  all  lips,  and  at  least  ten  thousand  people,  of  all 
characters  and  classes,  came  to  drop  a  tear  on  the  dust  of  one  who  had  faithfully 
served  God  in  spending  his  life  to  sanctify  and  save  the  lost. 

Very  truly  yours, 

THOMAS  BRAINERD. 


.    t   •  * 


JOSEPH  CAMP^iftt^^^  .    y^^ 


^  1 


%MlTpQT 


y 


JOSEPH  CAMPBELL,  D.  D  * 

1808—1840. 

JosBPH  Campbell  was  born  in  Omagh,  County  of  Tyrone,  Ireland,  in 
the  year  1776, — his  ancestors  having  been  driven  thither  from  Scotland  by 
persecution.  He  came  with  his  parents  to  America  in  1797 ;  and,  having 
enjoyed  excellent  advantages  for  a  common  education  previous  to  his  leaving 
Ireland,  he  engaged,  shortly  after  his  arrival  here,  in  the  business  of  teach- 
iDg,  as  a  means  of  gaining  a  support.  For  the  first  two  or  three  years  he 
had  charge  of  a  school  at  Cranberry,  N.  J.;  and  at  the  same  time  was 
pursuing  a  course  of  classical  study  under  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woodhull,  then 
Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  that  place.  So  rapid  was  his  progress 
that,  during  his  residence  there,  he  not  only  became  a  good  classical  scholar 
himself,  but  assisted  several  young  men  in  their  preparation  for  College. 
In  1801,  he  opened  an  English  and  classical  school  at  Princeton,  where  he 
still  pursued  his  literary  and  scientific  studies,  and  also,  it  is  believed, 
commenced  the  study  of  Theology  under  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  Stanhope 
Smith,  then  President  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  He  subsequently 
continued  his  theological  studies  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wood- 
hull  of  Freehold,  and  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New 
Brunswick,  on  the  5th  of  October,  1808.  The  degree  of  Master  of  Arts 
was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  in  1806. 

In  1809,  Mr.  Campbell  received  a  call  to  become  the  Pastor  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  Hackettstown,  Warren  County,  N.  J.  This  call  he 
aooepted,  and  was  ordained  and  installed  shortly  after.  Here  he  continued 
labouring  with  great  acceptance  and  success  for  nearly  thirty  years.  Though 
the  Congregation,  when  he  took  charge  of  it,  was  small  and  feeble,  it  grad- 
ually increased  in  numbers  and  influence,  under  his  ministry,  until  it  became 
one  of  the  most  respectable  congregations  in  the  whole  region.  In  1838, 
he  was  invited  to  take  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Churches  in  Milford  and 
Kingwood,  N.  J.;  and  under  circumstances  so  urgent  and  peculiar  as  led 
him  to  think  that  it  was  his  duty  to  accept  the  invitation.  He  accordingly 
did  accept  it ;  though  at  a  great  expense  of  persooal  feeling,  as  well  as  to 
the  deep  regret  of  the  people  with  whom  he  had  been  so  long  and  so  happily 
connected.  He  declined  calls,  at  different  periods,  to  several  prominent 
churches,  among  which  were  one  or  two  in  Philadelphia. 

In  1831,  he  was  chosen  a  Trustee  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  and  in 
1838,  a  Director  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton.  In  1837,  the 
degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Lafayette  College. 

In  the  controversy  which  agitated,  and  finally,  in  1838,  divided,  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  he  thought,  felt,  and  acted,  uniformly  and  strongly 
with  the  Old  School. 

It  was  but  for  a  short  period  that  Dr.  Campbell  was  spared  to  exercise 
his  ministry  at  Milford  and  Kingwood.  In  the  autumn  of  1840,  he  was 
seised  with  a  bilious  fever,  which  changed  to  a  typhoid,  and  very  soon  ter- 
minated in  death.  His  closing  scene  was  eminently  peaceful,  and  while  he 
expressed  the  most  joyful  confidence  that  a  crown  of  glory  awaited  him»  be 

*  Monoir  pnflzed  to  Ut  SMiiumf.— MSS.  ftom  bif  duiiily  and  B«t.  Dr.  James  Seoti. 


^SO  nanrrBBiAir. 

rendered  a  decisive  and  earnest  testimony  to  the  tratlis  which  he  had 
preached,  as  constitating  the  only  foundation  of  his  hope.  He  died  on  the 
6th  of  September,  1840,  in  the  sizty-fonrth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  thirty- 
seoond  of  his  ministry.  His  remains  were  removed  for  bnrial  to  Hacketts- 
town,  and  the  people  of  both  his  charges  met  at  his  Faneral,  and  mingled 
in  a  common  lamentation. 

In  1801,  he  was  married  to  Abigail  Denton,  then  a  resident  of  Prince- 
ton. By  this  marriage  he  had  two  children, — a  son  who  became  a  physi- 
cian,  and  a  daughter  who  was  married  to  the  Rev.  James  Wyckoff.  Mrs. 
Campbell  died,  greatly  lamented,  in  1827,  and,  a  few  years  after,  he  was 
married  to  a  Mrs.  Chamberlain  of  Flemington,  N.  J.,  who  still  (1857) 
survives  as  his  widow.     There  were  no  children  by  the  last  marriage. 

In  1842,  there  was  a  volame  of  Dr.  Campbell's  Sermons  published,  in  con- 
nection with  a  brief  Memoir  of  his  life,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gray  of  Easton,  Pa. 


FROM  THE  REV.  JAMES  SCOTT,  D.  D. 

9 

NswjLKKy  N.  J, 3  April  9, 1867. 

Dear  Brother:  My  knowledge  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Joseph  Campbell  is  limited  to 
the  last  six  years  of  bis  life.  In  1834,  immediately  after  my  licensure  by  the 
Presbytery  of  New  York,  1  was  called  to  take  charge  of  the  united  Churches 
of  German  Valley  and  Fox  Hill,  made  vacant  by  the  removal  of  the  Rev. 
M.  S.  Hutton  to  New  York,  to  be  the  colleague  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Mathews 
in  the  pastorate  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  in  Garden  Street.  Dr.  Camp- 
bell moderated  the  call  made  on  me  by  these  Churches.  He  wrote  to  me 
announcing  the  fact.     Thus  began  an  intimacy  which  closed  only  with  his  life. 

After  my  settlement  in  March,  1835,  our  families  became  intimate.  Mrs.  Camp- 
bell, who  still  survives  him,  was  the  model  of  a  minister's  wife.  He  treated  me 
as  a  son  in  the  Gospel,^-encoaraging  and  advising  me  in  every  thing  appertain- 
ing to  my  great  work.  We  exchanged  pulpits  often;  and,  as  our  charges  were 
contiguous,  assisted  each  other  in  numerous  ministerial  duties.  We  made  several 
excursions  together,— one  to  the  Water-gap  and  Wind-gap  on  the  Delaware, 
which  arises  before  me  like  a  green  spot  in  memory.  On  matters  which  troubled 
him,  he  condescended  to  consult  me,  uniformly  acting  towards  me  like  both  a 
father  and  a  brother.  When  he  accepted  the  call  to  the  Churches  of  Milford  and 
Kingwood, — though  some  twenty-five  miles  distant,  our  fraternal  and  social 
intercourse  continued.  I  visited  him  several  times  during  his  last  illness,  and 
received  from  his  dying  lips  his  wishes  in  relation  to  his  manuscripts,  and  some 
other  matters. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Gray,  who  wrote  the  sketch  of  Dr.  Campbell  accompanying  the 
posthumous  volume  of  his  Sermons,  refers  to  my  interview  with  Dr.  C.  on  his 
death  bed  in  these  words : — 

"  A  beloved  clerical  brother  and  co-presbyter,  who  possessed  Dr.  Campball's 
confidence,  while  visiting  him  on  his  death-bed,  asked  him  how  he  then  felt  as  a 
man  and  a  minister,  as  it  regarded  his  safety  and  acceptance  in  that  world  of 
spirits,  on  the  threshold  of  which  he  was  standing.  To  this  very  trying  and 
solemn  question  he  replied,  with  all  the  emphasis  which  his  wasted  energies 
would  admit,  that,  on  this  subject,  he  had  not  a  single  doubt.  Encouraged  by 
this,  his  fHend  asked  him  what  his  views  were,  reflecting  as  they  did,  the  light 
of  eternity,  concerning  the  doctrines  of  grace  which  he  had  preached,  and  espe- 
cially that  of  God's  sovereignty  and  electing  love.  To  which  he  promptly  replied 
that  he  fully  and  heartily  believed  them  to  be  God's  truth,  and  felt  willing  to 
appear  before  God  in  their  belief." 


J08XFH  CAMPBELL.  431 

The  portrait  of  Dr.  Oonipbell,  engrared  by  Sftrtain,  which  is  ingerted  in  the 
▼olame  of  Sermons,  is  a  faithful  and  striking  likeness  of  him «  He  is  represented 
as  sitting  in  his  stadj  in  a  state  of  profound  reflection.  His  very  expression  in 
his  thoughtful  moods  is  given  with  great  exactness.  He  was  a  man  of  small 
stature,  perhaps  not  over  five  feet  and  a  half  high.  He  was  firmly  built,  and 
capable  of  enduring  great  fatigue.  He  possessed  much  energy  of  character. 
His  countenance  was  fair  and-ruddy,  beaming  with  benevolence  and  intelligence. 
It  was  a  face,  which,  being  once  seen,  haunts  the  memory  ever  afterwards.  To 
complete  this  portrait  of  him,  I  have  only  to  add  that  there  was  much  amenity 
and  dignity  in  his  manners. 

It  was  impossible  to  hear  him  speak  without  being  impressed  with  his  scholarly 
manner.  His  language  in  private  conversation  was  concise,  strong,  and  always 
appropriate.  His  written  style  was  forcible,  but  not  highly  finished.  His  ser- 
mons were  delivered  from  a  short  syllabus.  He  began  to  preach  in  a  low  tone 
of  voice,  and  in  a  calm,  deliberate  manner.  As  the  subject  opened  before  his 
mind,  he  grew  animated,  raising  the  tone  of  his  voice,  speaking  more  rapidly, 
throwing  his  whole  energies  into  the  subject,  and  rising  often  to  a  very  lofty  and 
commanding  style  of  pulpit  oratory.  If  Dr.  Campbell  had  paid  attention  to 
eloquence  as  an  art,  and  had  been  placed  in  circumstances  more  favourable  to  the 
development  of  his  fine  powers,  I  doubt  not  that  he  would  have  taken  rank 
among  the  most  eloquent  of  our  American  divines. 

He  was  well  acquainted  with  the  history,  doctrines,  and  usages,  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church,  and  was  therefore  a  leading  spirit  in  the  questions  which,  in 
his  latter  days  agitated  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  United  States.  He 
was  punctual  in  his  attendance  on  all  the  meetings  of  the  Church  Courts;  and 
had  a  controlling  influence  in  his  Presbytery,  notwithstanding  he  was  associated 
with  several  men  of  great  and  deserved  prominence. 

Dr.  Campbell  was  a  most  faithful  pastor,  and  greatly  beloved  by  all  the 
Churches  of  the  large  Presbytery  of  Newton,  and  respected  and  honoured  by  the 
whole  Synod  of  New  Jersey.  He  was  a  popular  preacher,  and  a  favourite  with 
the  intelligent  and  refined  families,  who,  in  his  day,  spent  their  summers  at 
Schooley's  Mountain.  He  was  a  most  successful  minister  of  the  Gospel.  He 
was  always  found  among  the  friends  of  order  and  law.  He  promoted  all  phi- 
lanthropic movements.  He  sustained  the  Boards  of  the  Church,  and  was  the 
untiring  friend  of  schools  and  Colleges.  He  sought  out  and  educated  promising 
young  men  for  the  ministry.  He  was  a  great  peace-maker.  Those  who  knew 
hhn  Well  in  private  can  testify  that  he  was  a  devout  man.  Few  of  his  contem- 
poraries in  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  were  more  prompt, 
judicious,  or  efficient  than  he.  It  may  justly  be  said  of  him  that  he  was  *'  a 
niaster  in  Israel." 

I  subjoin  the  following  extract  of  a  letter  from  my  friend.  Archer  Gifford, 
Esq.,  as  helping  to  illustrate  a  part  of  Dr.  Campbell's  earlier  history: — 

"  It  IS  chiefly  as  a  teacher  of  the  little  grammar  school  at  Princeton  that  I 
remember  Dr.  Campbell.  That  maxim  of  Juvenal — 'Maxima  debetur  pnero 
reverentia' — ^was  truly  illustrated  in  his  supervision  of  his  pupils;  while  he  was 
gKatly  respected  and  beloved  by  them  in  return.  There  was  that  in  the  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance,  in  the  tone  of  his  voice,  and  in  his  slow  and  distinct 
utterance,  (in  Scottish  dialect,)  which  was  at  once  characteristic  and  exceedingly 
winning. 

'*  A  few  years  ago,  in  passing  over  Schooley's  Mountain,  (Morris  County,)  T 
met  him  in  his  vehicle,  in  company  with  a  friend;  and  as  I  knew  that  he  was 
settled  somewhere  in  that  vicinity,  I  felt  so  confident  of  his  identity  with  my 
former  instructer,  that  I  ventured  to  stop  him  and  speak  to  him.  I  found  no 
difficulty  in  bringing  myself  to  his  remembrance;  and  as  he  spoke,  the  soft  and 
subdued  tones  of  his  voice  carried  me  with  the  rapidity  of  thought  over  the  gap 


432  PBESBTTESIAK. 

of  half  a  century  to  the  period  when  he  ooonpied  the  Broad  Chair  at  the  head  of 

the  school  room,  and  when  he  bent  over  me  with  that  endearing  manner  which 
the  heart,  once  sensible  of,  never  foists." 

In  this  brief  sketch  of  mj  early  ministerial  friend,  I  feel  that  I  have  done  little 
more  than  indicate  a  few  of  the  leading  features  of  his  character.  I  am  certain, 
that  there  is  not  one  of  his  contemporaries  who  is  alive,  that  would  not  readily 
endorse  every  thing  I  have  said  concerning  his  learning,  talents,  usefulness,  and 
piety. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Sincerely  and  fraternally  yours, 

JAMES  SCOTT. 


-♦•- 


CORNELIUS  C.  CUYLER,  D.  D* 

1808—1850. 

Cornelius  C.  Cutler  was  bom  at  Albany,  N.  Y.,  on  the  15th  of 
February,  1783.  His  father,  Cornelius  Cuyler,  was  engaged  in  mercantile 
pursuits  in  Albany  until  within  eight  years  of  his  death,  when  he  removed 
to  Fort  Johnson,  on  the  Mohawk  River.  His  mother  who  was  a  lady  of 
the  finest  intellectual  and  moral  qualities, — was  a  daughter  of  Joseph  Yates 
of  Schenectady,  and  sister  of  the  Hon.  Robert  Yates  of  Albany,  Chief 
Justice  of  the  State  of  New  York.  He  was  one  of  a  family  of  four  child- 
ren,— two  of  whom  were  sons.  The  letter  C.  was  inserted  in  his  name  to 
distinguish  him  from  six  contemporaries  of  the  same  surname,  all  of  whom 
were  called  Cornelius.  Hb  father  dying  when  the  son  was  but  twelve 
years  old,  the  forming  of  his  character  devolved  solely  on  his  mother ;  and 
such  was  his  sense  of  obligation  for  the  benign  and  powerful  influence  which 
she  exerted  upon  him,  that  he  was  accustomed,  even  in  his  later  years, 
frequently  and  feelingly  to  advert  to  it. 

He  early  discovered  a  strong  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  at  the  age  of 
fourteen  had  gone  through  the  usual  course  preparatory  to  entering  College ; 
but  circumstances  occurred  to  occasion  the  postponement  of  this  event  for 
several  years.  At  length,  however,  he  was  admitted  a  member  of  Union 
College  and  was  graduated  in  1806 ;  after  which,  for  a  time,  he  superin- 
tended a  Female  school  at  Schenectady.  It  had  been  his  intention  to 
engage  in  the  profession  of  Law  ;  but,  in  consequence  of  some  sad  reverses 
to  which  his  family  had  been  subjected,  his  thoughts  were  turned  into  a 
serious  channel,  the  result  of  which  was  that,  within  a  short  time,  he  made 
a  public  profession  of  his  faith,  and  resolyed  on  becoming  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel.  Under  the  theological  instructions  of  Doctors  Livingston  and 
Bassett,  he  pursued  his  studies  till  the  year  1808,  when  he  was  licensed  to 
preach  by  the  Classis  of  Schenectady. 

On  the  2d  of  January,  1809,  he  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Reformed 
Dutch  Church  in  Poughkeepsie.  That  Church  had  previously  been  in  a 
divided  and  unhappy  condition.     But  the  very  commencement  of  his  minis- 

•  Dr.  Jonei's  Fan.  Senn.— MSS.  from  Dr.  Cajler*i  family  and  from  Bor.  Thomai  Dowitty 
D.  D. 


CORNELIUS  C.  CUTLER.  433 

try  tfiere  wu  marked  by  a  most  auBpioions  change—  a  revival  of  religion 
almost  immediately  commenced,  which  continued  for  two  years,  increasing 
the  number  of  communicants  from  less  than  forty  to  more  than  two  hundred. 
Another  revival  occurred  in  1815,  a  third  in  1819  and  1820,  and  a  fourth 
in  1831  and  1832.  His  labours  were  not  more  successful  than  they  were 
abundant.  Four  stations  in  the  vicinity  that  he  selected  for  occasional 
services,  were  nurtured,  through  his  instrumentality,  into  vigorous  and 
self-sustaining  Churches.  As  he  had  an  eminently  catholic  spirit,  he  found 
great  favour  among  other  denominations  as  well  as  his  own ;  and  it  may 
safely  be  said  that  no  minister  in  the  region  in  which  he  lived,  exerted,  at 
that  time,  a  wider  or  more  powerful  influence  than  he.  In  1814,  he  was 
called  to  the  Collegiate  charge  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  in  the  city 
of  New  York ;  and  though  the  call  was  earnestly  pressed,  he  felt  constrained 
to  decline  it,  especially  as  it  was  contemporaneous  with  the  commencement 
of  a  revival  of  religion  in  his  own  congregation.  Several  other  calls  also, 
which  might  have  been  considered  highly  attractive,  he  declined  in  subse- 
qnent  years. 

In  1828,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Union  College. 

In  1833,  Dr.  Cnyler  was  invited  to  become  the  Pastor  of  the  Second 
Presbyterian  Church  in  Philadelphia;  and,  though  it  cost  him  a  severe 
sacrifice  to  sunder  the  tie  which  bound  him  to  his  flock,  after  an  undisturbed 
and  successful  pastorate  of  so  many  years,  he  could  not  resist  the  conviction 
that  this  was  a  call  of  Providence,  and  therefore  he  determined  to  obey  it. 
Accordingly,  he  resigned  his  charge  amidst  the  deep  regrets  of  an  affection- 
ate people,  and  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Philadelphia  on  the 
14th  of  January,  1834. 

Though  Dr.  Cuyler  laboured  with  unremitting  assiduity  in  Philadelphia, 
and  his  ministry  was  by  no  means  without  visible  tokens  of  success,  it 
seemed  to  be  accompanied  by  less  of  Divine  influence  in  the  direct  conver- 
sion of  sinners  than  had  attended  his  labours  in  his  former  charge.  He  had 
naturally  a  fine  constitution,  and  was  never  disposed  to  spare  it  in  the 
servitt  of  his  Master.  It  was  only  for  a  short  time  previous  to  his  death 
that  he  was  taken  off  from  his  public  labours ;  and  even  duriog  the  greater 
part  of  his  brief  illness,  he  was  enabled  to  enjoy  his  food,  and  rest,  and 
conversation  with  his  friends.  His  disease  was  dry  gangrene  making  its 
first  appearance  in  the  heel.  As  the  disease  advanced,  and  his  prospect  of 
recovery  grew  dubious,  his  mind  seemed  to  take  on  a  liiore  elevated  spiritual: 
tone,  and  he  evinced  the  most  mature  preparation  for  going  to  render  an 
account  of  his  stewardship.  He  died  on  the  31st  of  August,  1850,  in  the 
sixty-eighth  year  of  his  age.  An  Address  was  delivered  at  his  Funeral  by 
the  Kev.  Dr.  Plumer  of  Baltimore,  and  a  Sermon,  commemorative  of  his 
life  and  character,  was  preached  by  the  Kev.  Dr.  Joseph  H.  Jones,  both,  of 
which  were  published. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Cuyler's  publications : — A  Sermon  preached 
at  Poughkeepsie  on  the  death  of  Andrew  M.  Young,  one  of  the  teachers  in 
the  Dutchess  County  Academy,  1814.  Narrative  of  a  Revival  of  Religion 
in  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  in  Poughkeepsie,  1815.  The  Question 
answered — Whose  children  are  entitled  to  Baptism  ?  A  Sermon  preached 
before  the  General  Synod  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Chvreh,  1^16.  God's 
presence  and  blessing  in  his  House :  A  Sermon  preached  at  the  Bedioatton 

Vol.  IV.  55 


434  PBESBYTERIAK. 

of  the  new  Beformed  Dutch  Charch  at  Poughkeepsie  to  which  is  added  the 
Address  delivered  on  laying  the  comer  stone,  182i2.  A  Sermon  occasioned 
by  the  death  of  the  late  Rev.  John  H.  Livingston,  D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  preached 
at  Poughkeepsie,  and  afterwards  before  the  General  Synod  of  the  Befonned 
Dutch  Church  at  Albany,  1825.  A  Sermon  on  the  Nature  of  the  Atone- 
ment, 1835.  The  Beauty  and  Excellency  of  the  Church,  the  foundation 
of  her  influence  on  the  world:  A  Sermon  preached  before  the  Synod  of 
Philadelphia  at  the  opening  of  its  annual  meeting  in  York,  1835.  Believers, 
sojourners  on  earth,  and  expectants  of  Heaven:  A  Sermon  occasioned  by 
the  death  of  Bobert  Balston,  Esq.,  1836.  A  Sermon  on  the  death  of 
Bobert  Smith.  The  Believer's  views  of  Life,  Death  and  Eternity  :  A  Dis- 
course occasioned  by  the  death  of  Dr.  John  White,  1838.  The  Law  of 
God  with  respect  to  Murder :  A  Sermon  preached  in  the  Second  Presby- 
terian Church,  Philadelphia,  1842.  Three  Tracts  published  by  the  Presby- 
terian Board  of  Publication,  entitled — **  The  Parity  of  the  Ministry  " — 
** Evidences  of  a  cracions  state" — "Who  shall  dwell  in  Heaven?"  He 
contributed  also  to  some  of  the  religious  newspapers ;  and  among  the  most 
important  of  his  contributions  was  a  series  of  essays  on  the  doctrine  of 
Atonement,  which  appeared  in  the  Journal  and  Telegraph,  published  in 
Albany. 

He  was  married  on  the  16th  of  February,  1809,  to  Eleanor,  daughter  of 
Isaac  De  Gra£f,  of  Schenectady.  They  had  ten  children,  seven  of  whom 
survived  their  father.  One  son,  Theodore,  was  graduated  at  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania  in  1838,  and  is  a  distinguished  lawyer  in  Philadelphia. 

FROM  THE  REV.  THOMAS  DEWITT,  D.  D. 

Kxw  York,  February  8, 1863. 

My  dear  Sir:  While  pursuing  my  literary  course  in  Union  College,  from  1806 
to  1808,  I  had  some  acquaintance  with  the  late  Dr.  Cuyler,  who  had  then 
recently  graduated,  and  was  residing  at  Schenectady  as  a  student  of  Theology. 
I  renewed  my  acquaintance  with  him  at  the  time  of  his  settlement  as  Pastor  of 
the  Church  in  Poughkeepsie,  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1809.  After  finishing 
my  theological  course  at  New  Brunswick,  and  being  licensed  to  preach,  I  was 
called  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Churches  in  New  Hacken- 
sack  and  Hopewell,  in  Dutchess  County,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Poughkeepsie, 
in  the  autumn  of  1812.  I  remained  there  till  the  fall  of  1827,  and  was  thus 
brought  into  constant  intercourse  with  Dr.  Cuyler  both  in  ecclesiastical  relations, 
and  in  those  of  personal  friendship,  for  the  space  of  fifteen  years.  Some  few 
years  after  my  removal  to  this  city,  Dr.  Cuyler  was  called  to  Philadelphia.  Our 
intercourse,  after  that,  though  less  frequent,  was  renewed,  as  opportunity 
offered,  and  always  with  great  cordiality,  till  his  removal  to  his  rest. 

1  have  always  viewed  Dr.  Cuyler  as  an  excellent  model  of  diligence,  fidelity, 
and  wisdom,  in  the  discharge  of  the  various  duties  pertaining  to  the  ministry. 
His  mind,  though  not  of  a  brilliant  or  imposing  character,  was  well  balanced, 
well  disciplined,  and  characterized  by  that  sterling  quality — sound  common- 
sense.  This  gave  a  wise  practical  direction  to  his  whole  course.  His  piety, 
which  was  deep  rooted  and  carefully  cultivated,  expressed  itself  strongly  and 
uniformly  in  his  public  ministrations,  his  private  intercourse,  and  his  domestic 
Illations.  He  was  careful  and  diligent  in  his  preparations  for  the  pulpit.  His 
views  of  Christian  truth,  which  were  in  conformity  to  the  standards  of  his 
Church,  he  exhibited  with  great  deamess,  and  tlwnys  in  their  bearing  on  the 
heart  and  the  life.    His  sermons  were  framed  with  a  good  degree  of  logical  acciH 


CORNSLIITS  C.  CinXER.  4^5 

ncj,  his  style  was  simple  and  perspicuous,  and  his  application  direct  and  not 
unfrequently  pungent.  His  delivery  was  simple,  without  much  gesture,  and 
without  any  remarkable  animation, — better  fitted  perhaps  to  the  didactic  than 
the  hortatory.  He  was  remarkably  assiduous  in  his  pastoral  labours,  and  was 
especially  feUeitous  in  his  ministrations  at  the  bed  of  sickness  and  death,  and  in 
the  house  of  mourning*  He  was  most  exemplary  in  his  attention  to  the  young, 
eausing  them  to  regard  him  as  a  personal  friend,  and  availing  himself  of  every 
opportunity  to  communicate  to  them  religious  instruction.  It  might  reasonably 
be  expected  that  much  good  fruit  should  have  come  from  such  a  ministry;  and 
accordingly,  in  Poughkeepsie  especially,  a  very  rich  blessing  attended  his  labours. 
Several  revivals  occurred  while  he  was  there;  and  one  of  them  I  particularly 
remember  as  having  been  characterized  by  great  interest  and  power. 

Dr.  Ouyler  was  remarkably  punctual  in  his  attendance  on  the  various  judica- 
tories of  the  Church.  He  had  a  fine  talent  for  business,  and  was  never  more  in 
his  element  than  while  engaged  in  the  management  of  ecclesiastical  affairs.  He 
was  at  once  conciliatory,  cautious  and  energetic.  He  kept  a  watchful  eye  upon 
whatever  was  pacing  in  the  Ohureh,  and  felt  that  he  had  important  duties  t» 
perform  towards  the  Body  at  large,  as  well  as  towards  bis  own  immediate  con- 
gregation. 

Dr.  Cuyler,  in  his  general  intercourse  with  society,  never  lost  sight  of  the 
dignity  that  belongs  to  his  profession,  while  yet  he  never  took  on  any  stiff  or 
artificial  airs.  He  was  an  agreeable  and  instructive  companion.  He  had  a  kind 
word  for  every  body,  and  his  benignant  smile  diffused  a  kindly  feeling  in  every 
drde. 

Tours  with  firatemal  regard, 

THOMAS  DEWITT. 

PROM  THE  HON.  JOHN  KINTZING  KANE, 

JX7DGB  or  THK   CIRCUIT  COURT  OF  TUB  UNITED   STATES. 

Iron  Rock,  near  Philadelphia,  May  14, 1857 
My  dear  Sir:  I  became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Cuyler  within  a  few  weeks  aflter 
I  reached  manhood.  It  was  in  the  interior  of  Dutchess  County,  N.  Y.  I  was 
trying  to  reach  some  wild  lands  that  had  come  to  me  by  inheritance,  and  found 
myself  a  storm-stayed  visiter  for  some  forty-eight  hours  among  the  hills.  Dr. 
Cuyler  was  my  companion  ftom  the  same  cause. 

He  was  then  a  noble  looking  person,  with  all  that  courtesy  of  manner  that 
used  to  distinguish  gentlemen.  His  conversation  I  remember  fascinated  me;  for 
he  was  an  elegant  scholar,  and  he  had  the  happy  art  of  choosing  topics  on  which 
I  thought  myself  informed; — so  that  he  flattered  while  instructing  me.  I  was 
fresh  from  College,  and  my  ideas  of  the  clerical  character  had  been  moulded 
under  the  auspices  of  Dr.  D wight;  but  Dr.  Cuyler  struck  me,  by  his  quiet  cheer- 
ful tone,  his  frank  and  genial,  yet  dignified,  bearing,  and  the  graceful  facility 
with  which  be  adapted  his  teachings  to  the  somewhat  mixed  group  that  made 
up  our  company  at  the  inn,  as  the  very  best  representative  I  had  seen  of  the 
Christian  gentleman. 

I  knew  him  more  intimately  afterwards,  and  owed  him  much  more,  when  he 
had  become  our  Pastor  at  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church;  but  my  estimate 
of  him  underwent  no  change.  You  do  not  require  me  to  speak  of  him  as  a  sound 
theologian,  aeoording  to  the  Standards  of  his  own  Church,  or  an  able  sermon^- 
ixer,  or  a  most  &ithful  and  affectionate  pastor — all  this  he  was;  but  he  com- 
bined with  it  all  the  beautiful  traits  of  personal  character,  that  won  my  affectiona 
in  earlier  life* 

I  am  Very  truly,  dear  and  Rev.  Sir, 

Your  faithful  servant, 

J.  K.  KANE. 


436  PRESBYTERIAN. 


FROM  THE  REV.  JOSEPH  H.  JONES,  D.  D. 

Philadelphia,  January  14, 1856. 

My  dear  friend :  My  recollections  of  the  late  Dr.  Guyler  of  this  city  are  still 
fresh  and  very  pleasant.  For  more  than  twelve  years  we  were  oo-presbyters, 
and  at  the  same  time  accustomed  to  meet  very  often  as  members  of  several 
Boards  of  the  Church,  with  which  we  were  officially  connected.  Such  prolonged 
as  well  as  familiar  intercourse  gave  me  many  opportunities  of  knowing  the  quali- 
ties of  his  mind  and  heart,  as  they  were  developed  by  the  varied  circumstances 
in  which  we  were  called  to  act. 

In  person,  Dr.  Cuyler  was  tall,  measuring  six  feet  and  nearly  two  inches  in 
height.  His  limbs  and  body  were  well  formed,  and  indicated  great  physical 
vigour.  When  walking  abroad  with  his  cane  which  he  usually  carried,  he  was 
remarkably  erect  until  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  when  his  head  inclined  a  little 
to  his  left  shoulder, — ^the  result  perhaps  of  his  long  habit  of  bending  over  his 
desk  in  study.  His  complexion  was  light,  and  in  his  youth  he  must  have  been, 
like  David,  of  *'  a  ruddy  and  fair  countenance."  In  conversation  with  friends, 
his  manner  was  cerdial  and  affectionate.  At  such  times,  his  fine  blue  eye  would 
occasionally  beam  with  an  incipient  smile,  which  evinced  the  sincerity  and  kind- 
ness of  his  heart.  In  all  his  life,  he  was  most  exemplary  in  his  habits  of  living, 
keeping  his  body  under  by  a  proper  control  over  every  appetite.  When,  after 
having  passed  his  sixtieth  year,  he  discovered  the  noxious  effect  of  tobacco  on 
his  nervous  system,  to  the  use  of  which  he  had  been  accustomed  from  his  youth, 
he  immediately  gave  it  up.  The  conflict  for  a  time  was  severe,  but  his  triumph 
was  complete. 

Dr.  Cuyler  had  a  manly,  vigorous,  and  well  cultivated  intellect.  His  mind 
was  cast  in  a  mould  of  great  sobriety  and  evenness,  and  was  always  safe  and 
healthful  in  its  operations.  No  matter  what  might  be  the  subject  that  engaged 
his  attention,  or  what  the  object  he  was  endeavouring  to  compass,  you  always 
felt  sure  that  there  would  be  nothing  in  the  movements  of  his  mind  that  would 
savour  either  of  eccentricity  or  extravagance.  He  was  not  remarkable  for  a  rapid 
flow  of  thought,  but  when  his  thoughts  came,  they  were  generally  marked  by 
so  much  correctness  and  transparency  that  you  would  be  willing  to  receive  them 
almost  implicitly. 

Dr.  Cuyler  was  a  man  of  great  kindliness  of  spirit,  and  delighted  to  do  what 
he  could  to  render  every  body  around  him  happy.  Though  he  could  not  be  said 
to  be  a  great  talker,  and  never  manifested  a  disposition  to  arrogate  to  himself 
more  than  his  share  of  the  conversation,  he  was  always  affable  and  communica- 
tive, and  always  showed  that  he  spoke  out  of  a  benevolent  heart  and  a  well 
furnished  mind.  He  was  zealous  for  what  he  believed  to  be  the  truth,  while  yet 
he  had  Christian  sympathies  large  enough  to  embrace  all  the  real  followers  of 
Christ.     He  had  never  learned  to  make  a  man  an  offender  for  a  word. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  unaffected,  earnest  and  persuasive.  His  discourses 
were  written  with  care,  and  characterized  rather  by  purity  and  correctness  of 
diction  than  by  imagination  and  ornament.  His  grand  aim  evidently  was  to  pre- 
sent Divine  truth  in  the  roost  simple  and  lucid  manner,  leaving  it  to  God's  Spirit 
to  give  it  its  legitimate  effect  upon  the  heart  and  conscience.  In  his  preaching 
there  was  a  felicitous  blending  of  the  doctrinal,  the  practical,  and  the  experi- 
mental; and  thus  both  the  intellectual  and  moral  nature  were  duly  cared  for. 
His  manner  was  sedate  and  dignified  without  any  extraordinary  degree  of  ani- 
mation. It  was  his  custom  to  use  his  manuscript  in  the  morning,  but  in  the 
afternoon,  either  to  preach  from  a  carefully  prepared  skeleton,  or  to  have  no 
notes  at  all.  It  may  safely  be  said,  in  view  of  his  labours,  both  in  the  puliut 
and  out  of  it,  that  be  was  an  able,  faithful,  useful  and  acceptable  mitiiiyti»r  of 


CORNELIUS  C.  CUTLER.  437 

Jesas  Christ.  I  lore  to  call  up  his  venerable  image,  and  to  recount  the  sub- 
stantial and  manifold  services  which  he  rendered  to  the  cause  of  Christ,  as  a 
fellow-labourer  with  some  who  are  still  clad  in  their  armour,  and  Some  who 
have  entered  into  their  rest. 

Believe  me  ever  fraternally  yours, 

J.  H.  JOKES. 


■♦♦- 


JAMES  M'CHORD  * 

1809—1820. 

Jamsb  M'Chobd,  a  son  of  John  and  Isabella  M*Chord,  was  bom  in 
Baltimore,  Md.  March  29,  1785.  His  parents,  it  is  believed,  were  both  of 
Scoteh  Irish  descent.  His  father  was  a  mechanio  in  very  moderate  circum- 
stanoefl.  In  the  year  1790,  he  removed  with  his  family  to  Kentucky,  and 
settled  in  Lexington. 

His  son  James,  at  a  very  early  period,  discovered  a  decided  taste,  and 
an  uncommon  capacity,  for  acquiring  knowledge.  He  had  a  great  fancy 
for  drawing  and  painting ;  and  to  the  gratification  of  this  taste  many  of  his 
leisure  hours  were  .devoted.  Some  of  the  portraits  which  he  sketched  at 
this  early  period,  still  remain  among  hb  relatives,  and  they  evince  very 
considerable  native  talent  for  the  arts.  At  the  age  of  twelve,  he  was  quite 
a  proficient  in  Geography,  Arithmetic  and  History,  had  considerable  know- 
ledge of  the  politics  of  the  day,  and  had  read  Shakespeare  and  a  number  of 
the  most  eminent  poets. 

He  commenced  the  Latin  language  when  he  was  thirteen,  in  the  Lexing- 
ton Academy,  where  he  gave  decisive  evidences  of  superior  genius.  One 
of  his  class  mates  writes  thus  concerning  him  :-^*'  From  his  thirteenth  year, 
every  thing  about  the  Academy,  except  the  instruction  and  discipline,  was 
managed  by  him.  All  our  sports,  all  our  preparations  for  exhibition,  the 
selection  of  the  plays  and  speeches,  and  the  persons  by  whom  they  were  to 
be  spoken  and  acted,  were  all  directed  by  him.  Nobody  assigned  to  him 
that  business,  and  nobody  charged  him  with  assuming  it,  but  he  was  always 
consulted,  and  his  judgment  was  generally  decisive." 

In  1801,  he  completed  his  eonrse  in  the  Academy,  and  entered  the  Tran- 
sylvania University.  Here  he  continued  from  eighteen  months  to  two  years, 
when  he  commenced  the  study  of  the  Law  under  Henry  Clay.  The  numerous 
engagements  of  the  teacher  allowed  him  no  other  time  for  the  recitations  of 
his  pupil  than  the  Sabbath.  Against  this  his  conscience,  which  had  been 
enlightened  by  a  religious  education,  earnestly  remonstrated;  and,  after  a 
few  months,  his  mind  took  a  decidedly  serious  turn,  and  all  the  powers  of 
his  mind  were  roused  into  vigorous  action  to  secure  the  salvation  of  his 
soul.  This  was  in  the  spring  and  summer  of  1803,  when  he  was  in  his 
eighteenth  year.  The  result  was  that  he  made  a  profession  of  religion, 
abandoned  the  study  of  the  Law,  and  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  the 
Gospel  ministry. 

*  Sketch  of  his  Life,  by  Key.  John  MoFarland. — Preface  to  hi«  SennoDf. — MSS.  from  Re\% 
B.  H.  Biflhop,  D.  !>.,  and  Rer.  R.  J.  Breckenridge,  D.  D. 


438  PRESBYTEEIAV. 

In  September  1808,  he  put  himself  under  llie  oare  bf  the  Kentaek^ 
Presbytery  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Charoh,-^«lfcer  which,  he  oontinued 
hia  literary  course  for  about  two  years.  lu  the  autumn  of  1805,  he  became 
a  student  in  the  Theological  Seminary  established  by  the  Associate  Refomed 
Church  in  the  city  of  New  York.  Here  he  pursued  his  theological  studies 
under  Dr.  Mason,  for  nearly  four  years.  At  the  close  of  this  period,  he 
returned  to  Kentucky,  and,  on  the  3d  of  November  1809,  at  a  meeting  of 
the  Presbytery  in  Lexington,  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel.  His 
preaching,  from  the  first,  was  highly  acceptable,  especially  to  the  more 
intelligent  classes ;  but  he  was  soon  brought  into  collision  with  the  Presby- 
tery, and  he  rendered  himself  to  some  extent  unpopular,  by  taking  strong 
ground  against  preachers  having  double  and  triple  charges,  and  against  the 
prevailing  disposition  to  turn  them  off  with  a  very  inadequate  support.  For 
about  a  year,  he  was  employed  in  visiting  vacant  and  feeble  churches  of  his 
denomination,  in  Kentucky,  for  which  he  received,  as  a  compensation,  itattch 
less  than  was  necessary  to  meet  his  current  expenses. 

In  the  year  1809,  he  was  married  to  Mary,  daughter  of  David  Logan,  of 
Fayette  County,  Ky.  They  had  three  children,  one  of  whom,  Ju^n  Ma$on^ 
is  a  minister  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

Sometime  after  his  licensure,  he  was  invited  to  visit  a  Congregation  in 
Baltimore,  whose  minister  had  professed  an  intention  to  resign  his  charge; 
but  the  minister  having  subsequently  changed  his  mind,  the  CongregatioA 
were  obliged  to  withdraw  the  invitation. 

In  April,  1811,  he  was  ordained,  and  sent  as  a  delegate  to  the  C^eral 
Synod.  He  had  intended  also  to  preach  a  short  time  to  a  Ootigregation  ia 
New  York,  that  had  intimated  a  wish  to  give  him  a  call ;  but,  on  aooounl 
of  some  untoward  circumstances,  the  contemplated  arrangement  did  not 
take  effect.  Mr.  M 'Chord  returned  to  Kentucky;  and,  as  the  subject  of 
intercommunion  with  other  churches  was  now  agitated  in  the  Associate 
Reformed  Synod  and  Presbyteries,  and  as  his  views  on  this  subject  and 
some  others  differed  from  those  of  most  of  his  brethren,  there  grew  up  a 
state  of  things  between  him  and  them,  adverse  alike  to  his  comfort  and 
usefulness.  He  was  prosecuted  for  his  alleged  errors  in  181B,  but  escaped 
without  censure,  owing,  as  it  was  said,  chiefly,  to  the  influence  of  Governor 
Morrow. 

In  1814,  he  published  a  book  entitled  **The  Body  of  Christ,"  which 
involved  him  in  fresh  difficulties,  and,  in  consequence  of  which,  he  was 
called  to  answer  anew  for  errors,  before  the  Presbytery.  The  result  was 
that,  in  October,  1815,  he  was  suspended  from  the  exercise  of  his  minis- 
terial functions.  He  appealed  to  the  General  Synod;  but,  being  unable, 
on  account  of  ill  health,  to  prosecute  the  appeal  at  the  next  meeting,  the 
case  was  referred  to  a  committee,  who  reported  unfavourably  to  Mr. 
M'Chord,  and  recommended  to  the  Synod  that  he  should  not  be  allowed  to 
exercise  his  ministry,  until  he  appeared  to  prosecute  his  appeal.  He  did 
appear  before  the  Synod  at  Philadelphia,  and  defended  himself  in  a  Speech 
of  acknowledged  ability,  and  of  a  degree  of  plainness  that  bordered  upon 
severity ;  but  the  Synod  confirmed  the  sentence  of  the  Presbytery.  Indeed, 
he  anticipated  this  result;  and,  in  consideration  of  proceedings  on  their 
part,  which  he  claimed  were  unjust  as  well  as  illegal,  he  refused  to  recog* 
nise  their  authority,  and  appealed  to  churches  that  he  thought  would  view 
his  case  with  a  different  eye.     He,  accordingly,  applied  to  the  Presbytery 


JAMfiS  H'CHOBD.  439 

of  W^i  IieniDgion,  llie  easnii^  fail,  Ibr  admiasion  to  tbeir  body ;  and  they, 
regarding  his  views  t^a  substantially  correct,  granted  his  request,  by  receir- 
ii^  him  as  one  of  their  members. 

In  1813-14,  a  number  of  young  persons  in  Lexington,  not  professors  of 
religion, — ^from  the  very  high  estimate  which  they  had  of  Mr.  M'Chord's 
talents,  undertook  to  build  a  place  for  public  worship,  on  the  supposition 
that  a  congregation  might  easily  be  gathered  to  attend  upon  his  ministry. 
Their  plan,  though  encumbered  with  many  difficulties,  was  finally  carried 
out;  and,  on  the  30th  of  July,  1815,  the  new  edifice  was  formally  opened, 
and  the  next  day  a  public  sale  of  pews  was  held,  by  which  the  few  friends 
who  had  thus  far  been  bound  for  the  whole  expense,  were  secured  against 
any  serious  loss.  With  this  enterprise,  M'Chord,  of  course,  became  identic 
fied ;  and,  though  the  movement  was  not,  in  all  respects,  in  accordance  with 
ecclesiastical  rule,  the  Presbytery  did  not  notice  the  irregularity, — owing, 
perhaps,  to  the  circumstance  that  his  religious  opinions  were,  about  the 
same  time,  made  a  matter  of  discipline.  When  he  was  received  by  the 
West  Lexington  Presbytery,  connected  with  the  General  Assembly,  the 
Church,  which  he  had  collected  and  organized,  was  received  also.  Here  he 
laboured  with  some  success,  though  not  without  various  difficulties  and  dis- 
couragements,  until  the  autumn  of  1819,  when  he  removed  to  Paris,  Ky.,* 
on  an  invitation  to  take  charge  of  the  Bourbon  Academy. 

From  the  year  1815,  Mr.  M'Chord  had  been  afflicted  with  a  fistula, 
which  now  seriously  a£fected  his  general  health.  This,  together  with  severe 
application  and  excessive  confinement,  brought  on  a  complication  of  diseases, 
under  which  he  sunk.  May  26,  1820.  In  his  last  illness,  he  was  overtaken 
with  mental  derangement,  in  which,  however,  he  exhibited  very  strikingly 
some  of  his  peculiar  characteristics.  The  following  account  of  the  closing 
scene  is  from  his  intimate  friend,  the  Rev.  John  McFarland : — 

"  He  supposed  he  was  in  Heaven,  and  he  talked  almost  incessantly.  Ihiring  the  first 
twenty -four  hours,  he  scarcely  ever  finished  a  sentence,  but  appeared  to  be  engaged  in 
important  conyersation  with  three  or  four  individuals,  who  had  been  his  particular 
friends  in  Lexington,  and  whose  names  were  constantly  repeated.  In  one  of  his 
silent  intervals,  a  friend  stepped  up  to  his  bedside,  and,  having  looked  him  fnll  in 
the  face,  was  recognised.    He  raised  his  arm,  held  out  his  hand,  grasped  the  hand 

of  his  friend,  ^velt  a  hearty  shake,  uttering  these  words, — *  Brother  B when  did 

Tou  die  ?  I  died  yesterday  at  eleven  o'clock,' — the  hour  of  the  preceding  day  at  which 
he  had  become  deranged. 

**  A  few  hours  after,  he  recovered  the  full  nse  of  his  mind,  and  talked  with  his 
friends  for  a  short  time  as  usual,  and  then  sank  back  into  his  former  state  of  derange- 
ment, but  with  this  remarkable  difi*erence — his  discourses  were  now  generally  not  only 
coherent,  but  lucid  and  argumentative.  He  discussed,  for  instance,  at  considerable 
length,  the  theological  points  on  which  he  had  been  accused  of  heresy,  and  maintaioed 
their  agreemeut  with  the  word  of  God.  He  pronounced  also,  while  in  this  state,  a 
long  and  animated  discourse  on  the  national  advantages  of  the  United  States,  closing 
every  paragraph  with  these  words: — '  And  men  call  this  fine  land  their  land,  but  it  is 
God's  land,  yea,  it  is  God's  land.'  Towards  the  close  of  the  dissertation,  after  a 
pause  of  a  few  minutes,  he  called  the  name  of  his  wife  three  times,  who  was  also  then 
on  her  death -bed,  and  said  ^^  Gome  here — ^look  down  yonder  towards  Lexington. 
See  what  a  glory  is  all  round  Lexington.'  Some  two  or  three  hours  before  his  death, 
he  again  recovered  the  full  use  of  his  mind,  and  continued  in  possession  of  it,  till  he 
Joined  the  general  assembly  of  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect." 

His  remains  were  deposited  under  the  front  of  the  Church  in  Lexington,, 
which  had  been  built  specially  for  his  use. 

His  publications  were  a  Sermon  on  the  Divine  Forgiveness,  1812;  a 
Sermon  on  the  Signs  of  the  Times,  1813 ;  the  Body  of  Christ,  being  a 
series  of  Essays  on  Federal  Representation,  1814;  a  Sermon  before  the 


440  PBESBTTEBIAK. 

LegiBlature  of  Kentucky,  entitled  «*  National  Safety/'  1815 ;  a  Plea  for  the 
Hope  of  Israel,  being  the  substance  of  his  Defence  before  the  General 
Synod  of  the  Associate  Reformed  Chnrcb,  1817;  a  Last  Appeal  to  the 
Cbnrch  and  Congregation  of  Market  Street:  a  Yolnme  of  Sermons,  1818 ; 
a  Volume  of  Posthumous  Discourses,  1822. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  M.  DUNCAN,  D.  D. 

BALTixoas,  March  9, 18i8. 

Key.  and  dear  Sir:  It  would  afford  me  pleasure  to  comply  with  the  request 
contained  in  your  letter,  but  unfortunately  my  information  is  too  limited  to  do 
justice  to  the  subject.  When  I  entered  the  Theological  Seminary,  I  was  little 
more  than  seventeen  years  of  age.  Mr.  M 'Chord  was  much  older,  and  had  pre- 
ceded me  two  years.  Of  course  my  association  was  chiefly  with  those  who  were 
near  to  me  in  years  and  standing.  But  I  can  say  he  was  considered  among  the 
first,  if  not  the  first,  in  the  institution,  in  my  time.  He  was  so  regarded  by  his 
Preqeptor,  Dr.  J.  M.  Mason,  and  by  all  his  fellow  students.  He  seemed  to  be  an 
object  of  almost  unlimited  confidence  by  those  of  the  students  who  came  from 
the  same  part  of  the  country, — Kentucky. 

After  he  left  the  Seminary  I  personally  knew  little  of  him  ;  but  have  under- 
'Stood  that,  in  his  native  State,  he  was  highly  admired  by  all  classes,  and  princi- 
pally by  the  intelligent,  as  a  man  of  very  superior  talent,  and  of  thrilling  pulpit 
eloquence.  I  never  heard  him  preach  but  once  or  twice;  and  the  discourses  he 
then  delivered  were  '*  trial  pieces,"  called  for  by  the  Superintendents  of  the 
institution.  On  these  occasions,  I  was  charmed;  but,  as  I  said  before,  I  was 
then  young.  I  know,  however,  that  he  commanded  the  applause  of  a  large 
audience,  as  well  as  the  decided  approbation  of  liis  ofiQcial  superiors. 

He  certainly  was  a  man  of  uncommon  talents,  and  in  some  respects  pre-emi- 
nently fitted  for  the  calling  he  had  chosen.  It  was  unfortunate  for  him  that  he 
was  exceedingly  sensitive.  His  morbid  feelings  impaired  or  hampered  his  judg- 
ment, and  were,  I  apprehend,  the  great  cause  of  the  premature  and  unhappy 
close  of  his  career.  He  had,  by  his  habit  of  close  thought,  and  quick  observa- 
tion, perceived  some  objects  peeping  over  the  horizon,  which  have  since  filled  the 
world  with  their  magnitude,  and  whose  corruscations  have  since  entered  almost 
every  mind,  great  and  small.  Perhaps  the  vision  was  indistinct  to  himself,  and 
he  premature  in  his  discovery.  Others  did  not  see,  or  would  not,  or  could  not, 
see  what  he  saw.  They  thought  they  saw  what  he  did  not  see.  He  conse- 
quently became  the  object  of  remark  and  cutting  criticism.  Whether  his 
scholarship  was  called  in  question  or  not,  I  do  not  know.  He,  however,  thought 
himself  injuriously  treated  by  his  ministerial  brethren  and  intellectual  com- 
panions, and  his  overly  sensitive  mind  sank  under  the  oppression.  He  fell  an 
early  martyr  in  consequence  of  the  two  causes  I  have  stated :  his  fellow  students 
sympathized  with  him,  his  Preceptor  wept  for  him;  and,  like  the  prophet  of  old, 
I  could  have  written  on  his  grave,  '  Alas,  my  brother!' 

In  this  I  find  no  fault  with  him,  nor  would  I  put  a  stain  on  his  memory.  In 
my  own  career,  I  have  seen  cause  most  sincerely  and  tenderly  to  sympathiSB 
with  him. 

Tours  most  respectfully, 

JOHN  M.  DUNCAN. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JAMES  M.  MATHEWS,  D.D. 

Nbw  York,  December  27, 1852. 
My  dear  Sir:  Your  request  for  my  recollections  of  James  M 'Chord  carries 
me  back  into  the  scenes  of  my  early  days;  but  he  was  my  intimate  friend,  and 


JAIE8S  VCHOBD.  441 

thoqg^  so  many  yeftn  h*T«  pasted  sinoe  my  last  meeting  irith  him,  he  is  still 
fresh  in  my  remembrance,  and  I  hare  no  fear  of  mistaking  in  respect  to  any  of 
the  prominent  features  of  his  character.  I  first  knew  him  at  the  opening  of  Dr. 
Mason's  Seminary  in  1805»  where  we  met  as  students,  and  prosecuted  together 
our  theological  course.  I  was  in  habits  of  daily  intimacy  with  him  for  two 
years,  and,  during  several  months  of  the  time,  we  were  boarders  at  the  same 
house. 

Mr.  M 'Chord's  personal  appearance  had  little  that  was  attractive.  He  was  of 
a  spare  habit,  and  somewhat  under  the  ordinary  stature.  His  limbs  were  wiry 
ind  flexible  in  a  remarkable  degree;  and,  I  remember,  on  one  occasion,  in  a 
playful  exercise  that  we  had,  his  winding  himself  around  me  like  a  serpent.  His 
features  were  not  marked  by  any  thing  like  refinement.  He  had  a  large  mouth 
and  uncommonly  thick  lips,  but  a  piercing  black  eye  that  lighted  up  his  whole 
fkc»  with  intelligence.  The  engraved  portrait  prefixed  to  a  volume  of  his  Ser- 
mons published  in  1822,  does  very  good  justice  to  his  face,  except  that  it  makes 
it  too  long.  His  motions  were  very  rapid,  and  he  always  looked  and  spoke  and 
acted  like  a  man  in  earnest.  His  manners,  though  characterized  by  nothing  like 
rudeness,  were  yet  far  from  being  graceful  or  polished;  but  there  was  neverthe- 
less an  air  of  honesty  and  straightforwardness  about  him,  which  more  than  made 
up  for  any  lack  of  artificial  refinement. 

Both  his  intellectual  and  moral  constitution  were  strongly  marked.  In  respect 
to  the  former,  perhaps  the  most  distinctive  feature  was  the  power  of  analysis. 
Dr.  Mason  would  sometimes  give  us  a  whole  chapter  in  one  of  Paul's  Epistles  to 
analyie  at  once;  and  it  was  wonderful  with  what  facility  and  rapidity  M'Chord 
would  develop  the  Apostle's  meaning.  His  mental  vision  was  at  once  remark- 
ably clear  and  remarkably  acute,  and  perhaps  he  was  never  more  at  home  than 
in  endeavouring  to  draw  the  line  between  the  true  and  the  false  in  metaphysical 
speculation.  Indeed,  so  prominent  was  this  characteristic,  that  I  remember  his 
stating  in  a  letter  to  me,  after  he  had  entered  on  his  ministry,  that  he  found  it 
necessary  to  exercise  great  vigilance  and  some  self-denial,  in  order  to  avoid 
giving  his  sermons  too  much  of  a  metaphysical  complexion.  But  with  this 
uncommon  power  of  discrimination,  he  united  also  a  bold  and  vigorous  imagina- 
tion, and  many  of  his  conceptions  were  marked  by  uncommon  originality  and 
splendour.  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  add  that  his  gorgeous  creations  were  sometimes 
at  the  expense  of  good  taste. 

His  voice  was  naturally  full,  clear  and  loud — indeed  he  never  spoke  in  a  low 
tone,  even  in  common  conversation.  As  a  public  speaker,  he  was  not  graceful, 
but  he  was  earnest,  rapid,  ready  and  effective :  he  evidently  spoke,  as  he  did  every 
thing,  out  of  the  depths  of  a  thoroughly  convinced  mind  and  honest  heart.  He  was 
a  vigorous,  diligent  student,  and  his  acquisitions,  at  the  time  of  his  entering  the 
ministry,  were  greatly  above  the  ordinary  standard.  I  never  heard  him  preach 
after  he  left  the  Seminary,  but  he  gave  promise  there,  which  I  believe  was  sub- 
sequently fulfilled,  during  his  brief  course,  of  being  one  of  the  most  eloquent 
men  of  the  day. 

He  had  a  large  and  generous  heart,  though  he  had  some  infirmities  of  dispo- 
ntion,  which  were  troublesome  alike  to  himself  and  his  friends.  He  was  a 
thoroughly  devout  man,  and  yet  he  was  cheerful,  and  enjoyed  a  hearty  laugh 
as  well  as  any  of  his  fellow  students.  He  was  subject  to  alternate  elevation  and 
depression  of  spirits, — an  infirmity  which  was  undoubtedly  aggravated,  during 
his  residence  at  the  Seminary,  by  a  diseased  state  of  body.  Dr.  Mason,  in 
hearing  our  theological  recitations,  was  accustomed,  in  order  effectually  to  drill 
us  in  polemics,  to  take  the  attitude  of  an  opponent,  and  meet  us  with  objections 
to  the  doctrine  we  wished  to  maintain;  and  sometimes  he  would  run  us  into 
difficulties,  which  were  extremely  embarrassing.  I  remember,  on  one  occasion, 
when  M'Chord  had,  for  some  reason,  neglected  to  make  the  di^e  preparation  for 

Vol.  IV.  56 


4it  nammvaiAM. 


one  of  these  ihtoloffleal  eAoowitflrs»  tbe  Doctor  pnthed  hun  into  it  pbce  m  whidi  be 
did  not  care  to  be  found;  and,  after  we  left  the  recitation  Jioom,  be  said  to  me, 
with  an  im{iatient  air, — *'  I  really  believe  that  Dr.  Mason  has  a  spite  against  me.'* 
It  was,  however,  only  a  momentary  impression,  and  he  had  scarcely  said  it 
before  he  venerated  and  loved  the  Doctor  as  much  as  ever. 

I  have  adverted  to  the  fact  that  M 'Chord  was  afflicted,  while  at  the  Seminary, 
with  ill  health.  The  nature  of  his  disease  was  such  as  to  incline  him  much  to  drow- 
siness; and  he  Would  sometimes  fall  asleep,  where  be  would  most  wish  to  avoid 
it.  At  the  house  where  several  of  the  students  boarded,  we  were  aoeustomed 
to  take  our  turns  in  officiating;  at  tbe  family  devotions.  One  of  our  number  was 
specially  given  to  making  long  prayers;  and,  in  tbe  course  of  a  prayer,  be  would 
have  several  long  pauses.  M 'Chord,  under  the  influence  of  his  malady,  would 
sometimes  fall  asleep  during  the  prayer,  and  would  have  the  mortification  to  find 
himself  on  his  knees,  when  all  the  rest  had  risen.  On  one  occasion,  one  of  these 
long  pauses  occurred,  after  my  friend  bad  begun  to  drowse,  and  the  silence  awoke 
him — be  sprang  up  while  all  the  rest  of  us  were  upon  our  knees,  and  said,  with  an 
air  of  exultation, — "  Well,  I  was  not  caught  sleeping  this  time."  As  I  was  next 
to  him,  I  gave  him  a  gentle  hint,  admonishing  him  of  his  mistake,  and  he  imme- 
diately fell  upon  his  knees  again.  This  movement  so  embarrassed  tbe  officiating 
brother  that  he  almost  instantly  brought  his  prayer  to  a  dose,  so  that  M'Chord 
had  but  just  returned  to  his  kneeling  posture,  when  we  were  getting  out  of  ours. 
You  can  easily  understand  that  it  was  an  incident  not  very  favourable  to  the 
devotions  of  any  of  us.  His  mortification  in  the  case  was  extreme;  and  for 
tbe  moment  only,  be  blamed  me,  as  if  I  bad  had  some  part  in  bringing  it  about. 

On  the  whole,  though  he  certainly  was  not  without  infirmities,  I  consider  bim 
as  having  been  a  fine  specimen  of  intellectual,  moral  and  Christian  character. 
He  died  before  be  bad  reached  his  full  maturity,  as  a  minister,  but  not  before  be 
had  attained  to  high  distinction. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  faithfully  yours, 

J.  M.  MATHEWS. 


-♦♦- 


THOMAS  BARR  * 

1809—1835. 

Thomas  Baur,  a  son  of  Colonel  Alexander  Barr,  was  bom  in  Deny, 
Westmoreland  County,  Pa.,  April  2,  1775.  While  he  was  yet  in  early 
childhood,  his  father  was  called  to  serve  in  the  Revolutionary  war,  and  took 
his  family  to  his  wife's  father's,  near  Fort  Loudon,  Franklin  County.  Here 
Thomas  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  a  common  school,  in  connection  with  which 
he  seems  to  have  received  a  good  deal  of  religious  instmotion,  the  effect  of 
which  was  felt  by  him  in  after  life.  The  absence  of  his  father  in  the  war, 
tbe  fact  of  his  being  subsequently  murdered  by  the  Indians,  and  tbe  many 
barbarous  outrages  constituting  a  part  of  the  history  of  the  times,  which 
were  detailed  in  his  hearing,  awakened  in  his  youthful  bosom  an  abhorrence 
of  tyranny  and  a  love  of  his  country,  that  were  as  enduring  as  his  life. 

*  Antobiognphy.— Kennedy^  Histoxy  of  the  Flan  of  Union.-^MS.  fh>m  hii  son,  John  Bair, 
Biq. 


7W9MA8  BASK.  44g 

AtAe  !Ql«M.ofi;theWar,  bb'iiitlier  retaifnod  -to  !W^«itmoi!«limd;  bai  .ift 
1785, -in  going  on  an  expediiion  down  the  Ohio*  to  negotittoi  if  poisible, 
with  some  hostile  Indians,  he  was  lost*  Of  the  oirenmstances  and  manner 
of  his  death  little  was  ever  known ;  though  there  was  no  doubt  of  his  hav- 
ing fallen  a  victim  to  Indian  barbarity.  He  seems  to  have  been  aware  that 
the  expedition  would  be  attended  with  much  danger,  and,  therefore^  before 
leaving  home,  expressed  a  wish  that,  if  he  should  never  return,  bia^  son 
Thomas  might  receive  a  liberal  education.  This  intimation  was  agreeable 
to  the  son ;  for  he  was  fond  of  books,  and  property  enough  feU  to  him  tO: 
defray  the  expenae  of  a  eoUegiate  course. 

His  guardian,  ia  consideration,  it  would  seem,  of  the  temptations  incident 
to  a  college  life  in  those  days,  was  not  disposed  to  oarry  out  the  expressed 
wish  of  his  father;  and  hence,  instead  of  sending  him  to  College,. he  appren- 
ticed him  for  five  and  a  half  years  to  a  Mr.  Pollock,  to  learn  the  trade  of 
a  carpenter  and  joiner.  He  went  through  his  course  here  in  a  manner 
creditable  to  himself,  and  satisfactory  to  his  employer ;  but,  unfortunately, 
during  this  period,  contracted  a  thirst  for  ardent  spirits,  which  had  well 
nigh  proved  his  ruin. 

In  the  spring  of  1797,  he  was  married  to  Susannah,  daughter  of  Joseph 
Welch  of  Westmoreland  County,  Fa.,  who,  within  a  year  after  their  mar- 
riage became  the  subject  of  a  hopeful  conversion,  in  consequence  of  readiug 
Doddridge's  Eise  and  Progress  of  Religion  iu  the  souK  In  process  of 
time,  Mr.  Barr  became  pecuniarily  embarrassed,  disposed  of  his  property 
ia  Westmoreland,  and  in  the  spring  of  1800,  removed  to  Yonngstown  on 
the  Western  Reserve.  His  love  of  ardent  spirits  was  by  thia  time  matured 
into  a  habit  of  intemperance,  while  his  excellent  wife  ceased  not  to  make 
the  most  vigorous  efforts  to  reclaim  and  save  him. 

In  1800,  the  Rev.  William  Wick  *  commenced  his  labours  at  Youngs- 
town, — a  circumstance  which  gave  great  satisfaction  to  Mrs.  Barr,  and  the 
more,  as  she  evidently  expected  to  find  in  him  an  efficient  co-adjutor  in  the 
effort  to  reclaim  her  husband.  After  nearly  three  years,  during  which  her 
faithful  endeavours  were  unintermitted,  though  apparently  unsuccessful,  a 
revival  of  religion  occurred  in  the  place,  in  which  Mr.  Barr  ultimately 
became  a  sharer.  For  a  time,  his  efforts  were  evidently  put  forth  in  the 
spirit  of  the  law  rather  than  of  the  Gospel ;  and  he  iniagined  that  he  had 
become  a  true  Christian  in  consequence  of  his  having  commenced  fiiraily 
prayer,  and  perhaps  taken  up  some  other  neglected  external  duties.  But 
in  the  midst  of  the  self-complacency  induced  by  this  change,  he  was  sud- 
denly betrayed,  by  a  revival  of  his  old  appetite,  into  a  fit  of  intoxication. 
This  seems  to  have  revealed  to  him  his  weakness  and  depravity,  and  to  have 
convinced  him  that  he  had  not  yet  begun  to  seek  salvation  in  the  right  way. 
The  rcHult  was  that  he  was  brought  thankfully  to  avail  himself  of  the  gra- 

*WiLLiAx  WiOK  was  born  at  Southampton,  L.  I.,  in  the  year  1768.  He  spent  his  early  years 
in  the  city  of  New  York,  and  subseaaently  removed  with  his  father's  family  to  Penmrlvania. 
He  reeeived  his  classical  and  scientific  education  at  Cannonsbarg  Academy,  Pa.,  which  after- 
wards became  Jefferson  College,  and  studied  Theology  nnder  the  direction  of  the  Rer.  Dr.  John 
3IoMilIan.  He  was  licenscato  preach  on  the  28th  of  Anrnst,  1799,  and  was  ordained  and 
installed  as  Pastor  of  the  two  Churches  of  Youngstown  and  Hopewell,  on  the  3d  of  September, 
1800.  To  these  eburehes  his  labours  were  mainly  devoted,  though  he  spent  considerable  time 
as  a  missionarr  In  the  destitute  settlements.  He  is  supposed  to  hare  received  at  first  pecuniary 
aid  from  the  Presbytery ;  but  he  afterwards  served  under  the  Connecticut  Missionary  Society. 
H«  preached  his  lasl  sermon  on  the  13th  of  February,  1615,  and  died  on  the  29th  of  March 
foll^Dg,  ag«d  forty -eight  yean.  He  had  the  reputation  of  being  an  exoellent  nuHi»  Mid  % 
faithful  miarioiisry. 


444  PBifiBTnKAv: 

01008  offer  of  the  Oospel ;  and,  hencefonraid  throogli  life  he  wm  an  example 
not  only  of  entire  abstinenee  from  all  intoxicating  drinks,  bnt  of  all  ike 
positiTe  virtues  and  graces  that  form  the  Christian  character. 

After  Mr.  Barr  had  become  the  snbject  of  this  great  change,  he  felt  an 
earnest  desire  to  be  instrumental  in  promoting  the  spiritual  interests  of  bis 
fellow-men ;  and,  as  there  was  a  great  lack  of  ministers  in  the  region  in 
which  he  lived,  the  idea  of  preparing  for  the  Gospel  ministry  quickly  sug- 
gested itself  to  him.  The  fact  that  he  was  now  nearly  thirty  years  of  age, 
and  that  he  had  a  wife  and  five  children  who  were  dependant  npon  his 
exertions  for  support,  seemed  at  first  to  render  this  impracticable ;  but  he 
resolved  to  encounter  the  obstacles  as  well  as  he  could.  After  selling  his 
little  farm  at  considerable  disadvantage,  he  removed  with  his  family  to 
Greensburg,  Pa.,  and  commenced  his  studies  at  an  Academy  taught  there 
by  the  Rev.  T.  E.  Hughes,*  designed  especially  for  those  having  the  minis- 
try in  view.  Here,  amidst  manifold  difficulties  aad  trials  in  supporting  his 
family  and  educating  his  children,  and  at  the  same  time  pursuing  his  own 
studies,  he  finally  accomplished  the  requisite  course  of  preparation  for  the 
ministry,  and  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Hartford  Presbytery,  at  Brook- 
field,  Trumbull  County,  in  September,  1809. 

After  visiting  Westmoreland,  and  receiving  from  some  of  his  old  friends 
a  present  of  a  horse,  he  spent  some  months  in  missionary  labour  on  the 
Reserve.  He  had  intended  to  go  to  the  Sciota  and  Miami  Yallies ;  but  he 
was  induced  to  accept  a  call  to  settle  in  Euclid,  Ohio, — though  he  was  to 
preach  there  only  half  of  the  time,  while  the  other  half  he  was  to  spend  as 
a  missionary  under  the  patronage  of  the  Connecticut  Missionary  Society. 

By  the  assistance  of  the  people  at  Euclid,  a  cabin  was  built  for  Mr. 
Barr*s  family  upon  a  piece  of  land  which  he  bought,  near  the  spot  where  it 
was  designed,  at  some  time,  to  erect  a  church.  He  removed  them  to  this  place 
in  June,  1810,  and  was  ordained  and  installed  in  August  of  the  same  year. 
His  family  now  consisted  of  nine  persons ;  and  the  whole  amount  of  his 
salary  from  both  the  Congregation  in  Euclid,  and  the  Connecticut  Mission- 
ary Society,  in  whose  service  partly  he  was  employed,  was  less  than  four 
hundred  dollars.  In  such  circumstances  he  laboured  at  home  and  abroad, 
in  all  parts  of  the  Reserve,  for  seven  successive  years ;  then  for  about  two 
years  and  a  half  he  performed  but  little  missionary  labour, — ^being  employed 
half  of  one  year  at  Newburgh,  half  of  another  year  at  Cleveland^  and  half 
of  the  remaining  six  months,  near  Painesville.  In  his  missionary  excur- 
sions, he  generally  averaged  five  or  six  sermons  a  week,  besides  visiting 
families  and  schools.  He  was  not  unfrequently  called  twenty  or  thirty 
miles  from  home  to  preach  Funeral  Sermons ;  for  such  was  the  feeling  on 
that  subject  that  families  who  never  thought  of  calling  a  minister  to  con- 
verse or  pray  with  their  sick  friends,  could  not,  upon  any  consideration, 
after  they  were  dead,  dispense  with  the  Funeral  Sermon. 

*  Thomas  Edgar  Hughbs  was  born  in  York  County,  Pa.,  April  7, 1769.  He  was  brother 
to  the  Rev.  James  Hughes.  He  was  graduated  at  the  College  of  New  Jersey  in  1797 ;  studied 
Theology  under  the  Rev.  Dr.  McMillan ;  and  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel,  by  the  Presby- 
terv  ofOhioy  on  the  17th  of  October,  1798.  On  the  27th  of  August,  1799,  he  was  oidained 
and  installed  Pastor  of  the  Congregation  of  Mount  Pleasant  in  Beaver  County,  Pa.,  where  he 
laboured  sucoessfully  for  upwaMs  of  thirty  yean.  He  afterwards  removed  to  Wells ville,  0.» 
and  was  the  Pastor  of  the  Chureh  in  that  ptaoe  for  three  years.  He  died  on  the  2d  of  May, 
1838.  He  was  the  first  minister  of  the  Gospel,  who  settled  North  of  the  Ohio  River.  He  per- 
formed at  least  two  missionary  tours  to  the  Indians  on  the  Sandusky  River,  and  in  the  ne^h' 
bourhood  of  Detroit,  and  was  the  active  friend  of  missions.  Four  of  his  sons  became  ministeis 
of  the  Gospel. 


raDOMAS  SABR.  445 

On  the  breaking  out  of  ike  war  of  1812  wilh  Great  Brilatn  ike  pros- 
perity of  Mr.  Barr's  little  congregation  reoeived  a  serious  okeok.  At  one 
time,  nnder  the  inflaence  of  a  false  alarm  that  tbe  enemy  were  landing  at 
Cleveland,  tke  whole  community,  Pastor  and  all,  hastily  packed  up  their 
goods,  and  betook  themselves  to  flight ;  but  before  they  had  advanced  many 
miles,  they  were  apprized  of  their  mistake,  and  gladly  returned  home.  Mr. 
Barr  proposed  subsequently  to  remove  his  family  to  a  place  of  greater 
safety,  while  he  should  remain  with  the  portion  of  his  flock  that  were  left 
behind;  but  they  preferred  to  share  his  fortunes,  and  it  turned  out  that 
tkey  were  not  molested  by  the  enemy. 

On  the  9th  of  October,  1812,  his  beloved  and  devoted  wife,  to  whom, 
under  God,  he  owed  much  of  his  usefulness,  and  probably  his  salvation  also, 
was  taken  from  him  by  death,  leaving  an  infant  but  seven  days  old.  He 
felt  her  death  to  bo  a  crushing  affliction,  though  it  was  marked  by  a  serene 
and  heavenly  triumph.  She  was  the  mother  of  nine  children.  In  1816, 
he  formed  another  matrimonial  connection  with  Mrs.  Ann  Emmett  Baldwin, 
in  whom  4ilso  he  found  an  excellent  companion  and  an  efiicient  helper.  By 
the  second  marriage  he  had  ten  children.  His  widow  died  at  Fairfield, 
la.,  on  the  9th  of  October,  1854. 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  and  shortly  after  the  organization  of  the  Grand 
Kiver  Presbytery,  of  which  Mr.  Barr  was  in  a  sense  the  father,,  he  went 
as  a  delegate  to  the  General  Assembly,  and  afterwards  spent  a  few  weeks 
in  soliciting  funds  for  the  erection  of  a  church  in  Euclid.  This  object  he 
happily  succeeded  in  accomplishing. 

In  February,  1820,  Mr.  Barr,  owing  chiefly  to  his  dissatisfaction  with 
Congregationalism,  and  his  want  of  sympathy  with  the  Plan  of  Union, 
resigned  his  pastoral  charge,  removed  to  Wooster,  Wayne  County,  and  was 
installed  over  the  two  Churches  in  Wooster  and  Apple  Creek.  Here  he 
laboured  efficiently  and  successfully  for  several  years,  though  much  embar* 
rassed  by  the  failure  of  the  people  to  meet  their  engagements  as  to  salary. 
His  ultimate  separation  from  these  churches  was  owing  partly  to  the  influ« 
ence  of  an  itinerant  evangelist,  who  adopted  measures  which  neither  his 
judgment  nor  feelings  would  sanction,  and  partly  to  the  failure  of  his  health, 
and  the  desirableness  of  travelling  with  a  view  to  restore  it.  A  journey  to 
Philadelphia,  as  Commissioner  to  the  General  Assembly,  in  1828,  and  sub* 
sequently  an  agency  for  the  General  Assembly's  Board  of  Missions,  were 
the  means  of  greatly  improving  his  health.  After  his  agency  closed,  he 
preached  for  a  year  and  eight  months  in  Rushville,  Ind.,  where  he  ended 
his  labours  and  his  life.  He  died  of  congestive  fever,  after  an  illness  of 
ten  days,  on  the  28th  of  August,  1835,  in  the  sixtieth  year  of  his  age.  His 
Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  John  S.  Weaver. 

Of  Mr.  Barr's  children,  three  entered  the  ministry,  and  one  became  a 
lawyer.  Joseph  W.,  the  fourth  child,  was  born  in  Liberty  township, 
Trumbull  County,  0.,  on  the  22d  of  July,  1802.  Having  remained  at 
home  till  he  was  sixteen  years  of  age,  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  carpenter; 
and  while  removed  from  the  influence  of  parental  restraints  and  counsels, 
gave  himself  up  to  a  habit  of  thoughtlessness  and  gaiety.  At  length  he 
was  roused  to  reflection  by  a  casual  remark  made  to  him  by  a  young  lady 
whom  he  met  at  a  ball ;  and  from  that  time  he  had  no  peace  of  mind  until 
his  views,  feelings,  purposes,  had  undergone  an  entire  revolution.  He  was 
hopefully  converted  in  the  autumn  of  1823 ;  and  from  the  very  commence* 


:4|6  PRBSBTTERIAK. 

nent  of  the  OhristHui  life,  his  mind  seems  to  hare  been  deeply  exercised  In 
regard  to  the  condition  of  the  Heathen  world.  Soon  after  he  made  a  pro- 
fession of  religion,  he  began  to  meditate  the  purpose  of  entering  the  minis- 
try;  and  with  a  view  to  this,  commenced  his  studies  under  the  Bev.  Mr. 
Lathrop  of  Elyria,  in  January,  1826.  In  the  early  part  of  1826,  he  went, 
at  the  suggestion  of  Professor  Monteith  of  Hamilton  College,  to  Clinton,  N. 
Y.,  with  a  Tiew  to  prosecute  his  preparatory  etudie^  at  the  Academy  in  that 
place,  and  then  enter  Hamilton  College.  He  remained  at  Clinton  about 
two  years,  and,  during  the  la€ter  half  of  the  time,  was  a  member  of  College, — 
supporting  himself  partly  by  teaching  a  school,  and  partly  by  working  at 
his  trade.  In  the  summer  of  1828,  he  transferred  his  relation  to  the  West- 
em  ReserYe  College  at  Hudson,  O.,  where  he  graduated  in  the  autumn  of 
1830.  During  his  whole  preparatory  and  collegiate  course,  he  manifested 
uniformly  an  intense  interest  in  religious  things,  and  was  a  bright  example 
of  Christian  zeal,  activity,  and  consistency. 

Shortly  after  his  graduation,  he  repaired  to  the  Andover  Theological 
Seminary,  where  he  remained  one  year, — still  supporting  himself  in  part  by 
manual  labour  during  his  vacation.  At  the  end  of  the  year,  he  connected 
himself  with  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton.  From  this  time,  his 
purpose  seems  to  have  been  fully  matured  to  become  a  missionary  to  the 
Heathen ;  and  he  ultimately  resolved  to  seek  his  field  of  labour  in  the  inte- 
rior of  Africa.  Having  received  licensure  from  the  Presbytery  of  New 
Brunswick,  he  consented  to  terminate  his  theological  course  somewhat  pre- 
maturely, for  the  sake  of  accepting  an  appointment  from  the  Western 
Foreign  Missionary  Society,  to  accompany  Mr.  Pinney, 'another  Princeton 
student,  on  an  African  mission.  On  the  12th  of  September,  1832,  he,  in 
connection  with  Mr.  Pinney,  was  ordained  at  Philadelphia,  by  the  Presby- 
tery of  Philadelphia,  on  which  occasion  Dr.  Alexander  preached  the  Sermon 
and  Dr.  Miller  gave  the  Charge.  He  spent  the  next  Sabbath  in  New  York, 
where  he  preached  twice,  and  the  next  week  proceeded  to  Norfolk,  Va., 
whence  he  expected  to  sail  as  early  as  the  25th  of  October.  As  the  ship  did 
not  sail  so  soon  as  was  expected,  he  went  on  Friday  to  Iliohmond,  and  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  same  day  to  Petersburg,  to  make  an  appointment  to  preach. 
On  Saturday  night,  he  was  attacked  with  cholera,  and  died  about  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by 
the  Rev.  Stephen  Taylor. 

It  seems  to  have  been  admitted  by  those  who  had  an  opportunity  of  form- 
ing the  most  correct  judgment,  that  Mr.  Barr  was  an  extraordinary  young 
man.  With  a  vigorous  and  well  balanced  mind,  he  united  a  spirit  of 
Christian  fervour,  energy,  and  perseverance,  which  would  have  nerved  bim 
against  even  the  terrors  of  martyrdom.  His  sudden  exit^  involving  the 
disappointment  of  many  cherished  expectations  in  regard  to  his  usefulness 
in  tbe  wilds  of  Africa,  was  one  of  those  dispensations  which  we  may  not 
expect  to  see  fally  explained  in  the  present  world. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  SEWARD. 

Solon,  O.,  February  2, 1867. 
Bev.  and  dear  Sir :  My  first  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  Thomas  Barr  was  in 
January,  1812,  when  I  was  twenty-eight  years  old,  and  he  about  thirty-seven. 
He  had  been  a  preacher  a  little  more  than  two  years,  and  I  about  seven  months. 


TfiOMAS  BAEB.  447 

He  had  then  hecn  settled  in  Euclid  for  half  the  time,  a  little  more  than  a  year, 
and  the  balance  of  the  time  laboured  as  a  missionary  by  appointment  of  the 
^lissionary  Society  of  Connecticut*  I  was  also  employed  as  a  missionary  by 
the  same  Society,  with  liberty  to  preach  statedly  to  any  people  who  would 
employ  me  at  their  own  expense.  Haying  reached  the  Reserve  late  in  the 
autumn,  I  spent  a  portion  of  the  winter  in  supplying  the  people  at  Painesvillo. 
The  Presbytery  of  Hartford,  then  the  frontier  Presbytery,  and  embracing  the 
Northwest  to  an  indefinite  extent,  was  to  meet  at  Hopewell,  a  place  just  over  the 
Pennsylvania  line,  a  very  short  distance  East  of  Youngstown  on  the  Reserve. 
Mr.  Barr  and  myself,  without  concert,  had  made  our  arrangements  to  attend 
that  meeting,  and  each  started  on  his  own  horse — he  from  Euclid,  and  I  from 
Painesville, — the  lines  of  our  travel  converging,  until  we  unexpectedly  met  on 
Saturday  to  spend  the  Sabbath  and  preach  to  a  little  band  of  Christians  and 
others  in  the  woods,  at  a  place  called  Bowlestown,  now  Southington,  a  few  miles 
West  of  Warren.  We  spent  the  Sabbath  together;  for  as  it  was  late  when  we 
arrived,  and  the  weather  was  cold,  and  the  travelling  tedious,  we  did  not  think 
it  advisable  that  either  of  us  should  leave  to  supply  some  other  vacant  settle* 
ment.  Mr.  Barr  preached  once  that  Sabbath,  and  I  heard  him  preach  at  various 
times  afterwards.  I  was  impressed,  from  my  first  acquaintance  with  him,  espe* 
dally  with  his  earnest  and  active  piety.  No  one  who  knew  him  could  doubt,  for 
a  moment,  that  his  treasure  and  his  heart  were  in  Heaven. 

In  his  preaching  there  was  a  straightforward  earnestness,  that  fastened  con- 
yiction  on  the  niinds  of  his  hearers  that  he  was  perfectly  sincere  in  every  word 
that  he  uttered,  and  was  labouring  for  their  highest  benefit.  His  sermons  were 
solid,  methodical,  rich  in  evangelical  instruction,  abounding  in  experimental  and 
practical  suggestions;  and  though  his  thoughts  were  expressed  in  plain  language, 
with  an  occasional  word  or  phrase  that  indicated  the  lack  of  early  culture,  yet 
such  was  the  deep  sincerity  and  unction  of  his  manner,  that  few  would  notice, 
and  none  be  offended  at,  these  minor  blemishes.  He  possessed  a  large  share  of 
what  is  called  common  sense,  and  was  generally  wise  and  judicious  in  his  move- 
ments— in  managing  the  afiairs  of  not  only  his  own  Church,  but  other  feeble 
churches  to  which  he  was  called  to  officiate  in  the  capacity  of  a  missionary. 
From  the  time  I  became  acquainted  with  him  until  his  removal  from  the  Reserve, 
I  was  frequently  with  him  in  ecclesiastical  meetings  of  various  descriptions,  and 
generally  found  him  in  the  right  place,  at  the  right  time, — wise  in  council,  deci- 
ded in  opinion,  and  prompt  in  action — conscientious  and  unyielding  in  pursuing 
the  course  that  he  believed  his  duty  marked  out  for  him. 

As  a  missionary,  he  was  diligent  and  faithful;  always  punctual  to  his  appoint- 
ments; and  rarely,  if  ever,  stopping  or  failing,  on  account  of  storms,  mud  or 
snow,  heat  or  cold,  or  high  water  in  the  unbridged  streams.  Having  by  nature 
ft  robust  constitution,  which  had  not  been  irrecoverably  impaired  by  his  early 
habits,  or  by  a  ten  years  confinement  in  preparatory  studies,  he  was  peculiarly 
qualified  to  perform  the  labours  and  endure  the  hardships  of  a  pioneer  mis- 
sionary. 

In  stature  I  should  think  he  was  rather  below  the  medium  height,  but  stoutly 
built,  with  broad  shoulders,  full  chest,  large  muscular  limbs,  short  neck,  with  a 
fine,  well-formed  head,  and  a  full  and  florid  face. 

•  His  history  was,  in  some  respects,  a  remarkable  one,  and  the  influence  of  his 
ministry  over  an  extended  region  furnishes  a  striking  illustration  of  what  a  well 
directed  and  sanctified  energy  can  accomplish,  amidst  many  embarrassments, 
and  with  only  moderate  advantages  for  intellectual  culture. 

Yours  with  great  respect  and  esteem, 

JOHN  SEWARD. 


448  FBSSBTTEBIAir. 


JOHN  BLAIR  HOGE  * 

1810—1826. 

John  Blair  Hooe,  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Moses  Hoge,  B.  D*,  was  bom  in 
Jefferson  County,  Ya.,  in  April,  1790.  He  obtained  the  rudiments  of  his 
education  in  his  father's  house,  and  chiefly  by  instruction  from  young  men 
who  were  prosecuting  theological  studies  under  his  father^s  direction.  He 
was  for  two  years  a  pupil  of  his  brother  James,  (now  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hoge  of 
Columbus,  0.,)  in  a  classical  school  which  he  taught  at  Augusta  Church, 
of  which  the  Rev.  Dr.  Speece  was  afterwards  Pastor.  After  this,  he  assisted 
his  father  for  some  time  in  a  school  which  he  had  established  at  Shepherds- 
town,  meanwhile  pursuing  his  own  studies;  and  then  entered  Hampden  Sid- 
ney College,  at  an  advanced  standing,  where  he  graduated  about  the  year 
1808.  He  afterwards  became  a  Tutor  in  the  College,  his  &ther  having  in 
the  mean  time  become  its  President. 

On  resigning  his  place  at  Hampden  Sidney,  he  commenced  the  study  of 
tho  Law  under  the  instruction  of  Henry  E.  Watkins,  of  Prince  Edward 
County,  and  he  mastered  its  principles  with  such  facility,  and  evinced  in  so 
high  a  degree  the  faculty  of  generalization,  that  there  was  every  prospect 
of  his  early  becoming  eminent  in  the  profession.  On  mature  reflection, 
however,  he  determined  to  abandon  both  the  study  of  the  Law  and  the 
prospect  of  its  practice,  and  prepare  himself  for  the  Qospel  ministry.  He 
accordingly  placed  himself  under  his  father's  care,  as  a  student  of  Theology, 
and  on  the  20th  of  April,  1810,  was  licensed  by  the  Hanover  Presbytery  to 
preach  the  Gospel.  In  1811,  he  was  transferred  to  the  Winchester  Presby- 
tery ;  and,  having  accepted  a  call  from  the  Congregations  of  Tuscarora  and 
Falling  Waters,  was  ordained  and  installed  at  the  Tuscarora  meeting-house, 
on  the  12th  of  October  of  the  same  year.  A  portion  of  his  labours  also 
was  given  to  Martinsburg. 

From  his  first  appearance  in  the  pulpit  his  preaching  attracted  great  atten- 
tioni  With  uncommon  power  of  analysis,  an  exuberant  imagination,  a 
highly  cultivated  taste,  and  a  susceptibility  of  deep  and  strong  emotion,  he 
held  his  audience  almost  as  by  a  charm,  and  the  educated  and  the  unedu- 
cated alike  rendered  their  testimony  to  the  power  of  his  eloquence.  But, 
at  no  distant  period,  his  constitution,  naturally  by  no  means  robust,  began 
to  sink  under  his  labours,  and  he  found  it  necessary  to  devote  some  time  to 
relaxation  ;  and,  in  doing  so,  he  determined  to  avail  himself  also  of  a  still 
more  genial  climate.  He  accordingly  directed  his  course  across  the  ocean, 
and  stopped  for  some  time  in  the  South  of  France,  with  manifest  advantage 
to  his  health.  He  left  home  in  the  autumn  of  1814,  and  returned  in  the 
summer  of  1816,  greatly  delighted,  and  in  various  ways  benefitted,  by  his 
tour.  He  was  now  even  more  sought  after  as  a  preacher  than  he  had  ever 
been  before ;  but  his  popularity  never  seemed  to  occasion  the  least  self- 
exaltation. 

When  the  Church  on  Shockoe  Hill,  Richmond,  was  prepared  for  the  Pres- 
byterians who  were  gathered  by  the  Rev.  John  D.  Blair,  Mr.  Hoge  was 

•  Foote's  Sketohei  of  Va.— MSS.  from  Rev.  James  Hoge,  D.  D.,  and  Rev.  D.  H,  Riddle. 
D.  D, 


JOHK  BI.AIH  HOGE.  449 

invitecl  io  beooftie  tbeir  Pastor.  He  was- accordingly  released  from  the  pas- 
toral charge  of  Falling  Waters  on  the  Idth  of  April,  1822,  and  of  Tnsea'> 
rora,  on  the  19th  of  June  following ;  and  was  transferred  to  the  Hanover 
Presbytery  on  the  7th  of  the  ensuing  September.  In  this  new  field  his  use- 
fnlness  was  enlarged,  and  his  health,  for  a  time,  seemed  to  be  improved. 
But  it  was  not  long  before  it  became  apparent  that  his  life  was  drawing  to 
a  close.  In  1824,  he  began  to  suficr  seriously  from  an  affection  of  the  liver ; 
and  though,  after  a  few  months,  he  was  partially  relieved,  the  disease 
recnrred  in  a  more  aggravated  form  in  August,  1825,  and  very  soon  run 
into  a  dropsy  which  terminated  his  life  on  the  Slst  of  March,  1826.  After 
it  became  manifest  to  his  friends  that  his  earthly  labours  were  closed,  he 
retired  to  Oerardstown,  about  eight  miles  from  Martinsbnrg,  to  the  house 
of  a  Mr.  Wilson,  who  had  formerly  been  an  elder  in  one  of  his  Churches, 
and  there,  after  lingering  several  months,  a  most  edifying  example  of  Chris- 
tian faith  and  hope,  he  entered  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord.  His  remains  were 
removed  to  Martinsburg  for  burial ;  and  there  he  sleeps  surrounded  by  many 
who  once  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  his  ministrations. 

On  the  6th  of  May,  1819,  he  was  united  in  marriage  to  Ann  K.  Hunter 
of  Martinsburg,  Ya.  They  had  two  children,  who  weje  quite  young 
at  the  time  of  their  father's  death. 

FROM  MRS.  DR.  JOHN  H.  RICE. 

If  EA&  Hampden  Sidney  Colleqe,  May  4^  1854. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  recollections  of  the  Rev.  John  Blair  Hoge  reach  back  to  bis 
boyhood.  I  knew  him  when  he  first  came  to  College,  and  knew  him  ever  after, 
until  death  terminated  his  brilliant  and  useful  career.  He  was  our  neighbour 
during  part  of  the  time  of  our  residence  in  Richmond,  and  our  relations  with 
him  were  always  most  intimate  and  afiectionate. 

Tou  could  scarcely  have  met  him  in  the  most  casual  way,  without  being  struck 
with  his  personal  appearance.  He  was  of  a  tall,  slender  and  remarkably  grace- 
ful fbrm,  and  had  a  pale,  comely, — I  might  almost  say  handsome,  face,  in  which 
the  lines  of  intelligence  were  deeply  drawn.  His  manners  were  worthy  of  the 
court, — combining  both  dignity  and  suavity  in  the  highest  degree.  And  while 
they  evidently  showed  the  workings  of  a  fine,  benevolent  spirit,  they  showed 
also  a  high  degree  of  cultivation — they  were  what  you  would  expect  to  find  only 
in  one  who  had  always  been  accustomed  to  the  most  polished  society. 

Mr.  Hoge's  intellect  was  universally  acknowledged  to  be  of  a  high  order — ^it 
was  at  once  quick,  delicate  and  penetrating.  He  was  an  indefatigable  student, 
never  satisfied  unless  he  was  adding  something  to  his  varied  stores  of  know- 
ledge. In  the  pulpit  he  possessed  very  uncommon  attractions.  I  cannot  say 
that  he  had  the  advantage  of  a  very  good  voice — for,  as  I  remember  it,  it  was 
slightly  inclined  to  be  husky;  but  still,  by  a  dexterous  management  of  it,  he 
could  produce  a  very  considerable  efiect  upon  his  audience.  His  manner  in  the 
palptt,  though  evincing  great  care  and  culture,  was  simple  and  natural;  and  it 
was  earnest  without  any  extraordinary  vehemence.  His  gesture  was  not  very 
abundant,  but  it  was  appropriate  and  effective.  His  discourses  were  carefully 
prepared,  fbll  of  weighty,  impressive  thought,  and  pervaded  by  a  tone  of  deep 
evangelical  feeling,  that  was  well  fitted  to  open  a  passage  to  the  heart.  You  felt 
not  only  that  all  that  he  said  was  vastly  important,  but  that  he  himself  fully 
realized  its  importance,  and  spoke  under  a  deep  impression  of  the  solemnity  of 
his  vocation  as  an  ambassador  of  Christ. 

fit  his  private  intercourse,  Mr.  Hoge  was  a  model  of  all  that  is  gentle,  dis- 
creet and  exemplary.    He  was  sometimes  thought  to  be  somewhat  xesewed;  but 

ToL.  IV.  57 


450  PBESBTTERIAH. 

I  am  sure  he  was  never  so  with  his  intimate  friends,  and  I  doubt  whether  he 
was  so  at  all,  beyond  what  a  due  regard  to  circumstances,  in  connection  with  hk 
own  ministerial  dignity,  would  require.  lie  was,  undoubtedly,  a  very  modest 
man;  and  no  one  could  ever  attribute  to  him  the  semblance  of  ostentation.  This 
trait  was  particularly  illustrated  in  his  appearance  in  Presbyteries  and  other 
public  bodies;  while  yet  he  never  hesitated  to  speak  when  he  felt  called  upon  to 
do  so;  and  he  never  expressed  an  opinion  which  did  not  receive  a  respectful  con- 
sideration. I  ought  to  add  that  he  kept  entirely  aloof  from  the  gay  world,  and, 
by  example  as  well  as  precept,  constantly  urged  the  importance  of  a  high  stand- 
ard of  Christian  character. 

When  Mr.  Iloge  returned  from  Europe,  where  he  had  been  for  the  benefit  of 
his  health,  he  arrived  at  Philadelphia  during  the  sessions  of  the  General  Assem- 
bly, where  I  happened  myself,  at  that  time,  to  be.  There  he  found  many  of  his 
friends,  and  from  all  met  a  most  cordial  welcome.  When  we  left  Philadelphia, 
on  our  homeward  way.  Dr.  Alexander,  who  was  then  a  settled  pastor  there, 
accompanied  us  as  far  as  Newcastle;  and,  by  the  urgent  request  of  the  Cap- 
tain and  all  the  passengers,  consented  to  favour  us  with  a  sermon  on  board 
the  boat.  After  we  had  reached  the  Potomac,  and  several  of  our  friends  had 
come  up  to  meet  us,  Mr.  Hoge  being  on  board,  it  was  proposed  by  some  of  the 
passengers  that  a  sermon  should  be  requested  from  him  also;  but  when  it  was 
suggested  to  him,  he  declined  on  the  ground  that  there  were  many  worldly 
people  on  board  to  whom  such  a  service  would  be  unwelcome;  and  he  did  not  think 
it  best  to  obtrude  a  religious  exercise  upon  them  contrary  to  their  wishes.  He 
was  reminded  that  they  practised  their  various  amusements  on  board,  without 
any  respect  to  the  feelings  of  Christians;  but  his  reply  was — **  the  people  of  the 
world  do  not  expect  to  bring  Christians  over  to  their  maxims  and  practices,  and 
therefore  have  no  interest  in  attempting  to  conciliate  them ;  but  we  are  deeply 
interested  to  conciliate  the  world  to  Christian  views  and  practice,  and  therefore 
we  ought  to  be  careful,  and  do  nothing  needlessly  to  awaken  their  opposition, 
and  thus  paralyze  our  own  good  influence."  This  incident  may  stand  in  the 
place  of  many  others,  illustrative  of  his  fine  sense  of  Christian  propriety. 

Most  affectionately  and  respectfully, 

ANNE  S.  RICE. 

FROM  THE  REY.  D.  H.  RIDDLE,  D.  D. 

Jersey  City,  N.  J.,  July  8,  1867. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  It  would  afford  me  great  pleasure  to  contribute,  in  any 
degree,  to  set  the  character  and  excellencies  of  the  Rev.  J.  B.  Hoge  in  a  proper 
light  before  the  Church  through  your  pages.  This  would  only,  indeed,  be  pay- 
ing, in  part,  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  benefactor  of  my  youth, — my  early  guide, 
who,  under  God,  gave  direction  to  my  earthly,  possibly  my  eternal,  destiny.  He 
was  the  pastor  of  my  honoured  father,  the  friend  and  counsellor  of  my  widowed 
mother,  the  first  minister  I  knew  and  loved.  He  was,  for  many  years,  an  inmate 
of  our  household,  and  conducted  its  devotions. 

J.  B.  Hoge  was  one  of  the  most  gifted  sons  of  old  Virginia.  lie  was  the 
descendant  of  a  genuine  Scotch  Irish  stock,  was  born  within  ten  miles  of  my 
native  place,  spent  the  most  of  his  ministerial  life  in  my  native  county,  and  lies 
buried  in  the  old  grave-yard  of  Norbourne  parish.  The  highest  honours  of  his 
native  State  were  within  his  reach,  if  he  had  lived  to  himself,  and  followed  the 
promptings  of  his  early  ambition.  His  talents,  taste,  and  acquirements,  were 
acknowledged  by  all  who  knew  him  intimately  to  be  of  the  first  order.  He  was 
a  worthy  son  of  an  honoured  sire,  (Dr.  Moses  Hoge.)  whom  John  Randolph 
pronounced  **  the  most  eloquent  man  in  Virginia."  His  ministry  began  eariy, 
and  ended,  to  human  vision,  prematurely,  embracing  only  about  sixteen  years. 


JOHV  BLAiB  HOGE.  452 

Wh«n  h«  hegku  to  preach,  he  was  in  appearance  a  mere  boy,  and  in  &ct,  quite 
yonog.  My  boyish  impressions  of  him  were  almost  of  idolatrous  reverence;  and 
at  the  table  and  the  fireside  I  was  nerer  weary  of  his  sparkling  conversation.  I 
remember  well  his  ordination  and  installation  in  old  Tuscarora  Church,  and  heard 
"  the  prophecies  which  went  before,"  concerning  this  young  Timothy,  from  the 
older  clergy  and  elders.  Dr.  John  Matthews,  himself  no  mean  theologian,  onoe 
said  that,  even  at  this  early  period,  *'  his  views  of  the  evangelical  system  were 
more  clear,  enlarged  and  symmetrical,  than  any  man's  he  had  ever  known."  The 
old  Scotch  Irish  people  of  his  charges  in  Berkley  County  feasted  on  his  preach- 
ing, and  were  swayed  by  his  eloquence,  like  the  trees  of  the  forest  by  the  wind. 
I  remember,  with  special  vividness,  some  of  the  sacramental  seasons,  when,  in 
the  bright  summer  da^'s,  the  tables  were  spread  in  the  old  grave-yard,  and  there 
was  a  general  gathering  from  all  his  congregations  to  the  feast — ^how  tears  stoe4 
in  aged  eyes,  and  silver  heads  were  bowed,  and  emotion  swept  over  youthful 
hearts,  when  he  depicted  the  sufferings  and  love  of  Christ  and  the  glories  of  the 
ransomed.  Though  incapable,  then,  of  analyzing  the  elements,  I  felt,  in  com- 
mon with  others,  the  power,  of  eloquence.  Among  my  most  valued  treasures 
are  the  impressions  on  my  youthful  heart  of  his  preaching.  At  a  later  period, 
when  his  powers  were  more  developed,  and  my  taste  more  matured;  after  my 
return  from  College  and  a  profession  of  religion,  I  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  hear- 
ing him  statedly  during  a  winter  in  Richmond,  Va.,  in  the  acme  of  his  popu* 
larity.  His  preaching  was  greatly  admired  by  professional  men — members  of 
the  Virginia  Legislature,  and  transient  visitors  at  the  Capital.  Their  eulogies  I 
had  often  an  opportunity  of  hearing.  Their  names,  were  it  proper  to  mention 
them,  would  attest  their  qualifications  to  pass  judgment. 

I  remember  some  of  his  Funeral  Discourses,  especially  those  in  memory  of 
"  some  honourable  women,"  and  of  my  father.  The  texts  were  peculiarly  appo- 
site; the  delineation  of  character,  accurate;  the  impression,  profound.  These 
discourses  displayed  acquaintance  with  human  nature,  sympathy  with  the  deep- 
est religious  experience,  and  clear  apprehensions  of  the  evidences  of  piety.  Some 
of  his  Farewell  Discourses  too  made  a  profound  impression  on  my  youthful 
heart,  and  are  remembered  by  many  to  this  day.  These  were  preached  when  he 
was  obliged,  on  several  occasions,  to  journey  to  the  South  for  his  health,  and 
when  he  took  leave  of  his  people  to  go  to  £urope  for  the  same  purpose.  His  let- 
ters from  Europe,  giving  his  impressions  of  men  and  things,  during  that  stormy 
period,  were  full  of  mingled  thought  and  imagination,  and  were  **  a  feast  of  fat 
things  "  to  young  and  old.  His  Salutatory  Discourse,  on  his  return,  composed 
on  shipboard,  illustrates  one  of  his  characteristics, — the  adaptation  of  his  dis- 
courses to  circumstances.  It  was  on  the  text,  II.  Cor.  1.  3,  *'  Qrace  be  to  you, 
and  peace  from  God  our  Father,  and  from  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  and  is  a  fine 
specimen  of  the  intellectual  and  SBSthetic  combined,  embodying  the  results  of 
deep  thought  and  the  gushing  of  a  warm  heart.  His  removal  from  Berkley  to 
Richmond  was  a  sorrowful  day,  as  I  have  heard  it  described.  I  was  then  absent. 
Mr.  Hoge  wrote  his  sermons  carefully;  but  he  left  them  in  bis  study,  and  no  one 
would  have  imagined  that  the  trains  of  thought  and  burning  words,  which  flowed 
so  freely,  had  been  pre-composed.  His  style  and  the  structure  of  his  sentences 
greatly  resembled  Chalmers,  rising  from  climax  to  climax  of  strength  and  feel- 
ing, till  it  was  sometimes  overpowering.  Of  this,  one  of  the  finest  specimens 
is  mentioned  by  Dr.  Foote,  in  his  interesting  "  Sketches  of  Virginia;  " — the  pero- 
ration of  his  discourse  before  the  Synod  of  Virginia.  The  remembrance  of  that 
disconrse  has  never  been  obliterated  from  those  who  heard  it.  To  this  day,  you 
will  hear  it  spoken  of,  as  almost  magical.  The  auditory  in  this  case,  was  larger 
and  more  appreciative,  but  this  was  by  no  means  a  solitary  instance;  as  many 
can  testify. 


4^2  PKB6BTTEEIAH. 

I  ahdidd  aaspect  mj  estimate  of  Mr.  Hoge's  hitelleettAl  power,  of  pttHsfity 
and  exaggeratiOD,  so  natural  in  the  circumstances,  were  it  not  conflnned  by  tbe 
best  judges, — namely,  tbe  Rev.  Joseph  Glass,* — one  of  the  acutest  minds  of 
his  age;  Dr*  John  Matthews,  who  knew  him  more  intimately  probably,  than  any- 
other  minister;  that  stalwart  Boanerges  among  Virginia  preachers.  Dr.  William 
Hill,  not  to  mention  others.  My  own  fkther,  who  was  his  elder  during  the  most 
of  his  ministry,  had  exalted  conceptions  of  his  mental  powers  and  of  his  elo- 
quence,  of  his  prudence,  kindness,  and  theological  attainments.  One  of  my 
earliest  luxuries  was  to  sit  on  the  knee  of  one  of  them,  and  listen  to  their  gravB 
discussions,  interspersed  with  flashes  of  humour,  or  anecdotes  of  the  Hying  and 
the  dead.  The  ministry  was  invested  with  attractiveness  to  my  early  fancy, 
from  the  living  actualization  of  its  ideal  in  my  vener&ted  friend,  and  the  respect- 
All  affection  and  almost  idolatry  of  his  elder.  One  of  the  mysteries  of  Provi- 
dence, with  which  my  heart  had  to  battle,  was  the  quenching  of  that  light,  diat 
even  yet,  according  to  ordinary  longevity,  might  be  shedding  its  mild  lustre  on 
the  Church,  for  guidance  in  its  perils  and  perplexities.  Had  he  lived  till  now»  lie 
would  have  been  still  this  side  of  threescore  years  and  ten.  He  was  resting 
from  bis  toils,  before  the  storms  which  agitated  the  Church  he  loved  and  adorned. 
His  ministry  was  confined  to  his  native  State.  He  lived  and  died  a  member  of 
the  Old  Synod  of  Virginia,  the  associate  of  Speece  and  Baxter,  Rice  and  Hill, 
Williamsonf  and  Wilson,  loved  and  honoured  of  all.  At  one  time,  he  was 
spoken  of  fbr  President  of  Dickinson  College,  and  his  claims  strongly  urged  by 
some  in  that  region,  who,  in  their  visits  to  Virginia,  had  learned  to  estimate  him 
properly.  Mr.  Hoge  lived  and  died  before  ecclesiastical  titles  were  as  cheap  and 
common  as  now,  and  he  never  received  the  Doctorate. 

Mr.  Hoge  became  connected,  by  marriage,  with  a  large  and  influential  circle, 
by  whom  he  was  universally  respected  for  his  talents,  and  loved  for  his  social 
qualities.  Notwithstanding  the  flattering  attentions  he  received,  and  the  obvious 
impressions  he  made,  he  ever  preserved  the  simplicity  of  his  character  and 
habits,  and  his  diffidence  of  his  own  powers.  Probably  no  man  ever  had  more 
aversion  to  ostentatious  self-display. 

Mr.  Hoge's  constitution  was  never  vigorous.  He  was  early  attacked  with 
hemorrhage  of  the  longs,  and  sought  invigoration  repeatedly  in  travel.  His 
mental  labours,  especially  after  his  removal  to  Richmond,  were  severe  and 
exhausting,  as  in  addition  to  his  pastoral  duties,  much  of  the  labour  of  conduc- 
ting the  "  Literary  and  Theological  Magazine"  devolved  on  him.  Often,  to  a  very 
late  period  at  night,  he  was  plying  his  pen,  and  while  enjoying  the  pleasant  sod* 
alities  of  the  parlour,  we  could  bear  his  peculiar,  and  ominous  little  cough  in  the 
adjoining  study.  Oh!  how  often,  afterwards,  did  I  and  that  charmed  little 
circle,  remember  it,  with  a  pang  of  useless  anguish.  He  purposed  to  spend  the 
summer  of  1826  with  his  old  friends  in  the  Valley.  A  sermon  he  preached  on 
his  way,  at  Warren  ton,  I  believe,  I  have  heard  spoken  of,  as  amazingly  impressive 
and  spiritual,  like  the  notes  of  a  dying  swan,  especially  his  description  of  "  the 
glory  yet  to  be  revealed."  His  last  days  were  spent  under  the  hospitable  roof, 
and  cheered  by  the  attentions, of  his  old  and  tried  Mend  Wilson,  near  Gerardstown, 


«  Josam  Olass  wm  a  giaiid«m  of  Samvel  Glan,  who  minatfld  frftm  l^brfdge.  County 
Down,  Ireland,  to  Virginia,  and  lottled  on  th«  Opecqnon  in  1736.  Ho  (Joaeph)  exereiMd  bis 
ministry  in  the  neiehbonrhood  in  which  his  grandfather  aettled,  and  died  in  bis  fall  vigour  in 
1821. 

t  William  Williamson  was  edaoated  in  Scotland,  big  native  eoantir,  and  came  to  Vh<glnia 
with  a  view  to  engage  as  a  teacher.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Banover, 
October  12, 1702,  and  was  oidained  the  next  year.  He  resided  for  a  time  near  Gordonsville, 
and  preached  in  the  M^acent  oongraations;  but  aAerwaids  removed  to  the  VaHey  of  tbo  She- 
nandoah, and  took  his  position  in  Warren  County,  near  Front  Royal.  He subaequently  remoTed 
to  London  Conntjr,  estMAished  a  dassieal  school  near  Hiddlebnrg,  and  preached  in  the  Counties 
of  Loudon  and  Fauquier,  as  he  could  find  opportunity.  He  continued  his  labours  till  he  was 
about  eighty  years  of  age.  He  was  a  man  of  powerftil  intellect,  and  a  bold  and  exciting 
preacher. 


J0H19  BLAIB  HOGE.  45g 

one  of  his  jrouibfoJ  cluMrges.  His  sniTerings  were  severe  and  protracted.  His 
end  was  peace.  I  had  not  the  melancholy  priTilege  of  seeing  him  after  the 
spring  of  1824,  and  the  news  of  his  death  reached  me  at  Princeton.  Ue  was 
buried  at  Martinsburg,  with  no  monumental  stone  jet  reared  to  mark  the  spot 
where  the  revered  pastor  and  gifted  child  of  genius,  and  eloquent  preacher, 
reposes.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  Dr.  Matthews,  who  loved  him 
with  a  pecaliaraffeotion,  and  wept  over  him  with  irrepressible  grief,  so  as  to 
choke  his  utterance — a  scene  yet  remembered  by  many,  alike  honourable  to  both. 
Uis  endaring  monament  is  iB.thehearts<of  many  whom  he  guided  to  the  Saviour. 
His  memory  is  fragrant  in  the  beautiful  valley  where  he  lived,  laboured  and  died. 
In  Toscarora,  and  Falling  Water,  and  Berkley  Oounty,  and  Richmond  and 
Prince  Edward,  no  name  is  more  hallowed  than  that  of  John  Bkdr  Hog^ 
Friend  of  my  youth!  my  parents'  pastor!  one  of  Virginians , brightest  jewels! 
wonld  that  some  worthier  hand  had  earlier  and  better  traced  thy  character  and 
worth.     **  None  knew  thee  but  to  love  theoj  or  names  thee  but  to  praise-"  . 

Tours  very  tnily« 

D.  H.  RIDDLE. 


-••- 


HENRY  AXTELL,  D.  D  * 

1810—1829. 

HsNBT  AxTSLL  was  borh  at  Mendham,  N.  J«,  on  the  9tk  of  Jane 
1778.  His  father,  Henry  Aztell,  was  an  intelligent  and  worthy  man  ;  a 
farmer ;  and  Major  of  Infantry  in  the  Revolutionary  war.  He  was  fitted 
for  College  under  the  tuition  of  James  Stevenson,  a  teacher  <^  some  note, 
and  before  going  to  College,  was  himself,  for  some  time,  an  assistant  teacher 
in  the  Morris  Academy.  He  took  his  collegiate  coarse  ai  Princeton,  where 
be  was  graduated,  an  excellent  scholar,  in  1796.  After  his  graduation,  be 
spent  several  years  in  teaching,  both  at  Morristown  and  Mendham,  for  which 
employment  he  was  considered  as  possessing  superior  qualificatioi!is.  At 
length,  about  the  year  1804,  he  removed  from  New  Jersey  to  Geneva, 
K.  Y.,  where,  for  several  years  more,  he  was  at  the  head  of  a  flourishing 
Bchool.  But  he  had  aspirations  which  this  employment,  useful  as  it  is,  did 
not  meet — ^he  ardently  desired  to  become  a  minister  of  the  Gospel.  With 
a  view  to  this,  he  pursued  a  course  of  theological  study  under  the  direction 
of  the  Rev.  Jedediah  Chapman,  who  had  then,  for  several  years,  been  min- 
istering to  the  Congregation  in  Geneva.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the 
Presbytery  of  Geneva,  on  the  1st  of  November,  1810. 

After  his  licensure,  he  preached,  for  short  periods,  in  several  different 
places,  but  the  Congregation  at  Geneva,  amidst  whom  he  hod  lived  for 
several  years  in  the  capacity  of  a  teacher,  began  to  think  of  him  as  a  suit- 
able person  to  serve  them  in  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel.  Up  to  this  time, 
they  had  never  had  a  regularly  installed  pastor.  Mr.  Chapman  had,  for 
about  ten  years,  made  his  home  among  them,  and  had  divided  his  servicea 

•  Hotehkin's  Hist,  of  West.  N.  T.— US.  from  Rev.  Chftrlos  AztoU. 


454  PRESBYTERIAN. 

between  tbem  and  the  people  of  the  surrounding  country,  among  wbom  lie 
laboured  as  a  missionary.  In  1812,  Messrs.  Chapman  and  Axtell  were,  bj 
a  unanimous  vote,  invited  to  become  Colleague  Pastors  of  the  Church  and 
Congregation,  and  on  the  12th  of  July  of  that  year,  Mr.  Axtell  was  ordained 
by  the  Presbytery  of  Geneva  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and  in  connection 
with  Mr.  Chapman,  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Church.  In  this  relation 
he  continued  till  the  close  of  life. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Middlebary 
College  in  1823. 

Dr.  Axtell's  ministry  was,  on  the  whole,  decidedly  a  successful  one. 
Besides  being  permitted  to  witness,  every  year,  a  greater  or  less  accession 
to  his  Church,  there  were  two  extensive  revivals  in  connection  with  bis 
labours, — one  in  1819,  the  other  in  1825,  each  of  which  resulted  in  an  addi- 
tion of  about  one  hundred  to  the  number  of  communicants.  His  labours 
were  continued  in  undiminished  activity,  until  a  short  time  before  his  death. 
He  was  suddenly  prostrated  by  bleeding  at  the  lungs  ;  and  the  attack  was 
repeated  at  short  intervals,  until  the  earthly  tabernacle  fell.  He  died,  in 
the  utmost  peace,  on  the  11th  of  February,  1849.  His  eldest  daughter 
died  four  days  after,  and  the  funeral  solemnities  of  the  father  and  the 
daughter  were  attended  at  the  same  time,  and  both  interred  in  the  aame 
grave.  The  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Perrine,  Pro- 
fessor  in  the  Auburn  Theological  Seminary. 

Dr.  Axtell  published  a  Sermon  preached  at  the  ordination  of  Julius 
Steele,    1816. 

About  the  year  1798,  Mr.  Axtell  was  married  to  Hannah,  daughter  of 
Captain  Daniel  Cook,  who  had  served  as  an  officer  in  the  Bevolution,  and 
was  wounded  in  battle,  near  New  Brunswick,  N.  J.  They  had  seven 
ohildren,  three  of  whom  became  ministers ;  but  only  one  of  them,  the  Rev. 
Charles  Axtell  of  Galena,  111.,  now  (1857)  survives. 

Daniel  Cook^  Dr.  Axtell's  eldest  son,  was  born  at  Mendham,  N.  J.,  in 
the  year  1800  ;  removed  in  his  childhood  with  his  father  to  Geneva ;  and 
was  graduated  at  Hamilton  College  in  1821.  He  received  his  theological 
education  at  Princeton,  and  was  a  Tutor  in  the  College  of  New  Jersey  from 
1825  to  1827.  At  the  organization  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Auburn,  (November  10,  1830,)  which  originated  in  an  opposition  of  some 
of  the  members  of  the  First  Church  to  what  were  popularly  called  '*  new 
measures,*'  in  connection  with  the  revivals  of  that  period — Mr.  Axtell 
became  its  Pastor ;  and  he  continued  in  this  relation  till  January  19, 1836, 
when  the  state  of  his  health  obliged  him  to  resign  his  charge.  His  con- 
gregation testified  their  appreciation  of  his  character  and  services  by 
presenting  him  with  a  finely  wrought  gold  medal,  bearing  an  inscription 
honourable  alike  to  him  and  to  themselves.  He  removed  first  to  Newark, 
where  he  had  charge  of  a  school  for  a  short  time  ;  and  thence  to  Patterson, 
where  he  died  of  hemorrhage  of  the  lungs  in  the  year  1837.  He  was  an 
excellent  scholar,  an  able  preacher,  and  in  the  discharge  of  his  ministerial 
duties,  under  circumstances  of  difficulty  and  delicacy,  he  evinced  great  firm- 
ness, prudence,  and  dignity. 

Dr.  Axtell's  second  son,  Henrys  was  bom  in  the  year  1802 ;  was  grada- 
ated  at  Hamilton  College  in  1823 ;  was  a  Tutor  there  in  1825-26 ;  studied 
Theology  at  the  Princeton  Theological  Seminary ;  and  was  settled  as  Pastor 
of  the  Church  in  Lawrenceville,  N.  J.,  in  1830.     In  1835,  he  accepted  a 


HEIIRT  AXTELL.  455 

call  from  the  Second  Presbyterian  Choroh  in  Orange,  jn.  J.;  but  in  1888 

resigned  his  charge  on  aocount  of  ill  health,  and  that  he  might  enjoy  a 
more  genial  climate,  went  to  reside  in  St.  AugnstiDO,  Fa.  During  the 
latter  part  of  his  residence  there,  he  had  so  far  recovered  his  health  as  to  be 
able  to  perform,  in  the  then  vacant  Presbyterian  Church  in  that  place,  one 
service  a  day.  In  May,  1843,  he  was  appointed,  by  the  government.  Chap- 
lain at  Fort  Brooke,  Tampa  Bay.  And  when  that  post  was  broken  up,  in 
1850,  he  accepted  a  second  appointment  as  Chaplain  at  New  Orleans. 
Here  he  continued  till  1853,  when  he  was  so  far  prostrated  by  disease  that 
he  was  obliged  to  retire  from  all  active  service.  He  died,  much  lamented, 
at  Philadelphia,  while  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Kirkbride,  on  the  15th  of 
July,  1854,  at  the  age  of  fifty-two. 

Two  of  Dr.  Aztell's  daughters, — one  of  them  married  and  the  other 
nufbarried, —  both  ladies  of  high  intellectual  and  moral  worth,  who  had 
been  eminently  useful-  as  teachers  in  the  Female  Institute  at  Indianapolis, 
died  in  the  year  1849.  Miss  Aztell  died  of  consumption  on  the  U.  S. 
Steamer,  Col.  Clay,  off  Pensacola,  when  on  her  way  to  visit  her  brother, 
then  residing  at  Tampa  Bay. 


FROM  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  H.  COX,  D.  D. 

Lk  Rot,  N.  Y.,  January  12,  1867. 

Rev.  and  dear  Brother :  With  your  late  request  I  wUlingly  comply,  so  far  as 
I  can,  amid  my  many  engagements.  And  without  further  introduction,  I  remark 
that,  if  excellent  sense,  sound  learning,  original  and  genuine  thought,  scriptural 
theology,  piety  and  pastoral  worth,  though  occupied  on  a  theatre  less  conspicuous, 
and  more  felt  than  seen  by  contemporary  thousands,  deserve  recognition  and 
registration  for  posterity,  then  the  name  of  Henry  Ax  tell  ought  to  have  a  memo- 
rial among  the  excellent  pastors  that  have  served  the  Churches  of  our  country 
in  the  first  quarter  of  the  present  century. 

I  became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Ax  tell  in  May,  1815,  at  the  General  Assembly 
in  Philadelphia.  A  candidate  then  I  was,  soon  after  a  preacher,  and  succeeded 
tl|e  Rev.  Amzi  Armstrong,  D.  D.,  about  four  years  in  the  pastorate  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  of  Mendham,  N.  J.  In  that  place,  so  copious  of  pious  worshippers, 
and  so  fertile  of  excellent  ministers  of  Christ,  Dr.  Axtell  had  his  nativity  and 
early  nurture.  His  venerable  parents  were  my  parishioners,  and  I  attended  their 
death-beds  and  their  'Funerals.  It  was  there  I  became  more  acquainted  with 
him, — as  he  was  wont  to  visit  us  about  annually,  as  long  as  they  lived,  and 
there  I  heard  him  preach  most  impressively. 

If  his  manner  Ucked  polish  and  address,  or  elasticity  in  any  degree,  it 
certainly  showed  mind  and  consistency;  and  this,  with  no  affectation  or 
apparent  weakness.  It  was  neither  officious,  nor  timid,  nor  false  to  its  own 
consciousness  of  truth  and  power.  He  might  have  been  naturally  determined 
and  passionate;  but  by  grace  he  seemed  subdued,  self-governed,  and  always 
acting  with  a  sense  of  accountableness.  In  the  pulpit,  his  character  was  equally 
marked; — full  of  meaning,  evincing  the  dignity  of  his  office,  and  the  legitimate 
aims  of  a  Christian  ambassador.  He  was  bold,  clear,  consecutive  and  often 
powerful, — while  ribands,  and  rainbows,  and  cerulean  rhetoric  never  equivocated 
his  drift,  or  put  his  star  in  a  mist  of  well  bred  impertinence.  He  was  assiduous, 
systematic,  pointed,  and  often  irresistible.  Without  much  of  learned  or  travelled 
lore,  or  any  Qermanizing  hermeneutics,  he  was  biblical,  and  all  his  weaponry 
was  pointed  with  holy  fire,  and  often  was  it  both  penetrating  and  barbed.  With- 
out sinking  the  dignity  of  the  pulpit,  he  aimed  low  enough  to  hit  the  hearts  of 


456  nasBYTBBiAJi. 

all  his  hearers,  to  carry  th«ir  eo&vieiioii,  and  to  compel  their  intelleetaal  appro* 
batiop.  He  was  loved  by  hie  people,  prosperoua  as  a  pastor,  respected  by  the 
commuivity*  and  highly  esteemed  by  his  brethren.  He  made  no  floarish  of  his 
orthodoxy,  but  hi^  thorough  soundness  in  the  faith,  acoorduig  to  the  standards 
of  his  own  Churchy  there  lived  no  one  to  doubt.  He  was  laberious>  steady, 
immutable,  consia^nt,  influential*- 

One  Sermon  preached  for  me  at  Mendbam,  where  he  knew  the  people,  probably 
better  than  their  pastor,  I  well  remember.  His  text  was  II.  Cor.  yii.  10;  and 
his  theme — repentance.  From  that  day  or  before  it,  I  never  heard  a  better 
sermon  on  that  topic — if  faithfulness  and  power  displayed  be  the  criterion.  I 
would  to  God  that  in  a  million  of  places,  next  Lord's  day,  such  preaching  could 
be  heard !  It  was  practically  metaphysical.  In  evincing  its  nature  as  a  Chris* 
tian  grace  and  a  moral  exercise  of  the  mind,  he  piled  a  just  climax  of  negatires. 
He  showed  all  the  wealth  of  hypocrisy's  treasury  of  counterfeits.  The  last  n^a- 
tive — ^it  is  not  even  godiy  amrowi  or  sorrow  of  any  kind;  however  incidentMly 
conneoted  with  it  such  sorrow  may  be.  No!  It  is  that  moral  change  of  the 
sinning  character,  whiob  results  from  the  process  and  the  prevalence  of  sweh 
sorrow.  '*  for  godly  sorrow  worketh  repentance  to  salvation  i^ot  to  be  repented 
of,  but  the  sorrow  of  the  world  worketh  death."  Thus  explained,  and  illus- 
trated, and  enforced,  his  remaining  work  was  application,  persuasion,  exhorta- 
tion, devout  encouragement  to  repent  and  believe  the  Qospel.  Thousands  of 
much  more  famous  and  lauded  preachers  never  preached  a  sermon  so  powerful, 
so  discriminating,  and  so  good — he  showed  himself  a  workman  such  as  needeth 
not  to  be  ashamed. 

During  that  visit  I  remember  a  colloquy  between  him  and  a  smart  werUfing 
incidentally  occurring,  and  in  the  main  much  as  fellows— 

Axtell — Well,  so  prosperous  where  you  live,  how  are  the  people  there  as-  it 
respects  religion  ? 

Stranger — Why,  Sir,  I  hardly  know.  They  are  peaceable  and  intelligent, 
well  behaved  and  agreeable  as  any  others. 

A. — Yes;  but  that  was  not  the  point  of  my  question.  Are  they  Christians? 
Are  they  truly  religious  ?    Is  the  truth  their  guide  ? 

S. — Indeed,  Sir;  I  can  only  say  they  are  very  reepectable. 

A.— That  all  ? 

S. — No  Sir — ^they  are  a  moral  people;  and  morality  yea  know  is  the  Tei|r 
foundation  of  religion. 

A. — Ah,  are  you  sure  of  that? 

S. — To  be  sure  I  am,  Sir. 

A. — You  are  entirely  wrong,  Sir;  the  (act  is  just  the  reverse,  and  I  am  sorry 
you  do  not  know  it. 

S. — Why,  Sir,  are  you  opposed  to  morality  then  ? 

A. — Not  I— especially  were  it  genuine;  since  then  it  results  from  religion, — 
this  the  basis — that  the  superstructure, — ^this  the  scarce — ^that  the  stream. 
Morality  the  foundation  of  religion.  Sir  ?  I  repeat  the  truth — it  is  precisely  the 
reverse;  religion  is  the  foundation  of  morality,  and  the  foundation  of  religion  is 
Christ,  the  chief  corner  stone,  on  whom  all  Christians  are  builded  as  living  stones 
of  an  holy  temple  in  the  Lord.  You,  my  dear  Sir,  ought  to  know  the  truth  in 
this  matter,  as  I  fear  that  neither  the  people  there,  nor  their  reporter  here,  ever 
knew  it ! 

There  were  many  persons  hearing  this;  and  the  poor  hollow'^hearted  igno- 
ramus seemed  confounded  or  scared  in  their  presence,  as  they  sensibly  listened 
to  the  plain  spoken  trath. 

If  practical  in  his  preaching,  he  was  didactic  and  ai^gumentative  too.  He  was 
earnest,  yet  ever  with  self-control,  and  an  uncommon  degree  and  kind  of  oooviien 
sense,  a  model  Presbyterian  Pastor* 


HXXEY  AXXELL.  457 


HSft  IttMniiaD^  wm  .9ot»  I  thiok)  •Kimaiviei  He  wai  rapiUrty  and  respeetebty 
gndoated  a<t  NasMU  Hall;  and  all  his  attaioip^iUa  had  an.  erangelieo-utiliten 
nan  character.  He  aimed  at  a  mark  vithin  his  reach,  took  good  aim,  under- 
stood the  serviee*  fiired,  and  almost  ahe^js  did  execution. 

Politics,  doings  in  Wall  street,  apd  romantic  stories,  were  no  part  of  his 
preaching.  His  ministry  was  richly  scriptural — it  spoke  its  own  character, 
thus: — ify  doctrine  i$  not  mine,  but  his  who  $ent  me.  His  audience  retired 
thoughtful.  They  felt  the  Master  rather  than  the  man.  As  a  consequence,  they 
were  Bible-reading,  and  Bible-searching,  and  Bible-thinking  in  their  piety;  and 
if  there  be  any  better  kind  of  Christians  than  such,  let  him  who  can,  tell  us 
where  to -find  them. 

His  stature  was  rather  above  the  average.  His  form  was  plain  and  massive 
rftther.  than  corpulent.  His  manner  was  eminently  simple,  and  I  may  say 
approfMriately  j^meriean.  It  was  in  no  sense  artificial  or  affected.  His  social 
character  was  grateful  and  free,  yet  his  words  were  not  commonly  multiplied. 
What  he  said  always  meant  something,  and  all  his  friends  attended  to  it, 
expecting  that  it  would  reward  their  care.  To  his  own  people  he  was  accessible 
and  affable;  to  all,  courteous  and  serviceable. 

Ton,  my  dear  brother,  have  asked  me  to  chronicle  these  memories  of  one  I 
loved;  and  if  my  hasty  contribution  can  perpetuate  or  diffuse  them,  in  any  useful 
degree,  I  shall  not  regret  that  in  this  as  in  other  and  similar  cases,  I  have  been 
prompt  to  comply  with  ycnr  request,  urgent  with  me  also, —  because  it  was 
yours* 

Fraternally  in  Christ, 

SAMUEL  H.  COi:. 


-♦♦■ 


EZRA  PISK,  D.  D  * 

1810—1888. 

Ezra  Fisk,  a  son  of  Simeon  Fisk,  was  bom  in  Shelbnrne,  Mass., 
January  10,  1785.  The  most  interesting  fact  that  I  can  learn  in  respect 
to  his  early  life,  is  thus  narrated  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander,  late 
Professor  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton : — 

'*  In  attending  Commencement  at  Dartmouth  College  in  1801,  I  became 
acquainted  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Packard  of  Shelbnrne,  Mass. ;  and  in  travel- 
ling with  him  on  horseback  down  the  Connecticut  River,  my  horse  became 
lame,  and  he  invited  me  to  go  and  spend  a  few  weeks  with  him  in  his  parish, 
80  that  ray  horse  might  recruit.  I  did  so.  During  my  stay  in  Shelburne, 
there  was  an  interesting  work  of  grace.  Many  of  the  children  and  youth 
were  subjects  of  the  work.  As  Dr.  Packard  and  myself  were  one  morning 
walking  along  by  a  house,  he  said  to  me, — *  There,  I  wish  you  would  go 
and  talk  with  that  chunk  of  a  boy,  who  stands  by  the  fence  yonder.*  I  did 
80  as  faithfully  n^  I  could.  I  of  course  did  not  suppose  that  I  should  see 
or  hear  of  the  boy  again.  Some  years  ago,  a  stranger  passed  through 
Princeton,  and  called  at  my  study.  He  said, — '  Ton  are  Dr.  Akzander — 
do  you  remember  that  you  spent  a  few  weeks  in  Shelburne,  Mass.,  many 

•  ChrirtUn  Adrooata,  XI.— Paokaid's  Hiitoiy  of  the  Chorohei  and  Minltten  In  FnakUa 
Coaaty,  JiMi. 

Vol.  IV.  58 


4^  PBESBTTEBIAV. 

years  ago?'  '  I  do,*  sud  I.  *Do  yon  remember  that  Dr.  Paekard  aaked 
you  one  morning  to  talk  with  a  chunk  of  a  boy  that  stood  by  the  fence?' 
*  Why,'  said  I,  '  the  oircumstance  had  long  been  forgotten,  bat  I  now  recall 
it  to  mind.'  He  then  said, — 'That  chunk  of  a  boy  was  myself.  The  words 
which  you  spake  to  me  were  blessed  to  my  spiritual  good.  I  date  my  con- 
version back  to  that  time.  My  name  is  Ezra  Fisk.  I  am  Pastor  of  a 
Church  in  Goshen.  N.  Y.'  " 

Young  Fisk  pursued  his  studies  preparatory  to  entering  College,  under 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Packard,  then  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  his  native  place.  He 
was  graduated  at  Williams  College  in  the  year  1809,  having  been,  daring 
his  college  course,  one  of  the  little  company  of  pious  young  men,  who  met 
frequently  for  prayer  with  reference  to  evangelical  missions ;  among  whom 
were  Mills  and  Richards.  After  his  graduation,  he  proeeeuted  his  theologi- 
cal studies  under  the  direction  of  Dr.  Packard,  towards  whom  he  continued 
to  cherish,  till  the  close  of  life,  the  most  affectionate  respect  and  veneration. 
He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Franklin  Association,  on  the  19th  of 
April,  1810;  and,  after  preaching  for  some  months  as  a  licentiate,  was 
ordained  as  an  evangelist.  He  laboured  in  this  capacity  chiefly  among  the 
numerous  destitute  congregations  then  in  the  State  of  Georgia;  and,  during 
his  sojourn  there,  in  March,  1812,  he  entered  into  the  marriage  relation 
with  a  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Francis  Cummins.  In  the  autumn  of  the 
same  year,  though  debilitated  by  his  residence  and  labours  in  the  South,  he 
performed  the  work  of  a  city  missionary  for  some  months  in  Philadelphia. 
In  August,  1818,  he  became  the  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Goshen,  N.  Y.,  where  he  continued  in  the  faithful  and  acceptable  discharge 
of  his  duties  upwards  of  twenty  years. 

He  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Hamilton  College  in 
1826. 

In  the  autumn  of  1832,  Dr.  Fisk  was  obliged,  in  consequence  of  an  affec- 
tion of  the  lungs,  to  intermit  the  greater  part  of  his  ministerial  duties,  and 
he  sought  relief  by  a  winter's  residence  in  the  milder  climate  of  Georgia. 
During  his  absence,  he  unexpectedly  received  the  appointment  of  Corres- 
ponding Secretary  and  General  Agent  of  the  Board  of  Missions  of  the 
General  Assembly ;  which,  on  his  return,  he  felt  constrained  to  decline,  from 
a  conviction  that  it  would  involve  more  labour  and  hardship  than  he  was 
able  to  endure.  In  May,  1833,  he  was  recommended  by  the  Directors  of 
the  Western  Theological  Seminary  to  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  for  the  Professorship  of  Ecclesiastical  History  and  Church 
Government  in  that  Institution.  Shortly  after  this  he  made  a  journey  to 
Alleghany  town,  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  condition  and  pros- 
pects of  the  Seminary,  that  he  might  be  able  to  judge  more  intelligently 
in  respect  to  his  duty ;  and  the  result  was  that  he  signified  his  acceptance 
of  the  appointment.  On  his  return,  he  sought  and  obtained  a  release  from 
his  pastoral  charge,  which  was  a  sore  trial  to  both  himself  and  his  people. 
His  Farewell  Sermon  to  his  brethren  of  the  Presbytery  of  which  he  was  a 
member,  was  published,  and  is  a  fine  illustration  of  his  tenderness,  wisdom, 
and  piety. 

Having  taken  leave  of  his  people,  Dr.  Fisk  set  out  for  his  new  field  of 
labour,  and  reached  Philadelphia  on  the  2d  of  November.  On  the  evening 
of  the  next  day,  (Sabbath,)  he  preached  his  last  sermon  in  the  lecture 
room  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church.     Immediately  after  preaching, 


EJS&A  FI8K.  459 

hB  beeamd  yerj  siok  at  the  stomach,  and  the  day  following  had  a  high  fever 
aeoompanied  bj  excrnciating  pain  in  the  head.  Other  decidedly  nnfayour- 
able  symptoms  soon  followed,  one  of  which  was  an  incessant  and  exhausting 
hiccap.  After  about  two  weeks,  however,  his  disease  seemed  to  leave  him, 
and  he  was  encouraged  to  hope  that  he  should  soon  be  able  to  proceed  on  his 
journey.  But  this  hope  was  not  destined  to  be  realized.  On  Sunday  night, 
December  3d,  he  was  taken  with  a  relapse,  and  after  an  alternation  of  hopes 
and  fears  in  respect  to  him,  he  departed  peacefully  on  the  afternoon  of  the  fol- 
lowing Tuesday,  December  5, 1833, — having  nearly  completed  his  forty-ninth 
year.  His  Funeral  was  attended  on  the  Saturday  following  in  the  lecture 
room  in  which  he  preached  his  last  sermon,  and  an  appropriate  Address  was 
delivered  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ashbel  Green,  which  was  afterwards  published 
in  the  *' Christian  Advocate."  His  remains  were  removed,  by  request  of 
his  former  charge,  to  Goshen,  and  there  reverently  deposited  in  their  final 
resting  place.     Mrs.  Fisk  survived  him ;  but  they  had  no  children. 

Dr.  Fisk  was  Moderator  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  in  1833,  and  was  a  Trustee  of  Williams  College,  from  1823,  and  a 
Director  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton  from  1825,  till  his  death. 

Dr.  Fisk  published  an  Oration  delivered  before  the  Society  of  Alumni  in 
Williams  College,  1825 ;  a  Lecture  on  the  Inability  of  Sinners,  delivered 
in  the  Spruce  Street  Church,  Philadelphia,  1832;  a  Farewell  Sermon,  1833. 
He  also  published  a  series  of  valuable  articles  on  Mental  Science,  in  the 
Christian  Advocate,  in  1832. 


FROM  THE  REY.  LUTHER  HALSEY,  D.  D. 

BLoomivo  GaovB,  N.  T.,  March  2, 1867. 

My  dear  Brother:  I  confess  it  has  not  been  without  some  hesitation  that  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  comply  with  your  request — not  from  any  lack  of  regard  to 
yourself,  nor  of  tender  remembrance  of  the  friend  of  my  youth, — the  late  Dr. 
Ezra  Fisk ;  but  solely  because  of  an  habitual  aversion  to  writing  for  the  public^ 
and  a  fear  that  I  might  fiiil,  after  an  interval  of  so  many  years,  to  draw  an  accu- 
rate portrait  in  the  attitude  required.  The  truth  is.  Dr.  Fisk  lives  in  my 
memory  by  his  general  amiableness  and  connection  with  former  studies,  ecclesi- 
astical councils,  correspondence  and  social  life,  rather  than  by  his  pulpit  exhi- 
bitions. Our  friendship  was  intimate  and  unalloyed;  and  as  a  erUic,  a  friend  is 
less  valuable  than  a  stranger;  as  in  the  former,  the  heart  rather  than  the  head  is 
the  seat  of  impressions.  Distance,  too,  affects  our  optics;  and  I  now  stand  so 
far  off  from  my  firiend,  I  can  but  sketch  a  general  outline,  while  much  of  feature 
and  colour  are  lost  in  the  haze  of  years. 

In  the  pulpit,  his  person  was  fine,  his  dress  ever  plain  and  neat,  his  counte- 
nance benevolent,  his  voice  pleasant,  his  pronunciation  distinct  and  accurate, 
varied  and  enlivened  by  special  emphasis,  his  action  moderate  and  graceful,  his 
air  solemn,  and  at  times  earnest  and  tender,  altogether  suited  to  secure  respect 
and  attention.  Of  his  sermons,  I  may  say  his  texts  were  not  startling  by  sin- 
gularity, but  selected  because  fairly  and  clearly  conveying  an  important  doctrine, 
which  became  the  burden  of  the  discourse.  The  text  he  carefully  studied  in  the 
original  £(ebrew  or  Greek,  also  in  its  relation  to  antecedent  and  succeeding  pas- 
sages, for  the  purpose  of  catching  its  exact  sense,  allusions,  and  argument.  Thus 
assisted,  he  endeavoured  to  bring  out  the  doctrine  as  far  as  possible  in  a  textual 
manner.  His  divisions  were  natural » logical,  briefly  and  distinctly  stated.  His 
language  was  simple,  but  classical — ^the  movement  of  his  sentences  rather  stately 
and  uniform.    His  illustrations  not  abundant,  and  rather  fair  than  striking — 


460  PBE8BYTSHIAX. 

the  nndorslfti^Uiig  rather  than  the  enotioos  teemed  his  aim.  His  aTj^nmeBtatioB' 
was  clear  and  seriptural — the  practical  mdvanta^  taken  of  it  in  his  applieatioDft 
was  connected  and  faithM.  In  a  word,  as  his  temperament  was  kiMil]r  aad 
equable,  so  his  pulpit  exercises  were  interesting,  uniform,  sad  splid^  attended  hy 
a  large  and  growing  congregation  of  piety  and  intelligence. 

True,  there  were  times  when  his  manner  was  less  calm  and  stately,  and  rules 
were  forgotten;  when  he  allowed  himself  to  drift  on  the  full  influence  of  the 
times,  the  truth  and  the  Spirit.  Then  his  voice  took  greater  range,  the  fountains 
of  emotion  were  broken  up,  and  he  was  remarkably  impressive  and  moving.  This 
was  most  observed  in  his  incidental  addresses  at  evening  meetings  for  devotion 
and  religious  inquiry.     There  he  was  trnly  eloquent. 

In  this  brief  retrospect  of  the  ministerial  character  of  Dr.  Fisk,  it  would  be 
treachery  to  worth  as  well  as  friendship,  to  omit  his  special  aptitude  and  useiui- 
ness  as  a  coutueUor*  There  was  in  him  a  tenderness,  a  patience^  a  perspicuity, 
a  comprehension,  an  unusual  knowledge  of  human  nature,  a  candour  and  soaTity 
of  manner,  which,  united  to  a  large  share  of  the  public  confidence,  made  him 
eminently  useful  in  this  sphere.  Like  the  silent,  unseen  and  universal  powers 
of  nature,  which  give  life  and  harmony  to  the  system,  but  in  their  wide-spread 
agencies  exceed  detail;  so  his  life  was  a  wide-spread  and  noiseless  blessing  to  the 
Ohurch.    His  record  is  on  high. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

LUTHER  HALSEY. 


-♦♦■ 


DANIEL  A.  CLARK.* 

1810^1840, 

Daniel  A.  Clark  was  born  at  Eahway,  N.  J.,  March  1,  1779.  His 
father  was  David  Clark,  a  relative  of  Abram  Clark,  one  of  the  Signers  of 
the  Declaration  of  Indopendenoe,  His  mother  was  Elisabeth  Moore,  a  per- 
son of  great  energy  of  character,  and.  of  copsistent  and  devoted  piety.  She 
bestowed  great  ca^re  upon  the  religious  education  of  her  ehildren,  in  which 
unhappily  she  was  rather  hindered  than  aided  by  her  husband,  as  he  seems 
to  have  had  little  sense  of  the  importance  of  religion,  and  to  have  cared 
little  whether  his  children  grew  up  Christians  or  infidels.  The  mother's 
treatment  of  them,  owing  perhaps  partly  to  a  natural  severity  of  temper, 
and  partly  to  the  influence  of  her  own  early  education,  was  sometimes  want- 
ing in  due  consideration  and  prudence  ;  but  she  never  left  them  in  doubt  as 
to  her  commanding  desire  to  see  them  in  possession  of  the  richest  of  all 
blessings. 

The  subject  of  this  notice,  at  a  very  early  period,  began  to  resist  his 
mother's  counsels  and  exhortations,  and  to  mingle  clandestinely  in  scenes 
which  her  judgment,  and  affectioi;i,.  i^nd  authority,  had  forbidden  to  him. 
He  had  a  perfect  passion  for  attending  balls ;  and,  on  one  occasion,  having 
gone  to  a  ball,  without  the  knowledge  and  contrary  to  the  oommand  of  his 
mother,  his  conscience  would  not  suffer  him  to  remain,  and  he  returned 

Hamoir  jpreilx«d  to  Us  Senaou.— MB.  firom  his  wn^  Dr.  Clnrk, 


DAFZSL  A.dLABK.  4Q1 

lio»B,  and  Bpmkt the  rMt  of  ibe  night  in  intmseagoi^  - Ai  Auoiher  time, 
his  mother,  having  kamed  that  he  had  gone  to  mmgle  in-  snch  a  eoene  of 
amuaementi  aotnallj  followed  him  to  the  place,  and  soooeeded  in  inducing 
him  to  return  with  her.  His  father  was  now  ahout putting  him  to  business; 
aud  the  man  to  whom  he  was  to  be  apprentieed,  was  grossly  irreligious,  if 
not  a  profligate.  Shortly  before  the  time  he  was  to  leave  home,  he  deter- 
mined, on  a  certain  Sabbath  momiog,  to  attend  church  at  Elisabethtown 
that  day,  and  hear  the  celebrated  David  Austin.  Though  he  entered  the 
church  without  any  serious  feelings,  the  announcement  of  the  text  (Jere- 
miah i.  4,  5.)  awakened  them ;  and  he  resolved  for  once  to  listen  attentively. 
The  effect  was  that  his  spirit  was  overwhelmed;  and  he  retired  from  the 
house  wiUi  feelings  and  purposes  altogether  new.  Subsequently  to  this,  he 
bad  great  doubts  and  conflicts ;  but  he  seems  rather  to  have  inclined  to  the 
opinion  that,  under  that  sermon  of  Mr.  Austin,  he  was  conscious  of  the 
tot  actings  of  the  principle  of  spiritual  life.  In  about  one  year  from  this 
time,  he  made  a  public  profession  of  his  faith,  under  the  ministry  of  the 
Kev.  Jedediah  Chapman. 

Soon  after  this,  he  formed  the  purpose  of  devoting  himself  to  the  minis- 
try; and,  in  1802,  commenced  his  preparation  for  College,  under  the 
instruction  of  the  Kev.  Dr.  Finley,  of  Basking  Bidge.  In  March,  1805,  he 
was  summoned  home  to  see  his  mother  die.  Her  death  was  a  tranquil  and 
glorious  one ;  and  her  only  anxiety-  seemed  to  be  for  the  salvation  of  her 
children.  He  entered  Princeton  College  in  1805,  at  an  advanced  standing, 
and  graduated  in  1808,  with  a  high  reputation  for  scholarship. 

Mr.  Clark,  in  commencing  his  theological  studies,  placed  himself  under 
the  care  of  the  Presbytery  of  New  York ;  and  in  May,  1810,  left  Newark, 
in  company  with  Dr.  Griffin,  for  Andover,  Mass.,  the  latter  to  be  a  Pro- 
fessor, the  former  a  student,  in  the  Seminary  which  had  just  been  established 
there.  Here  he  continued  between  one  and  two  years,  being  a  member  of 
the  third  class  ever  formed  in  the  Institution.  In  October,  1810,  while  he 
was  yet  a  student  at  Andover,  he  was  examined  and  licensed  to  preach  the 
Gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of  Jersey. 

In  1811,  he  visited  Portland,  Me.,  and,  for  several  weeks,  occupied  the 
pulpit  of  the  Rev.  (now  Dr.)  N.  S.  S.  Beman,  who  was  obliged  to  suspend 
his  labours  for  some  time  on  account  of  ill  health. 

On  the  1st  of  January,  1812,  he  was  ordained  to  the  work  of  the  minis- 
try, and  installed  Pastor  of  the  Congregational  Union  Church  of  Braintree 
and  Weymouth,  Mass.  In  June  of  the  same  year,  he  was  married  at  Port- 
land, Me.^  to  Eliza,  daughter  of  Dr.  Jeremiah  Barker,  of  Gorham. 

Mr.  Clark  remained  at  Weymouth,  preaching  with  great  boldness  and 
pungency,  till  the  autumn  of  1815 ;  when  he  was  induced,  partly  by  the 
impaired  health  of  his  wife,  which  was  thought  to  demand  a  milder  climate, 
and  partly  by  an  opposition  which  had  arisen  in  the  parish  to  his  ministry, 
to  resign  his  pastoral  charge^  Having  obtained  an  honourable  dismission, 
he  removed  to  New  Jersey,  and  laboured  through  the  winter  following,  at 
Hanover,  where  there  was  an  unusual  attention  to  religion. 

In  January,  1816,  he  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in 
Southbury,  Conn.  In  connection  with  his  labours  here  as  a  minister,  he 
taught,  gratuitously,  for  a  considerable  time,  a  large  school,  with  a  view  to 
elevate  the  standard  of  education  in  the  place  and  vicinity. 


4^  PKBSBTTBBIAN. 

When  it  was  known  that  Mr.  Clark  had  det^mined  to  leave  8o«thh«ry, 
hU  aervioes  were  sought  for  by  several  highly  respectable  congregationa ; 
and  he  finally  acoepted  an  invitation  from  the  West  Parish  of  Amherst, 
Mass.  Here  he  was  installed  January  26,  1820, — the  Sermon  on  the  occa- 
sion being  preached  by  the  Rev.  Noah  Porter,  of  Farmington. 

Mr.  Clark's  ministry  at  Amherst  was  far  from  being  aqniet  and  peaoefvl 
one.  Charges  of  various  kinds  were  made  against  him,  some  of  them  sen* 
ously  affecting  not  only  his  ministerial  but  Christian  character;  and,  in 
February,  1824,  a  Council  was  convened  to  consider  and  decide  upon  the 
various  allegations.  It  embraced  a  large  amount  of  talent  and  influence ; 
and  several,  who  had  long  been  conspicuous  in  civil  life,  bore  a  prominent 
part  in  the  investigation.  The  result  was  that  the  Pastor  was  acquitted  on 
the  several  charges,  and  was  cordially  recommended  to  the  churches  as 
an  able  and  faithful  minister. 

Mr.  Clark  remained  at  Amheret  for  a  season  after  the  action  of  this 
oouncil, — continuing  in  the  discharge  of  his  ministerial  duties ;  but,  as  his 
situation  here  was  in  many  respects  an  undesirable  one,  he  was  more  than 
willing  to  avail  himself  of  the  first  opportunity  that  occurred  for  leaving  it. 
Accordingly,  in  the  spring  of  1826,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Congrega- 
tional Church  in  Bennington,  Yt.,  and  was  installed  as  its  Pastor  on  the 
14th  of  June.  Dr.  Griffin,  bis  theological  teacher,  then  President  of  Wil- 
liams College,  was  a  member  of  the  Council,  and  preached  the  sermon. 

Here  Mr.  Clark's  labours  were  very  arduous ;  but  his  fearless  manner  of 
dealing  with  all  sorts  of  evil  provoked  a  violent  opposition.  A  revival  of 
considerable  power  attended  his  labours ;  the  Temperance  Reform  in  Ben- 
nington may  be  said  to  have  originated  in  connection  with  his  efforts ;  he 
was  chiefly  instrumental  in  establishing  a  Lyceum,  which  exerted  a  decidedly 
healthful  influence  upon  the  young  men  of  the  community;  but,  notwith- 
standing all  these  tokens  of  usefulness,  he  was  disposed,  after  a  few  years, 
in  consideration  of  a  growing  dissatisfaction  with  his  ministry,  to  seek  a 
new  field  of  labour.  He,  therefore,  requested  the  Church  and  Society  to 
unite  with  him  in  calling  a  mutual  council  for  his  dismission.  The  Council 
accordingly  assembled  and  dissolved  the  pastoral  relation,  declaring  Mr. 
Clark  worthy  of  the  undiminished  confidence  of  the  churches.  This  oceur^ 
red  in  the  autumn  of  1830. 

Mr.  Clark,  on  leaving  Bennington,  went  to  Troy,  and  again  occupied  the 
pulpit  of  Dr.  Benian,  who  found  it  necessary  to  travel  to  the  South  on 
account  of  his  health.  Here  his  preaching  was  heard  with  great  attention, 
and  produced  a  powerful  effect.  After  this  he  laboured,  for  some  time,  in 
Utica,  N.  Y.,  and  the  vicinity,  and  for  a  short  season  made  Utica  the  place 
of  his  stated  residence.  On  his  way  thither,  on  board  a  canal  boat,  he  met 
with  an  accident,  by  which  he  broke  the  thumb  of  his  right  hand,  thus 
rendering  himself  nearly  incapable  of  using  a  pen.  He  left  Utica  in  June, 
1832 ;  and  three  days  after  he  had  removed  his  family,  the  cholera  broke 
out,  and  in  three  days  more  it  had  found  two  victims  in  the  house  in  which 
he  had  resided. 

On  the  17th  of  July  of  this  year,  Mr.  Clark  was  installed  over  the  Pres- 
byterian Church,  in  Adams,  Jefferson  County,  N.  Y.  But,  after  a  residence 
here  of  a  little  more  than  a  year,  his  iron  constitution  so  far  gave  way  that  he 
was  obliged  to  withdraw  from  the  field.  Having  taken  leave  of  his  people, 
he  removed  to  the  city  of  New  York  in  the  autumn  of  1833,  where  his 


DANIEL  A  CLARK.  4g3 

obildren  were  engaging  in  business.  Here  he  occupied  himself  in  coniri- 
buting  to  some  of  the  religious  periodicals  of  the  day,  in  supplying  oooar 
Bionally  the  vacant  pulpit  of  some  neighbouriug  church,  and  especially  in 
preparing  for  the  press  three  volumes  of  Sermons,  \7hi0h  were  published  in 
1886  and  1837.  About  this  time,  he  received  an  eligible  call  to  settle ;  but 
the  state  of  his  health  utterly  forbade  his  acceptance  of  it. 

In  the  fall  of  1834,  he  went  to  Charleston,  S.  C,  in  the  hope  that  his 
health  might  be  benefitted  by  a  Southern  climate.  He  remained  there 
during  the  winter,  and  preached  occasionally  with  great  energy  and  effect. 
He  also  contributed  several  interesting  articles  to  two  religious  newspapers. 
He  returned  to  New  York  in  the  spring  of  1835,  with  his  health  in  no 
degree  improved.  Frequent  depletion  was  resorted  to  in  order  to  prevent 
the  determination  of  blood  to  the  head,  which  was  the  ever  threatening 
symptom ;  but  both  he  and  hb  friends  had  now  come  to  feel  that  his  recovery 
was  hopeless.  In  the  fall  of  1887,  he  removed  with  his  family  to  New 
Haven,  thinking  that  he  might  experience  some  benefit  from  a  more  quiet 
residence.  And,  for  a  short  time,  the  change  seemed  likely  to  prove  favour- 
able: he  preached  once  after  his  arrival  there,  but  it  was  his  last  effort  in 
the  pulpit.  Shortly  after,  he  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  paralysis,  which 
affected  his  right  side  and  the  organs  of  speech.  After  this,  he  walked 
with  difficulty,  and  was  able  to  take  but  little  exercise. 

In  the  spring  of  1888,  finding  that  the  removal  had  been  of  no  service  to 
him,  he  returned  with  his  family  to  New  York.  During  this  year,  his  dis- 
ease increased  in  severity,  until  at  length  his  mind  became  quite  unstrung. 
Much  of  the  time  he  was  oppressed  with  spiritual  gloom,  and  had  little  or 
DO  confidence  in  the  genuineness  of  his  own  religious  exercises ;  but  hb 
mind  always  kindled  at  any  intelligence  of  the  prosperity  of  Christ's  King- 
dom. He  died  in  great  tranquillity  on  the  3d  of  March,  1840,  of  an  ossifi- 
cation of  the  arteries  of  the  brain.  His  Funeral  was  attended  at  the 
Broadway  Tabernacle,  where  an  Address  was  delivered  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Joel  Parker.  His  remains  were  subsequently  taken  to  New  Haven  for 
burial. 

Mr.  Clark,  though  practically  a  Congregationalist  while  he  exercised  his 
ministry  in  New  England,  nevertheless  always  retained  his  preference  for 
the  Presbyterian  form  of  Church  Government,  and  resumed  his  relations 
with  the  Presbyterian  Church  as  soon  as  he  had  the  opportunity.  He 
became  ultimately  a  member  of  the  Third  Presbytery  of  New  York,  and 
as  such  fell  upon  the  New  School  side,  on  the  division  of  the  General  Assem- 
bly, in  1888. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Mr.  Clark's  publications : — ^A  Sermon  on  the 
Fourth  of  July  at  Hanover,  N.  J.,  1814.  The  Church  safe:  A  Sermon 
preached  before  the  Consociation  at  Water  town,  1817.  A  Sermon  at  the 
laying  of  the  corner  stone  of  the  building  erecting  for  the  Charity  Institu- 
tion in  Amherst,  1820.  A  volume  of  Sermons  to  be  used  in  religious 
meetings,  where  there  is  not  present  a  Gospel  Minister,  1825.  The  influ- 
ence of  a  good  taste  on  the  moral  affections :  An  Address  delivered  before 
the  Alexandrian  Society  of  Amherst  College,  1827.  *' Mii'ror  of  human 
nature,"  and  "Practical  test  of  love  or  enmity  to  God:"  Two  Sermons  in 
the  National  Preacher,  1827.  "  The  Son  of  God  must  be  reverenced,"  and 
"The  two  champions  contrasted:"  Two  Sermons  in  the  National  Preacher, 
1829.     "The  Sinners  desperate  Depravity,"  and  '*The  nature  and  result 


464  PRESBTTERIAV. 

of  Sanottfioation :"  Two  flermons  ib  the  National  Preacher,  1886.    Three 

YoluTDes  of  Sermonfl,  12mo.,  1886,  1887. 

The  "complete  works "  of  Mr.  Clark,  together  with  a  Biographical 
Sketch,  and  an  estimate  of  his  powers  as  a  preacher  hj  the  Bey.  George 
Shepard,  D.  D.,  were  printed  in  1846,  in  two  volumes,  octavo. 

Mr.  Clark  left  six  children, — five  sons  and  one  daughter.  Four  of  hia 
sons  have  been  liberally  educated,  and  are  occupying  important  posts  of 
professional  usefulness.  Two  are  engaged  in  the  profession  of  Law,  ose 
of  whom  is  now  (1856)  a  member  of  Congress  elect  from  the  city  of  New 
York;  one  is  a  minbter  in  the  Presbyterian  Church;  and  one  a  physi- 
cian and  medical  author.  His  daughter  is  married  to  (he  Bev.  J.  LiTing- 
ston  Willard,  of  Sparta,  N.  J.,  and  is  a  contributor  to  yarious  literary 
periodicals. 

FROM  THE  KEY.  SAMUEL  OSGOOD,  D.  D. 

SpBiRGFiELD,  Mass.,  February  28, 1856. 

My  dear  Sir :  The  Rev.  Daniel  A.  Clark,  concerning  whom  you  ask  for  my 
recollections,  was  decidedly  a  man  of  mark  among  the  ministers  of  New  Eng 
land.  My  acquaintance  with  him  commenced  at  Princeton,  white  I  was  a  student 
of  Theology  there,  and  he  a  member  of  College;  but  it  was  only  of  a  general 
character, — such  as  naturally  grew  out  of  my  occasional  meetings  with  him  at 
our  debating  clubs,  religious  gatherings,  &c,  I  am  not  sure  that  I  ever  met  with 
him  from  the  time  of  my  leaving  Princeton,  until  he  came  to  reside  in  this  neigh- 
bourhood, as  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Amherst.  During  his  residence  there,  I 
had  frequent  opportunities  of  intercourse  with  him,  and  knew  him,  1  may  say, 
somewhat  intimately,  till  the  close  of  his  life.  The  last  time  I  saw  him,  was 
after  he  had  become  disabled  for  public  service  by  a  stroke  of  paralysis,  and 
there  were  unmistakeable  signs  that  the  time  of  his  departure  was  at  hand. 

Mr.  Clark  had  a  large  and  strongly  built  frame,  and  a  constitution  that  seemed 
well  fitted  for  endurance.  Ills  countenance  had  in  it  more  of  strength  than  of 
delicacy — more  that  was  commanding  than  attractive.  His  manners,  too,  were 
of  the  straightforward,  and  perhaps  I  may  say,  careless  sort,  rather  than  indi- 
cative of  a  high  degree  of  social  culture.  In  conversation,  he  was  at  once  intel- 
Mgent  and  communicative.  He  impressed  you  as  decidedly  a  man  of  power  and 
originality — you  felt  that  you  were  in  contact  with  much  more  than  an  ordinary 
mind. 

But  it  was  in  the  pulpit  that  he  exerted  his  highest  influence.  His  manner 
was  unpolished,  but  simple,  natural,  and  prodigiously  energetic.  His  sermons 
were  distinguished  for  great  directness  of  style  and  thought;  for  lucid  exposi- 
tions of  Divine  truth,  and  for  the  most  plain  and  pungent  dealing  with  the 
conscience.  He  sometimes  also  displayed  a  rich  and  powerful  imagination, 
especially  in  illustrating  such  scenes  as  the  death  on  Calvary,  and  the  retribu- 
tions of  the  next  world;  but  even  when  he  was  most  prodigal  of  fine  imagery, 
you  always  felt  that  it  was  for  some  higher  end  than  mere  rhetorical  display — 
that  it  was  simply  to  give  additional  impressiveness  to  the  truth.  From  what  I 
have  known  of  bis  preaching,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  it  was  better  adapted 
to  carry  conviction  and  alarm  to  the  sinner,  than  consolation  to  the  troubled 
or  bleeding  heart;  though  I  do  not  suppose  that  it  was  deficient  in  the  latter. 

The  published  sermons  of  Mr.  Clark,  I  believe  it  is  generally  admitted,  take 
rank  with  the  ablest  sermons  which  our  country  has  produced.  There  is  in 
them  a  vigour  and  fulness  of  thought,  a  richness  of  illustration,  and  an  alniof^t 
irresistible  force  of  appeal,  that  render  them  an  honour  to  the  American  pulpit. 

Yours  truly, 

S."^  OSGOOD. 


PHILIP  LI5DSLET.  435 


PHILIP  LINDSLEY,  D.  D  * 

1810—1856. 

Philip  Linbslet,  a  son  of  Isaao  and  Phebe  (Condict)  Lindsley,  was 
born  December  21,  1786,  at  the  residence  of  his  maternal  grandmother, 
Mrs.  Huldak  Condict,  widow  of  Colonel  Ebenezer  CoDdict,  near  Morris- 
town,  N.  J.  His  parents  were  both  of  English  extraction,  and  the  Linds* 
leys  and  Condicts  were  among  the  earliest  settlers  of  Morristown,  and  were 
aetiye  and  influential  Whigs  of  the  Reyolution.  His  early  youth  was  spent 
in  his  father's  family,  at  Basking  Eidge,  N.  J.  In  1799,  when  he  was  in 
his  thirteenth  year,  he  entered  the  Academy  of  the  Bey.  Robert  Finley  of 
that  place — then  just  opened  with  six  pupils.  Here  he  continued  three 
years,  with  the  exception  of  three  months,  during  which  he  was  at  Morris* 
town,  under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  James  Stevenson,  also  a  distinguished 
teacher.  He  entered  the  Junior  class  of .  the  College  of  New  Jersey  in 
November,  1802,  and  was  graduated  in  September,  1804.  He  passed  the 
first  winter  after  leaving  College  at  Morristown,  as  an  assistant  teacher  in 
Mr.  Stevenson's  school;  and  in  May  following,  (1805,)  he  began  to  teach 
the  Latin  and  Greek  languages,  as  an  assistant  of  Mr.  Finley  at  Basking 
Ridge.  Here  he  continued  till  the  spring  of  1807,  when  he  resigned  his 
place,  and  about  the  same  time  became  a  member  of  the  Church  of  which  Mr. 
Finley  was  Pastor,  and  was  received  as  a  candidate  for  the  ministry  by  the 
Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick.  The  same  year  he  became  a  Tutor  in  the  Col- 
lege of  New  Jersey,  where  he  remained  two  years,  teaching  Latin  and  Qreek, 
and  at  the  same  time  studying  Theology  in  connection  with  the  classics,  the 
French  language,  &c.  The  winter  of  1809-10,  he  spent  at  the  College, 
devoting  himself  exclusively  to  Theology,  under  the  direction  of  the  Presi- 
dent, Dr.  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith;  and  on  the  24th  of  April,  1810,  was 
licensed  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick  to  preach  the  Gospel. 

After  making  a  short  excursion  to  Virginia,  he  returned  to  Princeton, 
and  continued  his  theological  studies  there  during  the  summer.  In  Octo- 
ber following,  he  went  to  Newtown,  L.  I.,  where  he  preached  for  some  time 
as  a  stated  supply,  and  declined  overtures  for  a  settlement.  The  summer 
of  1811  he  passed  in  study  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pcrrine,  (afterwards  Pro- 
fessor at  Auburn,)  at  Bottle  Hill,  (now  Madison,)  N.  J.;  and,  as  Mr.  Per^ 
rine  was  installed  in  the  city  of  New  York  in  October  following,  Mr. 
Lindsley  accompanied  him  thither,  and  continued  the  study  of  Theology 
and  Hebrew  under  his  instruction  during  the  next  winter.  In  1812,  he 
made  a  tour  through  New  England  with  the  Rev.  Robert  Finley,  and  in 
November  of  the  same  year  returned  to  Princeton  in  the  capacity  of  Senior 
Tutor  in  the  College.  In  1813,  he  was  transferred  from  the  Tutorship  to 
the  Professorship  of  languages,  and  at  the  same  time  was  chosen  Secretary 
of  the  Board  of  Trustees.  He  also  held  the  offices  of  Librarian  and  Inspec- 
tor of  the  College  during  his  connection  with  the  institution.  In  October 
of  thb  year,  he  was  married  to  Margaret  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  the  Hon. 
Nathaniel  Lawrence,  Attorney  General  of  the  State  of  New  York. 

•Obituary  Addnnei.— MS.  ftom  bis  «»,  Rev.  Dr.  J.  B.  Liadiley. 
Vol.  IV.  59 


466  PRESBYTERIAN. 

In  1817,  Mr.  Lindsley  was  twice  chosen  President  of  Transylvania  Uni- 
versity,  Ky.;  but  in  both  instances  declined.  In  June  of  the  same  year, 
he  was  ordained,  sine  titulo,  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick ;  and 
in  September  following,  was  elected  Vice  President  of  the  College  of  New 
Jersey.  After  the  resignation  of  Dr.  Green,  as  President  of  the  College, 
in  1822,  he  was  for  one  year  acting  President.  In  the  early  part  of  1823, 
he  was  chosen  President  of  Cumberland  College,  Tenn.;  and  a  few  months 
later  was  chosen  President  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey;  but  he  declined 
both  appointments.  The  same  year  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was 
conferred  upon  him  by  Dickinson  College,  Carlisle,  then  under  the  Presi- 
dency of  the  llev.  Dr.  J.  M.  Mason. 

During  the  winter  of  1823-24, — shortly  after  having  refused  to  consider 
overtures  concerning  the  Presidency  of  Ohio  University,  at  Athens,  0., 
he  was  again  importuned  to  accept  the  Presidency  of  Cumberland  College, 
and  was  finally  induced  to  visit  Nashville,  that  he  might  form  a  more  intel- 
ligent opinion  of  his  duty  in  respect  to  it;  and  the  result  was  that,  on  the 
8th  of  May,  he  very  reluctantly  signified  his  acceptance  of  the  office. 
During  his  absence,  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Dickinson  College  had  sent 
a  deputy  to  Princeton  to  induce  him  to  consent  to  become  President  of  that 
institution.  On  the  24lh  of  December,  he  arrived  in  Nashville  with  his 
family,  consisting  of  a  wife  and  four  children, — the  College  having  then 
been  in  operation  a  few  weeks,  with  about  thirty  students.  He  was  inau- 
gurated with  much  pomp  and  ceremony  on  the  12th  of  January,  1825.  His 
Address  delivered  on  the  occasion  was  published,  and  very  widely  circu- 
lated. It  was  a  noble  effort,  and  was  regarded  as  auspicious  of  an  eminently 
useful  and  brilliant  career.  The  corporate  name  of  the  College  was  changed 
the  next  year  to  "The  University  of  Nashville.*' 

Though  Dr.  Lindsley  never  directly  or  indirectly  sought  an  appointment 
from  any  literary  institution,  such  was  his  reputation  that  he  was  solicited 
to  the  Presidency  of  such  institutions  more  frequently  perhaps  than  any 
other  man  who  has  ever  lived  in  this  country.  In  addition  to  the  cases 
already  mentioned,  he  was  chosen  to  the  Presidency  of  Washington  College, 
Lexington,  Va.,  and  of  Dickinson  College,  Carlisle,  in  1829;  was  chosen 
twice  to  the  Presidency  of  the  University  of  Alabama,  at  Tuscaloosa,  in 
1830 ;  was  chosen  Provost  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  at  Philadel- 
phia, and  President  of  the  College  of  Louisiana,  at  Jackson,  in  1834;  Pre- 
sident of  South  Alabama  College,  at  Marion,  in  1837;  and  President  of 
Transylvania  University,  in  1839; — all  which  appointments  he  promptly 
declined,  though  he  was  greatly  urged  to  accept  them. 

In  May,  1834,  Dr.  Lindsley  was  unanimously  elected  Moderator  of  the 
General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  of  the  United  States,  then 
holding  its  sessions  at  Philadelphia.  He  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
"Boyal  Society  of  Northern  Antiquaries,'*  at  Copenhagen,  in  1837. 

On  the  5th  of  December,  1845,  Mrs.  Lindsley  was  taken  from  him  by 
death,  after  a  most  happy  union  of  about  thirty-two  years.  On  the  19th 
of  April,  1849,  he  was  married  to  Mrs.  Mary  Ann  Ayers,  the  widow  of  a 
kinsman, — Elias  Ayers,  the  founder  of  the  New  Albany  Theological  Semi- 
nary,— a  daughter  »cif  the  late  Major  William  Silliman  of  Fairfield,  Conn., 
and  a  neice  of  the  venerable  Professor  Silliman  of  Tale  College. 

In  May,  1850,  Dr.  Lindsley  was  elected  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity 
and  Biblical  Archeology  in  the  New  Albany  Theological  Seminary;  and. 


PHILIP  LINDSLSY.  467 

having  resigned  the  Presidency  of  the  University  of  Nashville  in  October 
following,  he  removed  to  New  Albany  in  December,  and  entered  on  the 
duties  of  the  Professorship  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  year.  Here  he 
continued  usefully  and  acceptably  employed  until  April,  1853,  when  he 
resigned  the  office,  contrary  to  the  unanimous  wish  of  the  Board.  . 

The  remaining  two  years  of  his  life  were  spent  chiefly  in  study,  devotion, 
and  intercourse  with  his  friends.  A  few  weeks  before  the  meeting  of  the 
General  Assembly  in  1855,  he  was  asked  if  he  would  consent  to  serve  the 
Presbytery  as  a  Commissioner  to  the  Assembly,  and  his  reply  was, — **  I 
have  never  sought  any  appointment,  and  when  God  has  placed  upon  me  a 
duty,  I  endeavour  to  discharge  it."  He  was  accordingly  appointed;  but  he 
seemed  afterwards  to  doubt  whether  it  was  his  duty  to  attempt  to  fulfil  the 
appointment,  and  he  remarked  the  morning  that  he  left  home,  as  if  from  a 
premonition  of  what  was  before  him, — **I  think  it  probable  I  shall  never 
return — I  may  die  before  I  reach  Nashville."  He,  however,  did  reach 
Nashville,  though  he  reached  there  only  to  die.  On  Wednesday  morning, 
the  23d  of  May,  while  he  was  sitting  at  the  breakfast  table,  surrounded  by 
his  children,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  danger  of  aged  men  travel- 
ling from  home;  and  Dr.  Lindsley  expressed  the  opinion  that  it  was  unwise, 
and  that  they  thereby  often  put  their  lives  in  jeopardy.  A  guest  at  the 
table  pleasantly  inquired — **  Is  not  your  advice  inconsistent  with  your  own 
lonely  journey  to  this  place?"  "No,"  he  replied,  **no,  I  am  here  also  at 
home — as  well  die  here  as  any  where;"  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  struck 
with  apoplexy,  and  passed  instantly  into  a  state  of  unconsciousness,  in 
which  he  remained  till  his  death,  which  occurred  at  one  o'clock  the  next 
Friday  morning.  When  the  tidings  of  his  alarming  illness  were  communi- 
cated to  the  General  Assembly,  special  prayers  were  immediately  offered  in 
his  behalf,  and  a  committee  appointed  to  visit  him,  and  express  the  sympa- 
thy of  the  'Assembly  with  his  afflicted  family.  When  his  departure  was 
announced,  the  most  tender  and  respectful  notice  was  taken  of  it,  and  the 
funeral  solemnities,  which  took  place  on  the  succeeding  Monday,  and  were  con- 
ducted by  distinguished  members  of  the  Assembly,  bore  witness  to  fhe 
gratitude  and  veneration  with  which  his  character  and  services  were  regarded. 
His  remains  were  deposited  by  the  side  of  those  of  his  first  wife  and  his 
youngest  son. 

Dr.  Lindsley  left  five  children — three  sons  and  two  daughters.  All  his 
sons  were  graduated  at  the  University  of  Nashville.  One  of  them, — 
Adrian  Van  Sinderen,  is  a  lawyer ;  another, — Nathaniel  Lawrence,  was 
formerly  Professor  of  Languages  in  Cumberland  University,  and  more 
recently  Principal  of  Greenwood  Female  Seminary,  Tenn.;  and  the  third, 
John  Berrien,  is  an  ordained  minister  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  Chan- 
cellor of  the  University  of  Nashville,  and  Professor  of  Chemistry  in  the 
Medical  department  of  the  same  institution. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Lindsley 's  publications: — A  Plea  for  the 
Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  (several  editions,)  1821.  Early  piety 
recommended  in  a  Sermon  delivered  in  the  College  chapel,  Princeton,  1821. 
The  duty  of  observing  the  Sabbath  explained  and  enforced  in  a  Sermon 
addressed  moro  particularly  to  the  young,  1821.  Improvement  of  time ; 
Two  Discourses  delivered  in  the  chapel  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  1822. 
A  Farewell  Sermon  delivered  in  the  chapel  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey, 
1824.     An  Address  at  his  Inauguration  as  President  of  Cumberland  College, 


468  PBISBTTKBUir. 

1825.  The  oause  of  Edacation  in  Tennessee :    A  Bftecalanreate  Address, 

1826.  A  Baccalaureate  Address,  1827.  A  Baocalaareate  Address,  1829. 
A  Baccalaureate  Address,  1831.  A  Baccalaureate  Address,  1832.  An 
Address  on  the  Centennial  Birth-day  of  George  Washington,  1832.  A  I>is* 
course  at  the  Installation  of  the  Rev.  John  T.  Edgar,  Nashville,  1833.  A 
Baccalaureate  Address,  entitled  **  Speech  in  behalf  of  the  University  of 
Nashville,"  1837.  A  Lecture  on  Popular  Education,  1837.  A  Baccalau- 
reate Address,  entitled  **  Speech  about  Colleges,"  1848. 

When  I  became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  in 
1816,  Dr.  Lindsley  was  a  Professor  in  the  College.  As  soon  as  I  saw  him, 
and  before  I  knew  who  he  was,  he  impressed  me  as  a  man  of  mark — ^his  fine 
intelligent  and  commanding  countenance,  and  symmetrical  person,  and  dig- 
nified air,  left  me  in  no  doubt  that  he  was  one  of  the  intellectual  nobility 
of  the  place.  Though  he  used  regularly  to  attend  the  College  chapel,  yet, 
during  my  connection  with  the  Seminary,  he  never  preached  there,  and  I 
believe  rarely,  if  ever,  preached  at  all.  But  he  used  to  attend  very  often 
the  evening  exercises  of  the  Seminary,  which  consisted  in  the  discussion  of 
some  question  previously  agreed  upon ;  and  on  those  occasions  1  think  he 
rarely  failed  to  speak.  And  he  never  spoke  without  evincing  keen  discrimi- 
nation, and  great  polemic  dexterity.  Whatever  the  subject  might  be,  he 
always  took  a  liberal  and  enlarged  view  of  it ;  and  showed  the  most  expan- 
sive Christian  sympathies.  My  impression  then  was,  and  still  is,  that  his 
views  of  Christian  doctrine,  as  well  as  of  Church  polity,  were  of  just  about 
the  same  type  with  those  of  Dr.  Smith  under  whom  he  had  studied,  and  for 
whose  talents  and  character  he  cherished  an  almost  boundless  admiration. 
My  personal  acquaintance  with  him,  while  I  was  a  member  of  the  Seminary, 
was  very  limited ;  and  yet  so  strongly  marked  was  his  character,  that  there 
was  perhaps  no  man  in  Princeton  of  whom  I  carried  away  a  more  distinct 
impression.  From  the  spring  of  1819,  I  think  1  never  saw  him  till  some- 
time in  the  year  1848,  when  he  passed  a  night  in  Albany,  in  very  feeble 
health,  and  sent  for  me  to  come  and  see  him  at  his  hot^l.  1  found  him 
greatly  changed  in  his  external  appearance,  but  as  bright  in  intellect,  and 
as  genial  in  spirit,  as  ever.  The  chief  subject  of  our  conversation  was  Dr. 
Smith,  concerning  whom  he  had  not  long  before  written  me  a  letter  of  per- 
sonal recollections,  which  is  included  in  thb  work ;  and  he  talked  of  his 
varied  gifts  and  graces  with  even  more  enthusiasm  than  he  wrote.  When  I 
parted  with  him,  his  great  apparent  feebleness  led  me  to  suppose  it  was  for 
the  last  time ;  but  it  turned  out  otherwise,  as  I  saw  him  once  after  that,  and 
with  his  health  considerably  improved.  The  last  letter  I  received  from  him 
was  written  just  as  he  was  leaving  New  Albany  to  go  to  Nashville  to  die ; 
and  when  I  saw  the  notice  of  his  death  in  the  newspaper,  I  was  almost 
ready  to  question  its  correctness  on  the  ground  that  I  had  received  a  letter 
from  him  of  a  later  date.  It  was  one  of  the  last  letters  he  ever  wrote. 
Many  who  knew  him  much  better  than  I  did,  would  agree  with  me  in  pro- 
nouncing him  a  noble  specimen  of  a  man. 


PHILIP  LINDSLEY.  469 


FKOM  THE  REV.  JOHN  MACLEAN,  D.  D., 

PRS8IDK1IT  OF  THB  OOU.EOK  OF  MSW  JSB8KT. 

CoLLSQB  OF  Nbw  Jkbsbt,  Pjuncktom,  NoYember  25,  1866. 

Rer.  and  dear  Sir:  Were  I  able  to  do  full  justice  to  the  character  of  my 
lamented  friend,  the  Re?.  Dr.  Lindsley,  I  should  the  more  willingly  giro  you  my 
recollections  of  him.  As  it  is  now  more  than  thirty  years  since  he  left  Prince- 
ton, these  recollections,  though  not  faint,  have  not  the  life  and  freshness  they 
would  possess,  had  our  intimacy  continued  to  the  period  of  his  death. 

Dr.  Lindsley  was  one  of  the  best  teachers  of  whom  I  have  any  knowledge. 
He  had,  in  a  high  degree,  the  happy  faculty  of  imparting  to  his  pupils  some  of 
his  own  ardour  for  the  studies  of  his  department.  They  were  taught  to  give  close 
attention  to  grammatical  niceties,  as  well  as  to  the  style  and  sentiments  of  the 
authors  studied.  For  youth  in  College,  as  well  as  for  youth  in  classical  schools, 
he  insisted  upon  the  importance  of  constant  reference  to  the  Grammar  and  the 
Dictionary;  and  of  a  thorough  analysis  of  the  words,  as  requisite  to  a  full  appre- 
ciation of  the  beauties  of  style  and  thought.  His  fiivourite  Greek  authors^  if  I 
mistake  not,  were  Homer,  Aristotle,  and  Longinus;  and  to  his  fondness  for  them 
may  be  traced  some  of  the  characteristics  of  his  own  style.  He  was  strong, 
fervid  and  bold;  and  not  altogether  free  from  defects  common  to  men  of  ardent 
mind  and  nervous  temperament.  In  conversation  and  debate  he  was  ready  and 
flnent;  yet  he  very  seldom  ventured  to  preach  without  writing.  I  have  no  recol- 
lection of  his  doing  so  more  than  once,  while  he  was  connected  with  this  institution. 
His  manner  in  the  pulpit  was  plain  and  unaffected,  yet  earnest  and  impres- 
siYe.  With  the  students  he  was  a  favourite  preacher;  and  at  their  request  he 
published  several  of  his  sermons.  The  Discourse  which  jtorhaps  attracted  more 
attention  than  any  other  which  he  published  during  his  residence  here,  was  his 
"  Plea  for  the  Theological  Seminary."  It  seems,  however,  to  have  wrought  dif- 
ferently upon  different  minds;  for  while  it  led  the  Rev.  Dr.  Codman  of  Dorches- 
ter, Mass.,  to  make  a  donation  of  a  thousand  dollars  to  the  Seminary,  it  gave 
great  offence  in  certain  other  quarters,  on  account  of  its  supposed  allusions  to 
some  prominent  individuals;  and  it  was  thought  that  this  indirectly  influenced 
him  in  declining  the  Presidency  of  the  College,  which  was  subsequently  tendered 
to  him. 

In  his  attention  to  his  professional  duties,  Dr.  Lindsley  was  always  prompt 
and  unflinching.  Nothing  short  of  absolute  inability  to  leave  his  house  would 
induce  him  to  absent  himself  from  any  College  exercise,  which  it  belonged  to  him 
to  conduct. 

As  a  College  officer,  he  was  always  popular,  although  he  was  sometimes  severe 
in  his  rebukes.  He  was  easy  of  access,  and  ever  ready  to  encourage  and  aid  any 
one  desirous  to  advance  in  knowledge. 

He  was  fond  of  conversation,  cheerful  and  often  playful  in  his  remarks;  and 
perhaps  occasionally  somewhat  unguarded.  He  was  a  warm  and  true  friend, 
but  manifested  his  friendship  by  actions  rather  than  by  professions.  On  this 
point  I  can  speak  with  entire  confidence;  for  I  testify  of  that  of  which  I  have  the 
best  evidence  possible.  To  few  of  my  friends  do  I  owe  more  than  to  Dr.  Linds- 
ley. For  a  year  after  I  was  admitted  to  the  first  degree  in  the  Arts,  he  moat 
kindly  directed  my  studies;  and  to  his  recommendation  chiefly  I  owed  my 
appointment,  first  as  a  Tutor,  and  then  as  a  Professor,  in  the  College.  Others  of 
bis  pupils  doubtless  can  speak  of  like  kindnesses  shown  to  them;  but  none  can 
have  more  reason  than  I  have  to  revere  his  memory. 

Most  respectfully  yours, 

JOHN  MACLEAN. 


470  PRESBYTERIAN. 


FROM  THE  REV.  L.  J.  HALSEY,  D.  D. 

Louisville,  November  6,  18^. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  first  impressions  of  Dr.  Lindsley  were  formed  between  the 
years  1831  and  1837,  at  a  period  of  his  life  when  he  may  be  said  to  have  reached 
the  fall  meridian  of  his  inflaence  as  a  man  of  learning,  an  educator  of  youth,  and 
a  preacher  of  the  Gospel.  During  that  period  I  saw  him  almost  daily,  being 
under  his  immediate  instruction  as  a  pupil  in  the  Nashville  University  for  the 
first  part  of  it,  and  for  the  last  two  years  of  it,  associated  with  him  as  a  teacher 
in  the  institution.  Since  that  time,  and  especially  during  the  years  of  his  resi- 
dence at  New  Albany,  I  have  had  occasional  opportunities  of  seeing  and  hearing 
him,  as  well  as  of  reading  his  productions,  both  published  and  unpublished.  But 
all  my  most  vivid  recollections  of  him  run  back  to  the  six  years  just  named,  in 
which  it  was  my  privilege  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  most  active  labours  in  the 
lecture  room,  often  to  sit  under  his  peculiar  and  characteristic  preaching,  and  to 
witness  some  of  his  greatest  intellectual  efforts  before  the  public,  on  Commence- 
ment occasions. 

'  The  personal  appearance  of  Dr.  Lindsley,  at  that  time,  was  exceedingly  fine. 
It  might  be  called  commanding,  though  he  was  not  above  the  medium  size.  With 
a  form  perfectly  erect  and  symmetrical,  with  features  chiselled  after  the  finest 
Grecian  mould,  a  spacious  dome-like  forehead  crowned  with  full  black  hair,  a 
dark,  penetrating  eye  that  flashed  with  indescribable  emotion  as  he  spoke,  a 
peculiar  play  of  expression  about  the  mouth,  which  no  painter's  art  could  ever 
catch,  and  a  voice  rich  and  musical  alike  in  its  highest  and  lowest  notes,  he  pos- 
sessed, aside  from  his  rare  intellectual  gifts  and  attainments,  every  outward 
attribute  to  make  him  attractive  in  conversation,  and  eloquent  as  a  public  speaker. 
He  excelled  in  both.  One  of  the  roost  distinguished  professional  gentlemen  of 
the  West  expressed  but  the  common  sentiment,  when,  after  the  first  brief  inter- 
view, he  remarked  to  a  friend,  **  That  is  a  man,  a  perfect,  finished  man!  "  In 
the  lecture-room,  where  he  always  spoke  sitting,  and  where  his  style  was  purely 
conversational,  and  his  matter  apparently  wholly  unstudied,  he  was  perfectly 
fascinating.  No  hearer  ever  grew  weary  there,  as  he  poured  out,  seemingly  with- 
out an  effort,  the  rich  treasures  of  his  well-stored  mind.  In  this  respect.,  he 
excelled  any  lecturer  I  ever  heard.  As  a  public  speaker,  his  style  was  some- 
what varied;  sometimes,  when  extemporaneous,  being  simply  conversational, 
and  sometimes,  on  important  occasions,  highly  elaborate  and  rhetorical.  In  his 
Baccalaureate  Addresses,  which  were  prepared  with  special  care,  and  which  were 
delivered  buforc  very  large  assemblages, — most  of  the  Tennessee  Legislature 
sometimes  being  present, — ^he  invariably  spoke  with  great  animation,  and  often 
with  thrilling  efiect.  On  such  occasions,  he  was  in  his  element — his  very  look  was 
eloquence — his  whole  aspect  was  that  of  one  born  to  command:  for  he  evidently 
felt  himself  to  be  a  roaster  in  the  whole  domain  of  classical  education,  and  took 
every  opportunity  to  magnify  the  office,  and  put  honour  upon  the  mission  of  the 
Teacher.  I  shall  never  forget  the  unique  and  remarkable  appearance  of  Dr. 
Lindsley,  as  he  stood  up  on  these  occasions,  clothed  in  his  robes  of  office,  to  plesul 
the  cau.se  of  collegiate  education  in  the  West.  To  say  that  his  manner  of  speech 
on  such  occasions  was  graceful,  or  elegant,  or  dignified,  would  be  faint  praise. 
All  such  terms  would  fail  to  convey  an  adequate  impression  of  the  man.  I  know 
of  but  one  word  that  meets  the  case,  and  that  is, — "  majesty."  After  these 
efforts,  his  pupils  were  wont  to  express  their  admiration  by  calling  him  "  Hector  ** 
or  "  Achilles." 

I  remember  well  his  Centennial  Oration  on  the  Birth-day  of  Washington  in 
1832.  At  the  request  of  the  citizens  of  Nashville,  he  addressed  them  on  that 
occasion,  although  the  time  for  preparation  had  been  short,  and  he  was  somewhat 


PHILIP  LIMBSLBT.  471 

unirell.  It  wm,  however,  one  of  his  greatest  efforts,  and  was  delivered  with 
great  force.  When  he  had  been  speaking  nearly  an  hour,  and  the  bells  rang  for 
dinner,  a  prominent  gentleman  of  the  city,  being  also  one  of  the  oldest  members 
of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  and  withal  a  special  friend  of  the  Doctor,  concluded 
to  give  him  a  gentle  hint  of  the  lapse  of  time,  which  sometimes  was  forgotten  in 
the  ardour  of  the  Doctor's  public  discourses.  Happening  to  occupy  a  seat  imme- 
diately in  front,  the  Trustee  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  adjusting  it  in  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  so  as  to  be  concealed  from  the  view  of  the  audience,  while  it  should 
meet  the  speaker's  eye,  held  it  up.  Dr.  Lindsley  no  sooner  caught  a  view  of  the 
monitor,  than  he  paused  for  a  moment,  then  raising  himself  up  in  an  attitude 
of  indescribable  majesty,  he  said,-^''  Sir,  this  is  an  occasion  which  comes  but 
once  iu  a  hundred  years,  and  the  man  that  cannot  afford  to  lose  his  dinner  to-day 
is  no  patriot."  After  a  spontaneous  burst  of  applause  from  the  audience,  he 
resumed  his  unfinished  sentence,  and  went  on  with  the  discourse. 

As  a  man  of  learning,  Dr.  Lindsley  was  distinguished  for  the  accuracy  and 
thoroughness  of  his  classical  attainments.  Indeed,  perfect  accuracy,  even  down 
to  the  minutest  details,  was  one  of  the  peculiar  characteristics,  not  only  of  his 
scholarship,  but  of  all  his  conduct.  With  him  it  was  a  cardinal  virtue — the  sine 
qaa  non  in  all  education.  This  was  manifested  in  his  perfect  pronunciation  of 
the  Greek  and  Latin,  as  well  as  of  our  own  tongue.  It  was  a  favourite  expres- 
sion with  him  that  his  pupils  must  be  **  thorough  Qrecians."  I  have  frequently 
heard  good  judges  say  that  he  pronounced  our  own  language  more  perfectly  than 
anyone  they  had  overheard.  He  would  tolerate  no  departure,  in  teacher  or 
pupil,  from  an  exact  pronunciation,  according  to  Greek  and  Latin  quantity.  He 
held  any  mispronunciation  in  a  public  speaker  to  be  as  unpardonable  a  sin' against 
good  breeding,  as  if  a  man,  to  use  his  own  illustrations,  should  undertake  to 
shoe  a  horse  without  understanding  the  subject,  or  to  cut  off  your  leg  without 
ever  having  studied  surgery.  His  students,  after  being  with  him  awhile,  would 
rather  stop  and  confess  ignorance,  than  venture  to  pronounce  a  word  wrong;  and 
I  remember  the  amazement  and  awe  with  which  he  inspired  a  young  man  just 
entered,  for  miscalling  a  word,  when,  in  his  half-playful  and  half-serious  way, 
he  threatened  to  put  a  cane  down  his  throat,  if  he  murdered  that  word  so 
again. 

This  exceeding  love  of  accuracy  was  strikingly  exhibited  in  another  way.  He 
held  it  to  be  a  great  outrage,  in  man  or  woman,  to  write  an  indistinct,  illegible 
hand.  His  own  chirography  was  always  correct  to  every  letter  and  dot.  I  ven- 
ture to  say  there  is  not  one  line  of  his  manuscript  in  existence,  even  in  the  most 
ephemeral  letter  or  note  of  business,  which  is  not  penned  and  punctuated  with 
as  much  accuracy  as  if  it  had  been  prepared  for  the  press.  Indeed,  in  these 
respects  his  manuscript  was  more  perfect  than  any  ordinary  printing.  Scarcely 
any  thing  worried  him  more  than  the  sad  havoc  which  the  printer  was  almost 
sure  to  make  with  his  absolutely  perfect  spelling  and  punctuation.  I  have  looked 
through  whole  volumes  of  his  manuscripts,  written  without  an  erasure  or  an 
omission  of  dot  or  letter,  and  almost  as  easily  read  as  print. 

As  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  Dr.  Lindsley  possessed  many  admirable  quali- 
ties, lie  seemed  to  me  to  have  adopted  a  method  and  style  of  sermonizing, 
which,  like  his  general  train  of  thought,  were  peculiar  to  himself,  and  no  doubt 
wholly  original.  But  I  have  heard  him  when  he  appeared  in  two  y^ry  different 
lights  as  a  preacher.  I  recollect  to  have  heard  him  once  at  Nashville  preach 
what  might  be  termed  a  very  profound,  and  yet  altogether  practical,  doctrinal 
sermon, — preaching  as  if  from  his  own  experience,  and  setting  forth  clearly  the 
way  of  life  for  a  sinner  in  coming  to  Christ,  precisely  after  the  manner  which 
W1&8  carried  to  such  perfection  in  Dr.  Alexander.  Amongst  his  manuscripts,  I 
faaiw  seen  other  sermons  of  this  kind, — pointed,  practical,  experimental  and 
powerful  exhibitions  of  essential  Gospel  truths;  and  I  presume  that  most  of  his 


472  PBSfiVTTEBIAlf. 

ctrlier  sermoDS  at  the  £Mt  were  of  this  duuraeter.  Bat  moet  of  the  mrmana 
which  I  heard  him  preach  at  NaehviUe  belonged  to  a  different  order.  Being' 
chiefly  occasional  dieooaroes,  they  were  either  learned  argaments  ia  &TOur  of 
the  general  truth  of  Christianity,  or  expositions  of  the  great  fnndamentals  of 
moral  duty  and  charity,  or  powerful  appeals  in  behalf  of  that  great  cause  of  edu- 
cation  to  which,  on  coming  to  the  West,  and  even  before,  he  had  doToted  his  life. 
He  seemed  to  feel  that  his  peculiar  vocation,  as  a  preacher,  was  to  plead  the 
cause  of  the  educator,  and  to  present  those  outer  aspects  of  religiou  which  do 
not  fail  under  the  usual  ministrations  of  the  pulpit.  I  cannot  doubt  that,  hold- 
ing the  position  he  did,  these  occasional  sermons  were  of  great  service  to  the 
cause  of  truth  and  yirtue.  As  an  example  of  this  style,  1  will  name  a  lew  of 
his  themes.  I  once  heard  a  very  triumphant  vindication  of  the  Bible,  suggested 
by  the  passage  in  the  life  of  Elijah,  where  the  forty-two  children  were  torn  in 
pieces  by  bears.  Once  he  delivered  a  profound  discourse  on  *'  Banks  and  the 
Currency, *'  and  another  on  the  nature  of  "  Oaths  and  Elections."  The  most 
original,  the  most  learned,  and  I  believe,  the  longest,  discourse  I  ever  heard  him 
deliver  was  on  **  University  Education,"  from  the  text, — "  Moses  was  learned  in 
all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians."  These  discourses  which,  for  the  most  part, 
were  delivered  without  notes,  and,  as  I  suppose,  without  being  written  at  all  at 
the  time,  though  of  unusual  length,  were  listened  to  by  large  and  attentive 
audiences,  who  seemed  never  to  tire  of  hearing  him.  They  were  in  &ct  often 
but  the  more  eloquent  reproduction,  on  a  larger  theatre,  of  the  rich  and  fasci- 
nating conversations  of  the  lecture  room.  The  substance  of  some  of  these  dis- 
courses was  published,  at  the  time,  in  pamphlet  form,  and-  others  still  were 
written  out,  though  never  published.  Besides  his  contributions  to  the  periodical 
literature  of  the  day,  I  have  now  before  me  a  bound  volume  of  his  published 
Addresses  and  Sermons,  numbering  some  five  hundred  and  fifty  octavo  pages, 
among  which  is  his  once  celebrated  *'  Plea  for  Princeton  Seminary."  Most  of 
these  contain  the  results  of  his  ripe  scholarship,  and  the  reflections  of  a  mind  of  no 
ordinary  originality  and  power;  and  as  such,  they  possess  a  general  and  intrinsic 
interest  which  entitles  them  to  be  given  to  the  public  in  a  wider  and  more  enduring 
form.  From  what  I  know  of  Dr.  Lindsley,  and  have  seen  of  his  writings,  I 
should  think  there  might  be  a  choice  selection  made,  sufficient  to  fill  two  most 
instructive  and  readable  volumes — the  one  of  **  Practical  Sermons,"  and  the  other 
of  learned  **  Occasional  Discourses." 

The  influence  which,  for  a  quarter  of  a  oentnry,he  exerted  as  an  educator  over 
the  State  of  Tennessee  and  the  whole  Southwest,  has  been  wide  and  enduring. 
The  successive  bands  of  young  men,  who  annually  went  forth  fVom  his  instruc- 
tion, bearing  the  profoundest  respect  for  his  talents  and  learning,  have  them- 
selves exerted,  and  are  still  exerting,  a  controlling  influence  over  all  that  part  of 
the  country.  And  probably  no  man  of  learning  has  ever  lived  in  the  Southwest, 
whose  life  and  writings,  if  judiciously  published,  would  be  hailed  by  a  more 
numerous  and  devoted  class  of  admirers  than  Dr.  Lindsley 's. 

Respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

L.  J.  HALSET. 


WILLIiJC  BATMOKD  WEEKS.  ^78 


WILLIAM  RAYMOND  WEEKS,  D.  D  * 

1811—1848. 

William  Kathond  Wesks,  son  of  Ebenezer  and  Eunice  (Griswold) 
Weeks,  was  born  at  Brooklyn,  Conn.,  August  6, 1783.  His  father  was  a 
farmer,  and  removed  in  1791  to  Steuben,  Oneida  County,  N.  Y.,  where  the 
son  passed  his  early  years  in  clearing  and  tilling  the  ground.  At  an  early 
age  he  was  apprenticed  to  the  trade  of  a  printer,  at  which  he  worked  for 
several  years,  first  at  Whitesborough,  and  afterwards  at  Lansingburg,  in  the 
State  of  New  York. 

Having  experienced,  as  he  hoped,  a  radical  change  of  character,  in  con- 
nection with  a  revival  of  religion  that  occurred  under  the  ministry  of  the 
Rev.  Jonas  Coe,  he  determined,  by  the  advice  of  some  of  his  most  judicious 
friends,  to  enter  on  a  course  of  study  preparatory  to  the  ministry.  He 
fitted  for  College  under  the  instruction  of  his  cousin,  the  Rev.  Holland 
Weeks,  then  a  Congregational  minister  in  Pittsford,  Yt.  In  due  time  he 
entered  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  was  graduated  in  1809,  and  remained 
as  Tutor  for  six  months  after  his  graduation.  During  his  college  course, 
he  devoted  considerable  attention  to  the  Hebrew  language,  and  fully 
intended,  at  that  time,  to  become  a  foreign  missionary. 

He  pursued  his  theological  studies,  partly  under  the  direction  of  his 
cousin,  and  partly  at  the  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  which  he  joined 
in  1811.  During  this  period  his  health  became  seriously  impaired,  inso- 
much that  not  only  were  his  studies  materially  interrupted,  but  he  was 
obliged  to  give  up  his  cherished  purpose  of  carrying  the  Gospel  to  the 
Heathen.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Association  in  Yermont,  with 
which  the  Rev.  Holland  Weeks  was  connected. 

Having  preached  for  a  short  time  in  Hebron,  N.  Y.,  he  went  in  Decem- 
ber, 1811,  to  Plattsburg,  where  he  was  ordained  and  installed  by  the  Colum- 
bia Presbytery,  in  February,  1812. 

On  the  15th  of  January,  1812,  he  was  married  to  Hannah,  daughter  of 
John  Randel  of  Albany.  In  1814,  he  resigned  his  charge  at  Plattsburg, 
and  for  about  a  year  made  his  home  at  Albany  at  his  wife's  father's,  though 
be  was  most  of  the  time  absent,  looking  out  for  a  place  of  settlement.  In 
1815,  he  removed  to  Litchfield,  (South  Farms,)  Conn.:  the  people  desired 
him  to  become  their  Pastor;  but  the  ministers  of  the  Association,  on 
account  of  some  difference  of  religious  opinion  between  him  and  them, 
refused  to  install  him  ;  and,  after  preaching  there  for  a  short  time,  he  opened 
a  school  in  the  place,  which  he  continued  until  1818,  when  he  removed  to 
Clinton,  Oneida  County,  N.  Y.  Here  he  commenced  another  school,  which 
be  continued  till  November,  1820,  when  he  received  a  call  from  the  Church 
at  Paris  Hill.  He  accepted  the  call,  so  far  as  to  render  them  his  official 
services ;  but,  as  they  were  in  a  somewhat  divided  and  restless  state,  he 
declined  being  installed,  thinking  that  he  should  be  at  once  more  comforta* 
ble  and  more  useful  to  serve  them  as  a  stated  supply.  He  remained  at  Paris 
Hill  till  1881,  and  during  the  last  two  years  was  engaged  also  in  teaching  a 
school.     His  situation  was  now  rendered  very  unpleasant  by  the  introduo- 

•  MS.  ftom  hii  ion>  J.  R.  Weeki,  Baq. 
Vol.  IV.  60 


474  PRBSBYTERIAK. 

iion  of  what  were  techDioally  called  the  **Dew  measures  "  in  eonnectumwitli 
revivals  of  religion  ;  and  he  therefore  removed  to  Utica,  where  he  remained 
about  a  year,  teaching  a  school,  and  ministering  to  the  Third  Presbyterian 

Church,  then  a  missionary  station  under  the  care  of  the  American  Home 
Missionary  Society. 

He  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Williams  College  in 
1828. 

In  1832,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Fourth  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Newark,  N.  J.  Here  he  continued  to  perform  the  double  duty  of  preach- 
ing and  teaching  a  school,  until  the  autumn  of  1846,  when  his  health  had 
so  far  declined  that  he  was  obliged  to  give  up  both  his  congregation  and  hia 
school ;  though  he  preached  a  few  times  after  this  in  some  of  the  neigh* 
bouring  churches.  He  died  while  on  a  visit  to  Oneida,  N.  Y.,  on  the 
27th  of  June,  1848,  from  a  general  debility  of  the  system,  occasioned,  as 
was  supposed,  by  exhausting  labours  and  a  long  continued  sedentary  habit. 
His  remains  wero  carried  to  Newark  for  interment. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Weeks'  publications: — Nino  Sermons  on 
the  Decrees  and  Agency  of  God,  (three  editions,)  1813.  Scripture  Cate- 
chism, (two  editions,)  1813.  A  Sermon  entitled  "Withholding  a  suirtable 
support  from  the  Ministers  of  Religion  is  robbing  6od,''  preached  at  Platts- 
burg,  1814.  Missionary  Arithmetic,  1822.  Scripture  Catechism,  1826. 
A  Tract  entitled  "  All  for  the  best,"  1827.  A  Tract  on  Female  Influence, 
1828.  A  Letter  on  Protracted  Meetings,  addressed  to  the  Church  in  Paris, 
1832.  A  Tract  on  the  Prayer  of  Faith,  1836.  A  Letter  to  the  Rev. 
Charles  Fitch  on  his  views  of  Sanctification,  1840.  A  Sermon  on  the  duty 
of  Contending  for  the  Faith  once  delivered  to  the  Saints,  1841.  A  Series 
of  short  Tracts,  from  1834  to  1841,  with  the  following  titles : — Use  of 
the  Bible — Dialogue  between  the  Bible  and  the  Reader — Ground  of  Love 
to  God — Revivals  of  Religion  desirable — The  Glory  of  God — Free  Agency — 
Revival  Spirits  tried  —  The  Work  of  Creation  —  Doctrine  of  Decrees 
explained — Doctrine  of  Total  Depravity — Selfishness — The  just  desert  of 
Sin — Design  of  Redemption — The  Atonement — Depravity,  Atonement  and 
Justification — The  Forgiveness  of  sins — Personal  Holiness — Encourage- 
ment to  the  Use  of  Means — Consolation  for  the  Afflicted — Instrumentality 
of  Truth — The  Purifying  Influence  of  Gospel  Doctrines.  The  year  after 
his  death  (1849)  was  published  in  a  duodecimo  volume.  The  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress in  the  Nineteenth  Century,  some  chapters  of  which  had  been  published 
in  another  form  as  early  as  1824. 

FROM  THE  REV.  BAXTER  DICKINSON,  D.  D., 

PROFESSOE  IN    THE  LANE    AND   AUBURN  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARIES. 

Boston.  November  21,  1866. 
Dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  William  R.  Weeks,  D.  D.,  com- 
menced, I  think,  in  1831,  in  Newark,  N.  J.,  where,  at  that  time,  I  was  a  settled 
pastor.  He  came  to  the  place  on  an  invitation  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  a  new 
and  small  Presbyterian  Church.  For  a  period  of  four  years  or  more  our  inter- 
course was  that  of  a  good  degree  of  intimacy,  and  of  uninterrupted  oonfidenoe 
and  friendship;  when  the  providence  of  God  transferred  me  to  another  field  of 
labour. 


WILLIAM  RATKQNI^  WEEKS.  475 

In  the  pefBonal  appearance  of  Dr.  Weeks  there  was  nothing  peculiarly  striking. 
He  was  a  little  above  the  mediam  height  and  size,  with  the  aspect  of  healthiAnd 
of  more  than  ordinary  physical  vigour.  His  conntenanoe  was  contemplative, 
placid  and  cheerful;  and  his  deportment  uniformly  that  of  ministerial  dignity 
and  propriety.  His  words  were  few,  and  his  manner  rather  cool  and  reserved, 
and  yet  adapted  only  to  secure  respect  and  confidence.  While  ever  busy  in  his 
own  proper  sphere,  he  never  interfered  obtrusively  in  the  afiairs  of  others.  lie 
was  truly  modest  and  courteous,  with  nothing  of  the  mere  parade  of  social 
life. 

Dr.  Weeks  had  a  mind  of  more  than  ordinary  activity,  vigour  and  independ- 
ence; disciplined  by  patient  and  severe  study;  and  enriched  by  exact  and  some- 
what varied  stores  of  learning.  The  Classics  and  the  Hebrew  Li^nguage  were 
the  study  of  his  life;  and  in  these  departments  few  have  attained  to  greater 
accuracy  of  scholarship.  Still  more  deeply  perhaps  was  he  interested  in  theo- 
logical researches.  He  was  a  man  of  extensive  reading,  and  quite  familiar  with 
the  religious  views  of  the  eminent  theologians  of  all  periods.  At  the  same  time, 
his  own  investigations  wei-e  independent,  elementary  and  profound.  Either  by 
nature  or  culture  his  mind  was  logical  and  discriminating,  rather  than  impulsive 
and  brilliant. 

Xl^moroZ  disposition  of  Dr.  Weeks  was  that  of  kindness  and  generosity.  He 
was  a  friend  to  the  sufiering  of  every  class,  and  took  a  deep  interest  in  objects 
designed  to  elevate  and  bless  mankind.  The  cause  of  popular  education  received 
his  earnest  thought  and  services,  as  did  also  the  more  strictly  philanthropic  and 
religious  enterprises  of  the  age.  In  his  religious  character,  however,  the  pre- 
dominant feature  was  uniformly  that  of  principle  rather  than  emotion.  He  had 
a  cultivated  conscience,  and  discriminated  nicely  between  right  and  wrong.  He 
had  no  trick  and  no  concealment;  but  was  ever  open,  frank,  and  inflexible  in  all 
that  pertained,  in  his  estimation,  to  truth  and  duty.  Ko  one  probably  doubted 
his  sincerity  and  his  unbending  integrity.  I  remember  well  an  occurrence,  early 
in  our  acquaintance,  which  made  a  decided  impression  on  my  mind  in  regard  to 
his  character  for  honesty  and  conscientiousness — an  impression  only  deepened 
by  subsequent  and  familiar  intercourse.  He  was  about  to  apply  for  member- 
ship in  our  Presbytery.  He  came  to  my  study  with  a  paper  in  which  he  had 
drawn  out  carefully  his  views  on  several  articles  of  the  Presbyterian  **  Confes- 
sion of  Faith,"  which  he  apprehended  might  be  explained  somewhat  differently 
by  himself  and  the  brethren  generally.  It  was  in  vain  I  assured  him  there  was 
no  diversity  which  would  create  with  any  brother  a  moment's  hesitation  in 
receiving  him,  and  begged  him  to  withhold  the  paper.  He  persisted,  however, 
in  the  propriety  and  purpose  of  presenting  it,  and  did  so; — when,  as  I  pre- 
dicted, he  was  admitted  without  a  word  of  objection,  or  a  call  for  further  expla- 
nation; while  his  frankness,  candour,  and  scrupulousness  gained  for  him  at  once 
the  sympathy  and  esteem  of  all. 

And  here  it  is  proper  to  say  a  few  words  of  his  7%eology,  It  was  emphati- 
cally that  of  the  Hopkinsian  School.  The  peculiarities  of  that  system — what 
may  be  properly  termed  its  strong  points — ^heheld  intelligently  and  decidedly. 
He  did  not  regard  them  as  mere  matters  of  speculation.  He  believed  them 
truths  of  Kevelation,  and  possessed  of  great  practical  importance.  He  regarded 
them  as  affording  the  most  abasing  views  of  human  impotency  and  guilt,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  most  reverential  and  exalted  impressions  of  the  character  and 
government  of  God.  They  nourished  his  piety,  as  he  believed,  and  ministered 
richl}'  to  his  comfort  in  trial. 

I  remember  an  occasion  of  trial  on  which  he  brought  into  practical  use,  as  he 
supposed,  the  resources  of  his  peculiar  theology  for  substantial  consolation.  He 
felt  it  his  duty  to  advertise  and  deliver  a  lecture  on  Slavery.  It  was  a  time  of 
great  sensitiveness  in  the  public  mind  on  that  subject.     Similar  efforts  had 


476  PRIBBTOftlAM. 

been  attended  with  riot  and  violenee  in  a  number  of  ^aoes.  He  was  warned  of 
the  peril  and  ui^ged  to  desist.  But  he  was  one  of  the  last  to  be  deterred  from 
any  duty  by  a  dread  of  public  rebuke,  or  even  by  considerations  of  personal 
safety.  At  the  appointed  hour  he  was  at  his  post  and  commenoed  the  servioe. 
In  a  few  minutes  there  was  the  gathering  of  an  excited  multitude,  and  soon  a 
general  rush  into  the  church.  Pulpit,  pews,  lamps,  and  windows  beeame  at  onoe 
a  scene  of  general  ruin.  He  made  his  escape,  however,  unharmed.  And  the 
next  we  heard  of  him  was,  that  on  the  coming  Sabbath,  in  a  small  apartment 
procured  as  a  place  of  worship  for  the  occasion,  he  was  urging  with  characler- 
istic  calmness  and  force  the  doctrine  of  the  eflScient  agency  of  Qod  in  all  things , 
good  and  bad  alike,  from  the  striking  text,  **  Is  there  evil  in  the  city  and  the 
Lord  hath  not  done  it?  '* 

As  a  prtaekWy  Dr.  Weeks  was  not  popular  in  the  common  acceptation  of  that 
term.  His  voice  was  not  musical,  nor  his  manner  in  any  respect  attractive. 
His  style  was  clear,  correct,  didactic,  but  never  sparkling.  He  dealt  very  mudi 
in  principles,  and  not  enough  directly  with  the  sensibilities  of  his  hearers.  He 
was  intellectual,  argumentative  and  convincing, — not  sufficiently  imaginative 
and  impressive.  And  yet  he  had  excellencies  as  a  preacher.  He  had  dignity, 
seriousness,  earnestness,  and  strict  propriety  of  style  and  manner  in  all  respects. 
His  spirit  and  themes  were  eminently  evangelical.  His  ministrations ^ere 
always  the  result  of  careful  and  earnest  preparation;  and  hence  they  were 
instructive  and  edifying.  Had  he  expended  less  strength  and  time  relatively  in 
expounding  and  establishing  the  naked  truth  under  discussion,  and  indulged 
more  freely  in  direct,  pungent,  rousing  exhortation,  he  might  probably  have 
been  a  more  acceptable,  and  at  the  same  time  a  more  useful,  preacher.  As  he 
was,  and  as  he  laboured,  however,  he  was  an  able  and  &ithfril  minister  of 
Christ;  and  he  did  honourable  service  for  the  Christian  cause. 

On  the  whole,  mj  recollections  of  Dr.  Weeks  are  pleasant.  He  was  a  man 
of  talent,  an  indefatigable  student,  an  eminent  scholar  and  theologian,  estimable 
in  his  private  walk  and  social  relations,  of  pure  and  high  moral  principle;  and 
as  a  minister  of  Christ  he  was  exemplary,  evangelical,  devout,  and  uncompro- 
mising in  the  maintenance  and  defence  of  what  he  believed  to  be  the  great  truths 
of  the  Gospel. 

I  am  rery  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

BAXTER  DICKINSON. 


■'»♦• 


THOMAS  DICKSON  BAIRD  * 

1812—1839. 

Thomas  Dickson  Baird,  the  son  of  John  and  Elizabeth  (Dickson) 
Baird,  was  born  near  Guilford,  County  of  Down,  Ireland,  on  the  26th  of 
December,  1773.  His  parents  were  worthy  members  of  the  Burgher 
Secession  Church,  and  maintained  an  exemplary  Christian  profession  at  a 
time  when  practical  and  vital  religion  was  at  a  low  ebb  in  most  of  the 
churches  in  the  North  of  Ireland.  They  gave  special  heed  to  the  religious 
education  of  their  children,  and  the  result  was  that,  as  they  attained  to 
years  of  maturity,  they  all  became  hopefully  converted  to  God,  and  nutde  a 
public  profession  of  their  faith. 

*  MS.  aatobiograpby.— MS.  from  his  ■(»,  Rev.  S.  J.  Babd. 


THOMAS  1MKBOS  BAIRD.  477 

Tke  Bviieot  of  this  sketdi  earlj  evifioei  a.slroBg  desir«  for  knowledge ; 
but  his  father,  owing  to  Tarions  untoward  oiroumstanoes,  felt  obliged  to 
refnee  his  request  for  a  liberal  eduoation, — intimating  to  him,  at  the  same 
time,  that  he  was  destined  to  the  trade  of  a  blaoksmith.  **  Very  well,*'  was 
the  answer, — **  I  will  do  what  you  require  now,  but  I  will  never  be  an 
aged  Uacksmith."  Thus  thrown  upon  his  own  resouroes,  he  devoted  every 
leisure  moment  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  Whilst  toiling  at  the 
anvil,  he  made  himself  well  acquainted  with  Arithmetic,  and  advanced  eon* 
siderably  in  Lilly's  Latin  Grammar,  notwithstanding  the  apparently  hope- 
less barrier  presented  in  the  fact  that  the  work  itself  is  veiled  in  the  Latin 
tongue.  At  the  same  time,  he  was  a  diligent  student  of  the  Scriptures  and 
other  religious  books,  and  by  the  aid  of  his  parents  and  pastor,  he  acquired, 
even  at  that  early  period,  a  good  knowledge  of  systematic  theology.  As 
early  as  his  eighteenth  year,  he  had  connected  himself  with  the  Church  in 
Donaghdoney,  of  which  his  parents  were  members. 

Notwithstanding  the  general  depressed  state  of  religion  in  the  North  of 
Ireland,  at  this  period,  there  were  some  movements,  especially  among  the 
private  members  of  the  Church,  that  indicated  a  recovering  spirit.  In 
both  the  Keformed  and  Secession  Churches,  there  were  voluntary  societies 
for  prayer  and  religious  conference,  where  each  member  was  permitted  to 
speskk  of  his  own  spiritual  exercises,  or,  as  the  case  might  be,  to  express  his 
opinion  upon  any  passage  of  Scripture  proposed  for  consideration.  Mr. 
Baird  soon  became  a  leading  member  of  one  of  these  societies ;  and  in  the 
exercise  of  his  gifts,  to  which  he  was  thus  called,  he  was  actually  preparing 
himself  for  the  higher  services  of  a  minister  of  the  Qospel. 

Not  long  after  he  made  a  profession  of  religion,  he  became  so  much 
dissatisfied  with  the  lax  discipline  of  the  Body  with  which  he  was  connected — 
men  of  the  most  immoral  lives  being  tolerated  as  members — that  he  with- 
drew from  it,  and  united  with  the  branch  of  the  Church  called  '*  Reformed  " 
or  '*  Covenanters."  In  this  connection,  he  became  acquainted  with 
Isabella  Mackey,  of  a  very  respectable  family,  residing  at  a  place  called 
Knockgorm  ;  and  on  the  12th  of  December,  1796,  they  were  united  in 
marriage.  This  arrangement  seemed  fatal  to  his  prospect  of  acquiring  a 
liberal  education,  as  it  devolved  upon  him  the  necessity  of  labouring  for 
the  support  of  a  family.  His  new  church  relations  proved  loss  agreeable  to 
him  than  he  expected,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  returned  to  the  Asso- 
ciate Church,  U^ng  his  wife  with  him.  x 

Mr.  Baird  was  a  participant  in  the  scenes  of  the  Irish  rebellion  of  1798. 
Being  conspicuous  among  the  insurgents,  he  could  not  escape  the  notice  of 
the  informers,  who  pervaded  the  country  with  their  espionage.  He  was 
reported  to  government,  and  repeated  attempts  were  made  to  apprehend 
him.  On  one  occasion  the  officers  came  upon  him  so  suddenly  that  he  had 
barely  time  to  escape  through  a  back  window,  and  lay  himself  down  among 
some  shrubs.  So  poor  a  hiding  place  did  they  afford,  that  his  family  oould 
see  him  from  the  window,  while  the  soldiery  were  searching  the  house.  It 
was  greatly  to  his  credit  that,  amidst  the  excitement  attendant  on  these 
fearful  scenes,  and  in  the  face  of  obstacles  that  seemed  well  nigh  insur- 
mountable, he  formed  the  resolution  of  entire  abstinence  from  intoxicating 
liquors.     To  thin  resolution  he  steadfastly  adhered  to  the  olose  of  life. 

Mr.  Baird  had  twice  resolved  on  coming  to  America  before  he  actually 
auooeeded.    He  was  bdnced  to  relinquish  his  design,  in  the  first  instanooi 


478  PBBSBTTfiRIAK. 

bj  the  importonity  of  his  parents,  and  in  the  second, — yrhick  was  after  the 
turbulent  times  began, — by  finding  that  the  sea-ports  were  so  closely 
watched  that  an  attempt  to  escape  would  be  more  perilous  than  to  remain. 
In  the  year  1802,  however, — the  times  having  undergone  a  favourable 
change, — he  once  more  resolved  to  embark  for  the  United  States;  and  he 
actually  arrived  with  his  family  at  Newcastle,  De.,  on  the  9th  of  July  of 
that  year.  He  was  employed  at  his  trade  in  Pennsylvania  for  almost  three 
years ;  but,  having  received  repeated  letters  from  a  relative  living  at 
Williamsburg,  S.  C,  from  which  he  inferred  that  his  circumstances  would 
bo  improved  by  a  removal  thither,  he  left  Philadelphia  with  his  family  in 
March,  1805,  and  travelled  by  way  of  Charleston  to  the  place  where  bis 
friend  resided.  In  the  autumn  following,  his  wife  was  seized  with  the  pre- 
vailing fever  of  the  country,  during  his  absence  from  home,  and  died  shortly 
after  his  return.  Scarcely  had  her  remains  been  committed  to  the  grave, 
before  his  two  little  boys, — the  only  surviving  members  of  his  family,  were 
attacked  by  the  same  disease,  and  in  a  few  days  were  both  laid  by  the  side 
of  their  mother.  Then  he  was  himself  prostrated  by  a  similar  attack,  and 
was  brought  so  near  to  death  that  his  recovery  was  regarded  as  scarcely  less 
than  a  miracle. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  Mr.  Baird  began  more  seriously  to  meditate  the 
purpose  of  entering  the  ministry.  He  had  already  united  with  the  Presby- 
terian Church, — there  being  no  Associate  Church  in  the  neighbourhood  in 
which  he  lived.  He  seems  to  have  been  at  first  doubtful  of  the  propriety 
of  singing  any  other  version  of  the  Psalms  than  that  to  which  he  had  been 
accustomed  ;  but  as  the  result  of  a  somewhat  particular  examination  of  the 
subject,  he  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  it  could  not  be  wrong  to  adopt,  in 
the  worship  of  God,  any  language  consistent  with  the  doctrines  of  the 
Gospel,  or  the  exercises  of  true  Christians. 

Mr.  Baird's  purpose  to  enter  the  ministry  was  subsequently  thwarted, 
and  then  revived  and  thwarted  again,  by  a  series  of  adverse  circumstances 
over  which  he  had  no  control.  At  length,  however,  in  April,  1809.  he 
quitted  his  worldly  occupation,  sold  the  little  property  he  had  accumulated, 
and  again  entered  upon  a  course  of  study.  He  availed  himself  of  the 
instruction  of  the  He  v.  Dr.  Moses  Waddel,  then  the  Principal  of  a  very 
popular  school  at  Willington,  Abbeville  District,  S.  C,  while,  at  the  same 
time,  he  was  acting  as  a  Tutor  in  the  institution.  In  the  spring  of  1811, 
he  was  taken  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina  as  a  can- 
didate for  the  ministry,  and  on  the  8th  of  April,  1812,  was  licensed  to 
preach  the  Gospel.  Having,  in  the  autumn  following,  received  and  accepted 
a  call  from  the  Broadaway  Congregation,  at  the  village  of  Yarennes,  in  what 
was  then  Pendleton  District,  he  was  ordained  and  installed  in  the  pastoral 
ofiice  in  May,  1813.  In  connection  with  the  duties  of  the  ministry  here, 
which  he  performed  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  people,  he  conducted  a 
large  and  popular  classical  school. 

Mr.  Baird  attended  the  General  Assembly  at  Philadelphia  as  a  delegate 
from  his  Presbytery  in  1814,  and  from  what  he  witnessed  especially  in 
connection  with  an  appeal  from  the  Third  Church  in  Philadelphia,  in  regard 
to  the  settlement  of  the  Rev.  Ezra  Stiles  Ely,  he  seems  to  have  been 
deeply  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  the  New  England  Churches  were 
exerting  an  influence  quite  adverse  to  the  interests  of  Presbyterianism ; 
and  the  impressioQ  which  he  then  reoeived  grew  stronger  in  sttbseqneat 


THOMAS  DICKSON  BAIRD.  479 

years,  and  determined  his  course  in  the  great  controrersy  which  ultimately 
divided  the  Church. 

In  1815,  he  resolved  to  seek  a  residence  at  the  North, — a  resolution 
which  is  understood  to  have  originated,  in  no  small  degree,  in  his  dislike 
of  the  institution  of  slavery ;  though  he  subsequently  had  occasion  to  show 
that  he  had  little  sympathy  with  the  modern  school  of  abolitionists.  Hav- 
ing obtained  from  the  Presbytery  a  release  from  his  pastoral  charge,  he 
travelled,  on  horseback,  through  Tennessee  and  Kentucky  into  Ohio;  and  in 
the  course  of  tho  summer  he  received  and  accepted  a  call  from  the  Church 
in  Newark,  in  tho  last  mentioned  State.  Here  he  continued  to  labour  as 
both  minister  and  teacher  for  five  years.  On  the  12th  of  November,  1816, 
he  was  married  to  Esther,  eldest  daughter  of  Samuel  Thompson,  a  ruling 
elder  in  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Pittsburg,  Pa.  In  1817,  he 
received  overtures  in  regard  to  becoming  President  of  the  Ohio  University, 
which  he  declined.  Dr.  Waddel  of  South  Carolina,  whose  advice  he  sought 
on  the  occasion,  at  first  gave  an  opinion  adverse  to  his  acceptance  of  the 
place,  though,  in  doing  so,  he  expressed  the  highest  appreciation  of  his 
talents  and  character.  He  seems  subsequently  to  have  changed  his  mind, 
and  advised  him  to  accept  it;  but  Mr.  Baird  adhered  to  his  original 
determination. 

In  1820,  he  resigned  his  charge  in  Newark,  and  in  October  of  that  year, 
settled  over  the  Church  in  Lebanon,  Alleghany  County,  Pa.  Of  this 
church  he  continued  the  pastor  until  he  was  disabled  for  stated  preaching 
by  repeated  and  nearly  fatal  attacks  of  laryngitis.  Amidst  circumstances 
of  great  difficulty  and  discouragement,  he  was  a  laborious  and  successful 
pastor.  More  than  a  hundred  persons  were  added  to  the  church  in  the 
fourteen  years  of  his  incumbency. 

31  r.  Baird  had  an  important  agency  in  originating  and  sustaining  those 
measures  which  resulted  in  the  establishment  of  the  Western  Foreign  Mis- 
sionary Society ;  whose  missions,  being  transferred  to  the  General  Assembly, 
constituted  the  basis  of  the  operations  of  its  present  Board.  And  he  had 
a  no  less  prominent  part  in  those  measures  that  prepared  the  way  for  tho 
division  of  the  Church.  In  the  spring  of  1831,  in  accordance  with  the 
wishes  of  many  of  his  brethren,  he  took  the  editorial  charge  of  the  Pitts- 
burg Christian  Herald, — a  paper  designed  to  meet  the  peculiar  exigencies 
of  the  times.  This  paper  was  conducted  with  acknowledged  ability,  and 
doubtless  had  much  to  do  in  giving  direction  to  the  public  mind  on  the 
points  of  controversy.  When  the  **Act  and  Testimony"  was  issued,  he  at 
once  cordially  signed  and  vigorously  sustained  it.  He  was  an  active  mem- 
ber of  the  Convention  that  sat  in  Pittsburg  during  the  week  preceding  the 
Assembly  of  1835.  He  also  sat  in  the  Convention  and  Assembly  of  1837, 
of  the  former  of  which  he  was  one  of  tho  Clerks,  and  of  the  latter  an  active 
member, — concurring  in  all  }he  decisive  acts  of  the  two  Bodies.  He  was  a 
member  of  the  Assembly  of  1838,  and  President  of  the  Convention  that 
met  in  connection  with  it.  He  regarded  the  division  of  the  Church  as 
involving  a  great  triumph  of  truth  and  order. 

In  October,  1838,  he  relinquished  his  charge  of  the  paper ;  and,  having 
remoTed  his  family  to  Cannonsburg,  with  a  view  to  the  education  of  his 
sons,  was  led  by  business  to  make  a  journey  to  the  South ;  and  he  was  the 
more  inclined  to  do  this,  as  it  would  give  him  the  opportunity  of  visiting 
onoo  more  the  seene  of  his  former  trials  and  ministrations.    He  seems, 


480  PRBSBTTERIAir. 

however,  in  making  his  arrangements  for  the  jonrney,  to  haye  been  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  he  was  aboat  to  leaye  home  for  the  last  time;  and, 
aoeordingly,  left  behind  him  a  letter  addressed  to  his  family,  containing 
yarions  directions  and  counsels  for  their  consideration,  provided  he  should 
not  liye  to  return.  He  left  home  on  the  2l8t  of  November,  1838,  and, 
having  visited  South  Carolina  and  Georgia,  took  cold,  on  his  return,  from 
travelling  in  the  stage  at  night,  which  occasioned  an  inflammation  of  the 
kidneys.  He  continued  his  journey  two  or  three  days  in  a  state  of  grea.t 
8u£fering,  when  he  was  obliged  to  stop  at  an  inn,  in  Duplin  County,  N.  C, 
about  forty  miles  from  Wilmington.  The  Rev.  Henry  Brown,  whose  resi- 
dence was  within  about  a  mile  of  the  place  where  he  stopped,  had  him 
immediately  removed  to  his  house,  where,  after  a  few  days  of  intense  suffer- 
ing,— which,  however,  was  greatly  alleviated  by  a  triumphant  faith,  he  died 
on  the  7th  of  January,  1839,  in  the  sixty«sizth  year  of  his  age. 

Mr.  Baird  was  the  father  of  thirteen  children — by  the  first  marriage, 
seven, — four  sons  and  three  daughters :  by  the  second,  six, — ^five  sons  and 
one  daughter.  All  the  children  of  the  first  marriage  died  in  infancy  or 
early  childhood.  Three  of  the  sons  by  the  second  marriage, — namely, 
Samuel  John,  Ebenezer  Thompson,  and  James  Henry,  are  ministers  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church. 

Beside  bis  occasional  contributions  to  the  papers  as  a  correspondent  and 
an  editor,  he  was  the  author  of  two  Treatises  on  Psalmody.  The  first,  enti- 
tled ^'The  Science  of  Praise,"  and  published  in  1816,  was  designed  to 
satisfy  the  minds  of  members  of  his  own  congregation,  who  had  doubts  on 
the  subject.  The  second,  entitled  *' An  inquiry  into  the  privileg(*.  and  duty 
of  the  Christian  Church  in  the  exercise  of  Sacred  Praise," — was  a  Keply 
to  Strictures  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gilbert  McMaster  of  the  Reformed  Presbyte- 
rian Church,  on  the  former,  and  was  published  in  1825.  He  had  conside- 
rable poetical  talent,  and  wrote  two  Poems  of  some  length,  beside  several 
smaller  pieces ;  but  I  believe  none  of  them  exist  except  in  manuscript. 

It  must  be  obvious,  I  think,  to  every  one,  in  view  of  the  above  narrative, 
and  it  has  been  especially  so  to  me  in  reading  the  autobiography  from  which 
chiefly  it  has  been  compiled,  that  Mr.  Baird  was  very  much  more  than  an 
ordinary  man.  His  early  and  determined  purpose  to  acquire  a  liberal  edu- 
cation, in  the  midst  of  opposing  influences,  betokened  at  once  the  vigour  of 
his  intellect  and  the  energy  of  his  will.  The  docility  which  he  manifested 
in  following  the  leadings  of  Providence  through  the  various  changes  allotted 
to  him,  until  a  door  was  finally  opened  for  his  entrance  into  the  Christian 
ministry,  and  the  alacrity  with  which  he  then  addressed  himself  to  the  work, 
show  that,  while  he  acknowledged  G-od  in  all  his  ways,  he  was,  like  the  great 
Apostle,  obedient  to  every  **  heavenly  vision"  with  which  he  was  favoured. 
The  fact  that  with  such  comparatively  limited  advantages,  he  attained  to 
such  high  respectability  and  usefulness,  that  he  occupied  places  of  acknow- 
ledged responsibility,  and  had  so  much  to  do  at  critical  periods  with  the 
direction  of  aff'airs,  shows  that  he  must  have  united  a  sagacious  and  far- 
reaching  mind  with  sterling  Christian  integrity.  As  he  was  always  ready 
to  contend  for  what  he  believed  to  be  truth  and  right,  and  was  actually  promi- 
nent in  the  most  important  controversy  that  has  ever  agitated  the  Presby- 
terian Church,  it  was  impossible  that  his  course  should  meet  with  universal 
approval ;  but,  however  some  of  his  brethren  may  have  dissented  from  his 
views,  and  refused  to  oo-opcrate  in  his  measures,  it  is  believed  that  no  one 


THOMAS  DICKSON  BAIBD.  ^%\ 

«T6r  doubted  for  a  moment  the  purity  of  the  motives  ihat  controlled  him. 
He  had  been  thoroughly  schooled  in  affliction ;  and  to  that  no  doubt  was  to 
be  referred,  in  no  small  degree,  the  vigour  of  his  Christian  affections,  and 
bis  diligence  in  his  Master's  work,  as  well  as  his  mature  preparation  for 
bis  final  change.  It  was  a  striking  providence  that  carried  him  away  to  die ; 
but  his  niiod  was  so  firmly  stayed  upon  the  evangelical  promises  that  there 
was  no  misgiviDg,  no  faltering,  in  the  prospect  of  his  departure.  His  life 
bad  been  a  chequered  and  eventful  one,  but  had  been  signally  blessed  to 
the  spiritual  benefit  of  his  fellow  men ;  and  though  his  death  was  not,  in  all 
its  circumstances,  what  he  or  his  friends  might  have  chosen,  it  was  an  emi- 
nently Christian  death,  and  as  such,  a  fitting  termination  of  the  life  which 
be  had  lived. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  JEFFERY,  D.  D. 

Hekriottsville,  Pa.,  April  G,  1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  Your  letter  finds  me  in  a  state  of  health  that  is  little  favourable 
to  effort  of  any  kind;  and  yet  I  am  unwilling  altogether  to  refuse  your  request, 
though  I  am  quite  aware  that  I  cannot  do  that  justice  to  the  subject  which  my 
feelings  would  dictate.  My  intercourse  with  Mr.  Baird  for  almost  twenty  years 
was  intimate  and  confidential.  During  this  period,  we  often  met  in  Presbytery, 
Synod,  and  various  Boards;  assisted  each  other  on  Communion  occasions,  and 
visited  at  each  others'  houses— in  short  our  relations  were  such  as  to  furnish  me 
the  best  opportunities  of  becoming  acquainted  with  his  intellectual,  moral,  Chris- 
tian and  ministerial  character.  But  I  shall  only  hint  at  one  or  two  characteris- 
tics which  impressed  me  most  deeply. 

lie  was  remarkable  for  his  punctuality  in  fulfilling  all  his  appointments,  and 
meeting  all  the  reasonable  claims  that  were  made  upon  him.  He  was  never 
absent  from  any  of  our  ecclesiastical  meetings  where  we  had  a  right  to  expect 
his  presence,  unless  it  were  a  matter  of  imperious  necessity.  And  he  was  not. 
satisfied  with  merely  being  present;  but  he  always  bore  a  prominent  part  in  the 
business  that  was  transacted.  In  debate  he  was  prompt,  candid,  lucid  and 
respectful.  In  maintaining  his  opinions  he  was  firm  and  honest — on  all  important 
points  touching  the  doctrines  or  the  policy  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  those 
who  wished,  knew  exactly  where  to  find  him.  As  a  preacher  and  a  debater,  his 
efforts  were  characterized  more  by  strength  than  polish — they  were  always 
pointed  and  appropriate.  I  remember  an  incident  that  would  go  to  show  that 
this  was  the  general  impression — On  one  occasion  when  he  had  preached  the 
opening  sermon  before  Synod,  a  prominent  member,  who  arrived  after  the  service, 
inquired — ''What  kind  of  a  sermon  had  you?"  ''Clear,  appropriate,  and 
strong,"  was  the  reply.  "It  would  bo  all  that,"  said  the  other,  "  coming  from 
Aim — his  preaching  could  not  be  other  than  strong;  but  what  was  the  subject, 
&c..'"  I  will  only  add,  in  respect  to  his  character,  that  I  always  found  him  a 
warm-hearted,  generous  and  sympathizing  friend,  and  an  eminently  wise  and. 
judicious  counsellor. 

I  shall  never  forget  my  last  interview  with  him.  It  was,  I  think,  after  he  had 
taken  leave  of  his  family  in  Cannonsburg,  that  I  met  him  on  his  way  to  Pitts- 
burg, and  prevailed  upon  him  to  turn  aside,  some  two  miles,  and  spend  the  night 
at  my  residence.  The  interview  was  rendered  specially  interesting  by  the 
attending  circumstances.  In  the  morning  he  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  myself 
and  family.  I  accompanied  him  to  his  horse,  and  after  he  was  mounted,  from 
an  impression  which  at  that  moment  came  over  me  that  I  might  never  see- him 
again,  I  took  him  by  the  hand  and  said — "  Mr.  Baird,  I  have  known  yon  inti- 
mately for  almost  twenty  years,  and  from  the  first  with  increasing  confidenoe- 

VoL,  IV.  61 


482  PBEftBTTBBIAH. 

■ 

and  esteem — ^I  may  never  see  you  again — ^I  wish  you  w^ll,  liTing,  dying,  and 
ferever."  He  held  my  hand  for  some  seconds,  unable  to  speak;  and  then  said — 
**  The  whole  is  reciprocated — You  shall  hear  from  me  in  Georgia."  This  was 
his  last  utterance  in  my  hearing,  and  that  the  last  time  that  I  saw  his  iace. 

Very  fraternally  yours, 

WILLIAM  JEFFERY. 

FROM  THE  REV.  DAVID  ELLIOTT,  D.  D. 

AlleghahT;  Pa.,  April  16, 1867. 

Dear  Sir:  I  had  no  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  Thomas  D.  Baird  until  after 
my  removal  to  Western  Pennsylvania;  and  then  I  met  him  only  occasionally, 
and  at  distant  intervals,  for  a  number  of  years.  After  I  became  connected  with 
the  Theological  Seminary  in  this  city,  my  intercourse  with  him  was  frequent  and 
familiar.  Ho  was  a  good  and  true  man,  in  whom  I  had  much  confidence.  And, 
by  his  brethren  in  the  ministry,  who  had  the  best  opportunities  of  knowing  him, 
he  was  highly  esteemed.  He  was  a  man  of  respectable  talents  and  attainments, 
and  of  consistent  ministerial  and  Christian  deportment.  He  was  remarkable 
for  his  candour  and  honesty  of  character,  and  abhorred  everything  which  had 
the  appearance  of  seeking  to  secure  a  favourite  end  by  unfair  means.  Upon  aU 
subjects  connected  with  the  doctrines  and  policy  of  the  Church  to  which  he 
belonged,  he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  form  a  judgment,  and  to  assume  his  share 
of  responsibility  in  sustaining  what  he  believed  to  be  the  truth.  In  the  contro- 
versies which  existed  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  some  years  ago,  he  was,  from 
conviction,  an  Old  School  man,  and  was  among  the  earliest  to  notice  what  he 
believed  to  be  aberrations  from  the  doctrines,  and  encroachments  on  the  order,  of 
our  Church,  and  to  raise  his  warning  voice  against  them.  But,  while  he  was 
thus  decided  in  his  views  and  practice,  he  scorned  to  take  any  undue  advantage 
of  those  whom  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  oppose,  and  was  often  found  acting — where 
principle  was  not  involved — in  the  most  liberal  and  accommodating  manner 
towards  them. 

In  the  judicatories  of  the  Church,  he  generally  took  a  part  in  the  discussions, 
but  his  remarks  were  brief  and  to  the  point.  Hence,  although  his  manner  was 
not  of  the  popular  kind,  he  was  always  listened  to  with  respect.  As  the  Editor 
of  the  '*  Pittsburg  Christian  Herald"  for  upwards  of  six  years,  during  the  most 
difficult  and  unsettled  state  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  he  was  extensively 
known.  The  ability  and  frankness  with  which  he  sustained  what  he  believed  to 
be  the  cause  of  truth  and  order  during  that  period,  were  generally  acknowledged 
by  those  who  were  in  the  habit  of  reading  his  paper.  And,  although  some  found 
fault,  it  is  believed  that  few  men  could  have  been  selected  who  would  have  passed 
through  the  period  of  excitement,  during  which  he  occupied  the  editorial  chair, 
with  so  large  an  amount  of  general  approbation.  In  Mr.  Baird's  Christian 
character  there  was  nothing  fitful  or  sparkling.  But,  under  the  influence  of 
Christian  principle,  he  steadily  and  perseveringly  sought  to  do  good,  and  promote 
the  glory  of  God.  I  very  rarely  heard  him  preach.  The  discourses  I  heard 
were  well  arranged  and  instructive.  His  style  was  simple  and  direct,  without 
ornament.    Respecting  the  results  of  his  labours  as  a  pastor,  I  have  no  infer- 

tion. 

Very  respectfully  and  truly  your  friend, 

D.  ELLIOTT. 


SAHUXL  OATIBS  HOQE.  4g^ 


SAMUEL  DAVIES  HOGE  * 

1813—1826. 

Sahitel  Day  IBS  Hooe  was  the  fourth  son  of  the  Bev.  Moses  Hoge,  D.  D. 
and  Elizabeth,  his  wife,  and  was  born  in  Shepherdstown,  Ya.  in  the  year 
1791.  In  his  childhood  he  was  rather  large  and  robust ;  but  as  he  grew 
to  manhood,  he  became  comparatively  feeble,  and  while  he  was  yet  quite  a 
youth,  exhibited  some  symptoms  of  the  disease  which  terminated  his  life. 

His  early  training  was  decidedly  Christian, — not  merely  as  conducted  by 
his  father,  but  especially  by  his  mother,  who  was  distinguished  for  sound 
judgment,  great  promptness  and  decision,  and  an  intelligent,  deep  and  con- 
sistent piety.  Though  no  definite  account  of  the  commencement  of  his 
religious  experience  has  been  preserved,  it  is  known  that  he  was  the  subject 
of  serious  impressions  from  early  childhood.  In  the  autumn  of  180Q,  while 
he  was  yet  a  mere  child,  his  father  and  mother  travelled  into  the  more 
Southern  States  for  the  benefit  of  her  health,  and  he  accompanied  them. 
It  was  at  the  time  that  the  remarkable  revival  of  religion  prevailed  in 
that  region,  which  was  accompanied  by  so  many  strange  and  extravagant 
demonstrations.  He  was  taken  to  several  of  the  great  meetings  which  were 
held  in  connection  with  that  work,  and  on  one  occasion  became  a  subject  of 
powerful  excitement,  and  prayed,  and  exhorted  the  crowd  who  gathered 
around  him,  with  astonishing  fervour  and  effect.  The  impressions  which 
he  received  at  that  time  were  not  a  little  strengthened  during  a  revival 
which  occurred  three  years  later;  and,  though  it  might  not  have  been  easy 
to  mark  the  exact  period  of  his  conversion ,  he  became  openly  and  decidedly 
a  follower  of  the  Saviour,  several  years  before  he  reached  manhood. 

He  was  first  taught  the  Latin  language  by  his  father,  and  the  students  of 
Theology  who  resided  in  his  father^s  family.  He  was  then  for  some  time 
a  member  of  a  classical  school  taught  by  his  brother  James  (now  the  Kcv. 
Dr.  Hoge  of  Columbus,  0.)  at  the  Augus^ta  Church,  Ya.;  and  subsequently 
attended  an  Academy  instituted  by  his  father  in  Shepherdstown,  in  the 
8am e  State.  When  his  father  removed  to  Prince  Edward  to  become  the 
President  of  Hampden  Sidney  College,  Samuel  Davies  accompanied  him, 
and  there  pursued  his  studies  until  he  graduated  in  1810.  He  then  prose- 
cuted his  theological  course,  under  the  direction  of  his  father,  who  was  the 
Synodical  Professor  of  Theology  as  well  as  President  of  the  College.  He 
placed  himself  under  the  care  of  the  Hanover  Presbytery,  as  a  candidate 
for  the  ministry,  in  October,  1812,  and  was  licensed  to  preach  on  the  8lh  of 
May,  1813.  His  father  addressed  him  on  the  occasion,  and  presented  him 
with  a  Bible  which  had  belonged  to  his  mother,  with  an  appeal  which  filled 
the  house  with  audible  weeping.  While  pursuing  his  theological  studies, 
he  was  employed  as  Tutor  in  the  College,  and,  after  his  licensure,  occupied, 
for  some  time,  the  place  of  Professor  and  Yice  President. 

His  earnest  desire  to  engage  more  directly  in  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel 
led  him  to  resign  his  place  in  the  College,  and  accept  a  call  as  Pastor  of 
the  Churches  of  Culpepper  and  Madison,  in  Yirginia.  Here  he  was  ordained, 
bj  the  Presbytery  of  Hanover,  in  the  year  1816,  and  here  he  continued  to 

*  M0«  ftmn  B«T.  Dr.  Jmbm  Hoge. 


1 


484  FBS&ExnBiiJi. 

labour  with  grMtt  ftoceptance,  fidelity  and  suooess,  until  April,  1821,  when 
he  removed  to  Ohio. 

His  attention  was  directed  to  the  W«8t,  at  an  early  day,  by  the  rapid 
increase  of  the  Church,  and  the  urgent  demand  for  a  larger  number  of 
ministers,  in  that  portion  of  our  country.  Doubtless  he  was  influenced  in 
some  degree  also  by  the  fact  that  his  eldest  brother  had  been  labouring  in 
the  same  vocation  in  Ohio,  for  more  than  fifteen  years.  After  remaining 
a  few  months  with  his  family,  at  the  house  of  his  brother  in  Columbus,  he 
was  called  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Churches  of  Hillsborough  and 
Kocky  Spring,  in  Highland  County.  To  these  congregations  he  ministered 
with  his  wonted  diligence  and  success  some  two  years.  His  health,  how- 
ever, proved  insufficient  for  the  duties  incident  to  so  extensive  a  charge. 
His  voice,  especially,  which  was  naturally  weak,  was  scarcely  adequate  to 
preaching  frequently  to  the  large  congregations  that  waited  on  his  ministry. 
A  change  of  location  and  of  duties,  therefore,  became  desirable, — even 
necessary. 

At  this  time  the  Professorship  of  Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy 
in  the  Ohio  University,  at  Athens,  was  urgently  proposed  to  him,  including 
also  the  opportunity  of  preaching  in  the  College  Chapel,  and  in  the  Church 
of  the  town,  and  in  the  vicinity,  as  often  as  his  health  would  allow.  Having 
accepted  this  appointment,  he  removed  to  Athens,  and  entered  on  his  duties 
near  the  close  of  the  year  1823.  The  University  was  at  that  time  without 
a  President,  but,  under  the  influence  of  Mr.  Hoge,  in  connection  with  two 
or  three  other  able  instructors,  its  prosperity  was  not  a  little  increased. 
His  preaching  likewise,  both  in  the  College  and  in  the  Church,  was  highly 
acceptable  and  useful. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1825,  his  health  began  perceptibly  to  decline, 
and  it  became  manifest  that  he  was  the  subject  of  a  serious  affection  of  the 
liver.  He,  however,  continued  his  accustomed  labours  until  the  summer  of 
1826,  when  the  disease  had  evidently  taken  on  a  chronic  form,  and  for 
several  weeks  he  was  confined  to  his  room,  and  much  of  the  time  to  his 
bed.  In  November  following,  he  seemed  to  bo  considerably  relieved,  and 
became,  as  he  supposed,  able  to  resume  his  duties  in  the  College.  He, 
accordingly,  made  the  attempjt;  but  his  death  occurred  almost  immediately 
after,  under  the  very  extraordinary  circumstances,  which  are  minutely 
detailed  in  the  subjoined  letter. 

Mr.  Hoge  was  married  in  October,  1812,  to  Elizabeth  Kice,  the  eldest 
daughter  of  the  Rey.  Drury  Lacy.  They  had  four  children, — two  sons 
and  two  daughters, — all  of  whom  became  members  of  the  Church  at  an  early 
age.  Both  of  the  sons  are  ministers  of  the  Gospel.  The  eldest,  Moses  D., 
is  (1857)  Pastor  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in  Richmond,  Va., 
and  one  of  the  Editors  of  the  Central  Presbyterian;  the  younger,  William  J.. 
was  lately  Pastor  of  the  Westminster  Church,  Baltimore,  Md.,  and  is  now 
Professor  of  Biblical  Instruction  in  Union  Theological  Siminary^,  Prince 
Edward  County,  Va.    Mrs.  Hoge  died  in  Gallatin,  Tenn.,  November  18, 1840. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Hoge  of  Columbus  writes  thus  of  his  brother: — **As  a  pulpit 
orator,  he  only  lacked  voice  and  physical  strength  to  have  ranked  with  the 
first  preachers  of  his  age.  His  style  was  pure,  simple  and  energetic,  express- 
ing with  great  exactness  the  nicest  shades  of  thought.  And  his  subject 
matter  was  always  evangelical  truth,  presented  in  such  away  as  to  instruct, 
And  at  the  same  time  4deply.  affect,  hia  hearers.    The  growth  of  believers 


SAHUBL  DATISS  HOGE.  4g§ 

IB  holiness  and  comfort,  and  the  conversion  of  fiinners,  to  the  glory  of  Ood 
in  Christ,  was  evidently  his  supreme  end  in  all  his  ministrations.  Nor 
was  he  disappointed  in  the  results  of  his  labours.  Though  his  ministry 
was  short,  reaching  through  a  period  of  only  thirteen  years,  it  was  attended 
with  a  rich  blessing  from  on  high,  and  will  doubtless  be  the  occasion  to 
many  of  everlasting  joy. 

*'  In- stature,  he  was  rather  below  the  medium,  though  hardly  so  much  as 
to  be  noticed.  His  personal  appearance,  as  a  public  speaker,  was  in  bis 
favour.  His  voice,  though  weak,  was  pleasant.  He  possessed  an  amiable 
and  agreeable  temper,  conversed  with  ease  and  freedom,  and  shared  largely 
in  the  affectionate  regards  of  his  friends.'' 

FROM  THE  REV.  MOSES  D,  HOGE,  D.  D. 

Richmond,  Ya.,  September  2, 1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  cannot  decline  the  grateful,  though  delicate,  office  you  have 
assigned  to  me,  in  assisting  to  form  a  suitable  memorial  of  my  lamented  and 
revered  father,  and  my  only  regret  is  that  the  circumstances  in  which  your 
request  finds  me  will  allow  me  to  do  it  only  in  the  most  hurried  manner. 

1  was  very  young  when  my  father  died;  but  I  have  a  distinct  and  even  vivid 
recollection  of  him.  He  was  a  very  grave  looking  man,  and  his  manner  was 
strikingly  solemn,  when  in  the  pulpit,  or  engaged  in  any  serious  duty.  Yet  in 
the  social  circle  he  was  eminently  cheerful,  and  without  effort  he  could  entertain 
a  large  company  with  the  most  familiar  and  playful  discourse.  He  was  easy 
and  graceful  in  his  address;  invariably  polite  without  formality;  and  while 
faithful  in  rebuking  what  was  reprehensible,  very  considerate  of  the  feelings  of 
others.  Such  was  his  nice  sense  of  propriety  and  delicacy  of  sentiment,  that  he 
was  never  known  to  make  an  allusion,  or  to  utter  an  expression,  that  could 
offend  the  most  fastidious  ear;  and  although  easily  diverted  and  fond  of  innocent 
wit,  he  instantly  became  grave  and  silent,  when  any  one  spoke  a  vulgar  or  pro- 
fane word  in  his  presence.  He  could  thus,  by  a  single  look  of  grieved  surprise 
or  displeasure,  rebuke  and  abash  any  one  who  ventured  to  retail  an  indelicate 
story,  or  make  use  of  an  indecent  innuendo,  in  his  company. 

While,  as  I  have  remarked,  his  manner  in  the  pulpit  was  characterised  by 
great  solemnity,  it  often  melted  into  tenderness.  In  speaking  of  the  love  and 
sufferings  of  Christ,  he  would  not  unfrequently  burst  into  tears;  and  sometimes 
his  emotion  would  impede  his  utterance — ^yet  these  involuntary  interruptions  of 
his  discourse  never  injured  the  effect  of  any  appeal  with  his  auditors.  They 
softened  and  wept  with  him. 

He  was  a  diligent  student,  and  very  versatile  in  his  tastes  and  pursuits.  He 
read  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages  with  great  facility,  and  though  delighting  in 
the  ancient  classics,  was  equally  fond  of  the  exact  sciences.  Though  his  chair 
in  the  College  was  that  of  Natural  Philosophy,  he  could  have  filled  that  of 
Ancient  Languages  with  equal  ease.  Few  men  of  his  age  have  been  better 
versed  in  English  literature;  and  though  he  more  frequently  wrote  poetry  for 
his  own  amusement  than  for  publication,  he  possessed  decided  poetic  genius. 
With  such  tastes,  talents,  and  application,  had  his  life  been  spared,  he  would 
have  taken  a  high  position  among  the  literary  and  scientific  men  of  the  country. 

The  circumstances  attending  his  last  illness  and  death  are  deserving  of  com- 
memoration. His  health  had  been  feeble  for  several  years;  he  was  enfeebled 
and  crippled  partially  by  some  disease  resembling  rheumatism,  and  frequently 
walked  with  an  unsteady,  limping  gait.  One  day,  as  he  sat  in  the  Philosophical 
room  in  the  College,  he  was  writing  a  note  on  a  book  resting  on  his  knee,  when 
he  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  violent  cramp  in  the  leg.    Such  was  the  force  of 


486  PRESBTTERTAN. 

the  contraction  that  the  thigh  hone  wm  hroken !  Had  the  hone  heen  sound,  this 
eould  hardly  have  heen  possible.  After  he  fell,  some  of  the  students  in  the 
adjacent  room  heard  his  groans,  and  the  door  of  the  Philosophieal  room  being 
listened  with  a  spring  lock,  they  burst  it  open,  and  at  his  request  made  a  litter, 
and  carried  him  to  his  residence.  The  broken  limb  was  set  by  a  skilful  surgeon, 
but  never  united.  He  lingered  about  a  fortnight,  and  on  Christmas  Eve  of  the 
year  1826,  finding  that  he  was  near  his  end,  he  summoned  his  family  to  his 
bedside  to  receive  his  dying  benediction.  I  well  remember  the  night.  It  was 
one  of  the  coldest  I  ever  felt.  The  snow  lay  deep  on  the  frozen  ground.  The 
wind  blew  furiously.  Attending  friends  hovered  around  the  fire;  but  my 
ikther,  fevered  with  inward  heat,  ordered  the  window  nearest  him  to  be  thrown 
open.  The  fierce  wind  sometimes  blew  the  dry  snow  into  the  room,  (it  was  on 
the  lower  floor,)  and  upon  his  bed.  But  while  every  thing  was  tempestuous 
without,  all  was  peaceful  within  that  chamber,  where  the  good  man  met  his 
fate.  One  by  one,  he  addressed  the  members  of  his  famil}' — first  his  wife, 
whom  he  had  ever  tenderly  loved  and  cherished,  and  to  whom  he  had  never 
even  spoken  a  hasty  word— earnestly  did  he  commend  her  to  the  watch  and 
care  of  a  covenant  keeping  Qod.  And  then  he  gave  his  blessing  to  his  children, 
as  they  successively  approached  him.  And  finally,  the  servants  were  called  in, 
and  addressing  them  by  name,  he  urged  them  to  prepare  for  death  and  judg- 
ment. When  these  admonitions  and  partings  were  ended,  he  folded  his  hands 
upon  his  breast,  closed  his  eyes,  and  continued  evidently  engaged  in  prayer  until 
the  hour  of  his  release  and  translation  came. 

So  deeply  frozen  was  the  ground  that  it  was  a  tedious  work  to  dig  his  grave. 
The  day  of  the  Funeral  was  one  of  intense  cold,  but  all  the  College  students 
joined  in  the  procession,  walking  with  the  Faculty,  next  the  bier,  as  if  chief 
mourners,  while  the  great  majority  of  the  citizens  of  the  town,  notwithstanding 
the  severity  of  the  weather,  followed  in  the  sad  march  to  the  grave, — ^lamentin^ 
with  bitter  tears  a  loss  that  seemed  to  them  irreparable. 

I  have  thus,  my  dear  Sir,  endeavoured  to  comply  with  your  request  in  the  best 
way  I  could.  Though  I  was  too  young  to  have  much  personal  knowledge  of  my 
&ther's  character  and  habits,  I  have  of  course  enjoyed  the  best  opportunities 
for  becoming  acquainted  with  his  peculiar  characteristics,  both  intellectual  and 
moral;  and  I  trust  that  the  estimate  which  I  have  given  of  him  will  not  be 
found  to  betray  any  of  the  exaggeration  of  filial  partiality.  I  think  I  may  safely 
say  that  I  have  written  nothing  which  would  be  pronounced  extravagant  by  any 
of  the  few  surviving  witnesses  of  his  brief  but  useful  career. 

Regretting  that  I  am  not  able  to  do  more  ample  justice  to  the  subject, 

I  am  very  respectfully  and  affectionately  yours, 

MOSES  D.  HOGE. 


GHABLfiS  BACKUS  STORKS.  4%f 


CHARLES  BACKUS  STORES  * 

1813—1833. 

Charles  Backus  Storks,  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Richard  Salter  and  Sarah 
(Wiliistonj  Storrs,  was  born  in  Longmeadow,  Mass.,  May  15,  1794.  His 
early  years  were  spent,  partly  at  school  in  his  native  place,  and  partly  under 
the  care  of  farmers  in  Somers,  Conn.,  and  Conway,  Mass.  He  studied  in 
preparation  for  College,  first  under  the  instruction  of  his  father,  and  after- 
wards at  Munson  Academy,  where  he  remained  two  years,  being  an  inmate, 
during  the  time,  of  the  family  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ely.  It  was  at  this  period 
that  his  mind  became  deeply  and  permanently  impressed  with  religious  truth ; 
and  it  was  not  long  after  this  that  he  made  a  public  profession  of  his  faith. 

In  the  fall  of  1810,  he  became  a  member  of  Princeton  College,  but  did 
not  graduate,  owing  to  the  complete  prostration  of  his  health,  towards  the 
close  of  his  Junior  year.  During  the  whole  period  of  his  connection  with 
the  College,  he  maintained  the  highest  rank  as  a  scholar,  and  was  distin- 
guished alike  for  his  talents  and  his  diligence. 

After  leaving  College,  he  taught  a  select  school  for  a  few  months  in  Long* 
meadow,  and  then  went  to  study  Theology  under  the  Rev.  Dr.  Woolworth, 
of  Bridgehampton,  L.  I.,  where  he  still  had  under  his  care  a  few  pupils.  lie 
was  licensed  to  preach,  by  the  Long  Island  Presbytery,  through  the  impor- 
tunity of  his  friends,  and  not  without  great  reluctance  on  his  part,  in  1813i. 
He  laboured  twelve  months  in  connection  with  two  small  churches  on  the 
Island, — chiefly,  however,  with  that  on  Shelter  Island,  where  he  witnessed 
a  considerable  revival  of  religion.  But,  in  the  midst  of  his  success,  his 
health  was  again  prostrated,  and  he  returned  in  a  state  of  great  despondency 
to  his  father's  house. 

Notwithstanding  the  happy  results  of  his  preaching,  he  was  by  no  means 
satisfied  with  his  theological  attainments,  and,  accordingly,  in  1817,  he 
joined  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover.  Here  both  his  health  and 
spirits  were  greatly  improved,  and  he  pursued  his  studies  with  much  alac- 
rity till  the  completion  of  the  usual  course.  On  leaving  Andover  in  1820, 
he  proceeded  immediately  to  South  Carolina,  and  was  ordained  as  an  Evan- 
gelist at  Charleston  by  the  Charleston  Congregational  Associationt  on  the 
2d  of  February,  1821.  He  was  oocupied  as  a  missionary  in  the  States  of 
South  Carolina  and  Georgia,  (chiefly  the  former,)  for  a  year  and  a  half,  when 
his  purposes  were  again  broken  by  disease,  and  he  was  compelled  to  devote 
another  summer  to  the  recruiting  of  his  health. 

•  MSS.  from  Rer.  R.  S.  Storrs,  D.  D.,  Rev.  H.  M.  Stom,  and  Rev.  George  Howe,  B.  D. 

f  The  Charleston  Congregational  Association  and  the  Presbvtery  of  Harmonj  were  at  thia 
time  in  eorrespondenoe,  ■endine  delegates  to  each  others'  meetings,  and  Dr.  Leiand  sat  on  the 
ooeasion  of  Mr.  Storrs'  ordination,  as  a  dele^te  from  the  Hannooy  Presbytery.  On  the  10th 
of  November,  1822,  the  Charleston  Association  voted  its  own  dissolntion,  in  mse  a  anion  with 
the  Harmony  Presbytery  shoald  be  consummated.  The  Association  had  previously  appointed  a 
Committee  to  examine  into  tiae  distioetive  featares  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and  preseni 
them  to  the  view  of  its  members.  On  the  19th  of  November,  1822,  the  members  of  the 
Association  (Mr.  Storrs  being  one)  were  received  as  members  of  the  Presbytery  of  Harmony. 
The  following  year  these  persons,  with  some  othen,  were  formed  into  a  new  Presbytery,  ealled 
**  The  Charleston  Union  Presbytery."  A»  there  seems  to  be  no  evidenoe  that  Mr.  Storrt  sub* 
•eqnenUy  ohanged  his  eeolesiastioJ  relationi.  It  Is  fliir  to  presume  that  he  died  in  oonneotioi 
with  the  Presbyterian  Church ;  though  it  if  understood  that  he  always  retained  a  decided  pre* 
ferenea  for  Congregatioiialism. 


489  PRXSBTTSftlAK. 

Returning  from  South  Carolba  through  Ohio  in  the  summer  of  1822,  he 
was  so  much  a£fected  by  the  desolations  of  Zion  that  prevailed  there,  that 
he  could  not  resist  the  impube  to  put  forth  his  hand  in  tb&  way  of  repairing 
them.  He  was  stationed  during  the  six  following  years  as  a  missionary  at 
Bavenna,  the  County  seat  of  Portage,  where  he  gathered  a  church,  which  he 
had  the  pleasure  to  see  greatly  quickened  and  enlarged  through  his  minis- 
trations. 

In  1828,  he  accepted  an  invitation  to  the  Professorship  of  Theology  in 
the  Western  Reserve  College.  So  acceptable  were  his  services  as  Professor, 
that  he  was  repeatedly  solicited  to  take  the  Presidency  of  the  institution ; 
and,  though  his  constitutional  diffidence  rendered  him  averse  to  it,  his  scru- 
ples were  finally  overruled,  and  he  was  inaugurated  President  on  the  9th  of 
February,  1831,  after  having  discharged  the  duties  of  the  place  more  than 
a  year.  But  the  bright  hopes  which  were  cherished  in  connection  with  his 
being  advanced  to  the  head  of  the  institution,  were  destined  to  be  speedily 
blasted.  In  the  early  part  of  the  winter  of  1832-33,  he  was  attacked  by  a 
violent  cold,  which  proved  the  harbinger  of  consumption,  and  that  the  har- 
binger of  death.  On  the  26th  of  June,  1833,  the  Trustees  of  the  College 
voted  to  release  him  from  his  duties  for  six  months,  and  in  July  he  com- 
menced a  journey  for  his  health.  lie  left  his  home  and  his  family  with  the 
prevailing  expectation  of  a  speedy  convalescence  and  return;  but  the  pul- 
monary disease  had  already  gained  too  firm  a  lodgement  in  his  sy^item  to  be 
eradicated  or  arrested.  He  arrived  at  the  house  of  his  brother  in  Braintree 
on  the  \0i\\  of  August ;  and,  after  a  rapid  decline,  died  on  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, the  15th  of  September,  aged  thirty-nine  years.  His  Funeral  Sermon 
was  preached  by  the  Rev.  (now  Professor)  Edwards  A.  Park,  and  was  pub- 
lished. 

The  only  production  of  Mr.  Storrs'  pen,  known  to  have  been  published, 
is  his  Address  on  the  occasion  of  his  Induction  to  the  Presidency  of  the 
College. 

Mr.  Storrs  was  married  on  the  6th  of  July,  1823,  to  Maria  V.  Pierson, 
of  West  Avon,  N.  Y.  They  had  six  children,  one  of  whom,  Henry  Mar- 
tin^  was  graduated  at  Amherst  College  in  1846,  and  is  now  (1856)  min- 
ister of  a  Congregational  Church  in  Cincinnati,  0.  Mrs.  Storrs  died  in 
1839. 


FROM  THE  REV.  EDWARDS  A.  PARK,  D.  D. 

Amdovkb,  July  18,  1853. 

My  dear  Sir:  Residing  for  two  years  in  the  family  of  the  Rev.  Richard  S. 
Storrs,  D.  D.,  of  Braintree,  I  became  somewhat  intimately  acquainted  with  the 
character  of  his  brother,  the  Rev.  Charles  Backus  Storrs.  In  the  summer  of 
1833,  President  Storrs  visited  Braintree,  where  I  had  the  pleasure  of  forming  a 
direct  personal  acquaintance  with  him.  This  personal  acquaintance  made  the 
same  impression  upon  me  which  I  had  received  from  the  statement  of  his  firiends 
with  regard  to  his  character.  I  thought  that  I  understood  him  before  I  saw 
him,  so  that  in  my  first  interview  with  him  I  regarded  him  as  an  old  friend. 

He  was  a  tall,  spare  man,  dignified  in  his  attitudes,  and  with  a  countenance 
serene  and  solemn.  His  enunciation  was  distinct  and  manly;  his  entire  aspect, 
impressive. 

That  he  had  a  mind  of  a  high  order,  could  not  have  been  doubted  by  any  who 
had  an  opportunity  of  forming  a  judgment  concerning  him.    He  was  digtin* 


V 


CHARLBS  BACKUS  Bubi^f^^  -     •  *   ^*         J^^ 


fished  for  steadinoss,  clearness,  and  parity  of  conoeption;  power  of  thought 
rather  than  quickness;  the  solid,  acute  and  oomprehensiTe,  rather  than  the 
splendid  and  versatile;  and  a  philosophical  association  of  ideas,  which  was  tho 
Biore  remarkable,  as  his  literary  course  had  been  so  often  interrupted.  First 
principles  in  all  things  he  seized  with  a  capacious  grasp;  his  opinions  wer^  his 
own,  for  he  scorned  to  receive  them  from  authority;  he  would  defend  them  with 
regular  consecutive  argument,  and  though  they  were  not  always  true,  he  would 
always  make  them  plausible.  In  conversation  he  expressed  his  ideas  with  a 
ohasteness,  copiousness,  and  dignity  of  style,  which  are  seldom  surpassed;  he 
disdained  to  trifle;  and  therefore  exhibited  an  habitual  steadiness,  energy, 
and  elevation  of  mind,  which  proved  the  rigid  discipline  to  which  he  was 
subject. 

But  it  is  on  the  qualities  of  his  heart  that  his  friends  dwell  with  the  greatest 
delight;  for  in  his  heart  lay  his  high  distinctions.  He  not  only  had  much  of 
that  diffidence  which  is  constitutional,  but  still  more  of  that  modesty  which  is  a 
virtue.  Ho  was  too  retiring.  Had  he  been  less  so,  we  should  have  known  moro 
of  his  excellence.  He  rarely  spoke  about  himself,  even  about  his  religious  exer- 
cises, and  therefore  left  his  habits  of  thought  to  be  inferred  from  his  daily  con- 
duct. He  often  seemed  to  love  to  be  undervalued  by  others,  and  he  gene- 
rally undervalued  himself.  When  a  man  of  his  native  lowliness  of  temper  is 
viewed  in  his  Christian  vocation,  we  expect  to  sec  unusual  humility.  The  humil- 
ity of  President  Storrs  was  also  favoured  by  other  causes.  His  broken  consti- 
tution often  drew  a  veil  of  despondency  over  his  mind,  and  made  him  despair, 
of  every  thing,  it  is  true,  but  of  nothing  so  much  as  his  religious  character;  it 
incited  him  therefore  to  the  greater  diligence  of  examination,  and  the  larger  dis- 
covery of  his  sinfulness;  it  gave  him  a  clearer  perception  of  the  reasons  for  humil- 
ity, and  made  him  deepen  that  virtue  which,  the  deeper  it  is,  contains  so  much 
the  more  of  the  glory  that  exaltcth. 

President  Storrs  was  characterized  by  a  singleness  of  aim.  He  had  no  promi- 
nent schemes  of  selfishness  before  his  mind,  and  was  therefore  never  an  object 
of  suspicion  or  distrust;  his  opposers,  whatever  cause  they  may  have  had  for  oppo- 
sition, could  not  but  feel  that  he  was  disinterested.  He  held  it  as  his  one  para- 
mount object.,  to  accomplish  the  greatest  amount  of  good  which  was  possible 
daring  his  whole  life.  He  laid  a  plan,  for  his  was  that  species  of  mind  that  acted 
by  plan,  for  the  fulfilment  of  this  great  aim;  he  laboured  for  it  in  the  family, 
the  study,  the  college  and  the  pulpit,  with  an  even,  sober  industry;  all  his  other 
aims  he  subsidized  to  it  by  principle,  as  well  as  by  system.  The  means  of  rais- 
ing himself  from  the  severest  despondency  which  he  ever  experienced,  was  the 
formation  of  the  purpose,  as  a  settled  and  definite  one,  to  strive  for  the  welfare 
of  tho  world,  whatever  became  of  himself.  He  began  to  live  more  cheerfully, 
when  he  began  to  live  more  singly  for  others.  He  found  his  life  in  losing  it,  and 
forgot  his  own  darkness  in  looking  at  the  brightness  of  God. 

He  was  distinguished  also  for  resoluteness,  as  well  as  singleness  of  Christian 
aim.  He  looked  at  right,  and  wavered  not  at  consequences.  And  he  was  as 
persevering  as  he  was  resolute.  Sometimes  perhaps  he  may  have  been  too  tena- 
cious; but  in  the  general  duties  of  a  Christian,  how  could  he  be.^  Without 
unblenching  perseverance  he  could  not  have  seized  for  study  the  broken  intervals 
of  health  which  were  scattered  up  and  down  his  chequered  life,  but  he  seemed 
to  burn  with  the  same  literary  ardour  as  if  his  literary  course  had  been  uninter- 
rupted and  flattering.  Indeed  he  was  always  the  indefatigable  student.  When 
necessitated  to  travel,  he  was  storing  his  comprehensive  mind  with  rich  mate- 
rials for  thought,  and  he  made  his  sick-bed  a  study  as  well  as  pulpit.  In  timo 
apparently  occupied  with  suffering,  he  was  learning  such  lessons  of  humility, 
acquiescence  and  trust,  as  sufferers  alone  can  learn. 

Vol.  IV.  62 


490  PSESBYTBBJAlf. 

His  perseyerance  may  be  iilustrated  hy  a  little  incident  in  his  piiraie  hlstoiy. 
He  was  a  champion  of  the  Temperance  Reformation,  and,  as  might  be  expected 
from  his  lore  of  self-denial,  was  more  scrupulous  in  his  private  practice  than  in 
his  general  principles.  He  chose  to  suffer  the  intensest  pain  for  want  of  a  bath« 
rather  than  allow  even  an  outward  application  of  the  liquid,  which  he  had  deter- 
mined to  **  handle  not.''  When  his  body  was  far  sunk,  and  was  sinking  farther 
every  hour,  it  was  the  medical  advice  that  he  should  drink  **  a  little  wine  "  as  a 
tonic.  A  friend  **  went  unto  him  and  gave  him  wine  mingled  with,"  not  myrrh, 
like  the  Saviour's,  but  water,  and  so  much  water  that  the  flavour  of  the  wine 
was  scarcely  perceptible;  but  *'  when  he  had  tasted  thereof,  he  would  not 
drink; " — '*  we  must  be  consistent,"  he  says  in  his  mild  but  stem  authority,— 
*'  we  must  be  consistent."  And  when  his  mind  was  shaken  from  its  balance, 
and  the  same  medicine  was  kindly  presented  again,  as  the  offer  of  liquid  to  Jesus 
was  repeated,  he  persisted  with  the  same  firmness  in  his  refusal.  He  showed 
'*  his  ruling  passion  strong  in  death." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  a  man  of  Mr.  Storrs'  rich  endowments  must  have 
been  eminently  qualified  for  the  President's  chair  and  the  pulpit.  Reserved  and 
discreet  in  his  ordinary  intercourse,  he  never  lost  his  dignity;  he  therefore 
secured  the  uniform  obedience  of  his  pupils;  the  respect,  and  often  veneration, 
of  bis  parishioners.  At  the  same  time  he  was  so  equable,  and  gentle,  and  affec- 
tionate, in  his  social  feelings,  that  he  bound  the  members  of  College  to  him  with 
the  cords  of  love;  and  while  the  members  of  the  parish  revered  him  as  a  guide, 
they  trusted  him  as  a  father.  His  was  a  rare  combination  of  sweetness  of  tem- 
per with  firmness  of  authority;  the  amiable  and  the  commanding.  He  entered 
with  a  lively  interest  into  the  circumstances  of  his  scholars,  accommodated  his 
instructions  to  their  diversified  wants  with  aptness,  and  held  in  his  mind  a  com- 
prehensive and  connected  view  of  the  distracting  duties  which  were  multiplied 
upon  him.  When  he  preached,— and  preaching  was  the  employment  whicb 
best  harmonized  with  his  temper,  and  from  which  he  reluctantly  descended  to 
any,  even  the  most  honourable,  office,  he  never  stood  before  his  subject  and 
displayed  his  own  powers;  but  always  placed  his  subject  before  him,  and 
while  out  of  sight  himself,  made  the  truth  shine  before  his  audience,  and  bj 
cogent  argumentation,  and  fervid  feeling,  and  racy,  elevated  style,  and  dis- 
tinct, dignified  delivery,  was  often  eloquent,  and  sometimes  resistless.  His 
highest  encomium  is  that  he  was  a  sincere,  lucid,  faithful  preacher  of  the  truth 
as  it  is  in  Jesus. 

With  high  regard,  I  am  dear  Sir, 

Truly  yours, 

EDWARDS  A.  PARK. 


THOMAS  GOULintKa.  491 


THOMAS  GOULDING,  D.  D. 

1813—1848. 

FROM  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  K.  TALMAGE,  D.  D. 

OoLETHoapK  UNiVKRaiTT,  January  28, 1849. 

Mj  dear  Sir :  I  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request  that  I  should  furnish 
you  with  a  brief  notice  of  the  life,  and  some  estimate  of  the  character,  of 
my  ever  venerated  friend,  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas  Goulding. 

Thomas  Goulding  was  bom  in  Midway,  Liberty  County,  Ga.,  March 
14,  1786.  At  the  time  of  his  death,  he  was  the  oldest  of  fifteen  Pres- 
byterian ministers  from  one  Church,  occupying,  usefully  and  honourably, 
various  important  and  responsible  stations  in  the  South.  He  was  the  first 
native  licentiate  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Georgia. 

It  might  be  profitable  to  inquire  why  the  one  Church  of  Midway,  Lib- 
erty County,  has  furnished  more  Presbyterian  ministers  for  the  State  of 
Georgia,  than  all  the  other  ninety-two  counties  united.  The  iufluence 
of  one  little  colony  of  Puritans  that  made  its  way  thither  through  a  scene 
of  trials  and  disasters,  from  Dorchester,  Mass.,  who  can  describe  ?  Heaven's 
register  will  unfold  many  a  page  which  Earth's  historians  fail  to  write. 
What  the  Christian  Church  does  for  the  State,  the  world  will  never  fully 
know. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen,  young  Goulding  was  sent  to  Wolcott,  Conn.,  where 
he  received  the  principal  part  of  his  academic  education.  He  prosecuted 
the  study  of  the  Law  in  New  Haven,  in  the  office  of  Judge  Daggett.  He 
was  married  to  Ann  Holbrook,  in  Southington,  Conn.,  in  November,  1806. 
In  April,  1810,  he  became  connected  with  the  Church  in  his  native  place, 
and  soon  felt  it  his  duty  to  devote  himself  to  the  work  of  the  Christian 
ministry. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1811,  he  was  received  as  a  candidate  under 
the  care  of  the  Harmony  Presbytery,  and  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel 
in  December,  1813.  A  few  months  after  his  licensure,  he  commenced 
preaching  as  a  stated  supply,  at  White  Bluff,  and  was  ordained  and  installed 
Pastor  of  that  Church  January  1,  1816.  Here  he  laboured  faithfully, 
acceptably,  and  successfully,  for  about  six  years,  during  which  time  the 
warmest  reciprocal  attachments  were  formed  between  himself  and  his  fiock. 
In  1822,  he  resigned  his  charge,  and  removed  to  Lexington,  Oglethorpe 
County.  Here  he  remained  for  eight  years,  during  which  he  exerted  an 
influence  over  some  of  the  first  minds  of  the  State,  which  is  now  telling, 
and  will  forever  tell,  on  the  best  interests  of  men.  Many  a  community  is 
now  reaping  rich  spiritual  blessings,  the  source  of  which, — unknown  to 
themselves, — is  in  the  honoured  instrumentality  of  this  faithful  man  of 
God.  On  the  establishment  of  the  Theological  Seminary  of  the  Synod  of 
South  Carolina  and  Georgia,  he  was  elected  by  the  Synod  its  first,  and  for  a 
time  its  only.  Professor. 

He  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  Univer- 
sity of  North  Carolina  in  1829. 

For  one  year  he  instructed  a  theological  class  at  Lexington,  in  connection 
with  his  pastoral  labours,  and  was  then  transferred,  by  direction  of  the 


492  PBXSBTTERLUr. 

Synod,  to  Columbia,  S.  C,  the  present  site  of  the  Seminary.  After  serr- 
ing  the  Church  laboriously  in  the  department  of  Eccleslasttcal  History  and 
Church  Government,  for  several  years,  in  connection  with  others  associated 
with  him,  he  resigned  his  chair  as  Professor,  and  was  called  to  his  late 
charge  in  Columbus,  in  January,  18B5.  For  thirteen  years  and  a  half,  he 
was  the  laborious  and  faithful  pastor  of  that  Church.  He  found  it  com- 
paratively weak,  and,  by  his  persevering  fidelity,  raised  it  to  influence  and 
strength. 

He  was.  for  many  years  in  succession,  elected  President  of  the  Board  of 
Trustees  of  Oglethorpe  University,  which  office  he  held  at  the  time  of  his 
death. 

He  died,  as  was  his  oft  expressed  wish,  **with  his  harness  on."  On  the 
evening  of  the  26th  of  June,  1848,  he  attended  his  usual  weekly  lecture. 
He  was  in  a  state  of  great  bodily  debility  when  he  left  his  house,  and  was 
attacked,  whilst  in  the  house  of  God,  with  a  paroxysm  from  an  affection  of 
the  heart,  under  which  he  had  long  been  labouring.  With  great  effort  he 
finished  the  service.  The  subject  of  his  lecture  was  taken  from  the  first 
four  verses  of  the  sixty-third  Psalm, — •*  Oh  God,  thou  art  my  God,"  &c. 
It  was  a  fitting  theme  for  the  veteran  soldier  of  the  cross  to  dwell  upon,  just 
as  he  had  reached  the  portals  of  his  Father's  House.  It  was  a  suitable 
topic  to  present  in  his  last  address  to  his  beloved  parishioners.  And  happy 
were  those  who  did  not  allow  themselves  to  be  detained  from  the  service. 

Within  one  short  hour  from  his  pronouncing  the  benediction  upon  his 
hearers,  he  was  called,  I  doubt  not,  to  hear  the  benediction  pronounced 
upon  his  own  spirit  from  the  lips  of  the  Saviour  he  loved, — **  Well  done 
good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord." 

On  retiring  from  the  place  of  worship,  he  hastened  to  his  chamber  in  a 
state  of  great  exhaustion.  He  had  scarcely  reclined  upon  his  couch,  when 
a  violent  paroxysm  of  his  disease  seized  him.  He  rose  to  lean  upon  the 
mantel, — his  accustomed  source  of  relief,  but  relief  came  not.  The  usual 
remedies  proved  unavailing.  In  the  intense  agony  which  he  suffered,  he 
said  to  a  friend  that  he  would  be  glad  if  it  would  please  the  good  Lord  soon 
to  take  him  away,  as  his  sufferings  were  very  great.  To  a  beloved  son, 
who  was  overwhelmed  at  witnessing  his  agony,  he  administered  a  tender 
rebuke.  He  was  presently  heard  by  one  of  his  daughters  uttering  the 
prayer, — "  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly."  That  prayer  was  heard — he 
ceased  to  breathe — his  spirit  was  at  rest. 

The  high  estimation  in  which  he  was  held,  was  manifested  at  his  death  by 
many  unequivocal  signs.  It  was  evinced  in  the  deep  sorrow  that  pervaded 
the  whole  city  in  which  he  lived, — as  the  mournful  intelligence  spread 
through  its  habitations ;  in  the  thronged  assemblage  and  flowing  tears  wit- 
nessed at  the  funeral  rites ;  and  in  the  strong  expressions  of  regret  with 
which  the  sad  tidings  were  received  among  his  large  circle  of  friends  and 
acquaintances  abroad. 

Pr.  Goulding  possessed  a  fine  intellect  and  a  cultivated  taste.  His  pulpit 
exercises  were  far  above  the  ordinary  standard,  especially  when  his  bodily 
infirmities  did  not  interfere  with  the  free  exercise  of  his  physical  and  mental 
energies.  He  was  a  well  read  and  polished  scholar,  and  had  gathered  rich 
harvests  from  the  fields  of  literature. 

More  engaging  attributes  still  wers  the  strength  and  tenderness  of  his 
MDsibilities,  and  the  sineeriify  sod  lervour  of  hispie^.    He  was  sosoeptibl* 


' 


THOMAS  GOnL]>lSO.  4^ 

o£  sirongfrieadBhipfl ;  for  h\»  fBelings  were  of  ibe  most  ardent  kind.  There 
was  also  in  his  charaoter  a  childlike  simplicitj,  that  won  irresistibly  upon 
bis  associates.  If  these  attractive  qualities  had  their  corresponding  infir- 
mities, they  were  the  natural  result  of  his  rare  gifts,  and  he  would  have 
been  the  last  man  to  claim  exemption  from  the  frailties  of  humanity. 

Conscious  of  his  own  integrity,  he  looked  for  honesty  in  others,  and  was 
liable  to  be  imposed  on  by  the  crafty  and  designing;  whilst,  again,  the 
strength  of  his  attachments  made  him  feel  the  want  of  reciprocity  from  those 
whose  colder  natures  could  not  yield  the  equivalent  which  the  warm  heart 
requires. 

His  favourite  pursuit  was  the  investigation  of  theological  truth.  The 
inspired  volume  was  the  book  he  loved  best  to  study,  and  to  hold  up  to  the 
admiration  of  his  fellow-men.  He  was  well  informed  in,  and  thoroughly 
devoted  to,  the  doctrines  and  polity  of  his  own  Church,  and  was  an  able 
advocate  of  both.  But,  as  his  judgment  was  based  on  faithful  investigation 
and  honest  conviction,  so  his  heart  was  open  to  embrace  all  the  real  disci* 
pies  of  Christ.  And  so  it  is  that  true  piety  evokes  insensibly  a  correspond- 
ing tone  of  harmony  from  every  other  heart  which  the  Spirit  of  God  has 
strung  to  Christian  unison.  The  genuine  impulses  of  true  religious  expe- 
rience outrun  the  slow  deductions  of  argument,  and  bigotry  itself  is  disarmed 
before  the  eloquence  of  love.  The  illuminations  of  the  Spirit  dissolve 
sophistries,  and  overthrow  prejudices,  which  logic  cannot  demolish;  and  a 
warm  heart,  overflowing  with  enlightened  Christian  charity,  sometimes 
creates  to  itself  a  benignant  centre  of  attraction,  where  the  most  discord- 
aut  materials  are  fused  into  homogeneous  union,  and  caused  to  move  in 
harmony. 

It  was  his  delight  to  expatiate  on  the  doctrines  of  the  cross,  and  proclaim 
them  to  his  fellow-men.  He  was  no  reluctant  hireling  servant  in  the  spir- 
itual vineyard.  He  loved  his  covenanted  work,  and  was  ever  ready,  in 
season  and  out  of  season,  in  public  and  in  private,  to  hold  forth  the  claims, 
and  vindicate  the  honours,  of  his  gracious  Master. 

With  all  his  natural  and  acquired  endowments,  he  was  modest  and  retiring, 
and  shrunk  from  public  observation.  It  was  doubtless  owing  to  this  fact 
that  he  was  not  before  the  public  so  often  and  so  prominently  as  many 
others.  But  whenever  he  was  drawn  out  to  some  great  public  service,  all 
felt  his  power,  and  paid  the  tribute  of  profound  respect  to  the  originality 
of  his  thoughts,  the  energy  of  his  manner,  and  the  beauty  and  simplicity 
of  his  style. 

Though,  from  his  bodily  infirmity,  his  brethren  were  often,  of  late  years, 
deprived  of  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  at  the  ecclesiastical  convooations, 
his  occasional  presence  was  hailed  with  great  satisfaction ;  and  they  sorrow 
now  that  they  shall  see  his  face  no  more. 

In  person.  Dr.  Goulding  was  of  medium  stature,  full  habit,  round  contour 
of  face,  high  forehead,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of  deep  feeling  and 
vigorous  intellect.  In  his  manners,  there  was  a  graceful  simplicity  blended 
With  a  commanding  dignity,  that  was  exceedingly  winning.  His  manner  in 
the  pulpit,  whenever  his  health  and  spirits  were  good,  was  at  once  pleasing 
and  impressive, — its  two  prominent  elements  consisting  in  tenderness  and 
earnestness. 

He  left  a  wife  and  nine  ohildren,  having  lost  one  in  ohildhood.  He  lived 
to  eniof  the  aatiflfiiotioa  of  seeing  moft  of  hb  ehiUreB  oonMcted  with  tk« 


494  pasBSTTSBiAjr. 

Ohurob  of  CSurist.    Ono  of  his  BonB  and  two  sont-in-kw  are  iiii]iuie«rB  of 

the  Gospel. 

I  am,  dear  Sir,  yours  truly,  | 

SAMUEL  K.  TALHAGE.  ^ 

PROM  THE  HON.  JOSEPH  H.  LUMPKIN, 

CHIKF  JU8TICB  OF  THE  STjLTB  OF  GEORGIA. 

Athens,  6a.,  May  19, 1857. 

Dear  Sir :  I  regret  that  your  letter  finds  mc  so  oppressed  with  engagements, 
and  withal  in  such  imperfect  health,  that  it  is  quite  out  of  my  power  to  comply 
with  your  request  in  any  such  way  as  will  be  satisfactory  either  to  you  or  myself. 
I  am  unwilling,  however,  absolutely  to  decline  it;  and  will  therefore,  in  a  very 
hurried  way,  just  hint  at  what  seem  to  me  to  have  been  some  of  the  most  pro- 
minent features  in  Dr.  Qoulding's  character.  My  opportunities  for  knowing  him 
could  scarcely  have  been  better  than  they  were.  I  received  my  first  permanent 
religious  impressions,  and  joined  the  Church,  under  his  ministry,  and  was  after- 
wards, for  many  years,  a  member  of  his  Session.  I  loved  him  as  a  Man,  and 
revered  him  as  a  Pastor;  and  I  would  gladly  do  any  thing  in  my  power  to  hon- 
our and  perpetuate  his  memory. 

Dr.  Goulding's  character  was  formed  of  a  rare  combination  of  intellectual  and 
moral  qualities,  that  fitted  him  to  be  at  once  eminently  popular  and  eminently 
useful.  His  intellect  was  much  above  the  ordinary  standard,  and  it  had  been 
cultivated  by  diligent  and  long  continued  study.  As  a  preacher,  he  was  alwa3's 
sensible  and  instructive,  and  sometimes  his  pulpit  efforts  rose  to  a  very  high 
order  of  excellence.  He  was  a  thorough  Calvinist  of  the  Geneva  school;  nor 
could  any  considerations  of  policy  induce  him  to  relax,  in  public  or  private,  one 
jot  or  tittle  of  his  creed.  The  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  he  regarded  as 
an  epitome  of  the  Christian  system; — as  embodying  its  life  and  power;  and 
this,  in  its  connections,  undoubtedly  formed  the  favourite  theme  of  his  ministra- 
tions. No  one  could  sit  under  his  ministry  with  any  degree  of  attention,  with- 
out gaining  very  definite  views  of  the  system  of  doctrine  which  he  held  and 
inculcated,  as  well  as  a  deep  impression  of  the  importance  he  attached  to  it.  Uo 
was  alike  explicit  and  earnest. 

It  has  been  my  privilege  to  listen  to  most  of  the  prominent  divines  both  in  the 
United  States  and  in  Great  Britain;  and  in  one  respect  it  has  seemed  to  me  that 
Dr.  Goulding  has  never  been  exceeded  within  my  knowledge — I  mean  as  a 
preacher  of  Funeral  Sermons.  To  this  service,  which  is  acknowledged,  I  believe, 
to  he  one  of  the  most  difficult  which  a  clergyman  ever  has  to  perform,  he  brought 
a  degree  of  delicacy,  discrimination,  and  pathos,  that  commanded  not  only  the 
attention,  but  the  admiration,  of  his  hearers. 

Though  Dr.  Goulding  had,  in  some  respects,  a  woman's  heart,  and  was  full 
of  tender  and  delicate  sensibility ,  he  was  always  firm  to  his  convictions  of  what 
was  true  and  right.  In  worldly  matters  he  was  the  merest  child — conscious  of 
entire  sincerity  himself,  he  seemed  scarcely  capable  of  suspecting  the  sincerity  of 
others.  A  more  unselfish  man  than  he,  never  lived.  In  all  circumstances j  he 
showed  himself  a  model  gentleman,  as  well  as  a  model  Christian.  He  had  an 
instinctive  discernment  of  all  the  proprieties  of  life,  and  he  practised  them  with 
most  scrupulous  care  and  consideration.  In  the  social  circle,  he  was  the  most 
genial  of  companions.  He  had  at  his  command  a  fund  of  anecdotes,  many  of 
which  were  connected  with  his  own  history,  that  werehoth  amusing  and  instruct- 
ive; and  he  knew  how  to  turn  them  to  the  very  hest  account. 

That  Dr.  Goulding  was  an  eminently  pious  man,  no  one,  I  believe,  ever 
doubted,  who  knew  him.  And  yet  he  assured  me  that  if  he  was  ever  regene- 
rated, it  wag  while  he  was  aglecp.    Wearied  with  hit  hordwii  of  aia,  and  his 


TB0MAS  60ULDIH6.  49i 

IhiitloM  search  to  find  a  Savioar,  he  sunk  despairingly  into  a  profound  slumber; 
mnd  awoke,  praising  God  for  bis  great  salvation.  I  state  the  fact  without  com- 
ment. 

Regretting  to  send  you  so  meagre  a  notice  of  my  venerated  friend  and  pastor, 
mrhen  my  feelings  would  dictate  a  fuller  and  wortliier  tribute  to  his  memory, 
I  am,  Sir,  very  truly,  your  obedient  servant, 

JOSEPH  H.  LUMPKIN. 


-♦♦- 


WILLIAM  ANDERSON  McDOWELL,  D.  D  * 

1813—1851. 

The  paternal  grandfather  of  William  Anderson  McDowell,  was 
Ephraim  McDowell,  who  emigrated  from  Ireland  about  the  year  1746,  and 
purchased  four  hundred  acres  of  wilderness  in  Lamington,  Somerset  County, 
N.  J.  Here  he  settled,  and  here  was  born  his  son  Matthew^  the  father  of 
William  A.,  about  two  years  after  the  family  arrived  in  the  country.  Hero 
too,  was  born  another  son,  Benjamiiiy  who  was  fitted  for  College  at  a  Latin 
school  taught  by  a  Mr.  Hanna.  of  Hunterdon  County,  N.  J.,  and  after- 
wards studied  for  a  considerable  time  at  the  University  of  Glasgow.  He 
settled  in  the  ministry  in  Ireland,  first  at  Limavady,  in  the  County  of  Lon* 
donderry,  and  afterwards  at  Dublin,  where  he  exercised  a  wide  and  important 
influence,  snd  died  at  the  age  of  about  eighty. 

The  mother  of  the  subject  of  this  notice  was  Elizabeth  Anderson,  whose 
parents  were  both  emigrants  from  Ireland.  Both  his  parents  were  exem- 
plary members  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and  his  mother  particularly  was 
distinguished  as  a  devout  and  earnest  Christian.  His  father  was  a  farmer 
in  only  moderate  circumstances.  William  A.  was  born  at  Lamington,  in 
May,  1789.  He  spent  his  earliest  years  at  home,  acquiring  the  rudiments 
of  learning,  and  occasionally  working  a  little  on  the  farm.  At  the  age  of 
about  thirteen  or  fourteen,  he  went  to  a  grammar  school  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  subsequently  attended  a  school  at  Elizabethtown,  taught  by  Mr. 
Henry  Mills,  now  (1852)  the  Rev.  Dr.  Mills,  Professor  in  the  Theological 
Seminary  at  Auburn.  In  1807,  he  entered  the  Junior  class  in  Princeton 
College,  and,  having  maintained  an  excellent  standing  for  both  behaviour 
and  scholarship,  graduated  in  1809.  In  the  spring  of  1810,  he  commenced 
the  study  of  Theology  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  WoodhuU 
of  Freehold,  in  whose  family  he  boarded.  In  June  of  that  year,  he  put 
himself  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick,  as  a  candidate 
for  the  ministry.  In  November  following,  he  became  a  Tutor  in  Princeton 
College,  and  continued  there  till  September,  1811,  pursuing  his  theological 
studies,  at  the  same  time,  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel 
Stanhope  Smith,  President  of  the  College.  His  health  having  become 
delicate,  he  resolved  to  try  for  a  while  the  effect  of  a  Southern  climate  ; 
and,  accordingly,  in  November,  he  sailed  for  Savannah,  where  his  brother- 
in-law,  Dr.  Henry  Kollock,  resided,  and  under  his  direction  pursued  his 
slvdies  during  the  ensuing  winter.     In  April,  1812,  he  returned  to  the 

•  fttbjfrian  fcr  ISIS^^M 88.  fwrn  hii  wUk>w«  aad  lUv.  John  MeDoweU,  B.  B. 


4M  FBESRYTEmAH.    . 

North,  and  oontinned  kis  stadies  ai  Eluabctbtown,  under  tke  gutdairae  «f 

his  brother,  the  Rev.  John  McDowell,  now  Dr.  McDowell  of  Philadelphim. 
The  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton  having  commenced  itB  operations 
in  August  1812,  he  became  a  member  of  it  in  November  following,  and 
continued  his  studies  there  till  May,  1813, — about  six  months.  He  was 
licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick,  April  28,  1813 ; 
and  having  been  invited  to  take  charge  of  the  Church  at  Bound  Brook, 
N.  J.,  was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  the  said  Church,  by  the  same 
Presbytery,  on  the  22d  of  December  following.  On  the  19th  of  October, 
1814,  his  connection  with  the  Church  at  Bound  Brook  was  dissolved,  and 
on  the  15th  of  the  next  December,  he  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Church 
at  Morristown,  N.  J. 

His  ministry  at  Morristown  was  characterized  by  great  acceptableness 
and  usefulness.  But  serious  inroads  began  at  length  to  be  made  upon  his 
health.  He  suffered  severely  from  small  pox  at  the  age  of  twelve,  and 
from  that  time  never  enjoyed  vigorous  health  ;  but,  in  the  autumn  of  1822, 
he  was  so  much  threatened  with  a  pulmonary  complaint,  that  he  thought  it 
necessary  to  try  the  effect  of  a  milder  climate.  Accordingly,  having 
obtained  leave  of  absence  from  his  congregation,  he  travelled  as  far  South 
as  South  Carolina,  and  passed  the  winter  in  Charleston.  The  effect  upon 
his  health  was  most  favourable;  and  when  he  returned  in  the  spring, 
he  seemed  to  have  regained  his  accustomed  vigour.  He  resumed  his 
labours,  but  very  soon  sunk  back  into  the  feeble  state  from  which  he  had 
emerged.  At  this  juncture,  a  call  came  to  him  from  a  Presbyterian  Church 
in  Charleston,  S.  C,  and,  after  having  made  a  successful  trial  of  that 
climate,  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  avail  himself  of  it  permanently,  and 
therefore  to  accept  the  call.  He  did  accept  it ;  and  his  pastoral  relation  at 
Morristown  was  dissolved  on  the  8th  of  October,  1823. 

He  was  installed  by  the  Charleston  Union  Presbytery  on  the  3d  of 
December,  1823.  Here  he  continued  occupying  a  wide  sphere  of  minis- 
terial usefulness,  about  ten  years.  In  1832,  he  was  Moderator  of  the 
General  Assembly.  At  the  meeting  of  the  Assembly  the  next  year,  (1833,) 
he  came  on  to  Philadelphia  to  preach  the  opening  sermon  ;  and,  at  the  close 
of  the  meeting,  was  appointed  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Domestic  Missions 
of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  He  returned  to  Charleston,  but,  in  due  time, 
accepted  the  appointment,  and  came  back  to  Philadelphia,  and  entered  on 
the  duties  of  his  office  in  the  autumn  of  that  year. 

In  1827,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Franklin  College,  Ga. 

Dr.  McDowell  had  suffered  for  many  years  from  a  disease  of  the  throat, 
which  rendered  speaking,  especially  in  public,  a  very  difficult  exercise  to 
him.  He  was,  however,  most  laborious,  in  the  discharge  of  Lis  duties,  both 
at  home  and  abroad,  and  no  doubt  often  taxed  himself  beyond  the  reason- 
able measure  of  endurance.  In  1847,  he  was  desirous,  on  account  of  his 
feeble  health,  of  retiring  from  his  office,  but,  in  consequence  of  urgent 
solicitations,  he  remained  till  the  spring  of  1850,  and  then  tendered  his 
resignation. 

Shortly  after  thb,  he  removed  from  Philadelphia  to  Lamiogton,  his  sative 
place,  with  a  view  to  spend  there  the  residue  of  his  days.  The  winter  of, 
1850-51  he  passed  at  the  South,  and  the  greater  part  of  it  with  his  friends 
at  Charleston.     At  first,  the  ohange  of  clinate  seemed  favourable  to  him ; 


WILLIAM  A.  MqDOWELL.  497 

bat,  before  leaviDg  Charleston,  be  was  attacked  with  a  chronio  affection  of 
the  bowels,  which  greatly  reduced  his  strength,  and  threatened  a  fatal  issue. 
He  returned  to  New  Jersey  in  May ;  and,  though  he  was  feeble  during  the 
sumnier,  he  preached  occasionally,  and  officiated  in  laying  the  corner-stone 
of  a  new  church.  About  the  first  of  September,  he  went  to  Morristown, 
with  a  view  to  place  himself  under  the  care  of  his  former  physician,  Dr. 
Johnes,  in  whom  he  had  special  confidence.  But  he  died  very  suddenly, 
after  being  there  a  few  days.  His  death  took  place  on  the  17th  of 
September,  1851.  His  remains  were  taken  to  Lamington  and  interred  there, 
the  Funeral  Sermon  being  preached  by  the  Key.  William  W.  Blauvelt. 

He  was  married,  at  the  close  of  the  year  1813,  to  Jane  H.,  daughter  of 
Shepard  Kollock,  of  Elizabethtown.  They  had  two  sons,  both  of  whom 
were  graduated  at  Princeton  College,  and  one  of  whom  survives,  a  medical 
practitioner  in  New  Jersey. 

I  first  became  acquainted  Vith  Dr.  McDowell  in  the  autumn  of  1830,  at 
his  house  in  Charleston,  S.  C.  I  was  impressed  at  once  with  his  great 
kindliness  of  manner,  and  his  excellent  judgment  and  common  sense.  After 
he  came  to  the  North,  I  had  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing  him,  and  was 
even  privileged  to  reckon  him  among  my  intimate  friends.  And  I  can  truly 
say  that  the  more  I  knew  of  him,  the  more  I  admired  his  whole  character. 
I  always  found  him  uncommonly  amiable,  obliging,  disinterested.  I  remem- 
ber well  his  working  nearly  a  whole  day,  when  he  happened  to  be  at  leisure, 
to  gratify  an  individual  in  respect  to  a  comparatively  small  matter,  who  had 
not  the  least  claim  upon  his  kindness.  He  preached  in  my  pulpit  several 
times ;  and  though,  when  he  begun,  owing  to  his  bronchial  affection,  it  was 
with  great  difficulty  that  he  could  articulate  a  word,  and  the  effort  was 
painful  to  his  hearers  as  well  as  himself,  yet  his  vocal  powers  gradually 
came  as  he  proceeded,  and  after  a  few  minutes  he  spoke  with  a  good  degree 
of  freedom.  I  never  heard  him  preach  a  sermon  that  was  not  well  planned, 
thoroughly  digested,  and  rich  in  evangelical  instruction.  His  manner, 
though  not  graceful,  was  characterized  by  a  fervour  and  unction  that  gave 
it  very  considerable  effect.  In  his  social  intercourse  during  the  latter  part 
of  his  life,  he  laboured  under  the  disadvjlntage  of  extreme  deafness ;  but  he 
always  seemed  cheerful  and,  sociable,  and,  by  means  of  artificial  helps,  could 
converse  without  much  difficulty.  He  was  from  conviction  a  thorough  Pros* 
byterian, — ^by  nature  a  liberal  and  large  hearted  man.  Many,  I  am  sure, 
besides  myself,  anticipated  his  visits  as  an  Agent  with  pleasure,  and  felt,  in 
Ibe  review,  that  they  had  been  truly  profitable. 


FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  M.  EKGLES,  D.  D. 

Philadelphia,  January  16, 1862. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  I  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request  to  give  you  my 
impressions  of  the  character  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  William  A.  McDowell; 
although  I  should  have  preferred  that  the  service  had  been  performed  by  one 
better  able  to  do  Justice  to  the  subject.  My  opportunities  for  knowing  him 
were  chiefly  confined  to  the  period  during  which  he  was  connected,  as  Corres- 
ponding Secretary,  with  the  Board  of  Domestic  Missions  in  our  Church.  I  had 
frequent  friendly  intercourse  with  him,  and,  for  many  years,  as  a  member  of  the 
Board,  weekly  opportunities  of  witnessing  the  spirit  and  temper  with  which  he 
fulfilled  his  official  duties. 

Vol.  IV.  63 


1 


498  P&BSBTTXBJAH. 

Dr.  McDowell,  in  his  intercoorse  with  his  fellow-tnen,  exhibited  mmj  eng»« 
^ng  traits  of  character.  I  have  seldom  met  with  a  man  who  had  as  few  weak« 
nesse8>  and  as  many  strong  points,  as  he.  There  was  in  liim  a  fine  and  harmo- 
nious blending  of  attributes,  in  which  each  one  occupied  its  proper  place,  in  its 
due  proportions,  and  with  its  symmetrical  adjustments.  His  heart  was  full  of 
kindly  feelings,  which  his  tongue,  naturally  and  without  ostentation,  expressed 
on  every  fitting  occasion.  In  all  my  intercourse  with  him,  I  never  saw  his  gooti 
temper  interrupted  by  an  outburst  of  petulance  or  passion;  and  I  have  seen  him 
in  circumstances  which  would  have  tried  the  temper  of  one  less  rigidly  schooled. 
For  his  friends  he  always  had  a  smile  and  a  pleasant  remark,  however  unseason- 
able may  have  been  their  intrusion  on  his  busy  hours.  He  loved  the  society  of 
Christians;  and  his  intercourse  with  them  was  uniformly  enlivened  by  a  conver- 
sation bland,  genial  and  cordial.  Few  could  be  in  his  company  for  any  length 
of  time,  who  would  not  be  disposed  to  say  of  him  that  he  was  a  truly  good  man, 
who  had  endeavoured  to  imbibe  the  spirit  and  follow  the  example  of  his  Master. 
Never  imperious,  never  personally  offensive,  with  A  heart  full  of  benevolence,  and 
with  a  childlike  simplicity,  he  won  many  friends;  and  if  he  had  enemies,  it  was 
not  likely  to  have  been  from  any  fault  in  him.  He  knew  what  a  Ch^stian  ought 
to  be,  not  only  in  devotional  habits,  but  in  all  the  practical  duties  of  life;  and 
few  perhaps  were  more  careful  or  more  successful  in  the  personal  application  of 
such  knowledge.  He  was  truly  a  Christian  in  his  views  of  Divine  truth,  in  his 
intercourse  with  God,  and  in  the  eminent  prudence,  circumspection,  and  consist- 
ency, of  his  public  and  private  walk. 

As  a  Minister  of  the  Gospel,  he  cheerfully  consecrated  himself  to  his  work. 
With  as  little  selfishness  as  we  may  expect  to  find  in  connection  with  a  fallen 
nature,  it  was  the  glory  of  his  Master,  and  not  honours  or  emoluments,  that  he 
sought.     He  was  well  qualified  for  his  office,  not  only  by  the  graces  of  the  Spirit, 
but  by  natural  powers  well  cultivated.     If  his  talents  were  not  distinguished  for 
brilliancy,  they  were  for  solidity — ^if  he  never  displayed  an  excursive  imaginm- 
tion,  he  exhibited  a  logical  acumen.     His  sermons  were  well  prepared.     Thej 
never  aimed  to  present  a  particular  truth,  without  exhibiting  it  fully  and  clearly; 
and  they  were  unifornil}'^  characterized  by  a  lucid  order  and  apt  expressions.     It 
was  their  praise  that  they  were  intelligible  to  all,  and  full  of  instruction.     If  any 
man  ever  really  loved  to  preach,  it  was  Dr.  McDowell.     He  was  always  ready 
and  always  willing.    In  prayer  he  was  eminently  gifted.     As  a  Pastor,  the  testi- 
mony of  those  who  knew  him  well  in  this  relation,  is  uniform  in  regard  to  his 
diligence  and  faithfulness  in  family  visitation,  in  personal  dealings  with  the  con- 
sciences of  his  people,  and  in  all  public  services.     The  several  positions  which  he 
occupied  as  a  settled  minister  were  prominent  and  important,  and  the  spiritaal 
fruits  of  his  ministry  are  believed  to  have  been  considerable.     It  was  only 
through  a  strong  and  urgent  call  of  the  Church  that  he  was  induced  to  sunder 
his  relation  to  his  last  pastoral  charge,  that  he  might  enter  a  new  and  still  more 
arduous  field  of  labour. 

The  Board  of  Missions  for  the  Domestic  field  was,  at  the  time  of  his  accession 
as  its  chief  officer,  in  a  comparatively  low  and  crippled  condition.  It  needed  to 
have  new  energy  infused  into  it,  to  make  it  in  any  degree  commensurate  with 
the  increasing  destitutions  of  our  country.  Dr.  McDowell,  in  accepting  the 
appointment,  was  fully  aware  that  the  office  was  to  be  no  sinecure;  and,  with  » 
determination  to  devote  to  it  his  best  energies,  he  entered  upon  his  duties. 
Under  his  administration,  the  Board  assumed  a  higher  position,  the  sphere  of  its 
influence  was  enlarged,  its  importance  was  more  fully  appreciated  by  the  Church, 
and  its  efficiency  became  visible  in  many  hundred  places  which  before  were  liter- 
ally spiritual  desolations.  During  the  seventeen  years  in  which  he  filled  this 
post,  he  was  most  untiring  in  his  labours,  earnest  in  his  public  appeals,  and 
willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  to  provide  destitute  places  with  the  preaching  of 


WILIilAX  A.  |MK>1V¥LL.  ^90 

tte  Gospcll.    He  regarded  erery  mlasionurj  as  a  peracmal  friend,  and  followed 
him  with  his  prayers  and  kindest  wishes. 

The  interests  of  Domestic  Missions  fully  absorbed  his  attention,  and  to  make 
provision  for  the  increasing  expenditures  of  the  Board  caused  him  much  anxious 
concern  and  labour.  When  his  vocal  organs  became  so  enfeebled  as  to  render 
it  extremely  difficult  for  him  to  speak,  and  when  his  hearing  was  so  nearly  gone 
that  he  could  not  even  hear  the  sound  of  his  own  voice,  his  excellent  appeals 
from  the  pulpit,  and  his  remarkably  clear  extemporaneous  addresses  before 
Synods  and  the  General  Assembly,  were  listened  to  with  great  interest  and 
respect. 

Seldom  indeed  has  the  Church  been  called  to  venerate  more  highly,  and  with 
profounder  gratitude  to  God,  the  memory  of  any  of  its  departed  servants.  Beiog 
dead,  he  yet  speaks,  and  will  for  generations  continue  to  speak,  in  the  churches 
planted  by  his  instrumentality,  the  missionaries  encouraged  by  his  sympathieS| 
and  the  souls  brought  under  the  enlightening  influences  of  the  Gospel  by  his 
unwearied  exertions. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Truly  and  fraternally  yours, 

WILLIAM  M.  EN6LES. 


««^ 


PHILIP  MELANCTHON  WHELPLEY.* 

1814—1824. 

Philip  Melancthon  Whelpley  was  born  in  Stockbridge,  Mass.,  in 
Peccmber,  1794.  He  was  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Whelpley,  who  had 
been  ordained  a  few  months  before  as  Pastor  of  a  Baptist  Church  in  that 
place.  While  he  was  yet  a  small  boy,  his  father  removed  with  his  family 
to  Morristown,  and  for  a  number  of  years  was  engaged  there  in  teaching  a 
school.  He  early  discovered  great  precocity  of  mind,  and  an  unusual  thirst 
for  knowledge  ;  and  he  was  particularly  distinguished  for  a  graceful  and 
impressive  elocution.  In  1809,  his  father  left  Morristown,  and  opened  a 
school  at  Newark  ;  but  by  that  time  Melancthon 's  mind  had  become  so  well 
fbrnished  and  matured,  that  he  became  associated  with  his  father  as  assist- 
ant teacher.  When  his  father,  shortly  after  the  opening  of  his  school  st 
Newark,  was  obliged,  on  account  of  a  hemorrhage  of  the  lungs,  to  seek  a 
milder  climate,  and  went  to  Savannah,  Melancthon  accompanied  him ;  and 
there  too  he  became  associated  with  him  in  teaching  a  small  school,  by  means 
of  which  they  were  enabled  to  meet  their  current  expenses. 

Notwithstanding  young  Whelpley  was  uncommonly  amiable  and  moral  as 
well  as  attractive,  from  his  earliest  developments,  it  was  not  till  he  was 
about  eighteen  years  of  age,  that  his  mind  became  deeply,  and  as  he  believed 
savingly,  impressed  with  Divine  truth.  During  a  revival  of  religion  in  Newark, 
and  under  the  ministry  of  Dr.  Richards,  he  was  brought  to  entertain  new  views 
of  his  relations  to  G-od  and  eternity,  and  soon  after  to  make  a  publio  pro- 
fession of  his  faith.  As  he  had  been  thoroughly  educated  by  his  flither, 
who  was  one  of  the  most  accomplished  teachers  of  his  day,  he  was  prepared 

¥ 

•  Dr.  Spriag'tFtm.  8erm.-^MB8.  fiiMn  R«v.  I>oolon  Cox,  Ludlow,  SkliUMri  aad1fillt»  Stv. 
JoliB  iM*  aad  Hon.  Lowis  Condiot. 


1 


500  FRESBtTSBtAK. 

to  begin  at  once  a  course  of  theological  stndj ;  and,  aceordingly,  in  tt« 
autumn  of  1812,  Le,  together  with  two  other  young  men  who  have  since 
risen  to  distinction  in  the  Church,  commenced  the  study  of  Theology  under 
the  direction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Richards.  He,  however,  still  continued  to 
assist  his  father  in  his  school ;  and  when,  in  the  early  part  of  1814,  hiA 
father  left  Newark,  and  opened  a  school  in  the  city  of  New  York,  Melane- 
thon  accompanied  him  thither ;  though,  as  it  was  found  that  the  services  of 
both  were  not  required,  and  the  remuneration  was  not  likely  to  be  large, 
the  son  returned  and  took  charge  of  the  school  at  Newark,  and  continued  his 
connection  with  it  till  the  ensuing  autumn.  He  was  licensed  to  preach 
early  in  October,  1814,  by  the  Presbytery  of  Jersey,  then  holding  its  sea* 
iions  at  Elisabethtown,  and  was  immediately  after  received  on  certificate  into 
the  Presbytery  of  New  York. 

As  soon  as  he  appeared  in  the  pulpit,  such  was  the  sensation  produced  by 
his  preaching,  as  to  leave  no  doubt  that,  if  his  life  were  spared,  he  was  des* 
tined  to  an  eminently  brilliant  and  useful  career.  The  First  Presbyterian 
Congregation  in  New  York,  being  then  vacant  by  the  removal  of  Dr.  Miller 
to  the  Princeton  Theological  Seminary,  almost  immediately  fastened  their 
eyes  upon  Mr.  Whelpley  as  a  suitable  person  to  succeed  him.  They  accord- 
ingly made  out  a  call  to  him  on  the  22d  of  March,  1815,  which  having  been 
duly  laid  before  the  Presbytery,  he  accepted  on  the  18th  of  April  following  ; 
though  not  without  many  serious  misgivings,  on  the  part  of  both  himself  and 
his  friends,  as  to  his  ability  to  sustain  the  labours  and  responsibilities  inci- 
dent to  so  important  a  charge.  The  previous  arrangements  having  been 
made,  he  was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  that  large  and  respectable 
Church  on  the  25th  of  April,  1815  ;  Dr.  John  B.  Romeyn  preaching  the 
Sermon,  and  Mr.  Whelpley's  father  giving  him  the  Charge. 

Here  Mr.  Whelpley  passed  the  whole  of  his  brief  ministerial  life.  In 
1822,  a  more  than  usual  attention  to  religion  prevailed  in  his  congregation^ 
and  there  was  much  to  justify  the  expectation  of  an  extensive  revival ;  but 
the  yellow  fever  making  its  appearance  in  the  city  just  about  that  time,  not 
only  interrupted  the  usual  attention  to  the  means  of  grace,  but  scattered  the 
inhabitants  in  all  directions,  and  thus  prevented  the  gathering  of  the  rich 
spiritual  harvest  which  had  been  anticipated.  Notwithstanding  the  hopes 
of  the  pastor  were  sadly  disappointed  by  this  result,  he  kept  on  labouring 
with  undiminished  zeal  and  singleness  of  purpose,  until  he  was  finally  pros- 
trated by  the  malady  which  consigned  him  to  his  early  grave. 

For  some  time  previous  to  his  death,  he  was  disabled  for  any  public 
service,  and  it  was  manifest  to  all  his  friends  that  death  was  silently,  bat 
irresistibly,  approaching  him.  At  length,  it  was  recommended  to  him  by  his 
|>hysioians  to  try  the  effect  of  a  visit  to  Schooley's  Mountain ;  and  he  accord- 
ingly went  thither  in  great  feebleness,  but,  as  it  turned  out,  went  only 
to  die.  After  languishing  in  extreme  debility  a  few  days,  he  died  with 
the  utmost  composure  on  the  17th  of  July,  1824,  in  the  thirtieth  year  of 
his  age,  and  the  tenth  of  his  ministry.  An  Address  was  delivered  at  his 
Funeral,  and  on  the  next  Sabbath  a  Sermon,  containing  a  just  and  beantifol 
tribute  to  his  memory  was  preached  to  the  bereaved  congregation,  by  the 
Rev.  Qardiner  Spring,  D.  D.,  both  of  which  were  published. 

In  November,  1815,  Mr.  Whelpley  was  married  to  Abigail  F.,  daughter 
irf  the. Hon.  James  Davenport,  of  Stamford,  Oonn.    They  had  three  child* 


PHILIP  H5LAKCTH0N  WHELPLEY.  gQl 

rw,  on«  of  whom  died  in  infancj,  and  the  other  two,  with  their  motbor,  still 
^1867)  survive. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Mr.  Whelpley*8  publications  : — A  Sermon  deliv- 
ered for  the  benefit  of  a  Society  of  Ladies  instituted  for  the  relief  of 
poor  Widows  with  small  children,  1816.  The  Conversion  of  Sinners  a  com- 
mon Christian  duty :  A  Discourse  from  James  v.  19,  20,  [published  in 
the  Christian  Spectator,]  1822.  A  Sermon  delivered  in  the  Murray  Street 
Church,  New  York,  in  behalf  of  the  United  Foreign  Missionary  Society, 
1823.  A  Discourse  delivered  before  the  New  England  Society  of  the  City 
and  State  of  New  York  in  commemoration  of  the  Plymouth  Colony, 
1823. 

In  the  spring  or  summer  of  1815,  a  few  months  before  I  graduated  at 
Yale  College,  and  a  few  months  after  Mr.  Whelpley's  settlement  in  New 
York,  he  came  to  New  Haven  and  spent  a  Sabbath,  and  preached  three 
times.  We  heard  at  College,  Sunday  noon,  that  a  celebrated  young  minis- 
ter from  New  York  had  been  preaching  in  the  Centre  Church  that  morning,, 
and  was  to  preach  in  the  College  Chapel  in  the  afternoon ; — a  somewhat 
remarkable  circumstance, — ^for  Dr.  D wight  very  rarely  yielded  the  Chapel 
pulpit  to  any  body.  In  due  time,  we  saw  coming  in  with  the  Doctor  a  very 
young  man,  with  a  fine  intellectual  countenance,  dark  eye,  a  perfectly  sym* 
metrical  form,  and  altogether  of  a  most  attractive  appearance.  When  he 
began  to  speak,  it  was  with  a  clear,  rich  and  perfectly  melodious  voice,  which 
was  altogether  in  keeping  with  his  beautiful  exterior.  He  proceeded  in  the 
service  without  any  more  apparent  embarrassment  than  if  President  D wight 
and  the  Sophomores  had  not  been  present ;  and  yet,  with  all  his  dignificcl 
self-possession,  there  was  nothing  that  approached  an  ostentatious  taking  of 
airs.  His  text  was — '*  How  shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  so  great  salva- 
tion ?  "  Of  the  sermon  I  retain  only  the  general  impression  that  every  sen- 
tence fell  like  sweet  music  upon  my  ear  ;  and,  though  it  was  heard  with  rapt 
attention,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  it  was  indebted  for  its  impressiveneiv 
more  to  its  rhetoric  than  its  logic,  or  even  its  theology.  At  the  close  of  the 
service,  it  was  noised  about  that  he  was  to  preach  in  Mr.  Merwin's  Church 
ID  the  evening ;  and  when  the  hour  of  service  came,  there  was  a  general 
msh  from  the  College  to  the  Church.  The  house  was  crowded  to  its  utmost 
capacity,  and  happy  was  he  who  could  find  a  place  to  stand.  The  young 
preacher  again  stood  before  us, — the  very  personification  of  symmetry,  and 
beauty,  and  melody.  His  text  then  was — *'  Come  with  us,  and  we  will  do 
thee  good,  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken  good  concerning  Israel. "**  The  dis- 
course was  thought  to  be  a  much  finer  effort  than  the  one  to  which  we  had 
listened  in  the  afternoon.  I  well  remember  that  about  five  minutes  before 
he  closed,  he  shut  his  Bible  and  said — **  Following  the  suggestions  of  my 
own  feelings,  I  could  apply  this  subject  with  peculiar  emphasis  to  the  young ;  *' 
and  then  pronounced  his  peroration  with  inimitable  grace  and  surprising 
effect.  I  thought  at  the  time  that  he  was  the  most  perfect  elocutionist  to 
whom  I  had  ever  listened ;  and  that  the  only  thing  that  could  have  improved 
him  was  a  greater  variety  of  intonation.  The  effect  of  the  sermon  was,  in  its 
way,  almost  unparalleled.  It  may  be  judged  of  by  a  remark  that  I  heard 
Mr.  (now  Dr.)  Taylor  make  the  next  day — Said  he  **  I  never  saw  the  like 
of  it — it  seemed  to  me,  as  I  came  across  the  common,  as  if  the  young 
people  were  literally  dancing  in  admiration  of  the  sermon."  The  general 
impression  which  Mr.  Whelpley  left  upon  the  people  of  New  Haven  by  that 


502  PRESBTTEMAW. 

Tisit  was,  that  lie  was  a  very  eztraorditiafy  young  man,  and  promised  to  take 
hb  placo  among  the  lights  of  his  generation. 

In  subsequent  years,  I  sometimes  heard  him  preach,  but  in  a  style  and 
manner  much  more  chastened  than  that  in  which  he  began.  There  was  the 
saifte  attractive  elocution,  but  there  was  less  play  of  the  imagination,  less 
exuberance  of  figure,  more  of  the  consecutive  and  didactic — in  short,  there 
were  fewer  words  and  more  thoughts.  That  his  preaching  was  progressively 
good,  and  spiritual,  and  effective  till  the  close  of  his  ministry,  was  the  tes- 
timony of  some  of  the  most  intelligent  of  his  hearers.  The  peculiarly  rhe- 
torical style  which  marked  his  early  efforts  in  the  pulpit,  is  said  to  have 
been  strongly  disapproved  by  his  father,  who  was  distinguished  for  an  exact 
and  cultivated  taste ;  and  when  Melancthon  submitted  his  first  sermon  to 
his  inspection,  instead  of  hearing  a  f&vourable  judgment  pronounced  upon 
it,  he  was  told,  as  it  was  said,  not  in  the  softest  manner,  to  cast  it  aside  and 
tiry  again.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  effect  of  this  paternal  rebuke,  it 
i»  certain  that  the  change  to  which  it  pointed  was  afterwards  very  effectually 
accomplished. 

I  became  personally  acquainted  with  Mr.  Whelpley  as  early  as  181 8» 
and  found  him,  as  I  expected,  amiable,  courteous  and  every  way  agreeable. 
He  always  seemed  in  feeble  health,  and  looked  like  a  man  that  was 
overworked ;  and  hence  I  was  not  surprised  at  his  early  death.  There  was 
a  certain  indescribable  charm  that  pervaded  his  physical,  mental,  and 
moral  organization,  that  could  not  fail  to  be  felt  by  all  who  came  near 
to  him. 

FROM  THE  REV.  GARDINER  SPRING,  D.  D. 

New  Yobk,  June  6, 1848. 

Rev.  and  dear  Brother:  Tou  ask  of  me  some  notices  of  the  late  Rev.  Mr. 
Whelpley  of  this  city,  for  your  "  Annals  of  the  American  Pnlptt."  I  will  cer- 
tainly endeavour  to  comply  with  your  request,  and  only  wish  I  could  do  more 
justice  to  the  beautiful  and  lovely  theme. 

I  may  begin  my  acoount  of  him  by  saying  that  he  was  altogether  one  of  the 
most  attractive  young  men  whom  I  have  ever  known.  He  became  early  an 
accomplished  classical  scholar,  and  gave  indications  of  that  precocity  of  talent, 
which  was  a  greater  snare  to  his  friends  than  himself,  and  which  I  have  no 
doubt  led  to  his  early  grave.  His  avidity  for  knowledge,  and  taste  in  the  selection 
of  its  purest  sources,  were  observable  at  an  age  when  other  boys  are  usualljr 
governed  by  instinct  and  animal  feeling  only.  His  aspirations  after  excellence 
were  as  ardent  as  they  were  laudable;  and  it  was  evident  to  all  observers,  while 
he  was  yet  a  mere  stripling,  that  he  was  to  be  a  scholar,  and  a  man  of  literature, 
whatever  else  time  might  or  might  not  make  of  him.  No  unpropitious  circum- 
stances  could  repress  the  spirit  of  inquiry — no  other  avocations  prevent  his 
mingling  with  the  learned,  who  had  left  their  intellect  at  least  enshrined  and 
vocal  in  the  temple  of  human  science. 

The  natural  disposition  of  JSIr.  Whelpley  was  singularly  composed  and  well 
balanced;  his  temperament  full  of  kindness;  his  heart  true  and  firm  in  iia 
attachments;  and  his  feelings  admirably  regulated  towards  those  who  diffei<e<i 
from  him  in  judgment,  and  who,  in  the  cross  currents  of  this  life,  might  run 
counter  to  him,  as  he  was  steadily  pursuing  the  path  of  apparent  duty.  In  hia& 
the  ardour  and  faithfulness  of  natural  affection  were  in  the  highest  degree  obserT- 
able;  and  there  are  facts  within  my  knowledge,  evincing  a  filial  sentiment,  that 
are  rarely  surpassed. 


PHILIP  M£I.AllCfaCm  WHELPLET.  gQS 

It  was  among  Mr.  Whelpl^'s  earnest  wishes,  after  he  believed  himself  to  have 
become  a  subject  of  renewing  grace,  to  devote  himself  to  the  work  of  a  missionary 
of  Christ  in  foreign  lands.  A  lively  zeal  possessed  him  to  bear  the  nUndard  of 
the  cross  far  away  into  the  lands  of  the  aliens,  to  bring  them  under  the  saving 
dominion  of  his  Lord.  With  a  happy  emulation  of  the  example  of  Brainerd,  he 
would  have  prayed  to  become  a  star,  where  the  wilderness  embosoms  in  its  dark- 
ness the  path  of  life,  and  the  tomb  of  death  to  its  wandering  inhabitants.  But 
the  providence  of  God  set  up  insuperable  obstacles  to  the  fulfilment  of  these 
wishes,  and  led  him  to  make  his  first  essays  in  the  work  of  a  minister  in  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church  in  this  city.  There  are  those  still  living  who  remember 
the  enchanting  appearance  of  his  youth,  the  gracefulness  of  his  manner,  the 
elegance  of  his  diction,  the  melody  of  his  voice,  and  the  eloquence  of  his  thought. 
For  myself,  I  must  confess  I  have  never  known  the  man  who  filled  the  sacred 
desk  with  more  propriety  than  he  filled  it,  or  who,  in  the  judgment  of  an  intel- 
ligent and  refined  auditory,  was  more  deservedly  popular. 

Without  dwelling  on  his  brief  ministry,  of  which  you  will  of  course  speak  in 
your  narrative  of  his  life,  allow  me,  in  what  remains  of  this  communication,  to 
refer  briefly  to  the  circumstances  of  his  death,  of  which  I  had  a  particular  know- 
ledge. When  apprized  of  his  immediate  danger,  he  said  that  his  own  hopes  of 
recovery  had  been  feeble;  and  when  questioned  as  to  his  present  views  of  this 
world  and  the  next,  he  remarked  that  though  he  could  not  boast  of  an  unusual 
share  of  animal  courage,  yet  he  feared  not  the  approach  of  death,  if  his  labours 
were  ended.  At  this  period,  his  mind  appeared  more  than  ever  to  be  tenderly 
exercised  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  charge.  lie  observed  that  if  it  were 
given  to  him  to  see  the  Spirit  of  Qod  once  poured  out  upon  the  church  under  his 
pastoral  care,  and  he  could  be  in  a  frame  of  mind  suitable  to  it  for  a  season,  then 
he  could  gladly  depart.  Upon  being  asked  in  what  peculiar  aspect  the  Heavenly 
world  appeared  to  him  now,  and  what  encouraged  his  hopes,  he  replied  that 
"  the  God  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Father  of  glory  made  known  the  hope 
of  his  calling,  and  the  riches  of  the  glory  of  his  inheritance  in  the  saints,  and  his 
mighty  power  which  he  wrought  in  Christ,  when  lie  raised  him  from  the  dead, 
and  set  Him  at  his  own  right  hand  in  the  Heavenly  places."  Among  his  dying 
exercises,  the  reading  of  a  portion  of  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  John's  Gospel 
had  a  place;  and  he  again  said  that  he  had  no  desire  to  remain  if  his  work  was 
concluded. 

Upon  being  asked  three  days  before  his  death,  as  to  the  clearness  of  his  views 
and  hopes,  he  stated  that  though  his  mind  was  not  filled  with  any  distressing 
doubts,  yet  he  had  not  that  fulness  of  consolation  which  he  desired.  But  the 
shadows  gradually  departed,  as  he  approached  the  light  of  eternity,  until  toward 
the  close  of  life,  he  used  the  strong  language,  that  he  had  not  a  doubt.  Among 
his  last  expressions  he  was  heard  to  say — "  The  Lord  Jesus  is  near.  The  will 
of  the  Lord  be  done." 

His  patience  in  his  sufferings  was  wonderful;  and  the  most  delightful  humility 
characterized  his  dying  thoughts.  Indeed  this  humility, — this  meek,  submissive 
frame  of  soul — this  childlike  receiving  the  precious  consolations  of  the  Gospel, 
and  foretastes  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  were  worthy  of  particular  notice.  Ho 
spoke  of  his  own  unworthiness  as  a  sinner- — of  the  great  imperfection  with 
which  he  had  served  his  Master,  in  most  affecting  terms;  but  said  his  desire 
was  rather  to  depart,  if  it  were  God's  will. 

He  retained  his  consciousness,  and  the  perfect  exercise  of  his  faculties  to  the 
last  instant  of  time  that  the  soul  inhabited  its  clay;  and  the  love  of  Christ,  and 
peace  of  God,  and  light  of  Heaven,  rested  on  him  with  increasing  brightness  to 
the  latest  moment. 

When  he  took  his  farewell  of  his  babe,  and  could  do  no  more  than  lay  his 
hand  upon  it,  with  strong  emotion  he  said — *'  God  be  his  father  forever  and 


504  PRSaBTTBKIAir. 

over! "  And  when  he  parted  with  his  wife,  and  ooald  no  longer  epeak,  he  took 
her  hand  and  pressed  it,  and  pointed  with  the  other  to  Heaven.  And  thus  he  died. 
He  was  highly  valued  by  those  of  us  who  were  his  co-presbyters — we  were 
truly  fellow -labourers.  We  often  counselled  together,  and  prayed  together;  our 
objects  were  one,  one  our  trials,  and  one  our  joys.  At  this  distance  of  time,  I 
remember  him  with  great  affection,  and  only  regret  that  I  can  furnish  you  with 
*  nothing  better  than  these  meagre  tokens  of  his  great  excellence. 

With  great  affection  and  respect,  I  remain  your  brother  and  companion  in  the 
labours  of  that  Gospel,  in  which  it  is  Ohrist  to  live  and  gain  to  die. 

GARDINER  SPRING. 


-•♦- 


SALMON  GIDDINGS. 

1814—1828. 

FROM  THE  REV.  J.  M.  PECK,  D.  D. 

Rock  Spring,  111.,  February  8, 1866. 

My  dear  Sir :  I  am  happy  to  furnish  you,  agreeably  to  your  request, 
with  a  brief  sketch  of  the  Kev.  Salmon  Giddings,  the  first  Presbyterian 
minister  who  settled  in  St.  Louis.  He  was  truly  a  pioneer  missionary  in 
both  Missouri  and  Illinois,  and  may  justly  be  regarded  as  having  taken  the 
lead  in  establishing  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  both  States.  Snoh  was  his 
self-consecration  to  Christ  and  the  interests  of  his  Kingdom,  that  he  was 
led  to  come  to  this  forbidding  field,  and  engage  in  a  frontier  religious  enter- 
prise, without  waiting  for  any  congregation  to  invite  him  to  his  Master'*? 
work,  or  to  pledge  to  him  even  a  partial  support.  He  did  just  as  many  an 
enterprising  man  now  does,  in  the  pursuit  of  secular  objects — he  entered  a 
new  field,  and  made  business  for  himself.  In  my  own  judgment,  and  that 
of  several  of  his  old  friends  in  St.  Louis,  with  whom  I  have  conversed,  it 
would  have  been  difficult  to  find  another  man  in  the  whole  Presbyterian 
Church,  who  would  or  could  have  accomplished  the  same  work  that  he  did, 
and  at  the  period  when  he  did  it. 

Salmon  Giddinqs  was  bom  in  Hartland,  Conn.,  on  the  2d  of  March, 
1782.  His  parents  were  moral,  industrious  and  respectable,  but  not  com- 
municants in  any  church.  They  implanted  in  his  young  mind  the  seeds  of 
virtue  and  morality,  and  taught  him  to  fear  God,  honour  his  parents,  and 
do  good  to  his  fellow  men.  Like  other  farmers'  sons  of  his  native  State,  he 
received  a  good  common  school  education  in  boyhood,  and  made  some 
advances  in  academical  learning  in  early  life.  He  was  inured  to  both  physical 
and  mental  labour.  He  was  distinguished  then,  as  well  as  ever  afterwards, 
by  an  ardent  desire  to  accomplish  as  much  as  his  powers  of  body  and  mind 
would  admit.  When  he  reached  maturity,  his  judgment  was  reckoned  bj 
his  relatives  and  friends  as  a  very  safe  guide  in  difficult  cases. 

At  what  particular  time,  or  under  what  circumstances,  he,  as  a  guilty 
sinner,  was  led  to  seek  mercy  of  the  Saviour  of  sinners,  I  am  not  informed ; 
but  it  was  after  he  attained  to  years  of  manhood.  The  distress  which  he 
experienced  on  account  of  his  sins  was  deep  and  long  continued ;  but  it  was 
succeeded  by  great  peace  of  mind,  and  a  sweet  and  undoubting  reliance  on 


SALliON  GIDIiniGS.  g05 

tbe  BiviDe  promiseB.  Bat  soaroely  had  hiB  mind  become  thus  oomposed, 
before  it  became  painfully  agitated  by  an  attempt  to  reconcile  the  Divine 
decrees  with  the  free  agency  of  man.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  he 
abandoned  the  effort,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  ground  which 
it  was  very  unfitting  for  a  mortal  and  a  sinner,  like  himself,  to  occupy. 
From  this  time,  the  spirit  of  childlike  submission  and  obedience  seemed  to  I 
have  full  possession  of  his  heart,  and  the  prayer  which  he  constantly 
breathed  forth,  was  that  of  converted  Saul, — '*Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have 
me  to  do?'' 

He  seems  now  to  have  settled  down  with  the  conviction  that  the  faithful 
performance  of  duty  was  the  best  evidence  he  could  have  or  give  of 
his  acceptance  in  the  Beloved,  and  of  his  interest  in  the  Divine  promises. 
And  his  great  desire  to  glorify  God  suggested  to  him  the  idea  of  devoting 
his  life  to  preaching  the  Gospel  to  a  lost  world.  The  result  of  his  reflec- 
tions on  the  subject  was  that  he  determined  to  give  himself  to  this  great 
work ;  and  there  was  no  earthly  sacrifice  that  he  was  not  willing  to  make, 
to  carry  this  purpose  into  effect. 

There  are  those  now  living  in  St.  Louis,  who  recollect  the  circumstances 
under  which  he  laboured  there  from  thirty  to  forty  years  since,  when  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  persons  were  all  that  could  be  induced  to  attend  his  meet* 
logs ;  and  how  patiently  and  perseveringly  he  strove  to  gather  a  congrega- 
tion, and  establish  a  Presbyterian  Church  there,  without  the  least  prospect 
of  any  earthly  reward.  They  remember  how  industriously  and  laboriously 
he  plodded  on  in  the  arduous  and  perplexing  vocation  of  an  instructor  of 
youth,  that  he  might  have  a  room  for  meetings  on  the  Sabbath,  and 
the  scanty  means  of  paying  his  board  and  meeting  other  necessary  expenses ; 
how  patiently  and  silently  he  endured  the  calumny  and  contempt  then  cast 
on  the  office  of  the  ministry  by  the  thoughtless  and  profane ;  how  unremit- 
ting he  was  in  his  visits  to  the  sick,  the  distressed  and  the  dying ;  and  how 
unwearied  in  promoting  the  best  interests  of  the  entire  community  by  every 
means  in  his  power.  The  secret  of  this  self-sacrificing  spirit  no  doubt  lay  in 
the  depth  and  power  of  his  early  Christian  experience — in  those  almost 
convulsive  inward  struggles  which  marked  his  entrance  upon  the  Christian 
life.  From  the  very  beginning,  all  his  powers  and  faculties  seem  to  have 
been  consecrated  to  the  service  of  Christ ;  and  this  was  the  key  note  to 
the  hbtory  of  his  whole  subsequent  life. 

In  due  time,  Mr.  Giddings,  having  gone  through  his  preparatory  studies, 
entered  Williams  College,  where  he  maintained  a  high  character  for  scholar- 
ship throughout  his  whole  course.  He  was  graduated  in  1811,  and  soon 
after  joined  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover.  He  was  licensed  to 
preach  the  Gospel  in  the  early  part  of  1814,  and  was  ordained,  as  an  Evan- 
gelist, in  the  autumn  of  the  same  year.  In  1814-15,  he  was  a  Tutor  in 
Williams  College ;  and,  during  a  part  of  the  latter  year,  was  employed  in 
itinerating  among  the  Congregational  Churches  in  Massachusetts  and  Con- 
necticut, where  his  labours  were  blessed  to  the  hopeful  conversion  of  many 
Bouls. 

He  had  become  personally  acquainted  with  Samuel  J.  Mills;  and  his 
joumab  and  those  of  his  colleagues, — Messrs.  Schermerhom  and  Smith, 
together  with  repeated  conversations  with  Mills,  had  brought  him  to  the 
determination  to  follow  their  trail  into  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  and 
make  St.  Louis  a  point  in  his  evangelical  labours.     The  Trustees  of  the 

Vol.  IV.  64 


IH^  fSBSBTrniAK. 

Coiui€oiiout  MisAmtaj  Soora^j,  leMrning  his  intentions,  ient  Urn  ft  oommk- 
sion  to  labour  in  tho  ^'  Western  coontry," — quite  a  large  panah  for  a  New 
England  Congregationaliat.  Mr.  Giddings  travelled  from  his  native  State 
over  to  St.  Louts,  then  io  the  Far  West,  on  horseback, — the  common  mode 
of  travelling  at  that  period.'  He  started  in  December,  1815 ;  preached  on 
I  his  journey  on  the  Sabbath,  and  often  on  week  days  also ;  slept  comfortably 
in  the  log  cabins,  and  partook  of  the  homely  fare  of  the  inmates;  conversed 
with  parents  and  children  about  their  spiritual  interests ;  prayed  with  them 
night  and  morning ;  and,  like  a  man  of  good  common  sense,  took  care  of 
his  own  horse,  and  made  himself  at  home  wherever  he  tarried.  He  reached 
St.  Louis  on  the  6th  of  April,  1816 ;  preached  to  a  small  congregation  the 
next  day ;  and  became  the  pioneer  missionary  in  the  Presbyterian  ranks  to 
the  country  West  of  the  **  Great  River." 

•  Messrs.  Mills  and  Smith  had  visited  St.  Louis  in  November,  1814,  and 
had  preached  the  first  sermons  ever  heard  from  ministers  of  their  denomi« 
nation,  in  that  French  village.  A  gentleman  then  residing  at  St.  Louis,  in 
a  letter  to  a  minister  at  the  East,  written  about  that  time, — referring  to 
the  labours  of  itinerant  Methodist  preachers,  says, — **  They  preach  in  our 
Court  House,  perhaps  once  a  month."  About  two  months  before  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Giddings,  the  Rev.  Gideon  Blackburn,  then  of  Nashvflle, 
Tenn.,  visited  St.  Louis,  and  preached  several  times. 

The  first  year  and  a  half  Mr.  Giddings  spent  in  itinerating  through  the 
country, — visiting  most  of  the  towns  and  settlements  on  both  sides  of  the 
Mississippi.  One  object,  which  he  kept  steadily  in  view,  was  to  search  out 
those  who  had  been  members  of  Presbyterian  Churches,  and  to  gather  them 
again,  as  wandering  sheep,  into  the  fold.  The  first  Church  he  organised 
was  in  Bellevue  settlement,  Washington  County,  about  eighty  miles  South- 
west from  St.  Louis.  This  was  on  the  2d  of  August,  1816  ;  and  the  church 
consisted  of  thirty  members.  The  next  was  the  Church  in  Bonhomme 
settlement,  thirty  miles  West  of  St.  Louis — it  was  organized  the  same 
autumn,  and  consisted  of  sixteen  members.  In  the  period  of  ten  years, 
this  indefatigable  missionary  gathered  eleven  churches, — ^five  in  Missouri 
and  six  in  Illinois.  The  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  St.  Louis,  consisdng 
originally  of  nine  members,  he  organized  in  November,  1817 ;  and,  through 
his  personal  persevering  efforts,  their  first  house  of  worship  was  erected  and 
finished  in  1823-24.  For  four  years  from  the  time  the  church  was  consti- 
tuted, he  was  able  to  preach  to  them  only  one  half  of  the  time, — the  other 
half  being  appropriated  to  itinerant  visitations  to  destitute  places,  and  to 
churches  he  had  been  instrumental  of  establishing. 

In  the  spring  of  1822,  by  a  special  appointment  from  the  Managers  of 
the  United  Foreign  Missionary  Society  of  New  York,  he  made  a  long  tour 
of  exploration  among  the  Indian  tribes,  in  what  is  now  called  the  Kansas 
and  Nebraska  Territories,  preparatory  to  the  establishment  of  mission 
stations  among  them.  In  thb  tour  he  spent -about  ten  weeks,  and,  during 
the  greater  part  of  the  time,  was  in  the  wilderness,  beyond  the  white  settle- 
ments. He  visited  several  Indian  nations,  held  councils  with  their  chiefs 
and  head  men,  selected  sites  for  mission  stations  and  schools,  and  in 
all  these  varied  labours  evinced  a  sound,  discriminating  judgment,  as  well  as 
a  benevolent  heart.  It  was  a  season  of  heavy  rains  and  high  water  in  all 
the  streams,  so  that  he  was  often  obliged  to  make  his  horse  swim  the 
creeks.     But  in  his  somewhat  minute  journal,  that  now  lies  before  msi 


I  ind  BO  iadiMfeioii  ihatt  in  ^kiSf  )0r  his.  eBOMQpinf  iii  Ibe  woodst  or  his 
ptfiakiBg  of  the  roi^h  fare  of  the  frontier  hunter,  or  any  other  hardship, 
there  was  any  thing  to  oocasioa  the  least  disquietude  to  his  spirit.  In 
this  missionary  excursion,  he  visited  the  Osages,  Kansaus,  O'Mabas,  Paw« 
nees,  and  Ottoes. 

Previous  to  his  setting  out  on  this  tour,  he  had  enlisted  several  gentle* 
men  in  St.  Louis  in  an  attempt  to  build  a  house  of  worship  for  the  Presby- 
terian Church ;  among  whom  was  the  late  Stephen  Hempstead,  Esq.,*-^- 
then  at  the  age  of  nearly  threescore  years  and  ten, — his  senior  elder  and 
faithful  coadjutor.  An  arrangement  was  made  by  whieb  a  lot  was  purchased 
on  the  border  of  the  town  for  $381,  as  a  site  for  the  new  building.  In  1853, 
this  lot  was  leased  by  the  churoh,  for  fifty  years,  for  $4,000  per  annum, 
payable  quarterly;  which,  at  the  rate  of  six  per  cent.,  made  the  value 
t6d,66d.  At  the  expiration  of  fifty  years,  this  ground,  with  the  buildings, 
comes  again  into  possession  of  the  church.  Their  new  and  splendid  church 
edifice,  just  completed,  at  the  cost  of  $105,000,  b  located  ten  squares  fiirther 
West,  in  a  populous  part  of  the  city.  To  the  sagacity  and  foresight  of  Mr. 
Qiddings,  this  church  owes  a  debt  of  gratitude,  in  respect  even  to  its  tem- 
poral interests,  which  it  is  not  easy  to  overrate. 

The  first  house  of  worship  was  commenced  in  the  spring  of  1828 ; — the 
Trustees  appointing  Mr.  Giddings  their  agent  to  contract  for  the  erection 
of  a  house  of  such  dimensions  and  plan  as  he  thought  best.  The.  house  was 
of  brick,  forty  by  sixty  feet,  and  cost  something  over  $8,000.  In  March, 
1824,  the  Trustees,  having  entire  oonfidenee  in  the  economy  and  business 
talents  of  the  Pastor,  gave  him  power  of  Attorney  to  mort^ige  the  lot  and 
house  which  had  been  commenced,  for  $2,000,  to  be  employed  in  finishing 
the  edifice.  He  e£fected  the  loan  by  pledging  his  own  property  and  credit, 
and  taking  the  mortgage  to  secure  himself.  The  building  was  completed, 
and  dedicated  on  the  26th  of  June,  1825.  The  contributions  of  the  citizens, 
through  the  influence  of  the  Pastor,  and  the  proceeds  of  the  sale  of  pews 
in  1826,  reduced  the  debt  to  about  $5,000,  which  was  subsequently  liquidated 
by  the  congregation. 

Mr.  Griddings  remained  in  the  relation  of  Stated  Supply  to  the  Church, 
until  November,  1826,  when  he  was  installed  Pastor  by  the  Presbytery 
of  Missouri,  which  then  embraced  the  two  States  of  Missouri  and  Illinois. 

The  Kev.  James  £.  Welch  and  myself,  as  colleague  missionaries,  under 
the  patronage  of  the  Baptist  Board  of  foreign  Missions,  arrived  in  St.  Louis 
on  the  1st  of  December,  1817,  and,  notwithstanding  we  belonged  to  another 
denomination,  holding  different  views  of  Baptism  and  the  order  of  the 
visible  Church,  we  were  cordially  received  as  brethren  in  Christ,  mem- 
bers of  the  same  spiritual  Kingdom,  and  heirs  to  the  same  glorious  inheri- 
tance. Mr.  Welch  left  Missouri  for  New  Jersey  in  1820;  but  I  remained, 
and  was  in  intimate  relationi^  with  Mr.  Oiddings  for  ten  years.  We  often 
met  in  the  same  social  and  religious  circle ;  were  engaged  in  the  same  objects 

*  Stephen  Hempstead  waa  born  in  New  London,  Conn. ;  May  6,  1754.  He  waa  a  dittin- 
guiahed  patriot  and  soldier  in  the  Revolution,  and  was  sererely  wounded  and  taken  prisoner  at 
the  massacre  of  Fort  Oiiawold.  He  became  the  subject  of  converting  grace  before  tnc  close  of 
the  war,  but  from  the  unsettled  and  dispersed  condition  of  the  Congregational  Church  in  New 
London,  as  well  as  from  scmples  in  regard  to  the  genuineness  of  his  own  experience,  he  did  not 
make  a  public  profession  of  h\»  faith  until  1787.  Foar  of  bii  sons  baring  migrated  to  Missouri) 
be,  with  his  wife  and  the  rest  of  the  family »  followed  to  8t.  Loaiain  1811.  Alone  for  fire  yean» 
bis  light  shone  steadily,  and  he  faithfiilly  performed  the  duties  of  supplying  the  destitute  with 
ibe  Bible,  and  risiking  the  poor,  sick  and  afiUoted. 


SOS 

of  Ohrisiian  philanthropy;  presehed  freqmentlj  to  the  same  ebngregatiOD 
and  in  the  same  house, — and  what  is  more, — each  of  ns  preached  his  die* 
tinctive  views  on  the  points  on  which  we  differed ;  and  yet  our  relations 
always  continued  strictly  fraternal,  and  never  an  unkind  or  complaining 
word  passed  between  us.  But  far  be  it  from  me  to  intimate  that  Mr.  Gid* 
dings  held  lightly  his  own  religions  convictions.  Not  only  was  he  a  strict 
Presbyterian,  but  he  never  hesitated  to  avow  and  defend  his  principles  on 
all  proper  occasions.  But  he  valued  the  great  common  Christianity  above 
any  thing  that  marked  mere  denominational  differences.  He  loved  the 
friends  of  Christ,  by  whatever  name  they  were  called,  and  he  delighted  to 
encourage  and  animate  every  one's  efforts  in  doing  good.  We  co-operated, 
in  the  formation  and  management  of  the  first  Bible,  Sunday  School,  Tract, 
and  Colonization,  Societies  in  St.  Louis. 

Some  weeks  before  his  last  illness,  he  was  thrown  from  his  horse,  on  going 
to  attend  a  funeral,  and  received  a  severe  injury.  He,  however,  so  far 
recovered  as  to  resume  his  official  labours,  and  preached  several  times. 
Always  faithful  in  visiting  the  sick,  the  poor  and  friendless,  he  went  out  to 
perform  these  offices  of  mercy,  and  took  a  severe  cold,  which  brought  on 
the  disease  that  in  a  few  days  had  a  fatal  termination.  He  died  on  the  Ist 
of  February,  1828,  when  he  had  nearly  completed  his  forty-sixth  year.  His 
Funeral  was  attended  on  the  afternoon  of  the  Sabbath  following,  (February 
3d,)  by  a  larger  concourse  of  people  than  had  then  ever  been  assembled  in 
St.  Louis.  The  Presbyterian,  Episcopalian,  and  Baptist,  ministry  was 
each  represented  in  the  services  of  the  occasion.  The  Trustees  of  the 
Church,  in  token  of  their  affectionate  respect,  had  his  remains  deposited  in 
a  vault  constructed  for  the  purpose  under  the  pulpit.  By  the  joint  request 
of  the  elders  of  the  Church,  the  widow  and  the  family  at  Collins ville, 
I  preached  a  Funeral  Discourse  on  the  20th  of  March,  from  Matt.  xxv. 
21-23 — **  Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant,"  &c.  I  will  quote 
the  concluding  paragraph,  as  containing  what  I  believe  to  be  a  just  epitome 
of  his  character : — 

**  If  I  place  my  esteemed  friend  and  Christian  brother  before  me,  as  he 
appeared  in  life,  as  a  Man,  a  Christian,  a  Citizen,  and  a  Preacher  of  the 
Gospel, — in  each  relation  he  appears  amiable,  excellent,  conspicuous,  but 
in  all  of  them  he  is  ever  the  same.  One  general  encomium  includes  all  that 
oan  be  said — few  of  the  human  family  have  passed  through  life,  to  the  age 
of  forty-six,  so  blameless  and  unimpeached.  If  any  one  trait  of  his  charac- 
ter appeared  more  prominent  than  others,  it  was  his  uniform  and  consistent 
piety.  If  any  one  habit  of  his  Christian  life  was  more  strongly  marked 
than  the  rest,  it  was  his  habit  of  constant  secret  intercourse  with  God.  If 
any  quality  of  mind  shone  pre-eminent,  it  was  vigorous  persevcrence  in 
whatever  he  undertook — if  any  one  virtue,  it  was  prudence." 

One,  and  I  think  only  one,  of  Mr.  Giddingsl  Sermons  was  ever  printed. 
This  was  preached  in  the  settlement  of  Bellevue,  where  he  formed  the  first 
Presbyterian  Church  ever  organized  in  Missouri,  at  the  installation  of  the 
Eev.  Thomas  Donnell,  April  25,  1818.  It  was  entitled  ''The  Gospel 
the  power  of  God  unto  salvation."  It  was  printed  at  St.  Louis,  and  was 
the  first  sermon  ever  printed.  West  of  the  Mississippi. 

In  1826,  Mr.  Giddings  was  married  to  Almira,  daughter  of  Deacon  Wil- 
liam Collins  of  CoUinsville,  111.,  and  formerly  of  Litchfield,  Conn.     They 


SMIMOM  GmsniGs.  509 

had  one  child, — a  son,  who  is  now  a  distingiiished  lawyer  in  Qainoy,  111. 
Mn.  Oiddings  still  survives. 

Toan  fraternally, 

J.  M.  PECK. 


FROM  THE  REV.  RALPH  EMERSON,  D.  D. 

KbwburtporTj  Mass.j  August  1, 1867. 

Dear  Sir:  Mr.  Giddings  and  myself  wero  contemporary  as  students  of  the 
Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  and  I  had  snch  opportunities  for  knowing  him 
as  were  furnished  by  free  and  daily  intercourse.  After  we  left  the  Seminary, 
our  fields  of  labour  were  remote  from  each  other,  so  that  we  had  little  personal 
intercourse,  but  I  was  familiar,  at  least  with  the  outline  of  his  history,  to  the 
close  of  his  useful  and  honourable  career. 

In  person,  Mr.  Giddings  was  not  above  the  medium  height,  but  thick  set,  and 
quite  full  in  the  face,  and  of  a  kind  and  genial  aspect — the  genuine  index  of  his 
disposition ;  and  his  whole  deportment  was  expressive  of  an  honest,  generous 
and  noble  spirit.  His  manners,  however,  were  by  no  means  graceful;  and  I 
doubt  whether,  till  after  leaving  Andover,  he  had  learned  much  of  the  conven- 
tionalities of  society.  I  presume  none  of  his  class  mates  ever  doubted  the  sin- 
cerity of  his  piety,  or  the  depth  of  his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Christ.  While 
at  Andover,  he  was  much  afflicted  with  asthma,  which  was  one  cause  of  his 
devoting  himself  to  the  Western  field,  where  he  expected  a  more  congenial 
climate. 

Though  not  one  of  Nature's  excitables,  and  perhaps  not  capable  of  passionate 
eloquence,  he  was  possessed  of  a  sound  and  very  well  balanced  and  logical  mind, 
and  as  might  be  expected  from  such  intellectual  and  moral  qualities,  his  doc- 
trinal views  were  clear,  well  defined  and  decided.  He  was  neither  rapid  in 
thought  nor  fluent  in  conversation;  but,  with  his  calm  and  steady  self-possession, 
I  believe  he  rather  excelled  in  extemporaneous  discourse.  Ilis  thoughts  did  not 
fiow  so  rapidly  as  to  become  confused.  The  following  anecdote  which  I  had  from 
himself,  after  his  settlement  in  St.  Louis,  will  illustrate  this: — He  gave  place  on 
a  particular  occasion  to  a  stranger  of  another  denomination  who  wished  to  preach 
to  his  people.  The  young  man  had  not  been  accustomed  to  address  so  fashion- 
able an  assembly,  and  it  became  manifest,  soon  after  he  commenced  his  discourse, 
that  he  would  be  unable  to  proceed,  and  that  Mr.  Giddings  must  himself  preach, 
if  any  preaching  was  to  be  done.  In  this  emergency,  and  with  but  a  moment's 
thought,  ho  took  up  the  same  subject,  using  also  the  same  text,  and  preached  a 
discourse  of  the  usual  length. 

Tours  truly, 

R.  EMERSOK. 


mo  FSUBTmiAN. 


JOHN  KIRKPATRICK  * 

1814—1842. 

John  Kirkpatrick  was  a  native  of  Mecklenburg  County,  N.  C,  and 
was  born  in  the  year  1787.  He  was  the  second  and  youngest  son  of  Thomas 
and  Mary  (Hutchinson)  Kirkpatrick,  who  had  emigrated  from  Ireland  to 
this  country  a  short  time  previous  to  his  birth.  His  parents  were  both 
members  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and  were  distinguished  for  their 
exemplary  Christian  deportment.  In  consequence  of  the  death  of  his 
mother,  while  he  was  yet  an  infant,  his  early  education  devolved  upon  his 
father  and  brother.  In  the  earliest  unfolding  of  his  faculties,  he  gave  indi- 
cations of  great  intellectual  precocity.  He  could  read  with  fluency  and 
correctness,  when  he  was  only  in  his  fourth  year ;  and  so  retentive  was  his 
memory  at  that  early  period,  that,  after  reading  a  chapter  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament once  or  twice  only,  he  could  repeat  the  whole  of  it.  But,  shortly 
after  this,  owing  to  various  circumstances,  he  was  withdrawn  from  school, 
and  for  many  years  had  scarcely  any  opportunities  for  intellectual  culture, 
except  such  as  a  mind  like  his  would  almost  necessarily  create  for  itself, 
under  even  the  most  unpropitious  circumstances. 

During  this  period,  nothing  seems  to  have  occurred  of  special  interest  in 
its  bearing  upon  his  subsequent  life.  He  was  distinguished  for  his  wit 
and  buoyancy,  and  was  the  life  of  every  circle  into  which  he  was  thrown. 
Ho  was  fond  of  music  and  poetry,  and  frequently  exercised  himself  in  both. 
He  read  almost  every  thing  within  his  reach,  and  forgot  scarcely  any  thing 
that  he  read.  He  had  quite  a  passion  for  military  tactics,  and  delighted  to 
dwell  upon  the  heroic  exploits  of  the  battle  field ;  and  sometimes  he  indulged 
in  an  extemporaneous  speech  upon  this,  his  favourite  theme.  In  short,  he 
was  regarded  by  all  who  knew  him  as  an  amiable,  gay,  and  uncommonly 
gifted,  young  man. 

When  he  was  in  his  nineteenth  year,  he  commenced  the  study  of  the 
classics,  under  the  instruction  of  the  Rev.  James  Wallis,  of  Providence,  N. 
C,  who  was  a  highly  competent  teacher.  Here  he  continued  for  seventeen 
months,  (though  he  was  himself  a  teacher  during  part  of  that  time,}  when 
he  was  prepared  to  enter  the  Junior  class  (half  advanced)  of  Hampden 
Sidney  College.  The  rapidity  of  his  progress  during  this  period  was  almost 
incredible ;  and  it  is  the  testimony  of  one  who  had  the  opportunity  of  know- 
ing,— that  '*  there  was  not  a  member  of  the  school  who  could  perform  half, 
or  more  than  half,  the  amount  of  labour  which  he  performed.'*  He  entered 
College  in  1811,  and  at  the  same  time  engaged  as  a  private  tutor  in  a  gen- 
tleman's family,  as  a  means  of  defraying  in  part  his  college  expenses.  In 
eighteen  months,  he  completed  his  collegiate  course,  and  graduated  with  the 
highest  honours  of  the  institution. 

He  now  commenced  the  study  of  Law,  intending  to  make  that  his  pro- 
fession; but  before  he  was  prepared  for  admission  to  the  Bar,  his  mind 
was  directed  with  great  earnestness  to  the  subject  of  his  own  salvation ; 
and,  after  '*a  season  of  the  bitterest  anguish  of  spirit," — to  use  his  own 
language — he  was  led  '*to  cast"  himself,  ** unreservedly  and  uncondition- 

•  MItohelPi  Fui.  Benn.— MSS.  ttom  hii  mm,  and  Rev.  8.  L.  Giahaiii^  D.  D. 


JOQN  KIBKPATRICK.  5I| 

ally  upon  the  Bovereign  merej  of  God  in  Gbrbl/'  With  this  change  of 
views  and  of  character  was  associated  a  determtnation  to  become  a  miaister 
of  the  Gospel;  and,  accordingly,  he  abandoned  the  study  of  Law,  and 
eommencAd  a  course  of  Theology,  under  the  direction  of  the  venerable  Dr. 
Moses  Hoge,  then  President  of  the  College  at  which  he  had  graduated. 

While  he  was  yet  engaged  in  his  theological  studies,  he  was  called  tempo- 
rarily into  a  very  different  field  of  labour  from  that  for  which  he  was  pre- 
paring himself.  In  1814,  a  draft  was  levied  upon  the  County  of  Prince 
Edward  for  recruits  to  serve  in  the  army.  As  soon  as  he  knew  that  it  had 
fallen  to  his  lot  to  go,  he  promptly  obeyed  the  summons ;  and  it  is  not 
improbable  that  his  natural  relish  for  military  display,  which  had  discovered 
itself  so  strikingly  in  his  earlier  years,  co-operated  with  a  spirit  of  patriot- 
ism and  a  high  sense  of  duty,  to  bring  about  this  re^^ult.  He  joined  the 
army  at  Norfolk,  and  served  six  months  as  Secretary  to  General  Porter; 
during  which  time,  he  frequently  discharged  the  duties  of  a  Chaplain, — 
reading  the  Scriptures,  praying,  and  exhorting,  as  opportunity  occurred. 
Some  of  his  addresses  on  these  occasions  are  said  to  have  been  strikingly 
eloquent,  and  to  have  produced  a  powerful,  and  in  some  instances  a  perma- 
nent, impression. 

Previous  to  his  leaving  the  army,  an  honourable  and  lucrative  military 
office  was  offered  him ;  but  he  declined  it  unhesitatingly,  being  inflexible  in 
his  purpose  to  devote  himself  to  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel.  At  the  expi- 
ration of  his  term  of  service,  he  left  the  army,  and  returned  to  complete 
his  theological  course  under  Dr.  Hoge.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the 
Hanover  Presbytery,  at  Buffalo  Church,  in  the  County  of  Prince  Edward, 
in  the  autumn  of  1814. 

In  the  early  part  of  1815,  he  engaged  temporarily  as  a  missionary  in 
Hanover  County,  by  appointment  of  Presbytery;  and  was  afterwards  settled 
in  Manchester,  County  of  Chesterfield,  where  he  continued  about  four 
years.  Besides  preaching  statedly,  he  was  occupied,  during  a  part  of  the 
time,  in  teaching  a  classical  school ;  and,  at  a  subsequent  period,  he  con- 
ducted, for  a  time,  and  with  great  skill  and  success,  a  school  of  deaf  mutes. 
By  this  time,  he  had  acquired  no  small  reputation  as  an  earnest,  eloquent 
and  gifted  preacher. 

In  1819,  he  received  a  call  from  the  Cumberland  Church,  Cumberland 
County,  which  he  accepted;  and  in  the  autumn  of  that  year,  the  West 
Hanover  Presbytery  (the  Presbytery  that  licensed  him  having  been  divided 
into  East  and  West  Hanover)  ordained  him  to  the  work  of  the  ministry, 
and  installed  him  as  Pastor  of  the  said  Churoh.  Here  he  continued  to  labour 
daring  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

In  1823,  his  health  was  so  much  impaired  as  to  render  a  temporary  sus- 
pension of  labour  desirable,  in  consequence  of  which  he  went  to  visit  a 
brother  in  Georgia,  and  remained  with  him  a  considerable  part  of  the  winter. 
During  his  sojourn  there,  he  preached  frequently,  and  with  great  power  and 
success.  So  remarkable  was  his  popularity  that  his  audience  sometimes 
consisted  of  several  thousands.  He  returned  home,  after  an  absence  of  a 
few  months,  with  his  health  and  spirits  much  invigorated,  and  resumed  his 
labours  with  more  than  his  aocustomed  energy.  His  church,  which,  at  the 
time  he  took  charge  of  it,  was  but  a  feeble  band,  had,  by  this  time,  under 
mioistratioDS^  greatly  increased  in  numbers,  purity,  and  efficieuey. 


512  PBIgBTTBBIAir. 

In  the  winter  of  1836-86,  there  was  %  centroYersj  carried  on  in  tiho 
SoQthem  Religious  Telegraph, — ^a  paper  published  in  Richmond,  on  tlie 
question  whether  it  be  right  for  ministers  of  the  Oospel  who  are  not  sap- 
ported  by  their  salaries,  to  engage  in  secular  employments  so  far  as  to 
secure  to  themselves  and  their  families  a  comfortable  maintenance.  Mr. 
Kirkpatrick  published  a  series  of  articles  on  the  affirmative  side  of  the 
question ;  and  whatever  difference  of  opinion  may  have  existed  in  regard  to 
the  correctness  of  his  views,  it  was  universally  conceded  that  he  defended 
them  with  signal  ability. 

In  1837,  he  began  perceptibly  to  decline,  and  in  1840,  was  so  much 
reduced  as  to  be  obliged  to  suspend  his  pastoral  labours.  His  disease  was 
an  obstinate  form  of  dyspepsia,  accompanied  with  violent  paroxysms  of 
vertigo.  The  then  existing  difficulties  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  tended 
to  harrass  his  mind,  and  aggravate  his  disease,  (he  disapproved  of  the 
Exscinding  Acts  of  1838,  and  when  the  division  took  place,  sided  with  the 
minority,)  and,  by  the  advice  of  his  physician,  he  journeyed  to  the  South, 
in  the  hope  that  change  of  air  and  exercise  might  effect  a  restoration.  He 
seemed,  for  a  short  time  after  he  commenced  his  journey,  to  be  somewhat 
benefitted ;  but  afterwards,  his  disease  advanced  so  rapidly  that  his  son, 
who  accompanied  liim,  had  serious  apprehensions  that  he  would  not  live  to 
reach  home.  He  did,  however,  return  to  his  family,  and  for  a  few  weeks 
some  hopes  of  his  recovery  were  entertained ;  but  his  malady  soon  assumed 
a  more  aggravated  form,  and  he  gradually  sunk  under  its  power,  until  it 
teriuiDated  in  death  on  the  17th  of  February,  1842.  On  the  Sunday  morn- 
ing preceding,  he  called  his  friends  and  relatives  to  his  bedside,  and  thus 
addressed  them : — *'  If  it  be  the  will  of  God  to  take  me  hence,  I  die  in 
great  peace  with  God,  and  all  my  fellow-men,  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  It  has  always  been  my  end  and  aim  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  the 
service  of  my  Master ;  and  if  at  any  time  I  have  been  otherwise  than  at 
peace  with  any  of  those  with  whom  God  has  called  me  to  be  a  fellow- 
labourer  for  a  little  while  here  below,  I  pray  God  most  earnestly  to  for- 
give them,  and  to  forgive  me,  for  the  evil  that  has  been  in  it.  I  do  not 
yet  realize  what  it  is  to  have  passed  through  the  dark  valley  and  shadow 
of  death;  but  hitherto  and  thus  far  hath  the  Lord  brought  me  and  sas- 
tained'  me ;  and  I  firmly  trust  that,  through  the  superabounding  grace 
of  God  in  Christ  Jesus,  I  shall  be  borne  safely  through,  and  come  off  con- 
queror and  more  than  conqueror,  under  the  banner  of  the  great  Captain 
of  our  salvation."  On  Tuesday  following,  when  he  seemed  to  revive  a 
little, — speaking  of  the  comforts  of  the  Gospel,  he  said, — **They  are  as 
calm  as  Heaven,  and  as  permanent  as  immortality."  An  hour  or  two  before 
his  death,  having  been  apparently  engaged  for  some  time  in  earnest  prayer, 
he  clasped  his  hands,  and  exultingly  exclaimed, — *'  Thanks  be  to  God,  I  have 
obtained  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  And  when  he  had 
thus  spoken,  he  fell  asleep.  A  Sermon  was  preached  with  reference  to  his 
death,  containing  what  has  been  regarded  a  very  judicious  estimate  of  his 
character,  by  the  Rev.  J.  D.  Mitchell,  Pastor  of  the  Peaks  Church,  Bed- 
ford, Ya.     It  was  published. 

Mr.  Kirkpatrick  was  married  in  January,  1816,  to  Nancy  Yenable,  eldest 
daughter  of  Nathaniel  and  Mary  Price,  of  Prince  Edward  County,  Ya., — a 
lady  every  way  fitted  to  be  acceptable  and  useful  as  a  minister's  wile.  She 
died  in  September,  1828,  leaving  three  children, — the  youngest  an  infant 


JOHN  KIRKPATRICK.  gl3 

of  only  three  moBthe.  In  1825,  he  formed  a  second  matrimonial  connec- 
tion with  Jane  Maria  Jellis,  daughter  of  an  English  gentleman,  who  had 
migrated  to  Virginia  a  few  years  before.  This  excellent  lady  still  (1848) 
Burrives  as  his  widow,  and  is  the  mother  of  five  children.  Two  of  Mr. 
Kirkpatrick's  sons,  one  by  the  first,  and  one  by  the  second,  marriage,  have 
enjoyed  the  advantages  of  a  liberal  education,  and  the  former  has  now  nearly 
completed  his  preparations  for  the  ministry. 

FROM  THE  REY.  S.  L.  GRAHAM,  D.  D., 
paor£88oa  in  thk  union  theoloqxoal  sbxina&t,  va.* 

PaiNCE  Edward,  Va.,  February  19, 184?. 

My  dear  Sir :  Tonr  request  for  my  recollections  and  impressions  of  the  char- 
acter  of  the  late  Rev.  John  Kirkpatrick,  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  comply 
with.  I  regard  him  as  among  the  men  who  have  a  fair  right  to  be  transmitted, 
in  some  enduring  record,  to  future  generations. 

Mr.  Kirkpatrick  was  universally  acknowledged  to  possess  great  strength  and 
energy  of  character.  He  was  not  a  man  to  be  made  and  moulded  by  the  times 
or  the  community  in  which  he  lived.  His  mind  was  of  a  higher  order  than  this; 
and  his  principles  were  the  result  of  sober  conviction,  and  not  the  oifshoot  of 
an  ever  changing  public  opinion.  He  was  accordingly  remarkable  for  his  inde- 
pendence and  integrity.  Wben  required  by  law  to  march  to  Norfolk,  during  the 
war  of  1812, — though  his  friends  insisted  on  it — ^yet  he  would  not  consent,  that 
a  substitute  should  be  provided,  declaring  that  he  would  not  agree  that  another 
should  be  shot  down  in  battle  in  his  place.  He  was  the  very  pink  of  honour 
and  honesty,  and  had  a  most  hearty  contempt  for  all  trick  and  meanness  in 
pecuniary  transactions.  He  would  have  preferred  to  suffer  loss  himself,  rather 
than  profit  by  the  known  ignorance  of  another.  Closely  connected  with  this 
trait  was  his  unreserved  frankness.  He  never  studied,  and  certainly  never 
practised,  the  art  of  concealment.  He  never  adopted  a  temporizing  policy;  nor 
had  he  at  any  time  a  scheme  of  selfish  ambition,  which  led  him  to  make  wrong 
impressions  as  to  his  opinions  of  men  and  things,  in  order  to  accomplish  a  pur- 
pose. He  would  not,  even  for  a  time,  consent  to  enjoy  reputation  for  opinions 
which  he  did  not  hold.  I  have  known  him  publicly  to  avow  opinions  which  he 
knew  were  not  acceptable  to  his  hearers,  and  which  involved  no  essential  princi- 
pie  of  religion  or  morals.  Indeed  the  union  of  independence  and  frankness  some- 
times gave  an  appearance  of  sternness  to  his  character — ^somctimes  his  statements 
might  have  been  softened  without  detriment  to  truth  or  general  usefulness.  It 
was  his  rule  to  persist  in  what  he  in  his  heart  believed  to  be  right,  with  unflinch- 
ing firmness,  and  to  avow  his  belief  in  spite  of  the  indignant  frowns  of  public 
opinion. 

Mr.  Kirkpatrick  was  therefore  in  his  religion  just  what  he  professed  to  be; 
and  in  all  your  intercourse  with  him,  he  made  you  sensible  that  there  was  no 
concealed  hatred  ready  to  burst  upon  you,  when  a  favourable  moment  might 
arrive;  that  there  was  no  cunning  intrigue,  nor  deeply  laid  stratagem,  to  pull  you 
down  when  it  could  be  done  with  safety  to  himself;  that  there  was  no  disposition 
in  him  to  palm  himself  on  you  or  on  the  world,  as  possessing  religious  attain- 
ments to  which  he  was  a  stranger,  or  which,  even  if  he  did  possess  them,  were 
exhibited  before  you  in  an  exaggerated  form.  He  rather  made  you  feel  that  the 
whole  man  stood  out  before  you  just  as  he  was;  and  that  if  you  saw  the  best, 
you  saw  also  the  worst,  of  his  Christian  character. 

Mr.  Kirkpatrick,  however,  was  most  remarkable  as  an  eloquent  preacher. 
When  his  disconrses  were  more  carefully  prepared,  he  could  exert  quite  an 
uncommon  d^ree  of  power  over  the  passions  and  imaginations  of  his  hearers. 
Vol.  IV.  65 


514  PRESBTTBRIAV. 

His  manner  was  at  all  times  veliement  and  earnest.  He  was,  howerer,  impul* 
sive,  and  sometimes  depended  for  his  highest  eSbits  of  eloquence,  on  that  burst 
of  feeling  which  he  only  occasionally  enjoyed.  Uis  sermons,  when  he  made  the 
deepest  impression,  were  for  the  most  part  written  and  committed  .to  memory. 
Bis  style  was  ornate  and  neryous,  but  always  in  good  ta&te.  lie  was  vehement 
without  bombast,  and  eloquent  without  being  painfully  boisterous.  Uis  brilliant 
imagination  enabled  him  to  paint  so  that  his  hearers  could  actually  behold  the 
scene  he  described,  as  if  it  were  passing  before  them.  I  heard  him  preach  a 
Charity  Sermon  at  Boydton  in  1824,  which,  in  point  of  pathos  in  the  speaker, 
and  excitement  in  the  hearers,  exceeded  any  thing  of  the  kind  I  ever  heard. 
The  first  part  of  the  sermon  consisted  of  a  well-constructed  and  elaborate  argu- 
ment in  favour  of  his  position,  which  was  the  duty  of  giving  our  worldly  sub- 
stance to  benevolent  objects.  But  when  he  came  to  apply  his  subject,  he  made 
an  appeal,  which,  for  effect,  I  have  never  known  to  be  exceeded  under  similar 
circumstances.  He  transported  his  hearers  to  the  final  judgment,  and  by  what 
I  thought  was  a  just  exhibition  of  their  responsibilities,  he  besought  them  to  do 
that  day  what  they  would  wish,  in  the  great  day  of  reckoning,  that  they  had 
done.  It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  solemn  effect  of  this  appeal,  and 
impossible  to  describe  the  manner  of  producing  it.  It  was  only  on  certain  extra- 
ordinary occasions  that  he  rose  to  such  a  pitch  of  eloquence,  as  in  the  case  to 
which  I  have  now  referred. 

His  boldness  in  the  pulpit  and  out  of  it,  the  warmth  of  his  feelings,  and  the 
generous  openness  of  his  character,  made  him  many  friends  and  admirers;  and 
such  was  the  mutual  attachment  between  bim  and  his  people,  that  though  often 
solicited  to  do  so,  he  never  would  consent  to  leave  them.  His  death  produced 
general  regret  in  all  classes  of  the  community. 

'  Very  truly  yours, 

S.  L.  6RAHA3C. 


-♦♦-— 


JOHN  Mcelroy  dickey  * 

1814—1849. 

John  MoElrot  Dickey  was  bom  in  York  District,  S.  C,  December 
16,  1789.  His  great-grandfather  emigrated  from  Ireland.  His  parents, 
David  and  Margaret  (Stephenson)  Dickey,  were  in  humble  circam stances, 
but  sustained  an  excellent  Christian  character.  They  were  particularly 
attentive  to  the  religious  instruction  of  their  children,  making  use  chiefly 
of  the  Bible  and  the  Confession  of  Faith.  His  mother,  as  she  sat  at  her 
spinning  wheel,  was  accustomed  to  gather  her  children  around  her,  and 
question  them  in  rotation  out  of  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  explaining  the 
several  answers,  as  far  as  she  could,  to  their  comprehension. 

As  soon  as  his  mind  began  to  unfold,  be  discovered  an  uncommon  fond- 
ness for  books.  He  is  said  to  have  read  the  Bible  through  at  the  early  age 
of  four  years.  He  had  abo  a  natural  turn  for  Mathematics;  which  is 
evidenced  by  the  fact  that,  as  he  sat  in  the  corner  upon  his  little  stool, 
with  the  aid  of  a  coal  and  pine  board,  and  with  such  instruction  as  his 
fjEither  could  give  him,  he  became  considerably  advanced  in  Arithmetic,  even 
before  he  had  begun  to  go  to  schooL 

•  MS.  from  hJa  family. 


JOHN  Mcelroy  dickey.  515 

At  the  age  of  aboat  thirteen,  his  mind  became  deeply  impressed  with 
religions  .troth,  and  he  began  to  devote  himself  in  earnest  to  the  service  of 
his  Creator  and  Redeemer.  The  year  after  this,  (1808),  he  removed  with 
bis  parents  to  Livingston  County,  Ky.,  where  he  was  occupied  chiefly,  for 
the  next  two  or  three  years,  in  assisting  to  clear  up  and  cultivate  his  father's 
land,  at  the  same  time  availing  himself  of  such  means  of  instruction  in 
different  branches  of  knowledge,  as  the  eountry  furnished.  When  he  was 
not  far  from  seventeen,  he  went  to  study  under  his  cousin,  the  B.cv.  William' 
Wilson,  who  lived  about  three  quarters  of  a  mile  from  bis«father*8  house ; 
and,  as  j\Ir.  W.  had  a  family  of  small  children,  and  his  house  consisted 
of  only  one  apartment,  the  young  pupil  built  a  room  a  few  yards  from  the 
door,  where  he  kept  his  books  and  prosecuted  his  studies.  After  having 
continued  with  his  cousin  about  eighteen  months,  during  which  time  he  was 
studying  Virgil  and  the  G-reek  Testament,  there  was  a  school  opened  by 
the  Kev.  Nathan  H.  Hall,  at  Hardin's  Creek  Church,  distant  from  his 
residence  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  As  it  was  understood  that  he 
was  seeking  a  liberal  education,  under  manifold  disadvantages,  a  proposal 
was  made  to  him  to  become  a  member  of  that  school ;  and  though  his  father 
scarcely  felt  himself  able  to  incur  any  part  of  the  expense,  he  placed  him 
on  the  best  young  horse  he  possessed,  with  a  direction  that  he  should  ride 
him  to  the  place  where  the  school  was  kept,  and  make  him  over  to  a  Mr. 
McElroy  in  whose  family  he  was  to  board,  and  remain  with  him  as  long  as 
the  horse  would  be  an  adequate  compensation.  When  the  time  arrived 
that  the  horse  was  '*  eaten  up,"  the  young  man,  feeling  that  he  had  no 
other  resource,  was  making  his  arrangements  to  leave  the  school,  and  return 
home  ;  but  he  had,  by  this  time,  become  so  great  a  favourite  in  the  family 
in  which  he  lived,  that  they  kindly  invited  him  to  continue  with  them  free 
of  charge.  He  accepted  the  generous  offer,  and,  as  a  token  of  gratitude 
and  respect  towards  his  benefactor,  he  assumed  McElroy  as  part  of  his 
own  name. 

Having  remained  nearly  two  years  at  this  school,  he  left  it,  and  prose* 
cuted  the  study  of  Theology,  partly  with  his  cousin  under  whom  he  had 
previously  commenced  the  study  of  the  classics,  and  partly  with  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Howe*  at  Glasgow. 

*  JoHH  Hows  waa  a  native  of  South  Carolina,  and  was  in  part  educated  there.  At  the  age 
of  about  twenty,  he  removed  with  his  fother  and  family  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Lexington, 
Ky.  The  Transylvania  Seminary  was  then  in  operation,  under  the  supervision  of  the  Kev. 
James  Moore,  an  Episcopal  clergyman ;  and  here  Mr.  Howe  pursued  his  classical  studies  for 
three  years,  and  suosequently  studied  Theology  under  the  Rev.  James  Crawford,  then  Pnsior 
of  Walnut  Hill  Church.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Transylvania  Presbytery  in  the 
spring  of  1795.  For  several  years,  he  preached  Alternately  in  Glas^w,  the  County  seat  of 
Barren,  and  Beaver  Creek  Chureb,  in  the  same  county.  Not  receiving  an  adequate  support 
from  these  Churches,  he  was,  for  several  years,  engaged  in  teaching  a  school.  He  subseauentlv 
removed  to  Greensburg,  Qreene  County,  where  he  again  commenced  teaching  in  the  County 
Academy,  and  taught  some  eichteen  vears,  preaching,  during  the  time,  to  two  small  oongrecn- 
tions  in  the  neighbourhood.  When  be  was  in  his  eightieth  year,  he  went  to  reside  with  his 
danehter  in  Missouri.  Though  now  oppressed  by  infirmity,  he  still  preached  occasionally,  and 
oonttnued  to  do  so,  as  opportunity  offered,  until  the  decav  of  his  faculties  unfitted  him  for  any 
further  service.  He  died,  December  21,  1856,  aged  eighty-eight  years.  He  had  been  in  the 
ministry  a  little  more  than  sixty-one,  fifty tthree  of  which  were  spent  in  Kentucky.  He  is 
represented  as  having  been  an  uncommonly  amiable  man,  remarkably  unostentatious  in  his 
manners,  and  a  very  popular  and  successftil  preacher. 

The  Rbt.  Javbs  Crawford  mentioned  above,  was  graduated  at  Princeton  in  1771;  -was 
licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbyteiy  of  Hanover,  October  26,  1779,  but  was  disabled  for  con- 
stant preacning  by  an  abscess  in  bis  side;  and  in  1784  removed  with  his  family  to  Ken  tuck  v. 
Being  ordained  the  next  year,  he  settled  at  Walnut  Hill,  and  gathered  a  fiourishing  church. 
There  he  ramained  nntil  his  death,  which  took  place  in  the  spnng  of  1803.  His  last  iHness 
was  occasioned  by  an  exposure  from  preachinc  in  the  open  air,  durins  a  Sacramental  season* 
at  Paint  Liok.    He  wii  not  a  popular,  but  hignly  Instructive  and  uiefm,  preacher. 


516  PRESBTTEBIAN. 

Mr.  Diokej  was  licenBed  to  preach  by  the  Mecklenburg  Presbytery,  in 
August,'  1814.  In  December  following,  he  went  to  Indiana,  and,  after 
having  spent  a  few  Sabbaths,  agreed  to  settle  in  White  River  Church,  in 
the  Forks  of  White  River,  near  what  is  now  Washington,  Davis  County, — 
being  the  third  Presbyterian  minister  who  ever  settled  within  the  limits  of 
Indiana.  He  removed  his  family  thither  in  May,  1815.  On  the  7th  of 
June,  1817,  he  was  ordained  by  the  Mecklenburg  Presbytery,  and  waa 
dismissed  to  join  the  Salem  Presbytery,  or  to  help  constitute  it.  From 
May,  1815,  to  .April,  1819,  he  preached  in  the  White  River  Church  half 
of  the  time,  receiving  about  fifty  dollars  a  year  for  his  labours,  and  occu- 
pying a  field  about  sixteen  miles  long  by  ten  broad.  The  other  half  of  his 
time  he  spent  as  a  voluntary  missionary  in  various  destitute  places,  receiving 
barely  enough  in  the  way  of  compensation  to  meet  his  travelling  expenses. 
In  order  to  make  out  a  support  for  his  family,  he  was  obliged  to  resort  to 
both  manual  labour  and  teaching  sacred  music;  and,  after  all  his  exertions, 
he  became  early  embarrassed  with  a  debt,  and  scarcely  ever  afterwards 
knew  what  it  was  to  be  entirely  free  from  such  embarrassment. 

In  1819,  he  removed  to  the  vicinity  of  Lexington,  Scott  County,  and  took 
charge  of  three  small  churches — namely,  Pisgah,  Lexington,  and  Graham. 
Over  the  two  former  he  was  installed  on  the  9th  of  August ;  but  of  the  latter 
he  was  only  the  stated  supply,  and  he  withdrew  from  it  after  two  years.  In 
the  summer  of  1823,  he  took  a  missionary  tour  of  a  month  up  the  Valley  of 
the  Wabash,  as  far  as  Crawfordsville,  preaching  upwards  of  thirty  times. 
In  1824,  he  spent  two  months  as  a  missionary  in  the  central  counties  of 
the  State,  during  which  time  he  preached  sixty-three  sermons  and  organized 
three  churches.  In  1835,  his  pastoral  relation  to  the  church  at  Lex- 
ington was  dbsolved;  and,  after  this,  his  labours  were  confined  to  the 
Pisgah  Church,  except  that  he  occasionally  took  a  short  missionary  tour. 
About  two  years  before  his  death,  he  resigned  the  charge  of  that  church 
also;  —  a  charge  which  he  had  held  twenty-eight  years;  and  from  that 
period  ho  laboured,  as  his  health  would  permit,  as  an  Agent  for  the  Ameri- 
can Tract  Society,  and  in  preparing  a  History  of  the  Churches  of  Indiana. 

In  the  year  1845,  Mr.  Dickey,  having  spent  three  months  in  travelling 
as  a  missionary,  and  in  visiting  many  of  his  early  friends,  published,  in  the 
"Watchman  of  the  Valley," — a  religious  paper  printed  at  Cincinnati, — a 
scries  of  Letters  addressed  to  his  friends,  on  various  topics  which  had  sug- 
gested themselves  to  him  in  the  review  of  his  tour.  These  letters  had  the 
double  merit  of  containing  much  valuable  information,  in  regard  to  the 
religious  state  of  the  country,  and  much  that  was  adapted  to  elevate  the 
tone  of  Christian  feeling  and  the  standard  of  Christian  character. 

For  many  years  Mr.  Dickey  was  suffering  under  a  pulmonary  disease, 
which  finally  terminated  his  life.  He,  however,  continued  to  preach  con- 
stantly till  the  year  1847,  when  he  resigned  his  pastoral  charge ;  and  even 
after  that,  until  within  a  few  months  of  his  death,  he  laboured  as  an  Agent, 
preaching  frequently  as  he  found  occasion  or  opportunity.  Towards  the 
close  of  the  summer  of  1849,  he  became  too  feeble  to  leave  home ;  and 
early  in  October,  he  addressed  a  letter  to  the  Moderator  of  the  Synod, 
then  in  session  at  New  Albany,  tendering  to  that  Body  the  most  affectionate 
salutations,  and  making  suggestions  to  them  in  regard  to  the  History  of  the 
Churches,  which  he  was  about  to  leave  in  an  unfinished  state.  The  Synod 
replied  to  the  letter  in  a  tone  of  the  warmest  fraternal  affection,  congratu- 


JOHN  MoELBOY  DICKET.  517 

lating  him  upon  his  useful  life  and  his  glorious  prospecta.  He  continued  to 
write  upon  his  History  until  he  became  so  feeble  that  he  was  obliged  to 
relinquish  even  this, — his  last  employment.  He  marked  the  approach  of 
death  with  the  utmost  tranquillity,  and  spoke  of  it  as  he  would  of  leaving 
home  for  a  journey.  "  I  have  no  raptures,"  said  he,  *'  but  I  have  no  fears ; 
my  trust  is  in  Christ  alone  for  salvation."  He  died  at  his  residence  near 
New  Washington,  Ind.,  November  21,  1849.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was 
preached  by  the  Eev.  Harvey  Curtis,  then  of  Madison,  Ind.,  from  Acts 
X.  24. 

Mr.  Dickey  published,  in  1828,  a  History  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Indiana ;  and,  by  request  of  the  Synod  of  Indiana,  had  collected  the  requi« 
site  material  for  a  continuation  of  the  History,  and,  as  already  stated,  was 
engaged  in  writing  it,  when  death  took  him  from  all  his  earthly  labours. 

He  was  a  zealous  anti-slavery  man,  and  at  one  time  published  a  series  of 
articles  on  the  subject  of  Slavery,  in  the  Cincinnati  Journal.  When  the 
Presbyterian  Church  was  divided  h.  1838,  he  foil  into  the  New  School 
division,  and  was  yery  strong  in  his  convictions  that  they  had  the  right  in 
the  controversy.  He  wrote  the  greater  part  of  the  Address  of  the  Synod 
of  Indiana,  on  the  subject  of  the  division^  which  was  published  in  the  Cin- 
cinnati Journal. 

Mr.  Dickey  was  twice  married, — ^first  on  the  18th  of  November,  1813, 
to  Nancy  W.,  daughter  of  William  and  Isabel  (Miller)  McClesky,  of  Abbe- 
ville District,  S.  C.  She  died  October  23,  1816,  leaving  one  child, — a 
daughter.  On  the  2d  of  April,  1818,  he  was  married  to  Margaret  0., 
daughter  of  Ninian  and  Jane  (Armstrong)  Steel,  who  died  October  4,  1847, 
having  been  the  mother  of  eleven  children, — six  sons  and  five  daughters. 
Of  the  sons,  one  died  in  bis  seventeenth  year,  while  prosecuting  a  course  of 
study  preparatory  to  the  ministry,  one  is  now  (1853)  a  minister  in  Colum- 
bus, 0.,  and  one  is  in  a  course  of  preparation  for  professional  life. 

FROM  THE  REY.  HENRY  LITTLE. 

Madison,  Ind.,  March  18, 1857> 
Dear  Sir :  I  rejoice  that  you  intend  to  include  in  your  work  commemorative 
of  American  clergymen,  a  notice  of  Father  Dickey;  for  he  was  a  rare  pattern  of 
Christian  excellence  and  usefulness.  For  many  a  year  he  was  my  father, 
brother,  counsellor,  and  fellow-labourer;  and  I  have  most  agreeable  recollections 
of  him. 

It  might  be  said  of  him  as  of  another  John,  who  introduced  the  Saviour  to 
Israel — **  The  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness.**  The  first  time  since  the 
great  flood  that  three  Presbyterian  ministers  met  in  Indiana,  he  was  both  the 
John  of  "the  wilderness,'*  and  "  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved*'  among  them. 
He  was  present  and  helped  build  the  first  Presbyterian  meeting  house  in  the 
State.  It  was  made  of  logs  twenty  feet  square,  with  a  floor  of  split  logs,  dressed 
a  little;  with  the  flat  side  upward;  and  he  said  the  occasion  called  forth  much 
warmer  expressions  of  interest  and  joy  than  a  splendid  church  edifice  does  now 
from  a  city  congregation.  He  often  travelled  a  hundred  miles  by  some  "  Indian 
blazed  road,**  to  meet  a  dozen  or  half  a  dozen  Christians,  and  administer  the 
Lord's  Supper,  and  preach  to  such  a  promiscuous  congregation  as  might  assemble; 
and  for  a  ten  days'  hard  labour  in  this  way,  he  would  not  receive  compensation 
enough  to  pay  bis  ferriage  across  some  stream  in  his  route. 

Father  Dickey  was  poor.  When  he  crossed  the  Ohio  River  with  his  wife,  on 
his  way  to  this  new  field,  all  their  books,  clothing,  bedding,  &c.,  were  packed 


518  PRESBTTEBIAN. 

upon  their  two  horses;  and  it  was  not  enough  to  discommode  their  riding,  or 
add  very  perceptibly  to  the  burden  of  their  steeds.  The  first  winter  they  Hvc«l 
in  a  partially  finished  log-cabin,  with  only  one  room,  and  often  found  it  difficult 
to  obtain  bread  enough,  even  of  the  coarsest  kind,  to  supply  their  table.  When 
I  first  visited  him,  in  1830,  his  whole  salary  was  only  a  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars,—two-thirds  of  which  were  paid  in  produce;  and  during  the  first  twelve 
years  of  his  ministry,  he  received  only  eighty  dollars  per  annum  in  all. 

He  was  a  remarkably  unassuming  and  modest  man.  He  never  did  any  thing 
merely  to  attract  attention — never  thrust  himself  forward  where  his  presence 
and  his  services  were  not  desired  or  needed ;  while  yet  no  man  was  more  ready 
than  he  to  sacrifice  all  personal  considerations,  and  go  forward  to  any  duty  which 
he  believed  his  Master  required  of  him.  The  maxim  that  controlled  all  his  con- 
duct was,  to  find  out  what  the  Lord  would  have  him  to  do,  and  then  do  it. 
With  a  thoughtful  regard  to  circomstanoes  he  united  the  utmost  diligence  and 
perseverance. 

He  had  an  instinctive  dislike  of  controversy;  and  whenever  he  differed  from  a 
brother,  every  one  felt  that  he  w^as  constrained  to  do  so  by  a  deep  sense  of  duty. 
Such  was  his  reputation  for  integrity,  piety,  common  sense,  and  sound  judgment » 
that  when  he  arose  to  speak,  either  in  the  pulpit  or  in  an  ecclesiastical  meeting, 
his  proposition  was  half  proved  as  soon  as  he  had  stated  it. 

He  once  resolved  on  leaving  his  people,  because,  though  able,  they  did  not 
support  him;  and  he  actually  preached  his  Farewell  Sermon.  He  told  them 
that  all  the  time  he  had  been  their  minister,  he  had  faithfully  declared  the  whole 
counsel  of  God  to  them,  except  when  he  came  to  such  texts  as  these — **  The 
labourer  is  worthy  of  his  hire  " — **  So  then  God  hath  ordained  that  they  that 
preach  the  Gospel  shall  live  of  the  Gospel" — *'  These,"  said  he,  '*  from  false 
delicacy,  1  have  passed  over  too  lightly;  and  as  I  have  failed  to  preach,— as  was 
natural, — you  have  failed  to  practise;  and,  as  a  consequenoe,  I  have  been  obliged 
to  turn  aside  from  my  work  to  support  my  family,  and  have  been  by  no  means 
the  minister  I  should  otherwise  have  been ;  and  you  in  turn  have  suffered  in  the 
character  and  the  amount  of  both  preaching  and  pastoral  labour.  Now  you 
have  acquired  such  habits  in  reference  to  my  support,  that  you  cannot  change, 
and  raise  what  would  be  an  adequate  salary;  but  let  me  go,  and  then  call 
another  minister,  and  support  him,  as  these  neglected  texts  teach;  and  both  ha 
and  you  may  be  abundantly  prospered."  Here  he  proceeded  to  expound  some 
of  {hese  texts,  in  doing  which  he  told  them  some  plain  truths;  But  no  one  was 
offended  by  his  honest  dealing,  and  before  the  next  Sabbath,  four  hundred 
dollars  were  subscribed  for  him, — the  consequence  of  which  was  that  he 
continued  their  pastor  till  age  and  infirmity  made  him  think  it  his  duty  to  resign 
his  charge. 

But  Father  Dickey  had  another  characteristic  which  one  would  scarcely  look 
for  in  such  a  pioneer — he  had  an  uncommonly  inquiring  mind,  and  was  always 
thinking  and  studying.  .  He  studied  and  wrote  by  fire-light,  when  he  was  too 
poor  to  purchase  candles.  He  acquired  the  habit  of  studying  on  horseback,  and 
sometimes  did  it  with  such  entire  abstraction  as  to  forget  to  guide  his  horse,  or 
take  care  of  the  articles  he  was  carrying.  It  is  presumed  that  a  brother  minis- 
ter seldom  spent  a  night  with  him,  or  rode  with  him  a  day  towards  a  meeting  of 
Presbytery  or  Synod,  who  did  not  find  his  mind  waked  up  in  the  investigation 
of  some  doctrine,  or  duty,  or  plan  for  advancing  the  best  interests  of  mankind. 
No  man  whose  early  education  was  so  limited,  and  whose  means  of  support  were 
so  small,  could  act  as  a  pioneer  for  forty  years,  and  be  looked  up  to  with  such 
respect  and  esteem  by  ministers  who  had  been  the  whole  round  of  the  best 
schools,  who  did  not  think  and  study. 

We  miss  Father  Dickey  every  where.  In  regard  to  the  early  history  of  Pres- 
byterianism  in  Indiana,  he  was  a  sort  of  Gazetteer  or  book  of  reference,  from 


JOHN  MoBLSOY  DICKEY.  gJ9 

which  we  had  rarely,  if  ever,  any  oocasion  to  appeal;  and  we  miss  him 
greatly  in  this  respect.  So  too  we  miss  him  especially  at  meetings  of  Synod  and 
Presbytery,  where  he  was  always  present  with  his  elder, — ^sometimes  constrain- 
ing us  to  remain  an  extra  day  or  two  for  our  spiritual  good.  He  made  no  set 
speeches;  but  his  knowledge  of  Presbyterial  rules  and  precedents,  with  his  good 
sense  and  sound  judgment,  gave  him  a  controlling  influence  in  these  Bodies. 

There  has  been  no  eloquent  eulogy  spoken,  or  costly  monument  erected,  over 
his  grave;  but  if  we  had  moral  scales  that  could  graduate  accurately  real  worth 
and  esteem,  it  would  be  hard  to  find  a  man  in  all  this  region,  who  would  weigh 
down  this  worthy  father  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Indiana. 

With  sincere  affection  and  esteem,  yours, 

HENRY  LITTLE. 

FROM  THE  REV.  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

Bbookltn,  December  16, 1855. 

Dear  Sir:  You  ask  me  for  a  short  account  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dickey.    I  cheer- 
fully give  you  what  occurs  to  my  memory;  but  you  will  please  to  recollect  that 
tDj  associations  with  Father  Dickey  were  during  my  earliest  years  in  the  minis- 
.  try,  and  that  I  looked  up  to  him  with  a  youthful  reverence,  which  may  have 
coloured  my  impressions  higher  than  sober  truth  would  warrant. 

I  met  him  first  in  Presbytery — I  well  remember  that  the  impression  of  his 
goodness,  derived  from  others,  was  heightened  in  me  by  the  first  day's  observa- 
tion. He  was  tall,  of  a  spare  form,  full  six  feet  high,  though  from  a  stooping 
habit  he  seemed  less.  His  face  was  pale,  his  features  strong,  his  eye  clear  and 
piercing,  and  yet  very  calm  and  peaceful.  No  man  could  be  with  htm  for  a  day, 
and  not  feel  the  gentleness  and  humility  which  characterized  his  whole  conduct. 
And  yet  there  was  that  in  his  bearing  which  told  you  that  these  lovely  qualities 
were  the  offspring  of  grace  and  not  nature.  Indeed  I  had  an  impression  that  he 
was  a  man  naturally  of  a  very  quick  temper,  very  proud,  fearless  and  firm. 
These  qualities  had  been  transformed  and  overlaid  by  a  gentleness  which  was 
all  the  more  attractive,  for  the  ground  upon  which  it  rested. 

I  was  never  with  one  whose  whole  flow  of  feeling  savoured  so  much  of 
Heaven.  My  first  intercourse  with  him  was  at  the  close  of  a  Synod,  which 
was  held  in  the  church  where  I  then  preached.  Three  of  us  stood  upon  the 
porch  after  the  Synod  had  adjourned  and  the  brethren  gone  home,  conferring 
together  upon  the  question  which  Father  Dickey  had  proposed,  namely, — How 
shall  we  make  our  ecclesiastical  meetings  more  devotional  and  profitable  to  our 
own  piety  .^  We  agreed  together  that  we  would,  after  the  adjournment  of 
Synod,  spend  a  full  day  together,  in  prayer  and  conference.  The  spirit  of  this 
movement  at  length  so  embosomed  the  whole  Synod  that,  after  one  or  two  years, 
the  whole  Synodical  Session  was  but  a  revival  meeting,  and  I  have  never  known 
any  where  else  such  religious  meetings  as  I  enjoyed  in  the  annual  meetings  of  the 
Synod  of  Indiana. 

On  all  public  occasions  on  which  I  saw  Father  Dickey,  his  bearing  was  singu- 
larly dignified  and  modest.  He  spoke  freely  upon  all  topics  which  required  dis- 
cussion, but  he  seldom  spoke  more  than  once.  Then,  it  was  simple,  direct  and 
honest.  However  much  his  views  might  be  controverted,  I  do  not  recollect  ever 
to  have  heard  him  rejoin,  or  defend  himself.  I  was  very  much  struck  always 
with  this  quietness  and  reserve.  Although  he  was  the  oldest  man  in  our  Body 
I  believe,  he  suffered  contradiction  from  the  most  youthful  with  the  utmost 
placidity.  If  he  had  been  timid,  we  should  have  thought  less  of  it;  but  all 
knew  that  he  was  bold,  fearless,  and  personally,  very  independent.  And  this 
repo$e  of  strength  and  experience  was  very  noticeable. 


520  PlifiSBTTERIAN. 

He  always  prayed  with  maoifest  emotion » and  often  was  obliged  to  pause, 
overcome  by  ^ling«  I  always  felt  as  though  God  wen  not  fiir  from  us,  while  he 
prayed.  His  address,  though  profoundly  reverential,  was  yet  that  of  one  who 
had  a  sacred  familiarity  with  the  Throne  of  Grace.  He  impressed  every  one 
with  the  conviction  that  his  life  was  hid  with  Christ.  We  all  knew  that  he  had 
suffered  long  and  severely  in  the  hardships  belonging  to  those  who  preach  the 
Gospel  among  pioneer  settlements.  We  knew  that  he  had  chosen  to  suffer  among 
the  people  of  his  adoption,  rather  than  to  increase  his  comforts  and  conveniencies 
by  removing  from  them. 

In  conclusion,  I  look  back  upon  Mr.  Dickey,  as  a  man  of  great  pride  of  char- 
acter and  native  force;  clothed  with  humility  and  love  by  the  power  of  God; 
living,  for  scores  of  years,  amid  hardships  and  sufferings,  with  patience  and 
equanimity;  not  insensible  to  worldly  enjoyments,  it  was  evident  that  his 
thoughts  and  affections  were  above,  where  Christ  sitteth;  simple,  truthful, 
direct,  frank,  genial,  affectionate,  his  presence  always  brought  light  to  every 
circle,  without  levity;  a  holy  example,  without  ostentation  or  formality;  a  truly 
pious  'Conversation  without  the  slightest  intrusion  upon  the  naturalness  of 
social  intercourse.  He  was  not  a  man  whose  strength  lay  in  the  power  of 
reason  or  of  learning,  but  in  the  power  of  a  great  heart  filled  with  heavenly 
love. 

I  am  very  truly  yours, 

H.  W.  BEECHER. 


-♦♦- 


RICHARD  B.  CATER,  D.  D  * 

1814— 1850. 

B.IGHABD  B.  Cater  was  bom  in  Beaufort  District,  S.  C,  in  Decem- 
ber, 1791.  His  mother  dying  when  he  was  eleven  years  old,  Und  his  father 
when  he  was  twelve, — he  was  left  to  the  guardianship  of  his  maternal  uncle. 
General  McPherson,  of  Charleston,  S.  C,  who  bestowed  upon  him  the  most 
vigilant  and  faithful  care,  but  was  himself  Eoon  after  lost  at  sea.  When  he 
was  in  his  sixteenth  year, — his  uncle  having  now  deceased, — he  was  placed 
at  Willington,  S.  C,  under  the  tutelage  and  instruction  of  that  accom- 
plished educator  of  youth,  and  eminently  useful  roan,  —  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Moses  Waddel.  Here  his  mind  was  trained  and  disciplined  in  a  very 
careful  and  thorough  manner.  Naturally  of  a  buoyant  and  impulsive  turn, 
and  eminently  social  in  his  feelings,  he  was  now  placed  in  circumstances  of 
no  small  peril ;  and  he  used  often,  at  a  later  period  of  his  life,  to  express 
with  deep  emotion  his  gratitude  to  the  Father  of  the  fatherless,  for  having 
upheld  and  preserved  him  amid  all  the  ensnaring  influences  to  which  he  was 
exposed.  A  short  time  before  completing  his  literary  and  scientific  course 
under  Dr.  Waddel,  he  became  deeply  interested  in  the  subject  of  religion, 
and  gave  evidence  of  having  experienced  a  radical  change  of  character. 
He  resolved  now,  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  some  of  his  near  relatives  and 
friends,  to  devote  himself  to  the  service  of  God  in  the  ministry  of  recon- 
ciliation.    To  this  great  work  he  addressed  himself  with  all  the  energies  of 

•MSS.  from  bis  family,  Rer.  Dr.  Chapman,  Rev.  E.  T.  Bnlst,  Ber.  T.  L.  HoBiyde^  aod 
Rov.  A.  A.  Porter. 


BXOHABD  B.  CATSR.  521 

his  mind  and  heart ;  and  he  never  relaxed,  never  grew  weary,  in  the  fulfil- 
ment  of  his  purpose,  till  he  was  called  to  lay  aside  his  armour  and  receive 
the  crown.  He  prosecuted  his  theological  studies  under  the  direction  of 
the  same  venerable  man  who  had  conducted  the  preceding  part  of  his  edu- 
cation; and,  on  the  4th  of  April,  1814,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel 
by  the  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina. 

Mr.  Cater,  for  many  years  after  he  entered  the  ministry,  was  occupied  in 
preaching  at  various  points  in  his  native  State, — ^particularly  in  Abbeville 
District ;  but  I  have  found  it  impossible  to  trace  him  throughout  his  whole 
course.  In  the  autumn  of  1831,  htf  went  to  Q-reenville,  S.  C,  to  take 
charge  of  a  Female  Academy.  There  was,  at  that  time,  no  Presbyterian 
Church  in  the  place,  but  he  preached  on  the  Sabbath,  in  his  School  room, 
and  frequently  also  to  churches  of  other  denominations ;  and  he  was  not 
only  highly  acceptable  as  a  preacher,  but  was  regarded  as  a  man  of  extra- 
ordinary seal  and  energy.  He  remained  here,  however,  not  much  more 
than  a  year;  for  in  November,  1832,  he  commenced  preaching  in  Hopewell 
Church,  Pendleton,  S.  C, — where  he  continued  to  exercise  his  ministry, 
with  great  acceptance,  for  three  years, — though  he  officiated  only  as  a  stated 
Bnpply.  He  removed  from  this  place  in  December,  1835,  and  took  charge 
of  the  Church  in  Talladega,  Ala.  On  the  28th  of  September,  1837,  he 
transferred  his  relation  from  the  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina  to  that  of 
South  Alabama.  He  laboured  at  Talladega  with  his  accustomed  efficiency 
and  fidelity,  until  1840,  when  he  removed  to  Church  Hill,  Lowndes  County, 
Ala.,  having  received  and  accepted  a  call  from  the  Church  in  that  place,  in 
connection  with  another  Church,  at  Lowndesborough.  In  the  year  1845, 
lie  commenced  preaching  to  the  Congregation  at  Selma,  Ala.,  as  a  stated 
supply — on  the  29th  of  September,  1847,  he  received  and  accepted  a  call 
to  become  their  Pastor ;  and  his  installation  by  the  South  Alabama  Pres- 
bytery took  place  on  the  8d  of  February,  1848.  In  1847,  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Oglethorpe  University,  Ga. 
He  died  on  the  24th  of  November,  1850,  in  the  fifty-ninth  year  of  his  age, 
and  the  thirty- seventh  of  his  ministry. 

The  circumstances  of  Dr.  Cater 's  death  were  peculiarly  affecting.  There 
had  commenced  an  unusual  attention  to  religion  in  his  Congregation,  and 
public  religious  services  had  been  held  for  several  days  successively.  While 
he  was  thus  abounding  in  labours,  and  cheered  by  manifest  tokens  of  the 
Holy  Spirit's  presence,  he  was  called  to  the  death-bed  of  a  much  loved  and 
honoured  minister, — the  Rev.  Junius. B.  Eling.*  He  obeyed  the  call,  wit- 
nessed his  brother's  triumphant  departure,  closed  his  eyes,  and  returned  to 
his  people  who  were  assembled  in  the  sanctuary,  to  tell  them  "  how  sweet 
it  is  to  die  on  the  walls  of  Zion,  with  work  well  and  early  done;"  while  he 
nrged  the  event,  with  great  pathos  and  power,  as  an  argument  for  imme- 
diate preparation  for  death.  The  next  day,  he  went  to  preside  at  the  funeral 
service  of  his  lamented  friend,  and,  while  standing  beside  the  grave, 
remarked  that  he  had  just  handed  his  brother  across  the  Jordan  of  death, 
and  he  felt  that  he  must  soon  follow  him.     From  the  Funeral  he  went  to 

*  Jdviuh  Batard  Kiso  wbb  born  in  North  Cftrolina,  in  the  Tear  1810;  wm  gradoated  at  the 
Univereitj  of  North  Corolina^  in  1833 ;  studied  Theology  at  the  Union  Theoloffical  Scminaiy^ 
Va. ;  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Concord ;  wu  ordained  and  installed  Pastor 
of  the  Valley  Creek  Charoh,  Ala.,  October  21,  1838;  and  died  of  oholera,  after  an  eminently 
jeToted  and  useful  ministry,  on  Uie  22d  of  Norember,  1850.  Ho  wm  a  fitithfUl  and  sealoot 
minister,  and  bis  death  was  deeply  lamented. 

Vol.  IV.  CG 


522  PBESBYTEBIAN. 

visit  a  vacant  chureh,  (Mount  Ploaaaiit,)  some  eight  or  sine  miles  distant, 
where  he  had  engaged  to  preach  the  next  day,  which  was  the  Sabhath.  The 
next  day  found  him  at  his  post ;  but  the  same  terrible  disease  to  which  his 
friend  had  fallen  a  victim,  was  upon  him,  and  so  rapid  was  its  progress 
that,  before  the  going  down  of  the  sun,  it  had  given  to  the  remark  which 
he  made  the  day  before,  at  the  grave,  the  character  of  a  fulfilled  prophecy. 
With  his  last  breath  he  whispered — **Pray,  pray!  Praise,  praise!"  He 
was  buried  on  Monday,  on  the  same  spot  on  which  he  had  stood  the 
Saturday  before,  to  deliver  the  Funeral  Address  already  referred  to. 

Dr.  Cater  published  several  occasional  Sermons  and  Addresses,  among 
which  were  two  Discourses  on  Baptism  and  one  on  Temperance. 

He  was  first  married,  in  1818,  to  Louisa  M.  Wrench  of  Abbeville  Dis- 
trict, S.  C.  She  died  at  his  residence,  about  five  miles  from  Abbeville 
Court  House,  in  1823.  He  was  married  a  second  time  in  1827,  to  Jemima 
M.,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Younge,  of  Winnsborough,  S.  C.  The 
children  by  the  first  marriage  all  died  previous  to  the  death  of  their  father — 
five,  by  the  second  marriage,  survived  him. 


FROM  THE  REV.  R.  H.  CHAPMAN,  D.  D. 

AsHBYXLLE,  N.  C,  April  10, 1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  cannot  decline  your  request  for  some  brief  reminiscences 
of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Cater;  for  as  he  had  a  very  high  place  in  my  regard,  so  I 
consider  it  a  privilege  to  render  any  aid  in  my  power  to  honour  and  perpetuate 
his  memory.  I  knew  him  well  and  long.  lie  was  my  Pastor  for  several  years. 
I  was  first  a  private  member  of  his  church,  and  afterwards  became  a  ruling  elder 
during  his  pastorate,  and  he  was  not  without  influence  in  leading  me  to  abandon 
the  legal  profession,  and  devote  myself  to  the  Christian  ministry.  Simulta- 
neously with  my  licensure  to  preach  the  Gospel,  he  removed  from  Talladega, 
Ala.,  to  another  field  of  labour,  and  I  became  his  successor.  He  m^ed  some- 
times to  express  his  idea  of  the  relation  we  sustained  to  each  other  by  referring 
pleasantly  to  that  which  existed  between  Paul  and  Timothy. 

Dr.  Cater  was  naturally  constituted  to  be  a  man  of  mark.  He  was  of  rather 
low  stature,  but  compactly  built,  with  a  highly  expressive  countenance,  and  an 
eye  uncommonly  intellectual  and  piercing.  His  mind  was  cast  in  a  superior 
mould,  and  its  faculties  had  been  trained  and  developed  under  a  course  of  skilful 
and  careful  culture.  And  he  was  not  more  distinguished  in  his  intellectual  than 
his  moral  constitution.  His  feelings  were  excitable,  his  sympathies  warm  and 
gushing,  his  impulses  generous  and  noble;  and  with  these  characteristics  vas 
combined  an  energy  that  never  slumbered  and  never  faltered  under  any  circuni' 
stances.  Religion  with  him  was  a  deep  and  all-pervading  principle — it  seized 
upon  and  developed  all  his  naturally  strong  points  of  character,  moulding  them 
for  high  and  holy  purposes.  His  manners  were  polished,  and  his  whole  bearing 
dignified,  and  often  commanding.  Indeed,  with  the  accomplished  Christian 
gentleman,  he  united  those  higher  qualities  that  would  have  made  him,  if  the 
necessity  had  existed,  a  willing  Christian  martyr.  I  can  recall  instances  that 
have  come  within  my  knowledge  or  observation,  in  which  he  has  marched  boldly 
forward  in  the  discharge  of  duty,  breasting  difficulties,  which,  to  minds  of  a  less 
determined  and  heroic  mould,  would  have  seemed  insurmountable. 

As  a  preacher,  Dr.  Cater  was  what  might  be  expected  from  the  intellectual, 
moral  and  Christian  character,  which  I  have  ascribed  to  him.  It  was  manifest 
to  all  that  his  heart  went  forth  in  all  his  solemn  utterances,  and  that  his  great 
object  was  to  persuade  sinners  to  be  reconciled  to  God,  and  to  build  up  Christiaifl 


BIGHABD  B.  CATEB.  523 

in  the  most  holy  faith.  He  was  greatly  honoured  of  the  Head  of  the  Church, 
especially  in  gathering  the  dispersed  of  Zion,  and  in  assisting  and  strengthening 
them  to  huild  houses  for  public  worship.  I  have  myself  heard  him  say  that  he 
had  been  instrumental  in  the  erection  of  no  less  than  twelve  substantial  church 
edifices. 

Dr.  Cater  was  peculiarly  devoted,  in  his  ministrations,  to  the  spiritual  welfare 
of  the  poor  slaves.  Many  of  this  class  were,  through  his  faithful  labours,  in  a 
judgment  of  charity,  delivered  from  the  thraldom  of  Satan,  and  made  free  men 
in  Christ.  In  his  ability  to  reach  the  minds  and  the  hearts  of  this  class  of  peo- 
ple, I  think  he  exceeded  all  the  preachers  whom  I  have  ever  known.  He  could 
enchain  their  attention,  and  move  upon  their  affections,  with  equal  ease;  and,  as 
he  stood  proclaiming,  by  the  hour,  with  the  most  charming  simplicity,  and  yet 
the  most  intense  earnestness,  the  precious  truths  of  the  Gospel,  you  might  mark 
the  effect  of  his  message,  often,  in  the  flowing  tears,  and  smothered  sobs,  of  the* 
sable  multitude  who  sat  around  him.  I  think  he  delighted  in  this  part  of  his 
work  above  any  other — neither  heat  nor  cold,  neither  bodily  exhaustion  nor  even 
ill  health,  provided  it  did  not  absolutely  confine  him,  could  keep  him  from  it. 
I  doubt  not  that  many  sons  and  daughters  of  Ethiopia  have  already  recognised 
him  in  Heaven  as  the  instrument  of  their  salvation. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  Dr.  Cater's  efficiency  as  a  minister  was  somewhat 
diminished  by  the  necessity  that  was  laid  upon  him,  in  order  to  meet  the  claims 
of  a  family,  to  devote  a  portion  of  his  time  to  the  business  of  teaching.  Though 
he  received  by  inheritance  considerable  property,  yet,  amidst  his  varied  and  self- 
denying  duties,  and  with  his  ill-requited  seryices  as  a  Christian  minister,  it  was 
nearly  or  quite  exhausted;  and  it  was  then,  and  not  till  then,  that  he  consented 
to  divide  his  labours  between  the  chui-ch  and  the  school-roo^.  His  attainments 
as  a  scholar  were  highly  respectable,  and  his  efforts  as  a  teacher  not  without  a 
good  measure  of  success;  but  he  felt  that  his  great  work  was  that  of  a  minister 
of  the  Gospel,  and  deeply  regretted  the  necessity  of  being  obliged  even  tempo- 
rarily to  engage  in  another  calling,  however  important  and  useful. 

Dr.  Cater  has  left  a  large  circle  of  friends,  both  in  South  Carolina  and  in 
Alabama,  to  lament  his  loss.  Wherever  he  lived  and  laboured,  there  are  many 
ready  to  witness  to  the  excellence  of  his  character,  and  the  fidelity  and  efficiency 
of  his  ministrations. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  with  great  regard, 

Very  truly  yours, 

B.  H.  CHAPMAN. 


524  PRESBTTERIAK. 

BENXA.MIN  FRANKLIN  STANTON  * 

1815—1843. 

Benjamin  Franklin  Stanton,  a  son  of  Nathan  and  Anna  Stanton, 
was  born  at  Stonington,  Conn.,  February  12,  1789.  When  he  was  fiire 
years  old,  his  father,  who  was  a  respectable  farmer,  removed  with  his  family 
to  Florida,  Montgomery  County,  N.  Y.;  and  here  this  son  spent  several  of 
his  early  years,  chiefly  in  attending  school.  In  due  time  he  entered  Union 
College,  where  he  graduated,  an  excellent  scholar,  in  1811.  On  leaving 
College,  he  commenced  the  study  of  Law  at  Johnstown,  N.  Y.,  under  the 
Hon.  Daniel  Cady, — ^intending  to  make  that  his  profession ;  but,  in  conse- 
quence of  a  change  in  his  views  and  feelings  on  the  subject  of  religion,  he 
resolved  to  direct  his  attention  to  the  ministry.  He  accordingly  repaired 
to  the  private  seminary  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Banks,  a  distinguished  Hebrew 
scholar,  and  spent  some  months  under  his  instruction.  Late  in  1812,  he 
commenced  hb  regular  course  of  theological  study  in  the  Semioary  at 
Princeton,  and  was  licensed  to  preach  by  ihe  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick, 
at  Trenton,  in  April,  1815. 

Having  spent  a  short  time  in  missionary  labour  in  the  Western  part  of 
the  State  of  New  York,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Hudson,  then  vacant  by  the  removal  of  the  Rev.  John  Chester  to  Albany, 
and  was  ordained  and  installed  as  its  Pastor,  by  the  Presbytery  of  Colum- 
bia, November  12,  1816.  Here  he  continued  a  highly  respectable  and  use- 
ful preacher  and  pastor  about  nine  years, — during  which  time  a  hundred  and 
eighty-one  were  added  to  his  church  upon  a  profession  of  their  faith.  There 
were  two  revivals  under  his  ministry  here, — one  in  1817,  and  a  yet  more 
extensive  and  powerful  one  in  1820-21.  He  resigned  his  charge,  on  account 
of  ill  health,  on  the  20th  of  April,  1824. 

After  leaving  Hudson,  he  spent  eighteen  months  in  travelling  in  the 
Southern  States  for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  Not  long  after  his  return,  in 
1825,  he  became  Pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in  Bcthlem,  Conn. 
In  1829,  owing  to  continued  and  increasing  ill  health,  he  again  resigned  his 
pastoral  charge.  After  this,  he  supplied  Dr.  Wilson's  pulpit  in  Philadel- 
phia for  some  time,  and  then  went  to  Bridgeport,  Conn.,  where  he  preached 
as  a  stated  supply  for  a  few  months.  While  there,  he  received  a  call  from 
the  Church  which  he  was  supplying,  and  about  the  same  time,  another  from 
the  Hanover  Church,  Prince  Edward  County,  Va.;  and  the  state  of  his 
health  decided  him  in  favour  of  the  latter.  He  accordingly  removed  to 
Virginia  in  May,  1829,  and  preached  to  the  Hanover  Church, — acting  most 
of  the  time  as  its  Pastor, — until  the  year  1842.  After  the  death  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  John  H.  Rice,  Professor  in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  he 
delivered  a  course  of  Lectures  on  Theology  to  the  students  of  the  Seminary, 
in  Dr.  Rice's  place;  and  afterwards,  during  a  vacancy  in  the  Presidency  of 
Hampden  Sidney  College,  occasioned  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Cushing.t  he  deliv- 
ered Lectures  to  the  Senior  class  in  the  College. 

•  MSS.  from  his  family,  Rer.  H.  R.  Weed,  D.  D.,  and  Rer.  M.  6.  Goodale,  D.  D.— Preface 
to  hit  Sermons. 

t  JoNATHAif  Pbtbr  Cubhino  was  bora  at  Rooheeter,  N*  H.,  March  12,  1793;. was  fitted  for 
College  at  the  Exeter  Phillipe  Aoademy;  entered  Jonior  at  Dartmouth  in  1815,  and  graduated 
in  1817 ;  went  to  Virginia  and  became  connected  with  Hampden  Sidney  College,  first  as  a  Tutor, 
then  as  a  Professor,  and,  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Hoge  in  1820,  as  President-~in  which  office  he  oon- 
tinued  till  the  dose  of  his  life^  April  25, 1835.    He  adorned  oreiy  relation  whieh  ho  lustaiiied. 


BENJAMIK  FRAKKLIK  STANTON.  525 

In  1842,  lie  received  a  call  to  the  Presbyterian  Ghnroh  at  Tnscaloosa, 
Ala.,  which,  however,  he  did  not  accept,  though  he  preached  there  seven 
months  as  a  supply.  He  then  returned  to  the  North,  and  died  at  the  house 
of  his  brother-in  law,  Mr.  Robert  Gere,  in  Syracuse,  N.  Y.,  on  the  18th* of 
November,  1843.  His  disease  was  pulmonary  consumption  terminating  in 
^dropsy.  Though  very  feeble,  he  walked  about  the  house,  until  he  was 
seized  with  a  violent  paroxysm  of  pain,  that  terminated  his  life  in  about  an 
hour.  He  was  perfectly  aware  of  his  situation,  and  gave  his  parting  bless- 
ing to  the  friends  who  were  around  him. 

Mr.  Stanton  published  a  Sermon  entitled  *'The  Apostolic  Commission," 
delivered  at  the  ordination  of  Daniel  L.  Carroll,  at  Litchfield,  Conn.,  1827 ; 
and  a  Sermon  on  the  National  Fast  occasioned  by  the  death  of  General 
Harrison,  1841.  In  1848,  a  selection  from  his  manuscript  Sermons  was 
published,  in  a  duodecimo  volume,  with  a  Preface  by  the  Rev.  P.  D.  Oakey, 
containing  brief  notices  of  his  life. 

In  1815,  Mr.  Stanton  was  married  to  Martha  B.  Rodgers  of  Schenec- 
tady, N.  Y.  She  died  in  June,  1823,  having  been  the  mother  of  one  son, 
who  did  not  survive  infancy.  Shortly  after  he  went  to  Bethlem,  he  was 
married  a  second  time  to  Charlotte,  daughter  of  Thomas  Jenkins,  of  Hud- 
son, N.  Y.  By  this  marriage  he  had  one  son.  His  widow  was  afterwards 
married  to,  and  is  now  (1857)  the  wife  of,  the  Rev.  Andrew  Hart,  of  Char- 
lotte Court  House,  Ya. 

FROM  THE  KEY.  HENRY  R.  WEED,  D.  D. 

Whbbling,  Ya.    May  1,  1867. 

Rev.  and  dear  Brother:  My  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  B.  F.  Stanton,  con- 
cerning whom  you  ask  for  my  recollections,  commenced  at  Union  College  in  1809. 
I  was  afterwards,  together  with  Halsey  A.  Wood,*  associated  with  him  for  some 
months  in  the  study  of  Hebrew  under  the  Rev.  Dr.  Banks;  and  at  a  later  period 
still,  we  were  fellow-students  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton;  and 
were  both  licensed  to  preach,  by  the  same  Presbytery,  at  the  same  time.  I 
believe  I  may  safely  say  that  I  had  a  longer  and  more  intimate  acquaintance  with 
him  than  any  man  now  living  can  claim. 

In  College  Mr.  Stanton  stood  high  in  his  class,  was  a  general  favourite  of  the 
students,  and  was  especially  distinguished  as  a  belles-lettres  scholar  and  a  writer. 
This  same  distinction  also  he  retained  while  he  was  a  student  in  the  Theological 
Seminarv. 

He  had  a  vein  of  keen  wit,  which  he  sometimes  brought  into  exercise  with  no 
small  effect.  An  instance  now  occurs  to  me,  pertaining  to  the  period  of  his  reading 
Law;  and  I  will  state  it  as  adapted  to  give  some  idea  of  his  character  at  that 
time.  He  was  in  politics  strongly  opposed  to  the  administration  in  the  war  of 
1812  with  Great  Britain,  and  to  the  antecedent  measures  of  our  government  that 
led  to  it.     The  spirit  of  the  political  parties  at  that  time  ran  very  high.     In  one 

•  Halskt  a.  Wood  wm  bom  September  7, 1793,  in  Ballston,  Saratoga  County,  K.  T.  He 
waa  mdoated  at  Union  CoUese  in  1812,  and  was  a  member  of  the  first  class  that  passed  through 
the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton.  He  was  settled  as  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Chnroh 
in  AmsteitnLm,  in  the  swing  of  1816,  and  died  on  the  26th  of  November,  1825,  in  the  thirtr- 
third  year  of  his  ace.  He  was  a  man  of  fine  personal  bearing,  of  an  eminently  genial  spirit, 
of  a  Tigoroas  and  discriminating  mind,  of  admirable  social  qualities,  and  of  eminent  deroted- 
ness  to  his  work  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel.  He  was  sreatly  blessed  in  his  labours,  as  is 
nrored  by  the  fael  that  he  reeelred  in  a  single  year  a  hundred  and  thirty  to  the  communion  of 
bis  church.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Goodale  who  is  now  (1857)  Pastor  of  the  same  chnroh  of  ^whioh  he 
bad  the  charge,  says  of  him~*<  Though  he  has  now  been  dead  more  than  thirty  years,  he  liree 
in  the  memory  of  thofe  who  enjoyed  hit  minisiry,  with  a  viiidnen  wUeh  shows  that  he  wat 
capable  of  making  a  strong  imprenion." 


520  PRESBYTEBIAX. 

of  the  country  towns  West  of  Schenectady,  a  young  man  of  no  power  of  dis- 
crimtnation,  who  had  been  his  class  mate  in  College,  and  had  reoeiyed  his  degree 
Bpeciali  gratia,  bnt  who  had  snfficient  vanity,  and  withal  a  good  voice,  "  sed  vox 
preterea  nihil,"  was  invited  to  deliver  a  speech  before  a  Democratic  meeting;  and 
knowing  that  Mr.  Stanton  had  sometimes  written  speeches  for  students  in  Col- 
lege, called  on  him  for  aid  to  success  in  the  party  which  he  had  adopted.  Mik 
Stanton,  knowing  that  the  vanity  of  the  young  man  would  secure  him  against  a 
betrayal,  accordingly  wrote  him  a  speech  replete  with  the  keenest  irony  and 
satire  against  the  administration,  and  then,  at  the  appointed  time,  went  into  the 
Democratic  crowd  to  hear  his  young  friend  denounce  his  owfa  principles  and 
party.  All  were  surprised  at  the  ability  of  the  youth,  bnt  chagrined  at  his 
opposition  to  the  cause  which  they  had  brought  him  out  to  defend.  Stanton 
alone  enjoyed  the  occasion,  and  went  home  convulsed  with  laughter  at  the  suc- 
cess of  the  joke. 

In  a  higher  sense  than  Pope  probably  ever  conceived  in  characterizing  his 
**  noblest  work  of  God,"  Mr.  Stanton  was  eminently  a  man  of  truth  and  honesty. 
Always  without  guile,  he  was  unmistakeable  in  his  meaning,  and  uncovered  in  Us 
character.  He  could  not  practise  deceit  or  artifice.  Various  afflictions  and  long 
bodily  sufferings  sometimes  gave  him  an  air  of  moroseness  and  acrimony;  but 
those  acquainted  with  his  inner  life  knew  him  to  be  humble  and  cheerful  in  his 
feelings,  kind  and  benevolent  in  his  dispositions,  and  warm  and  faithful  in  his 
friendships. 

In  seeking  conviction  of  truth  or  duty,  he  was  docile  as  a  child ;  but  once  con- 
vinced, he  was  inflexible  as  granite;  and  had  the  British  statesman  known  his 
like,  he  never  could  have  said  without  exception — "  Every  man  has  his  price.** 
In  his  Theology  he  was  a  very  Calvin;  in  the  fearlessness  of  his  ministrations,  a 
very  Knox.  Salvation  by  grace,  in  the  most  extensive  sense  of  the  phrase,  was 
his  strong  tower,  both  as  a  man  and  a  minister.  Naturally  inclined  to  be  rather 
sarcastic,  his  style  sometimes  seemed  to  have  a  tooth  of  venom,  and  it  stung  like 
an  adder.  In  declaiming  against  sin  in  high  places,  and  against  fashionable 
vices,  he  was  occasionally  facetiously  caustic,  but  oftener  solemn  as  the  judg- 
ment, and  terrible  as  the  retribution.  He  had  no  tolerance  for  brainless  arro- 
gance and  impudent  folly;  and  wo  to  the  wretched  subjects  who  stood  under 
the  scathing  fire  of  his  pulpit  artillery. 

He  was  a  close  thinker,  a  strong  writer,  and  but  for  some  unhappy  intona- 
tions and  modulations  of  voice,  resulting  from  an  enfeebled  state  of  health,  would 
have  been  one  of  the  most  impressive  preachers  in  our  whole  Church.  He  vras 
never  dull,  and  always  secured  the  undivided  attention  of  his  hearers.  His  dis- 
courses were  sometimes  highly  impassioned,  and  often  contained  paragraphs  of 
the  highest  order  of  eloquence.  His  health  was  always  feeble;  and  for  twenty 
years  he  was  dying,  and  knew  that  he  was  dying,  of  consumption.  Still  he 
never  ceased  to  preach,  while  he  had  strength  to  stand  in  the  pulpit.  In  a 
word,  he  was  an  earnest,  faithful^  ''painful,"  and  successful  minister  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

Very  truly  yours, 

H.  R.  WEED. 

PROM  THE  HON.  BENJAMIN  F.  BUTLER,  LL.  D. 

Kbw  York.  May  15, 1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  recollections  of  Rev.  B.  F.  Stanton  relate  only  to  the  early 
part  of  his  ministry. 

I  was  never  one  of  his  parishioners;  but  in  1815  I  heard  him  preach,  in  the 
pulpit  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Neill,  at  Albany,  one  of  his  first  sermons.  I  was  struck 
by  the  simplicity  and  deamess  of  his  style,  and  the  impressive  character  of  his 


BENJAMIS  TRASKLITH  STANTOK.  527 

elocution.  I  next  heard  of  him  as  called  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  in  Undson,  N.  Y.  During  his  eight  or  nine  years  ministry  there> 
I  frequently  visited  that  place,  and  on  such  occasions  commonly  heard  him 
preach.  For  the  first  two  or  three  years  of  this  period,  Mr.  Stanton,  with  hid 
wife,  boarded  in  a  family  with  which  I  became  connected  by  marriage.  While 
he  resided  in  this  family,  I  was  often  brought  into  his  company,  and  had  more 
than  ordinary  opportunities  of  becoming  personally  acquainted  with  him. 

After  he  left  Hudson,  I  seldom  saw  him,  and  heard  him  preach  only  once. 
This  was  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  in  the  pulpit  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Skinner,  in  this 
city.  The  effects  of  the  protracted  disease  of  which  he  soon  afterwards  died, 
were  then  very  apparent  in  his  enfeebled  voice  and  manner,  and  though  his  ser- 
mon was  marked  by  the  methodical  exactness  and  the  weighty  thoughts  of  his 
better  days,  I  was  not  surprised  to  learn  that  few  of  those  before  whom  he  then 
for  the  first  time  appeared, -suspected  that  they  had  been  listening  to  one,  on 
whose  lips  intelligent  congregations  had  often  hung  with  solemn  and  breathless 
interest. 

It  is  only  of  Mr.  Stanton  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  professional  career,  that  I 
am  capable  of  speaking,  and  I  proceed  to  describe  him  to  you,  as  I  then  knew 
bim,  both  as  a  man  and  a  minister. 

His  natural  abilities  were  good,  and  he  laboured  to  improve  them  by  the 
faithful  use  of  all  the  opportunities  of  instruction  which  came  within  his  reach. 
He  was  fond  of  knowledge  in  the  general ;  but,  after  choosing  the  profession  of  a 
clergyman,  he  mode  all  his  studies  tributary  to  his  proficiency  and  usefulness  in 
this  calling,  and  especially  in  that  part  of  it,  which  he  thought  its  chief  busi- 
ness,— the  public  preaching  of  the  Gospel.  This  he  deemed  a  work  of  such  diffi- 
culty and  importance,  as  to  demand  and  deserve  the  entire  consecration  of  his 
highest  powers.  This  sentiment  was  deeply  inwrought  in  his  mind;  it  gave 
direction  and  tone  to  his  whole  character  and  history.  So  to  preach  Christ 
crocified  as  to  bring  men  to  repent  and  believe  the  Gospel,  he  thought  the  noblest 
and  most  arduous  of  all  employments;  and  he  therefore  gave  to  it  his  whole 
heart  and  intellect.  He  was  not  merely  a  diligent  student  of  the  Scriptures  and 
of  Systematic  Theology,  but  of  the  laws  of  the  human  mind  and  the  principles 
of  rhetoric  and  elocution,  as  connected  with  the  art  of  preaching. 

I  mention  as  illustrative  of  his  carefulness  as  a  student,  that,  on  one  occasion, 
when  conversing  .with  him  on  some  topic  connected  with  the  evidences  of  Chris- 
tianity, he  referred  to  Lord  Littleton's  "Observations  on  the  conversion  and 
apostleship  of  St.  Paul  **  as  what  had  seemed  to  him  a  well  reasoned  and 
unanswerable  argument,  from  a  single  and  comparatively  minor  point  of  tiew, 
in  defence  of  the  Christian  Revelation.  On  learning  that  I  had  not  seen  the  work, 
and  after  saying  that  it  was  not  in  his  collection,  he  read  to  me,  from  a  manu- 
script note  book,  *kept  by  him  when  in  the  Theological  Seminaiy,  a  very  fhll 
analysis  of  the  propositions  advanced  by  the  writer,  and  of  the  reasoning  by 
which  they  were  maintained. 

Mr.  Stanton's  temper  wss  uniformly  serious.  In  his  mannera  he  was  always 
grave,  and  except  with  persons  well  known  to  him,  reserved  and  taciturn. 
With  such  persons  he  conversed  freely  and  with  cheerfulness;  but  though  he 
knew  how  **  to  answer  every  man,"  and  often  seasoned  his  speech  with 
''salt," — attic  as  well  as  apostolic — he  was  generally  sparing — ^too  sparing,  as 
his  friends  often  thought— of  his  words,  and  never  allowed  himself  to  take  part 
in,  still  less  to  encourage,  frivolous  discourse.  He  held,  and  very  strictly  too, 
with  the  great  Apostle,  that  foolish  talking  and  Jesting  were  not  ''convenient" 
in  any  disciple  of  Christ — least  of  all  in  one  of  his  ministere. 

His  views  of  his  profession  and  the  course  of  study  to  which  they  led,  along 
with  the  practice  of  committing  his  sermons  to  memory,  after  firet  writing  them 
out  at  large — ^a  practice  which  he  followed  until  near  the  end  of  his  residence 


528  PBESBYTERIAir. 

in  Hudson,  when  his  failing  health  compelled  htm  to  ahandon  it — necessarily 
induced,  and  soon  confirmed  him  in,  a  Tery  retired  way  of  life.  His  ability  and 
SQOcess  as  a  preacher  were  promoted  by  his  studious  and  contemplatire  habits; 
but  they  allowed  him  little  time  for  mingling  in  general  society,  and  they  hindered 
the  cultivation,  and,  perhaps,  to  himself  as  well  as  to  others,  lessened  the  use- 
fulness of  his  social  powers. 

The  natural  seriousness  of  his  temper  and  manners  was,  doubtless,  somewhat 
increased  by  the  infirm  condition  of  his  health,  and  by  his  habits  of  sechision. 
But  it  was  owing,  in  a  still  greater  measure,  to  his  solemn  views  of  human  life  and 
of  his  own  personal  and  professional  responsibilities  and  duties.  He  was,  how- 
eyer,  entirely  firee  from  any  affected  stiffness  or  precision;  his  sobriety  was  the 
simple  expression  of  his  real  feelings;  and  it  was  adorned  by  such  meekness  and 
courtesy,  as  to  inspire  all  who  knew  him  with  rcTerence  and  esteem  for  himself 
and  for  his  office.  It  should  be  added  that  he  was  one  of  the  roost  modest  and 
unambitious  of  men.  His  ideal  of  the  Christian  and  of  the  Minister  of  the  Gospel 
was  a  very  high  one;  and  he  therefore  held  in  very  moderate  esteem  his  own 
gifts  and  attainments, — ^had  a  great  aversion  to  notoriety,  and,  except  at  the 
plain  call  of  duty,  was  reluctant  to  appear  before  the  public. 

Mr.  Stanton  possessed  some  opposing  traits  of  character  not  often  found  in  the 
same  individual,  by  which  his  public  ministrations  were,  in  some  points,  singu- 
larly different  from  what  would  have  been  expected  by  those  who  only  knew  him 
in  private  life.  He,  who,  in  his  study  or  in  social  intercourse,  was  so  quiet  and 
retiring,  became,  in  the  pulpit,  always  earnest,  emphatic  and  courageous;  not 
unfrequently  impassioned  and  vehement — as  often,  perhaps,  "  a  son  of  thunder  *' 
as  *'  a  son  of  consolation."  It  is  not  easy — for  me  at  least — to  give  to  those 
who  never  knew  him,  a  just  idea  of  this  side  of  his  character;  but  some  notion 
of  it  will,  I  hope,  be  gained  by  those  who  may  read  what  I  have  yet  to  say  of 
him. 

In  his  theological  views,  Mr.  Stanton  conformed,  ex  animOy  to  the  standards 
of  the  Presbyterian  Church  as  expounded  at  Princeton;  and  he  was  always 
open  and  explicit  in  expressing  them.  Doctrinal  preaching,  as  I  have  reason  to 
believe,  formed  a  large  part  of  his  instructions  from  the  pulpit,  while  at  Hudson. 
And  when,  in  1843, 1  heard  him  for  the  last  time,  it  was  easy  to  perceive  that 
his  sentiments,  in  the  particular  referred  to,  had  undergone  no  change.  In  this  I 
was  not  disappointed;  for  among  the  leading  traits  of  his  character  were  a 
marked  decision  and  independence  of  mind,  and  an  uncompromisinf  boldness  in 
the  utterance  of  what  he  deemed  the  truth.  He  was  slow  and  cautious  in  the 
formation  of  bis  opinions — once  formed  they  were  settled  and  inflexible.  He 
was  equally  faithful  in  enforcing  the  practical  duties  of  the  Christian  life; 
always  inculcating,  in  theur  strictness,  the  moral  precepts  of  the  New  Testan 
ment,  and  often  drawing  from  the  book  of  Proverbs,  such  themes  of  remon- 
strance or  reproof  as  he  thought  were  demanded  by  the  sins  or  follies  of  the 
day. 

He  had  no  passion  for  polemics  or  public  controversy.  He  esteemed  it, 
however,  a  part  of  his  duty,  to  declare,  in  the  course  of  his  ministry,  the 
system  of  doctrine  and  of  discipline  set  forth  in  the  standards  of  his  Church; 
and  when  its  ministry  and  forms  were  publicly  questioned  in  a  neighbouring 
pulpit,  he,  as  publicly,  defended  them  in  his  own.  In  another  case,  the  imme- 
diate effects,  on  the  temporal  interests  of  Mr.  Stanton  and  his  congregation,  of 
this  feature  of  his  character,  were  quite  serious.  It  deserves  to  be  mentioned 
because  it  well  illustrates  the  earnestness  of  his  convictions,  and  the  fidelity  with 
which,  irrespective  of  personal  consequences,  he  performed  the  duties  they 
imposed. 

On  becoming  acquainted  with  his  congregation,  he  soon  found  that  several 
of  the  most  wealthy  and  influential  individuals  belonging  to  it,  had  adopted  the 


BENJAMUI  FRAHKLIH  STASITON.  g2tf 

7MWB  of  the  UniTantiiits,  either  absoltitaly,  or  in  some  modified  form.  Think 
iag  these  ofiiiuons  nnsoriptural  and  dangerous,  he  gave  no  quarter  to  them  in 
his  teachings.  The  result  was,  that  several  families  of  his  eongregation  left  him, 
and  by  their  own  means  and  those  of  persons  sympathizing  with  them,  soon 
erected  a  house  of  worship,  and  established  in  it  a  preacher  of  their  own 
persuasion.  This  drcumstanoe,  however,  for  the  sake  of  the  parties  themselyes, 
it  may  have  been  regretted  by  Mr.  Stanton,  and  though  for  a  time,  it  somewhat 
crippled  the  pecuniary  ability  of  his  people,  only  stimulated  him  to  the  more 
earnest  and  faithful  discharge  of  his  ministry  among  those  who  remained;  and 
ita  fruits,  in  the  growth  and  vitality  of  the  Church,  were  afterwards  even  more 
abundant  than  they  had  previously  been. 

Mr.  Stanton,  at  the  period  to  which  my  sketch  relates,  possessed  many  of  the  • 
requisites  of  pulpit  oratory.  In  person,  he  was  tall  and  well  formed;  a  slight 
but  not  ungraceful  stoop  gave  to  his  carriage  an  air  of  impressive  meekness, 
without  impairing  its  simple  dignity;  he  had  a  high,  broad  and  overhanging  fore- 
head; a  countenance  and  eye  readily  expressing  the  various  emotions  of  his 
soul;  and  a  complexion  not  pale,  but  yet  exhibiting  traces  of  delicate  health  and 
of  exhausting  study.  His  voice,  though  not  strong,  was  clear  and  flexible,  and 
by  long  and  diligent  practice  he  had  attained  to  great  perfection  in  its  manage- 
ment. 

His  behaviour  in  the  pulpit  was  marked  by  a  peculiar  solemnity  and  reverence. 
The  air  and  manner  in  which  he  entered  it,  plainly  showed  to  the  eye  and  con- 
science of  his  people,  that  their  minister  had  come  into  the  house  of  God,  feeling 
that  it  was, indeed,  a  high  and  holy  place.  With  the  first  utterances  of  his 
Toice,  the  congregation  caught  the  same  sentiment,  and  retained  it  until  the  ser- 
Tioe  was  concluded. 

His  sermon,  being  perfectly  committed  to  memory  and  thoroughly  studied, 
was  delivered  without  the  help  of  note  or  memorandum,  and  accompanied, 
throughout,  by  appropriate  attitudes,  intonations,  emphasis,  and  gesture.  His 
action  was  premeditated;  but  it  was  yet  so  judiciously  adapted  to  the  different 
parts  of  his  discourse,  that  you  gave  yourself  up  to  the  impression  that  each 
sentence,  with  its  accompanying  tone  and  gesture,  was  the  spontaneous  utterance 
of  the  moment — coming,  warm  and  fresh,  from  a  mind  and  heart  big  with  the 
momentous  themes  on  which  you  were  addressed.  So,  in  spirit,  it  truly  was; 
and,  so  no  doubt,  as  to  single  sentences,  rushing  unbidden  to  his  lips,  it  must 
oftentimes  have  been.  But  he  never  allowed  himself  to  depend  on  any  such 
inspiration;  he  conscientiously  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  his  written  ser- 
mon, with  a  view  to  its  most  appropriate  and  effective  delivery;  and  while  he 
had  health  and  strength  to  adhere  to  this  course  of  preparation,  his  labour  was 
well  repaid  by  its  results.  Few  men,  by  the  mere  manner  in  which  they  spoke, 
could  give  greater  effect  to  language. 

The  state  of  Mr.  Stanton's  health,  while  undergoing  these  heavy  demands  on 
his  strength,  compelled  him  to  limit  his  sermons  to  at  most  thirty  or  thirty-five 
minutes'  length.  This  made  brevity  and  condensation  an  important  and  habitual 
study;  and  accordingly  his  style  was  marked  by  a  terse  and  sententious  mode 
of  expression.  This  characteristic  it  always  retained;  but,  after  adopting  a  less 
laborious  and  exhausting  method  of  preparation  and  delivery,  he  did  not  confine 
himself  to  the  limit  above  mentioned. 

In  stating  the  subject  and  plan  of  his  discourse,  his  manner  was  simple,  plain 
and  distinct :  but  he  always  began  in  a  tone  so  low,  as  to  require,  fh>m  all  who 
desired  to  hear  him,  very  close  attention.  This  habit  was,  doubtless,  in  part, 
the  result  of  physical  organisation  and  bodily  weakness;  but  to  some  extent, 
also,  it  was  the  result  of  system..  A  monotonous  tone  and  manner,  in  a  public 
speaker,  he  thought  exeeeding^y  fruity;  and  among  the  demente  of  an  impres- 
sive delivery,  he  gave  tho  first  place  to  suitable  and  diversified  intonations  and 

Vol.  IV.  67 


530  FBESBTTBBIAK. 

moToments  of  the  human  Toioe.  Having  aecnred,  at  the  outset,  the  attention  oC 
his  auditors,  he  kept  it  until  the  end.  As  he  proceeded  in  his  discourse,  his  Yoiee 
rose,  and  his  countenance  and  gestures  became  animated.  When  heapproadied 
its  close,  his  manner,  according  to  the  nature  of  his  subject,  increased  in  solem- 
nity  and  force.  He  often  became  intensely  earnest — sometimes  singularly  rapid 
and  impassioned  in  utterance  and  gesture.  His  Toice,  on  such  occasions,  ran, 
with  surprising  facility,  through  every  note;  now  sinking  to  a  deep  undertone  or 
low  whisper,  but  yet  heard — such  would  be  the  silence — ^in  every  part  of  the 
room,  and  now  rising  to  its  highest  pitch,  and  startling  his  hearers,  as  with 
unearthly  solemnity  and  awe, — ^his  look,  tone,  and  gestures  expressing  even 
more  than  his  words.  Passages  of  this  sort  must  have  cost  him  much  previous 
study;  yet  they  seemed  the  natural  sequence  of  the  discussion  which  preceded 
them;  and  therefore  no  one  felt  that  there  was  in  them  any  thing  forced  or  theatri- 
cal. They  were  never  protracted  to  undue  length,  but  were  the  short  and 
effective  application  of  a  solemn  and  instructive  discourse.  The  impression  made 
by  them  on  his  hearers  was  often  such  as  he  most  desired;  they  retired  not  to 
praise  the  preacher,  but  to  ponder  his  message;  to  commune  with  their  own 
hearts;  to  search  the  Scriptures;  or  to  call  upon  their  God. 

Mr.  Stanton  had  a  quick  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and  an  honest  contempt  of 
whatever  was  cowardly  or  base;  and  he  was  capable  of  giving  utterance  to  these 
feelings  in  terms  of  cutting  irony  and  sarcasm.  This  power  he  usually  kept  in 
abeyance;  but  he  sometimes  felt  it  needful  to  give  it  scope.  On  such  occasions, 
the  dexterity  and  keenness  of  the  stroke  would  sometimes  provoke  a  smile;  but 
the  habitual  solemnity  of  the  speaker  and  his  audience  would  be  soon  restored, 
by  the  warm  expostulations  or  the  stern  rebuke  which  invariably  followed  these 
sallies.  I  remember  to  have  heard  two  sermons  of  his  spoken  of,  by  those  who 
heard  them,  as  successful  examples  of  this  kind; — one,  on  the  passage  in  Pro* 
verbs — **  Seest  thou  a  man  wise  in  his  own  conceit?  there  is  more  hope  of  a  fool 
than  of  him  " — and  the  other,on  Profane*  Swearing.  In  the  first,  he  applied  the 
rod  of  wholesome  discipline,  in  the  second,  the  lash  of  unsparing  severity;  while 
in  the  treatment  of  ea<;:h  class  of  offenders,  he  answered  the  fool  **  according  to 
his  folly." 

The  reputation  of  Mr.  Stanton  as  a  preacher,  like  that  of  so  many  of  his 
class,  rests,  almost  exclusively,  on  the  fleeting  recollections  of  the  comparatively 
small  number  of  persons,  now  living,  who  heard  him  in  his  prime.  A  small 
volume  of  his  sermons  was  published,  by  his  widow,  some  years  after  his  death ; 
but  it  is  impossible  to  print  the  attitudes,  tones,  and  gestures — the  look  and  eye — 
of  an  earnest  and  impassioned  speaker.  Besides  the  disadvantage  of  not  having 
been  selected  or  prepared  for  the  press  by  their  author,  these  sermons  were  evi- 
dently much  injured  by  errors  of  transcription  and  of  the  press.  Yet  with  all 
these  drawbacks,  the  volume  will,  I  think,  satisfy  any  who  may  read  it,  that 
the  sermons  contained  in  it,  delivered  by  the  man,  and  with  the  action  above 
described,  must  have  been  exceedingly  impressive.  In  1827,  he  preached  at 
Litchfield,  Conn.,  an  Ordination  Sermon,  which,  at  the  request  of  those  who 
heard  it,  he  permitted  to  be  published.  But  he  had  no  ambition  of  authorship; 
he  well  knew  that  his  power  as  a  preacher  depended,  essentially,  on  the  accesso- 
ries of  utterance  and  action;  he  considered  preaching  his  true  and  sole  vocation, 
and  he  limited  even  his  attempts  to  be  useful — ^much  more  any  love  of  dis- 
tinction he  might  indulge — to  the  public  exercises  of  the  pulpit.  The  single  ser- 
mon which  he  published  embraces  an  elaborate  exposition  of  the  commission  and 
duties  of  the  Gospel  ministry.  It  is,  in  many  respects,  very  characteristic  of  its 
author;  and  will  bear,  if  I  may  judge  from  my  own  experience,  repeated  peru- 
sals. To  me,  at  least,  it  brings  up,  in  lively  recollection,  the  close  habits  of 
thought,  the  dear  and  pungent  forms  of  expression,  the  stern  fidelity  to  truth. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  STANTON.  53] 

and,  oooMionally  too,  the  holy  earnestness,  by  which  its  author  yet  lives  m  my 
memory  and  affections. 

I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  have  received  a  notice  of  Mr.  Stanton,  from  one 
whose  acquaintance  with  him  began  after  his  removal  from  Hudson,  and  con- 
tinned  until  his  death.  The  main  elements  of  his  character  cannot  have  been 
much  altered;  but  his  appearance  and  manner  in  the  pulpit,  during  this  period, 
must  have  been  very  unlike  those  of  his  earlier  days.  This  will  readily  account 
ibr  any  differences  which  may  be  found  to  exist  between  the  two  sketches. 
Taken  together,  they  will,  I  hope,  convey  to  those  who  may  come  after  us,  some 
accurate  notion  of  the  disposition  and  qualities,  the  talents  and  worth,  we  have 
attempted  to  describe. 

Little  did  I  think,  when  in  1815,  I  casually  saw  and  heard  him,  for  the  first 
time,  that  in  the  good  providence  of  God,  he  was  to  become  the  spiritual  father 
of  one,  then  very  dear  to  my  heart;  that  the  sacred  rite  by  which  she  was  to  be 
made  the  companion  of  my  life,  was  to  be  celebrated  by  him ;  that  he  was  to 
baptize  the  first-born  of  my  children;  and  that  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  forty 
years,  I  should  be  called  upon  to  delineate  his  character.  Its  intrinsic  excellence 
makes  it  worthy  of  commemoration  in  your  work ;  and  from  the  circumstances 
just  mentioned,  you  may  readily  conceive  that  my  task,  however  inadequately 
performed,  has  been  to  me  a  labour  of  gratitude  and  love. 

I  am,  dear  Sir, 

Very  affectionately  and  faithfully  yours, 

B.  F.  BUTLER. 


FROM  THE  REV.  DANIEL  L.  CARROLL,  D.  D. 

Philadelphia,  July  14»  1850. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  became  acquainted  with  the  Rev.  Benjamin  F.  Stanton  in  the 
autumn  of  1827,  about  the  time  of  my  first  settlement  in  the  ministry  at  Litch- 
field. He  was  then  Pastor  of  a  Church  in  the  neighbouring  town  of  Bethlem, 
and  ho  preached  the  Sermon  at  my  ordination  and  installation.  We  were  on 
intimate  terms  while  I  remained  at  Litchfield,  and  occasionally  exchanged  pul- 
pits. It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  we  were  dismissed,  by  our  own  request, 
from  our  respeotive  charges,  by  the  same  council,  on  the  same  day,  and  for  the 
same  reason — namely,  the  failure  of  health.  He  occasionally  visited  me  after 
my  removal  to  Brooklyn,  while  he  was  supplying  Dr.  Wilson's  pulpit  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  afterwards  a  pulpit  in  Bridgeport,  Conn.;  and  when  I  went  to 
Virginia  to  take  the  Presidency  of  Hampden  Sidney  College,  I  found  him  there, 
the  Pastor  of  the  Church  with  which  the  College  was  more  immediately  connected. 
Here  our  former  intimacy  was  resumed,  and  continued  until  my  connection  with 
the  College  ceased.  We  were  on  different  sides  in  the  great  controversy  which 
divided  the  Presbyterian  Church;  but  our  personal  intimacy  continued  notwith- 
standing, as  long  as  we  lived  in  the  same  neighbourhood. 

Mr.  Stanton  in  his  person  was  of  the  medium  size,  rather  slender,  had  light 
hair  and  a  light  blue  eye,  receding  beneath  a  tremendous  brow  that  would  have 
reminded  you  of  Daniel  Webster.  He  had  always,  from  my  first  knowledge  of 
him,  the  air  and  the  gait  of  a  man  in  feeble  health.  In  his  intercourse  with 
society  he  was  somewhat  reserved, — perhaps  even  taciturn;  but  with  his  friends 
he  was  social  and  sufficiently  communicative.  I  cannot  speak  with  much  confi- 
dence in  respect  to  his  natural  temper;  for  I  doubt  not  that  it  had  been  greatly 
modified  by  the  influence  of  disease.  From  the  time  that  I  knew  him,  it  was 
somewhat  more  than  ordinarily  excitable;  and  I  rather  think  that  this  charac- 
teristic became  more  strongly  marked,  as  the  disease  of  which  he  was  the  subject 
gradually  gained  upon  him. 


g32  PRSSBTTEBIAV. 

His  intellectoftl  chanicUr  wts  distinguished  chiefly  hy  power  of  oono^ien, 
and  a  corresponding  power  of  expression.  I  have  scarcely  ever  known  a  person 
who  could  say  so  forcible  things  in  so  forcible  a  way.  I  cannot  say  that  he  was 
distinguished  for  logical  acumen,  or  for  consecutiye  aiig;ume&tation,  nor  yet  for  the 
oorruscations  of  a  brilliant  fancy;  but  for  things  that  would  make  a  deep  impres- 
sion and  gain  a  permanent  lodgement  in  the  memory,  and  that  would  be  thought 
of  and  talked  about  long  after  they  were  uttered,  you  might,  I  think,  asaign  to 
him  a  rank  among  the  very  first  men  of  his  day. 

But  I  am  anticipating  my  account  of  him  as  a  preadier.  He  had  an  admirable 
tact  at  securing  the  attention  of  his  audience  at  the  outset.  He  would  utter  the 
first  few  sentences  in  so  low  a  tone  as  to  give  an  impression  of  great  bodily 
feebleness,  and  to  enlist  the  sympathy  of  his  audience,  and  make  them  more  than 
willing  to  lend  their  whole  attention,  that  he  might  not  be  taxed  for  too  great  an 
effort.  But  in  the  progress  of  his  discourse,  as  his  mind  became  excited,  his 
voice  waxed  strong  and  loud,  his  delivery  became  impassioned,  and  his  intona- 
tiokis  effective,  in  the  highest  degree.  I  remember  one  remarkable  instance  of 
the  effect  produced  by  his  manner,  of  which,  however,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to 
convey  to  you  any  adequate  idea  on  paper.  Numbers  of  fiimilies  in  that  part  of 
Virginia  were  abandoning  their  lands,  instead  of  reclaiming  them  by  due  cultiva* 
tion,  and  removing  into  the  far  distant  West  or  Southwest,  in  the  hope  of  thereby 
maldng  their  fortunes.  Mr.  Stanton  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  folly  of  thus 
sacrificing  the  means  of  intellectual,  moral  and  religious  improvement,  at  the 
uncertain  shrine  of  Mammon,  and  he  came  forth  with  a  phillipic  against  it, 
that  was  perfectly  overwhelming.  After  a  somewhat  protracted  course  of 
scathing  remark,  exposing  what  he  regarded  the  infatuation  and  criminality  of 
the  persons  concerned,  he  said,  "  My  only  wonder  is  that  God  Almighty  will 
permit  such  people  to  live  any  where  on  his  footstool."  There  was  a  degree, 
not  only  of  reprobation,  but  of  absolute  contempt,  conveyed  both  in  the  matter 
and  in  the  manner,  which  I  scarcely  remember  ever  to  have  seen  equalled. 

Mr.  Stanton's  preaching  was  decidedly  of  an  evangelical  cast,  yet  in  his  last 
years  it  became,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree,  controversial.  It  received  its  hue, 
in  a  great  measure,  from  the  lamentable  controversy  in  which  he  felt  so  deep  an 
interest,  in  the  Presbyterian  Church.  Uis  sermons,  for  the  pulpit,  as  far  as  I 
know,  were  always  written  out,  but  they  were  read  with  an  air  of  freedom  that 
was  not  found  fault  with,  even  in  Virginia.  He  had  good  extemporaneous 
powers,  and  in  a  deliberative  body,  was  an  earnest,  effective,  and  sometimes  to 
his  opponents,  a  terrible^debater. 

Mr.  Stanton  accomplished  the  objects  of  the  ministry,  rather  by  his  efforts  in 
public,  than  by  mingling  extensively  with  his  people  in  private.  It  is  not 
improbable  that  he  would  have  performed  much  more  of  pastoral  duty  than  he 
did,  but  for  his  uninterrupted  ill  health,  which  operated  greatly  to  depress  his 
energies. 

Mr.  Stanton  was  always,  as  far  as  I  know,  held  in  high  esteem  by  his  brethren 
in  the  ministry,  wherever  he  resided.  All  felt  that  he  had  a  commanding  intel- 
lect, and  an  honest  purpose  to  serve  his  Master,  while  some  things  which  might 
have  appeared  as  defects,  were  regarded  as  fairly  attributable  to  that,  inveterate 
and  depressing  disease  of  which  he  was  long  the  subject,  and  to  which  he  was 
finally  a  victim. 

Very  truly  j^ours, 

D.  L.  CARROLL. 


JAMBS  6ALLAHIR.  533 


r  « 


JAMES  GALLAHER  * 

1815—1863. 

Jamss  Q-allahsk  was  bora  in  what  is  now  Washington  Coontj,  TenD.| 
on  the  8th  of  October,  1792 ;  to  which  place  his  grandfather,  James  Galla- 
her,  who  was  of  Scotch  Irish  extraction,  had  removed  from  Pennsylvania, 
about  the  year  1779.  He  was  the  eldest  son,  and  second  child,  of  Thomas 
and  Mary  (Greene)  Gallaher,  who  were  the  parents  of  ten  children,  three 
of  whom  became  ministers  of  the  Gospel.  Soon  after  the  birth  of  James, 
bis  fiither  removed  from  Washington  to  Blount  County,  where  he  was  inces- 
santly annoyed  by  the  Creek,  and  especially  the  Cherokee,  Indians.  For 
seyeral  years  the  people  lived  in  block  houses,  and  cultivated  their  littk 
farms, — some  labouring,  while  others  were  watching  the  approach  of  danger* 
When  James  was  an  infant,  not  more  than  six  months  old,  an  incident 
ooourred  in  one  of  these  block  bouses,  which  had  well  nigh  terminated  his 
earthly  being.  A  large  feather  bed  had  been  placed  by  some  of  the  inmates 
of  the  fort  upon  the  pallet  where  the  child  was  sleeping,  and  was  discovered 
by  the  mother  just  in  time  to  prevent  life  from  becoming  extinct — an  inter- 
position of  Providence  which  might  remind  one  of  that  by  which  was 
accomplished  the  preservation  of  the  infant  that  was  destined  to  be  the 
deliverer  and  lawgiver  of  Israel. 

The  County  of  Roan  to  which  James  Gallaher's  father  ultimately  removed, 
embraced  a  portion  of  the  territory  purchased  by  the  United  States  from  the 
Cherokee  Indians  in  the  year  1798.  Here  James  was  occupied  chiefly  in 
assisting  to  cultivate  his  father's  farm  till  the  autumn  of  1811,  when  he  was 
sent  to  Washington  College,  then  under  the  Presidency  of  its  Founder,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Doak.  Up  to  this  time,  his  advantages  for  education  had  been 
but  limited,  though  he  had  lived  in  the  midst  of  a  Scotch  Irish  population, 
by  whom  the  Bible  was  highly  prized,  and  he,  in  common  with  most  of  the 
other  children  in  the  neighbourhood,  had  been  carefully  instructed  in  its 
sacred  contents.  This  part  of  his  education  had  doubtless  much  to  do  in 
rendering  him  in  future  life,  as  he  was  acknowledged  to  be,  **  mighty  in  the 
Scriptures.*' 

It  was  not  till  the  year  1800,  during  the  early  part  of  the  great  revival 
that  occurred  at  that  period,  that  the  parents  of  James  Gallaher  were  hope- 
fully converted  ;  but  from  that  time  they  lived  an-  eminently  Christian  life, 
and  were  favoured  with  many  tokens  of  the  Divine  presence  in  their  dwell- 
ing. This  son  was  deeply  exercised  with  a  sense  of  his  sinfulness  from  the 
year  1800  till  1810 ;  and  not  unfrequently  was  the  subject  of  the  most 
Appalling  terrors ;  but  in  the  last  mentioned  year  or  about  that  time,  he 
seems  to  have  gained  the  joy  and  peace  in  believing. 

Young  Gallaher  remained  in  College  through  the  entire  course, — ^accom- 
plishing the  whole,  however,  in  four  sessions  of  five  months  each, — and 
graduated  in  the  fall  of  1813.  The  next  spring  he  opened  a  high  school  in 
Knoxville,  which  he  continued  five  months.  During  this  time  he  formed  an 
intimate  acquaintance  with  some  of  the  members  of  the  Bar,  and  through 
their  influence  it  became  for  some  time  a  question  with  him  whether  he 

«  Pntbyteriaa  Reoorderi  1866. 


534  PRESBTTERIAK. 

should  not  make  the  Law  his  profession ;  but,  upon  farther  reflection,  in 
oonnectton  with  the  earnestly  expressed  wishes  of  his  father,  he  dismissed 
the  idea,  and  formed  a  definite  purpose,  which  he  never  subseqaentlj  regret- 
ted, to  preach  the  Gospel. 

He  prosecuted  his  theological  studies  under  the  direction,  partly  of  the 
Rev.  Edward  Crawford,  and  partly  of  the  Rev.  Stephen  Bovell,  D.  D.,  and 
resided  during  the  time  in  their  respective  families.  Having  completed  his 
course  of  study,  ho  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of 
•Abingdon,  in  December,  1815,  and  immediately  after  was  invited  by  the 
Church  of  New  Providence,  in  Hawkins  County,  Tenn.,  and  by  the  peopU 
of  Rogersville  to  become  their  Pastor.  In  a  few  months  after,  a  call  hav- 
ing been  laid  before  the  Presbytery  and  accepted,  he  was  ordained  to  the 
office  of  the  Gospel  ministry,  and  entered  at  once  upon  the  broad  field  of 
labour  to  which  he  was  thus  introduced.  His  call  to  Rogersville  was  dated 
June  10,  1816,  and  was  signed  by  fourteen  persons.  It  was  contemplated 
that  he  should  preach  one  half  of  his  time  in  Rogersville,  and  the  other 
half  in  New  Providence,  twelve  miles  distant,  for  which  he  was  to  receive 
four  hundred  dollars  a  year — two  hundred  from  each  church.  He  lived  in 
Rogersville,  and  continued  in  charge  of  these  churches  for  fourteen  years. 
In  the  spring  of  1830,  he  was  settled  over  the  Third  Presbyterian  Church 
in  Cincinnati,  (a  colony  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wilson's,)  which  he  had  been 
instrumental  of  organizing  a  short  time  before.  In  1835,  he  removed  with 
hb  family  to  Marion  County,  Mo.,  to  become  a  Professor  in  the  Theological 
department  of  Marion  College:  he  remained  here  about  four  years,  during  a 
part  of  which  time  he  was  occupied  in  collecting  funds  for  the  institution, 
and  in  preaching,  through  a  wide  range  of  country,  as  an  Evangelist.  In 
1839,  he  removed  with  his  family  to  St.  Charles,  Mo.,  where  he  had  his 
home  till  the  close  of  life.  During  the  first  year  of  his  residence  there, 
he  acted  as  stated  supply  to  the  Church  in  that  place,  making  occasional 
missionary  tours  through  the  surrounding  country ;  but,  after  the  division 
of  that  Church  in  the  spring  of  1840,  he  preached  there  only  occasionally, 
and  spent  nearly  his  whole  time  in  preaching  to  the  destitute  in  different 
parts  of  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi. 

In  1852-53,  he  was  Chaplain  of  the  House  of  Representatives  in  Con- 
gress. At  the  close  of  the  session,  he  resumed  his  labours  as  an  Evangelist, 
and  was  thus  employed  when  death  overtook  him. 

He  had  just  closed  a  protracted  meeting  of  several  weeks'  continuance 
at  Brunswick,  Mo.,  and  was  about  to  proceed  to  another  place  to  hold  a 
similar  meeting,  when  he  was  suddenly  prostrated  by  dysentery,  which, 
after  about  five  weeks,  came  to  a  fatal  termination.  Ho  died  on  the  19th 
of  October,  1853. 

Mr.  Gallaher  was  married  in  or  about  the  year  1816,  to  Lucinda  Houston, 
by  whom  he  had  eleven  children, — five  sons  and  six  daughters.  Mrs.  Gal- 
laher died  at  St.  Charles  on  the  21st  of  November,  1850. 

Mr.  Gallaher's  only  publications,  except  what  appeared  in  periodicals, 
are  the  Pilgrimage  of  Adam  and  David,  1845,  and  The  Western  Sketch 
Book,  1850. 


JAM£S  GALLAHEB.  535 


FROM  THE  REY.  FREDERICK  A.  ROSS,  D.  D. 

HuxTSviLLB,  Ala.,  Dec.  10,  1866. 

M7  dear  Sir:  In  compliance  with  yonr  request  I  give  you  this  familiar  letter 
containing  some  recollections  of  my  intimate  friend,  the  Rey.  James  Gallaher, 
deceased. 

They  begin  in,  I  think,  the  year  1819,  and  in  Hawkins  County,  East  Tennessee. 
I  was  a  mere  youth  about  twenty-two  years  of  age, — a  stranger  in  that  country, 
attending  to  the  estate  of  my  deceased  father,  who  lived,  and  had  recently  died, 
in  Eastern  Virginia. 

My  young  bachelor  home,  while  in  the  duties  mentioned,  was  a  romantic  and 
beautiful  spot,  at  the  junction  of  the  two  branches  of  the  Holston  River  not  far 
from  the  village  of  Kingsport.  I  was  a  gay  young  Virginian;  and  felt  myself 
buried  there.  I  had  no  society.  To  spend  time,  I  was  wont  to  attend  the  occa- 
sional ministrations  of  the  Methodist  itinerant,  and  to  visit  an  old  Presbyterian 
and  his  wife,  a  few  miles  away,  who  took  much  interest  in  me, — a  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
David  Kinkeade.  This  old  gentleman  and  lady  were  called  Hopkinsians,  a 
phase  of  Presbyterians  who  then  and  for  a  long  time  before  had  divided  East 
Tennessee  with  the  Old  School;  and  ultimately  became  the  New  School  in  that 
region.  It  was  hard  to  tell  whether  the  husband  or  the  wife  was  the  most  thor- 
oughly versed  in  Edwards,  Hopkins,  and  Emmons,  and  strange,  their  society, 
wholly  of  this  metaphysical  tone,  became  a  perfect  charm  to  mo.  I  spent  days 
with  them  contesting  the  extremes  of  Hopkins  and  Emmons.  I  see  now  the  little 
old  man  with  his  very  short  legs,  waddling  to  get  the  candle-stand,  and  piling  it 
up  with  Hopkins' huge  volumes — ^then  seated  in  his  great  old-fashi6ned  chimney 
corner, 'spectacles  in  one  hand,  pipe  in  the  other,  he  would  look  at  me  with  his 
piercing  little  black  eyes,  and  press  some  **nice  pint''  of  disinterested  benevo- 
lence. The  old  lady,  tall  and  angular,  on  the  other  side  of  the  hearth, — 
with  pipe  and  spectacles  too,  would  nod  assent  to  the  hardest  paradoxes  of 
Emmons,  and  hope  and  believe  from  her  very  heart  that  some  day  I  would  see 
the  beauty  of  these  "  new  ideas,"  It  was  on  one  such  occasion  after  little  Davy, 
as  he  was  called,  had  read  to  me  with  exquisite  delight,  a  sheet  of  his  own  poe- 
try,— ^in  which  he  made  Satan  before  he  fell, consent  that  God  might  for  his  glory 
influence  him  to  sin — ^that  Polly  the  wife  said  with  real  affection  for  me,  **  I  wish, 
Mr.  Ross,  you  would  just  ride  down  to  New  Providence  next  Sunday  and  hear 
Mr.  Gallaher.  He  is  my  preacher,  and  you  can't  help  liking  him."  "Yes," 
added  the  old  man,  **  you  must — Gallaher  is  not  quite  up  to  these  *'  nice  pinte  " 
yet;  but  he  is  a  great  preacher." 

This  was  my  first  introduction  to  the  name  of  one  with  whom  I  was  after- 
wards for  a  time  so  intimate.  I  yielded  to  this  request;  and  went  with  some 
young  men  a  Sabbath  or  so,  thereafter,  to  the  church  intimated;  which  was  one 
of  two  in  which  Mr.  G.  laboured,  and  about  twelve  miles  from  my  residence. 

It  was  a  small  brick  school-house,  seated  for  preaching.  The  pulpit  was  in 
the  middle  of  one  of  the  long  sides — a  door  was  in  the  opposite  wall,  and  one  in 
each  end;  giving  four  blocks  of  seats — sufficient  for  an  hundred  and  fifty 
persons. 

This  was  the  congregation  which  soon  became  four  hundred  church  members, 
and  from  that  number  to  one  thousand  hearers.  The  pulpit  was  a  mere  box, 
with  what  was  called  a  breast  board  without  cushion,  Bible  or  Hymn  Book.  On 
one  corner  of  this  board,  however,  there  was  a  large  brown  pitcher  of  water,  but 
no  tumbler.  The  speaker  had  to  drink  out  of  the  pitcher, — and  it  once  helped 
me  to  recover  a  lost  train  of  ideas  when  preaching  a  memorized  sermon. 

Soon  after  I  was  seated,  Mr.  Gallaher  came — walking  with  quick  nervous  step- 
he  was  after  the  time.    Not  unuaaal,  for  he  was  lazy  in  every  thing  but  thought 


536  P&EABrT£RIAir. 

and  utteraDoe.  He,  like  myself,  had  come  twelre  miles,  but  from  the  opposita 
direction.  His  saddle  bags  were  on  his  arm,  from  which  he  took  Bible  and 
Hymn  Book — ministers  in  those  days  being  expected  to  provide  "the  books  **  for 
church  services  at  home  and  abroad. 

I  have  no  recollections  of  that  firstsermon  except  my  being  plea8ed,^-^nd  still 
more  with  the  man, 

Mr.  (j.  was  fully  six  feet  high,  and  then  a  spare  figure.  Years  after,  he 
weighed  three  hundred.  His  dress  was  very  careless.  Neither  his  hat  or  coat 
seemed  to  have  been  made  for  him.  His  lace  was  eminently  handsome,  and  full 
of  fascination,  although  his  forehead  was  nowise  corroborative  of  phrenology. 
For  it  was  very  low,  and  his  hair,  black  and  harsh,  came  over  it,  just  as  in  Dr. 
Lyman  Beecher's  face, — whom  in  hair,  brow  and  complexion,  he  very  much 
resembled.  His  eyes  were  splendid.  His  mouth  was  large,  with  fine  teeth,  his 
voice  rich  as  Henry  Clay's;  and,  as  was  well,  he  sang  with  great  natural  taste — 
and  just  to  please,  to  the  highest  zest,  his  Scotch  Irish  hearers — all  the  noble,  old 
tunes. 

At  that  time  there  was  an  impediment  in  his  speech; — which  in  him,  as  in  a 
few  others  I  have  known,  was  not  unpleasant  to  the  hearer;  for  when  the  word 
did  come,  'twas  just  the  one,  and  the  better  for  the  delay,  to  your  appreciation  of 
it.  This  defect  he  overcame  in  a  few  years — and  then  be  had  the  noblest  stream 
of  words  in  swelling  tones  of  music. 

His  manners,  from  good  sense  and  native  tact,  were  free  and  easy, — and  he 
attracted  you  at  once  in  admiration  and  affection.  He  was  about  four  years 
older  than  myself — our  intimacy  did  not  begin  then  however— for  having  an 
extended  land  business  over  the  State  of  Tennessee,  I  was  much  from  home; 
but  in  1823,  after  there  had  been  a  church  organized  at  Kingsport,  under  the 
pastoral  care  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Glenn,  Mr.  Gallaher  came  up  from  Rogersville, 
some  twenty-five  miles  to  assist  during  a  protracted  meeting. 

It  was  under  one  of  his  sermons,  John  x.  27,  28,  29 — that  I  was  made  will- 
ing to  receive  the  **  Eternal  Life."  I  was  licensed  to  preach  in  1825;  and  from 
that  time  until  in  1830,  he  removed  from  East  Tennessee,  we  were  on  terms  of 
most  affectionate  intercourse. 

I  seldom  met  with  him  after  that  period,  so  that  my  personal  recollections  are 
all  belonging  to  those  seven  years  from  1823;  but  during  thac  time  we  preached 
and  were  together  a  great  deal.  I  married  soon  after  1  attached  myself  to  the 
church;  and  my  house  was  the  preacher's  home.  Mr.  G.  had  already  a  family; 
so,  from  many  motives,  we  were  as  one  in  plans  and  actions. 

In  the  summer  of  1828,  in  response  to  invitation  from  West  Lexington  Presby- 
tery, Kentucky,  we  spent  four  months  in  Kentucky  and  Ohio.  In  that  tour  we 
held  sixteen  protracted  meetings  and  received  more  than  one  thousand  persons 
into  the  church;  five  hundred  of  whom  were  in  Cincinnati. 

Mr.  G.  was  truly  in  his  glory  as  an  itinerant — ^he  was  no  pastor — ^he  was  no 
student  of  books — ^he  never  reached  those  "  nice  pints  "  which  my  metaphysical 
old  gentleman  and  his  wife  expected  him  to  attain.  He  read  little,  but  what  he 
did  read  he  thoroughly  mastered-^made  his  own,  and  reproduced  it  with  wonder- 
ful power.  Like  Charles  James  Fox,  without  being  a  student  in  the  usual  sense, 
he  was  turning  over  all  the  time  trains  of  thought  for  the  pulpit — while  riding — 
walkings-sitting  in  conversation,  or  lying  in  bed — wherein  be  it  said,  he  was  an 
intolerable  companion— ever  tossing  about,  and  talking  to  himself  half  asleep. 

He  took  in  his  sermons  the  broadest,  plainest,  most  common  sense  views  of  the 
Bible, — in  listening  to  which,  like  unto  looking  upon  the  waves  of  the  sea,  the 
youngest  were  pleased,  and  the  oldest  felt  him  to  be  ever  fne  and  fresh — often 
sublime. 

In  his  early  day  he  frequently  wrote  out  his  sermons,  ami  committed  them 
to  memory-^soon  however  he  used  only  short  notes,  and  ultimateij,  in  his  later 


JAMES  gATJiAHRB,  587 

day*  he  took  no  paper  at  ell  iute  the  desk.  Of  coarse  he  required  ezeiiement; 
fidled  sometimes — ^but  take  him  all  iaall,  he  was  one  of  the  most  histnietire  and 
impressiTe  preachers  the  West  has  ever  produoed. 

What  Mr.  G.  wrote,  was  in  its  day  yery  effectiye;  whether  narrative  or  arma- 
ment. Some  of  his  controversial  articles  were  never  surpassed.  In  bis  other 
published  productions,  "Adam  and  David,"  and  the  "  Western  Sketch  Book/' 
you  will  find  his  ability  in  narrative,  and  wit  in  anecdote.  I  have  not  now  these 
books,  and  the  publishers'  names  have  escaped  me. 

Mr.  Q.  resembled  Sidney  Smith  in  one  respect.  He  greatly  enjoyed  his  own 
humour.  His  laugh  was  glorious  to  himself,  and  most  contagious  to  others. 
And  like  Smith,  in  another  thing — he  never  wounded  his  friends  with  the  edges  of 
his  wit. 

I  find,  my  dear  Sir,  I  have  exceeded  your  paper  limit;  and  have  only  begun  my 
recollections. 

I  felt  them  hardly  worth  your  acceptance — kept  them  back — but  send  them 
reluctaotly. 

Yours  verj  respectfully  and  truly, 

P.  A.  ROSS. 
FROM  THE   REV.  ROBERT  J.  BRECKEK RIDGE,  D.  D., 

PBOFUaOn  IH   THI  DANVILLE  THEOLOGICAL  8BXTHART. 

Daeville,  Ky.,  December  8,  18&6. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  knew  James  Gallaher  very  well;  have  been  a  great  deal  in  his 
company;  have  heard  him  preach  often;  have  conducted  powerful  meetings  with 
immense  results  with  him.  The  period  of  my  particular  acquaintance  extended 
from  about  1827  to  1847,  in  the  fall  of  which  year  I  saw  him  for  the  last  time. 
After  1837,  my  intercourse  with  him  was  less  frequent,  as  we  lived  far  apart,  and 
were  members  of  different  portions  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  We  had  a 
mutual  friend,  David  Nelson,  by  means  of  whom  our  relations  were  closer  than 
they  would  probably  have  been  otherwise. 

He  was  a  man  of  small  attainments  and  poor  early  opportunities;  but  of 
remarkable  gifts  in  many  respects — a  great  wit,  and  of  infinite  complacency  and 
affluence  of  kindly  emotions;  an  actor  of  wonderful  power;  one  of  the  sweetest 
singers  in  the  world;  pathetic,  violent,  vociferous,  pointed,  earnest,  as  a  speaker; 
possessing  a  fervid  imagination,  and  an  intense  desire  to  save  souls.  He  was, 
besides,  of  immense  activity  in  his  work,  and  could  work  without  limit;  and  did 
work  with  great  results  in  revivals  for  many  years. 

He  was  no  mean  writer  of  fugitive  poetry;  and  published  a  volume  of  Theology, 
in  some  respects  very  curious,  under  a  curious  title  which  I  now  forget.  The 
last  time,  nearly,  that  I  ever  saw  him,  he  entertained  a  stage  full  of  us,  all  day, 
over  some  of  the  worst  roads  in  Kentucky,  repeating,  with  great  pathos  and 
beauty,  some  of  the  finest  narratives  in  it. 

He  knew  very  little  about  doctrinal  controversies  of  any  sort,  except  as 
they  passed  before  him.  But  he  had  been  raised  a  Presbyterian,  and  though  he 
united  with  the  New  School,  he  was  not  even  tinctured,  so  far  as  I  ever  discor- 
ered,  with  a  single  dogma  of  that  School.  He  was,  for  substance  of  his  sermons, 
a  fair  Presbyterian  preacher;  and  for  manner,  a  very  popular,  and  occasionally 
a  most  touching  and  impressive,  one.  His  companionship  was  extremely  agreea- 
ble— ^his  friendship  warm  and  lasting.  Out  of  the  pulpit  as  well  as  in  it,  he 
seemed  never  content,  but  when  excited  about  something,  and  trying  to  excite 
others;  whether  to  work*-to  laugh — ^to  walk — to  pray-^any  thing.  Every  thing 
like  repose,  self-concentration,  or  any  of  those  lofty  and  quiet  and  intense  states 
of  soul,  which  belong  to  the  strongest  natures,  (which  David  Nelson  had  u^ 
grandly,)  were  alien  from  his  nature.     Take  him  idl  in  all,  he  was  a  man  easy  to 

Vol.  IV.  68 


588  PRESBTTERIAK. 

lore,  who  had  himself  a  loving  heart;  a  man  who  worked  long,  hard,  with  greftt 
delight,  and  great  success  for  his  Master:  was  a  man  free  of  all  bad  and  malign 
nant  passions,  and  strongly  confided  in  hj  some  of  the  best  and  wisest  men  of 
his  day. 

This  is  my  impression  of  the  man. 

With  best  wishes,  your  brother  in  Christ, 

B.  J.  BREGKENRIDGE. 


■♦♦- 


THOMAS  CHARLTON  HENRY,  D.  D  * 

1816—1827. 

Thomas  Charlton  Henby  was  the  eldest  son  of  Alexander  and  Sarah 
Matilda  Henry,  and  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  September  22,  1790.  His 
father  was  distinguished  for  his  wealth  and  benevolenoe,  and  was  for  several 
years  President  of  the  American  Sunday  School  Union.  At  his  birth,  and 
during  his  childhood,  his  father  repeatedly  devoted  him  to  the  ministry,  in 
the  hope  that,  in  due  time,  he  would  have  the  requisite  qualifications  for 
the  work.  But  his  early  years  were  passed  in  great  buoyancy  of  spirit  and 
love  of  pleasure,  though  he  had  withal  a  considerable  fondness  for  books. 
His  father  was  disposed  to  indulge  his  literary  tastes  by  giving  him  the  best 
advantages  for  improvement;  but  he  became  satisfied  ere  long  that  his 
lighter  propensities  were  so  predominant  that  there  was  little  hope  of  his 
becoming  a  vigorous  and  successful  student.  Accordingly,  at  the  age  of 
about  eighteen,  he  placed  him  at  mercantile  business.  This,  however,  proved 
so  distasteful  to  him  that,  after  a  short  trial,  he  resolved,  with  his  father's 
consent,  to  return  to  the  pursuit  of  learning. 

Up  to  this  time  there  had  been  nothing  on  his  part  to  indicate  tho  proba- 
bility of  his  ever  being  any  thing  more  than  a  man  of  the  world.  But  his 
excellent  father,  ever  intent  upon  the  promotion  of  his  highest  interests, 
omitted  nothing  that  seemed  to  give  any  token  of  a  favourable  result.  Hav« 
ing  heard  of  a  remarkable  attention  to  religion  in  Middlebnry  College, 
he  sent  him  thither,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  be  a  sharer  in  the  spiritual 
blessings  with  which  that  institution  was  then  so  highly  favoured.  The 
revival  into  which  he  was  thus  introduced  passed  away,  without  leaving 
upon  his  mind  any  permanent  impression.  Another  revival,  however,  sub- 
sequently occurred,  which,  at  its  very  commencement,  numbered  him  among 
the  anxious  inquirers,  and  ultimately  among  its  hopeful  subjects.  He  imme- 
diately engaged  with  great  earnestness  in  the  promotion  of  the  work,  and  his 
labours  in  College,  then  and  afterwards,  were  thought  to  have  been  eminently 
useful  to  many  of  his  fellow  students. 

Soon  after  he  believed  himself  to  have  felt  the  power  of  religion,  his 
mind  became  deeply  exercised  in  regard  to  what  should  be  his  future  course 
of  life ;  and  the  result  was  a  full  conviction  that  it  was  his  duty  to  devote 
himself  to  the  work  of  the  ministry.  He  was  graduated  with  high  honour 
in  1814 ;  but  he  had  commenced  his  preparation  for  the  pulpit  before  the 

«  Chr.  Adv.  v.— MSB.  from  bis  family. 


THOMAS  CHARLTON  HENRT.  539 

oloae  of  his  college  life — ^he  vas  so  muoli  in  t/dvaiioe  of  his  class  that  ho 
was  able  to  devote  a  large  part  of  his  Senior  year  to  Theology.  Imine* 
diately  after  his  graduation,  he  joined  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Prince- 
ton, and  remained  there,  a  diligent  student,  for  two  years.  He  was  licensed 
to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Philadelphia,  April  17,  1816;  but  in  Octo- 
ber following  was  dismissed  to  join  the  Presbytery  of  Newcastle,  by  which 
he  was  subsequently  ordained.  For  two  successive  years  he  performed  gratui- 
tously the  work  of  a  missionary.  Several  months  of  this  period  were  passed  at 
Lexington,  Ky.,  where  he  had  great  popularity  as  a  preacher.  From  Lexing- 
ton he  was  unanimously  called  to  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Columbia, 
S.  C.  He  accepted  the  call,  and  was  installed  as  its  Pastor  in  November, 
1818. 

Here  he  continued  about  five  years ;  and  the  Church  was  eminently  pros- 
perous under  his  ministry.  In  January,  1824,  he  accepted  a  call  to  the 
pastoral  charge  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in  Charleston,  S.  C, 
and  laboured  in  thb  connection  during  the  rest  of  his  life. 

In  1824,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Yale  College. 

In  the  early  part  of  1826,  his  health  had  become  so  much  impaired  that 
it  was  thought  necessary  that  he  should  allow  himself  a  few  months  of 
relaxation.  He  accordingly  sailed  for  Europe,  and,  after  remaining  six 
months  in  Great  Britain  and  France,  returned  and  resumed  his  duties 
towards  the  close  of  that  year. 

In  the  autumn  of  1827,  the  yellow  fever,  of  a  very  malignant  type  pre- 
vailed extensively  in  Charleston.  Dr.  Henry's  friends  urged  him  to  with- 
draw till  the  danger  should  be  over;  but  he  resisted  their  importunity, 
satisfied  that  it  was  his  duty  to  remain  with  his  flock,  as  long  as  Providence 
might  enable  him  to  do  so.  On  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  October,  he  was 
in  his  usual  health — in  the  afternoon  he  was  under  the  arrest  of  death. 
He  had  just  finished  correcting  a  work  which  he  designed  for  publication,, 
when  a  sudden  chill  passed  over  him,  which  was  the  first  indication  that 
disease  was  already  in  his  system ;  and  in  less  than  four  days,  it  had  accom- 
plished its  fatal  Work.  From  the  beginning,  he  manifested  unqualified  sub- 
mission to  the  Divine  will ;  and  he  conversed  with  his  friends  in  the  most 
comforting  and  even  rapturous  manner,  testifying  to  the  power  of  his 
Redeemer's  love  and  grace,  till  he  had  reached  the  very  end  of  the  dark 
valley.  He  died  October  4,  1827,  in  the  thirty-eighth  year  of  his  age,  and 
the  eleventh  of  his  ministry.  On  the  Sabbath  after  his  death,  his  remains 
were  carried  into  the  church  where  he  had  preached  on  the  previous  Sab- 
bath, and  a  Funeral  Sermon  was  delivered  by  the  Rev.  B.  Gilderslceve. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Henry's  publications: — A  Plea  for  the 
West :  A  Sermon  before  the  Missionary  Society  of  the  Synod  of  South 
Carolina  and  Georgia,  1824.  The  Song  of  Ascent:  A  Sermon  preached  on 
the  fourteenth  anniversary  of  the  Dedication  of  the  Second  Presbyterian 
Church  in  Charleston,  1825.  Popular  Amusements,  12mo.,  1825.  Letters 
to  an  anxious  inquirer,  12mo.,  1827.  [This  work  was  passing  through  the 
press  at  the  time  of  Dr.  Henry's  death.]  Etchings  from  the  Religious 
world,  12mo.  [Posthumous.] 

Dr.  Henry  was  married,  in  July,  1816,  to  Abbe  M.,  daughter  of  Samuel 
Davis,  M.  D.,  of  Ballston,  N.  Y.     They  had  three  children,  one  of  whom 


540  PRSSBtTKBIAH. 

gndnated  at  the  Jeffsnon  Medical  Oolite,  Philadelphia,  and  is  now  (1854) 
AflSiBtant  Surgeon  in  the  aimy,  in  New  Hezioo. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  NEILL,  D.  D. 

PBILA.DBLPHIA,  September  20, 1866. 

My  dear  Sir:  When  you  asked  me  for  my  recollections  of  Dr.  Charlton 
Henry,  my  first  impression  was  that  I  could  refbr  you  to  some  one  whose  more 
intimate  relations  with  him  would  supply  more  ample  material  for  such  a  sketch 
as  you  propose  than  my  very  general  acquaintance  with  him  has  furnished.  But 
I  found,  upon  reflection,  that  nearly  all  who  knew  him  well,  have  passed  away; 
and  as  I  am  glad  to  serve  you  to  the  extent  of  my  ability,  I  cheerfully  comma- 
nicate  such  general  impressions  as,  after  the  lapse  of  almost  thirty  years,  remain 
upon  my  mind  respecting  him.  I  had  no  acquaintance  with  him  previous  to  my 
going  to  reside  in  Philadelphia  in  1816.  From  that  time,  I  was  on  terms  #r 
friendship,  I  may  say  intimacy,  ?nth  his  father's  family;  and  though  he  was 
part  of  the  time  at  Princeton,  pursuing  his  theological  studies,  and  was  after- 
wards settled  as  a  pastor  in  South  Carolina,  yet  his  frequent  visits  to  Philadel- 
phia gave  me  the  opportunity  not  only  of  seeing  him  in  private,  but  of  occasion- 
ally hearing  him  in  public.  He  had  strongly  marked  qualities  both  of  person 
and  of  character,  that  could  hardly  fail  to  make  him  vividly  remembered,  where 
he  was  once  known. 

Br.  Henry  possessed  great  advantages  on  the  score  of  personal  appearance. 
He  was,  according  to  my  recollection,  of  about  the  medium  stature,  had  a  fine, 
well  formed,  even  elegant  person,  and  a  face  denoting  great  vivacity  and  energy, 
and  an  exuberance  of  good  feeling.  His  manners  were  graceful  and  polished, 
and  he  was  altogether  a  highly  accomplished  gentleman.  Few  men  knew  better 
how  to  grace  a  social  circle  than  he;  though  I  never  heard  of  his  doing  it  at  the 
expense  of  compromitting  in  the  least  his  consistency  or  dignity  as  a  Christian 
or  a  minister  of  the  Gospel.  He  was  warm  and  genial  in  his  temperament,  and 
wherever  ho  might  be,  he  could  hardly  fail  to  draw  around  him  many  earnest 
and  admiring  friends. 

Dr.  Henry,  from  the  time  of  his  first  appearing  in  the  pulpit,  took  rank  among 
the  most  popular  preachers  of  the  day.  His  graceful  form  and  expressive  coun- 
tenance, his  full,  pleasant  voice,  distinct  intonation,  and  appropriate  gesture, 
together  with  a  glowing  interest  in  his  subject,  constituted  him  a  finished  sped> 
men  of  pulpit  elocution.  His  discourses  were  written  with  great  care,  and  were 
rich  in  evangelical,  practical  truth,  expressed  in  a  style  of  more  than  common 
fbrce  and  beauty.  The  fact  that,  after  having  been  but  five  or  six  years  in  the 
ministry,  he  was  called  to  occupy  one  of  the  most  important  posts  of  influence 
and  responsibility  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  is  a  sufficient  attestation  to  the 
high  estimate  in  which  his  character  as  a  preacher  was  held. 

I  believe  it  was  generally  conceded  that  Dr.  Henry,  in  the  last  years  of  his 
life,  made  increasingly  rapid  progress  in  spirituality,  and  became  proportionally 
more  deeply  impressed  with  the  responsibilities  of  his  office.  It  became  evident 
to  all  that  his  ruling  passion  was  to  do  good,  and  especially  to  be  instrumental 
in  saving  the  souls  of  his  fellow-men.  In  a  visit  which  he  made  to  England  a 
year  or  two  before  his  death,  I  have  been  informed  that  he  left  a  most  favourable 
impression  in  regard  to  the  tone  of  his  religious  feelings;  and  that  many  years 
after  his  decease,  he  was  spoken  of  there  in  various  circles  as  having  exhibited  a 
very  extraordinary  type  of  Christian  character. 

Regretting  that  my  recollections  are  not  more  extended  and  satisfactory 

I  am,  with  great  respect  and  afiection. 

Tours  in  the  best  bonds, 

WM.  NEILL. 

L. 


THOMAS  CBABLTOV  HENRY.  g«41 

FROM  THE  RET.  BENJAMIN  GILDERSLEEYE. 

RxoHMOHD,  Ya.,  April  6, 1867. 

My  dear  Sir:  Among  the  students  Of  Middleburj  College,  in  the  Sophomore 
<^lAfis».when  I  joined  it  in  the  spring  of  1812,  were  LeTi  Parsons,  Pliny  Fisk, 
Philanthropos  Perry,  Reuel  Keith,  Ira  Chase,  Edward  Hooker,  Thomas  Charl- 
ton Henry,  and  others,  to  the  number  of  more  than  thirty, — much  the  larger 
part  of  whom  had  been  gathered  into  the  fold  of  Christ.  There  had  then  been 
a  recent  ingathering  among  the  students  of  the  College,  and  Mr.  Henry  was 
among  the  hopeful  converts,  so  that  I  only  knew  him  as  one  who  had  professedly 
'*  put  on  Christ."  But  until  near  the  close  of  our  Junior  year,  I  knew  him  less 
intimately  as  a  Christian  than  I  did  some  other  of  my  class  mates.  We  were 
then  brought  closer  together, — he  ready  to  avail  himself  of  my  aid  in  the  prose- 
cution of  the  exact  sciences^  and  I  of  his,  in  belles-lettres,  history,  and  other 
studies  in  which  he  excelled.  Occasionally  we  visited  neighbourhoods  together 
for  the  purpose  of  holding  conference  or  prayer  meetings.  In  this  way,  in  con- 
nection with  the  daily  routine  of  college  duties,  and  our  frequent  meetings  for 
religious  improvement,  I  had  a  very  fair  opportunity  of  judging  as  to  his  talents, 
attainments,  and  character. 

In  the  college  studies  he  was  less  thorough  and  accurate  than  some  of  his 
class  mates,  but  in  general  know  ledge  he  excelled  them  all .   Occasionally  he  exhib- 
ited  an  air  of  levity;  but  none  who  associated  with  him  from  day  to  day,  could 
doubt  that  he  had  the  root  of  the  matter  in  him.    The  sweet  and  gentle  influ* 
ence  of  Parsons  did  much  to  mould  his  Christian  character,  and  to  impress  upon 
him  the  duty  of  consecrating  himself  to  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel;  for  they 
urere  room  mates,  and  Parsons  was  the  model  of  all  that  was  amiable,  devout 
and  excellent.     When  Henry  was  graduated,  though  he  attained  not  to  the  first, 
or  the  second,  or  the  third,  honour,  as  honours  were  then  awarded,  he  was  con- 
fessedly the  best  speaker  and  writer  in  his  class.     I  must  confess,  however,  that 
his  speaking  savoured  more  of  the  theatre,  which,  in  early  life,  he  had  been  fond 
of  attending,  than  suited  my  uncultivated  taste.     After  his  graduation,  he 
returned  to  his  parents  in  Philadelphia,  where  I  soon  afterwards  saw  him,— only, 
however,  for  a  few  moments,  while  on  my  way  to  the  South.    We  did  not  meet 
again  till  after  he  became  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Columbia,  S.  C.     And  this 
was  only  while  the  Synod  was  in  session  in  his  own  church.    The  most  promi- 
nent subject  then  before  that  Body,  was  the  missions  among  our  Indian  tribes; 
and  none  exceeded  him  in  the  zeal  and  ability  with  which  he  urged  the  impor- 
tance of  the  cause.     Indeed,  he  had  been  elected  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the 
Association,  and  was  the  chief  executive  agent.     This  mission,  it  will  be  recol- 
lected, was  some  years  after  merged  into  that  of  the  American  Board.     There 
was  still  another  subject  before  the  Synod, — that  of  founding  a  Literary  and 
Theological  Institution,— in  which  also  Dr.  Henry  took  a  lively  interest.    As 
the  College  of  South  Carolina,  which  is  located  at  Columbia,  was  then  under 
infidel  auspices, — Dr.  Cooper  being  President, — an  institution  combining  both 
the  literary  and  theological  departments  was  regarded  as  essential  to  the  best 
interests  of  the  Church  in  that  State.    In  this  enterprise  Dr.  Henry  enlisted 
with  great  zeal.     The  final  result  of  the  movement  was  the  establishment  of  the 
Theological  Seminary  at  Columbia,  which  had  been  the  seat  of  infidelity;  the 
literary  department  having  been  abiuidoned — it  being  evident  that  the  infidelity 
against  which  provision  had  to  be  made,  had  become  imbecile  and  effete,  and 
that  the  main  College  of  the  State  must  either  be  remodelled  on  Christian  princi- 
ples, or  become  extinct.    And  it  was  remodelled  accordingly,  by  the  very  men 
who  had  shown  favour  to  the  infidel,  dynasty;  and  the  reforming  process  took 
place  under  the  external  pressore  of  public  sentiment,  which  demanded  that  the 


542  PRESBYTSRIAir. 

yoath  of  the  State  sliould  have  a  Christian,  and  not  an  infidel,  edacation.  I 
haye  no  doubt  that  the  ministry  of  Dr.  Henry  at  Colambia  had  much  to  do  in 
bringing  about  this  result.  I  was  with  him  at  a  subsequent  meeting  of  the 
Synod  in  Augusta;  where  he  appeared  still  more  deeply  interested,  not  only  in 
the  schemes  to  which  I  have  referred,  and  others  of  a  kindred  nature,  but  in  the 
direct  work  of  winning  souls; — a  work  in  which  he  had  been  greatly  encouraged 
by  the  blessing  of  Qod  upon  his  labours  in  Charleston,  to  which  place  his  pasto- 
ral relation  had  in  the  mean  time  been  transferred. 

Two  years  later, — in  November,  1826, 1  was  led,  in  the  providence  of  God, 
and  in  part  through  his  instrumentality,  to  make  Charleston  my  home,  and  the 
centre  of  my  efforts  through  the  press,  to  edify,  strengthen,  and  enlarge  the 
Southern  part  of  the  Church.  And  for  nearly  a  year,  till  it  pleased  God  to 
remove  him  from  earth,  I  was  much  in  his  society.  As  he  had  then  recently 
visited  Europe,  it  might  have  been  expected  that,  in  referring  to  that  visit,  he 
would  have  dwelt  largely  on  the  various  objects  of  interest  that  had  come  under 
his  observation.  But  nearly  all  that  he  had  to  say  in  connection  with  it,  had 
respect  to  the  faith,  and  zeal,  and  elevated  Christian  character,  of  many  of  his 
Trans-Atlantic  acquaintances.  About  this  time,  he  commenced  a  series  of  eve- 
ning lectures  to  his  people,  which  formed  the  basis  of  his  '^Anxious  Inquirer." 
That  he  might  have  more  time  for  reading  and  study,  and  yet  perform  faithfully 
all  his  parochial  duties,  he  rose  early  and  dined  late, — devoting  his  mornings 
sacredly  to  these  preparations  for  the  pulpit.  His  people  all  knew  it,  and  only 
in  cases  of  necessity  did  they  allow  themselves  to  interrupt  him  during  his  hours 
of  study.  But  no  sooner  had  he  dined,  than  he  was  ready  to  go  forth  to  his 
pastoral  labours, — paying  special  attention  to  the  poor  and  afflicted  ones  of  his 
flock;  and  never  did  I  hear  the  complaint  that  any  were  neglected.  By  thus 
rigidly  adhering  to  method,  and  persevering  in  the  course  he  had  marked  out  for 
himself.  I  think  he  performed  more  pastoral  service  than  any  minister  whom  I 
have  ever  known. 

Two  or  three  weeks  before  he  was  seized  with  the  malady  that  took  him  out 
of  life,  he  sent  me  an  earnest  message,  as  I  was  living  in  the  part  of  the  city 
where  the  yellow  fever  prevailed,  to  come  to  his  house,  which  was  thought  to  be 
a  safe  retreat,  and  share  with  him  his  study.  Meanwhile  he  had  removed  his 
iamily  to  what  was  regarded  as  a  yet  safer  place;  and  the  study  only  was  occu- 
pied, and  that  during  the  day.  I  accepted  this  invitation,  and  was  therefore 
with  him  during  the  last  days  of  his  life.  But  nothing  could  prevent  him  from 
visiting  his  flock  in  their  hour  of  affliction.  One  morning  he  officiated  at  the 
funeral  of  a  child  in  the  infected  part  of  the  city,  and  there,  it  is  believed,  con- 
tracted the  disease — ^a  disease  which  quickly  did  its  work,  but  left  him,  during 
most  of  the  time,  with  the  ability  to  give  full  utterance  to  his  religious  emotions, 
and  to  administer  counsel  and  warning  to  those  around  him.  I  will  not 
dwell  upon  the  closing  scene; — for  I  could  only  repeat  what  was  detailed  in  the 
obituary  notices  which  were  soon  afterwards  published,  and  which  are  doubt- 
less within  your  reach.  Suffice  it  to  say,  it  was  one  of  the  rarest  instances 
of  death-bed  triumph  it  has  ever  been  my  privilege  to  witness;  and  though 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  has  since  elapsed,  I  often  recur  to  it  as  among 
the  most  solemn,'  impressive  and  cherished  scenes  that  are  treasured  in  my 
memory. 

I  will  only  add  a  single  word  in  regard  to  Dr.  Henry's  theological  views.  The 
mail  had  brought  us,  while  we  were  together  in  his  study,  a  pamphlet  of  no  small 
notoriety  in  its  day,  which  diverged  not  a  little,  as  Dr.  Henry  thought,  from  the 
line  of  accredited  orthodoxy.  He  expressed  a  wish  that  it  might  form  the  sub- 
ject of  an  early  review;  and  so  it  probably  would  have  done,  had  not  his 
lamented  death  intervened  to  prevent  it.    He  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  theologi- 


THOMAS  GHARLTON  HENRY.  543 

cal  ooDtroTersy,  that  was  then  beginning  to  ahow  itself,  and  was  jealons  of  all 
innovations  upon  the  standards  of  his  Churchy,  in  their  lair  and  legitimate  con- 
struction. 

Very  fraternally  yours, 

B.  GILDERSLEEYE. 


«♦- 


MATTHIAS  BRUEN.* 

1816—1829. 

Matthias  Bruen,  son  of  Matthias  and  Hannah  (Coe)  Bruen,  was  of 
Puritan  extraction, — his  remote  ancestors  having  been  among  the  early 
settlers  of  New  England.  His  family,  for  several  generations,  had  resided 
in  Newark,  N.  J.,  where  he  was  born,  April  11,  1793.  He  was  favoured 
with  a  religious  education,  and,  from  his  earliest  years,  manifested  an 
unusual  tenderness  of  conscience ;  but  it  was  not  till  he  was  in  his 
eighteenth  year,  that  he  considered  himself  as  having  entered  decidedly  on 
the  religious  life.  He  evinced,  even  from  childhood,  an  uncommon  fondness 
for  books;  and  when  he  was  only  six  years  old,  would  sometimes  lock  him- 
self into  a  room,  that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  in  his  reading.  At  the  age 
of  eight,  he  went  to  live  with  his  paternal  grandfather,  and  continued  with 
him  till  he  had  reached  his  fifteenth  year,  and  had  become  fitted  for  College. 
He  entered  Columbia  College  in  the  city  of  New  York,  in  1808,  and  was 
graduated  with  high  honour  in  1812.  Shortly  after,  he  joined  the  Theo- 
logical Seminary  in  New  York,  of  which  Dr.  J.  M.  Mason  was  at  the  head, 
and  passed  through  the  regular  course  of  studies  prescribed  in  that  institu- 
tion. He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Classis  of  New  York  on  the  2d  of 
July,  1816,  and  was  received  as  a  member  of  the  Classis  on  the  19th  of 
October,  1819.  His  relation  was  transferred  to  the  Presbytery  of  New 
York  on  the  15th  of  April,  1823. 

In  the  year  1812,  he  was  visited  with  a  severe  illness,  which  gave  a  shock 
to  his  constitution,  the  effects  of  which  were  felt  during  several  subsequent 
years.  It  was  partly,  though  not  entirely,  with  a  view  to  the  establishment 
of  his  health,  that,  soon  after  he  was  licensed  to  preach,  he  resolved  to 
devote  some  time  to  foreign  travel ;  and,  accordingly,  in  the  summer  of 
1816,  he  crossed  the  ocean  in  company  with  his  honoured  teacher  and 
friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Mason.  In  regard  to  this  important  step  he  writes 
thus  : — '*  With  every  means  of  pursuing  my  inquiries,  and  the  most  flatter- 
ing prospects,  may  I  never  forget  that  they  form  the  standard  of  my 
responsibility.  While  I  am,  for  a  time,  relieved  from  the  pressure  of 
public  labour,  may  it  be  for  some  better  purpose  than  to  satisfy  an  idle 
curiosity  or  an  empty  ambition.'* 

Having  passed  two  years  and  a  half  in  travelling  in  different  European 
countries,  during  which  time  he  formed  an  acquaintance  with  many  of  the 
most  eminent  men  of  the  age,  he  was  on  the  eve  of  embarking  at  Liver- 
pool for  his  native  country,  when  he  received  an  urgent  invitation,  to  preach 
in  the  American  Chapel  of  the  Oratory  in  Paris.     Having  accepted  this 

*  Obitnaiy  notieas.— Memoir  hj  Mn.  LvndU. 


544  PBMBTTERIAir. 

invUatioD,  he  vwehrtd.  ordination  in  London  on  Ae  4th  of  November,  1818, 
with  speeial  referenee  to  his  new  field.  After  labouring  six  monthe  in 
Paris,  he  returned  to  the  United  States,  and  reaohed  New  York  in  June, 
1819.  Cironmstances  led  him  to  revisit  Ghreat  Britain  in  January,  1821. 
He  remained  chiefly  with  his  friends  in  Scotland  till  the  close  of  the  suo^ 
oeeding  April,  when  he  again  left  them  to  return  to  his  native  country.  He 
reached  New  York  on  the  11th  of  June,  having  made  his  homeward  passage 
in  the  ill  fated  Albion,  which,  the  next  year,  was  wrecked  on  the  British 
coast,  and  in  which  a  large  number,  and  among  them  the  lamented  Professor 
Fisher  of  Yale  College,  perished. 

After  his  second  return  from  Europe,  he  was  occupied  in  preaching  in 
various  places, — chiefly,  however,  in  the  city  of  New  York ;  and  in  connee- 
tion  with  his  other  labours,  be  prepared  for  the  press  a  little  volume, 
entitled  *'  Essays  descriptive  and  moral  of  scenes  in  Italy  and  France,  by 
an  American."  The  work  was  printed  in  Edinburgh,  but  a  part  of  the 
impression  was  sent  to  New  York.  It  is  of  a  somewhat  fragmentary  char- 
acter, but  bears  decided  marks  of  taste  and  genius. 

In  November,  1822,  Mr.  Bruen  was  employed  as  a  missionary  in  the 
city  of  New  York,  by  a  Committee  of  Missions  appointed  by  the  Presby- 
tery ;  and,  as  the  result  of  his  ministrations,  the  Bleecker  Street  Congrega- 
tion was  collected,  and  on  the  22d  of  April,  1825,  was  formally  organized 
by  a  Committee  of  Presbytery  appointed  for  the  purpose.  Of  this  Congre- 
gation ho  was  installed  Pastor  on  the  14th  of  June  following ;  and  here  he 
was  privileged  to  continue  his  very  acceptable  labours  till  within  a  few  days 
of  his  death. 

In  January,  1823,  Mr.  Bruen  was  united  in  marriage  with  Mary  Ann, 
daughter  of  the  Hon.  James  Davenport,  of  Stamford,  who,  with  two  daugh- 
ters, of  which  she  became  the  mother,  survived  him. 

Mr.  Bruen,  during  the  infancy  of  his  congregation,  and  with  a  view  to 
increase  his  usefulness  to  the  utmost,  accepted  the  appointment  of  Agent 
and  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  United  Domestic  Missionary  Society. 
In  this  capacity  his  labours  were  highly  appreciated  by  the  religious 
community,  and  they  had  no  small  influence  in  giving  existence  to  the 
American  Home  Missionary  Society  in  which  the  other  was  subsequently 
merged.  He  held  this  office  for  about  eighteen  months,  and  then  resigned  it, 
that  he  might  give  a  less  divided  attention  to  his  pastoral  charge.  He, 
however,  remained  a  member  of  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  National 
Institution,  and  in  various  ways  lent  an  efficient  aid  to  the  promotion  of  its 
interests.  The  last  public  official  duty  which  he  ever  performed  was  the 
delivery  of  a  charge  at  Woodbury,  Conn.,  to  several  young  men  who  were 
ordained  with  special  reference  to  Western  missions. 

It  was  when  the  prospects  of  his  usefulness  had  become  the  brightest, 
that  his  career  was  abruptly  terminated  by  death.  From  Woodbury,  where 
he  performed  his  last  public  service,  he  returned  to  New  York,  with  the 
expectation  of  oooupying  his  own  pulpit  on  the  following  Sabbath.  He  did 
enter  the  pulpit,  and  commenced  the  service,  but  found  himself  under  the 
power  of  a  violent  disease,  and  was  obliged  to  call  upon  a  clerical  brother 
present  to  go  through  the  usual  exercises.  From  that  time,  his  sufferings 
were  excruciating  and  almost  unintermitted ;  and  it  soon  became  manifest 
that,  unless  he  were  the  subject  of  some  extraordinary  interposition,  his 
disease  must  have  a  &tal  issne.    When  he  awoke  to  the  eonviction  that  he 


MATTHIAS.  BBUS 


.J^ 


WM  about  to  pus  to  the  etemal  world,  he  said; — "ifHi  ii  f.ftiiimyln  dsrk- 
nees :  Lord,  hare  mercy  on  my  soul."  But  this  temporary  agitation  of 
spirit  quickly  yielded  to  a  calm  and  childlike  trust  in  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  of  Ood;  and  as  long  as  he  retained  the  ability  to  speak,  he 
continued  to  utter  words  of  devout  resignation,  of  affectionate  counsel,  of 
fervent  prayer.  Not  only  his  family  and  immediate  friends,  but  his  Con- 
gregation, the  Missionary  Society,  and  the  interests  of  Christ's  Kingdom  at 
large,  received  from  him  all  the  attention  in  his  last  hours  which  it  was 
possible  for  a  dying  man  to  give.  With  perfect  tranquillity  he  took  leave 
of  all  things  earthly,  and  entered  into  his  rest  on  the  morning  of  the  Lord's 
day,  September  6,  1829,  in  the  thirty-seventh  year  of  his  age.  The  Rev. 
Dr.  Skinner  of  Philadelphia,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Cox  of  New  York,  both 
preached  Sermons  in  reference  to  his  death,  which  were  published. 

Besides  the  work  already  referred  to,  Mr.  Brnen  published  a  Sermon  on 
taking  leave  of  his  congregation  in  Paris,  in  1819,  and  a  Thanksgiving 
Sermon  preached  at  Woodbridge,  N.  J.,  in  1821.  He  was  also  a  liberal 
contributor  to  various  periodicals. 

In  1831,  there  was  published  a  memoir  of  Mr.  Bruen,  which,  though 
anonymous,  is  understood  to  have  been  written  by  a  lady  in  Scotland,  who 
has  since  become  well  known  in  the  walks  of  Christian  literature. 

FROM  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  H.  COX,  D.  D. 

Rv8  Urban,  Brooklyn,  19th  August,  1860. 
Honoured  and  dear  Brother:  I  trace  a  very  defective  sketch  or  outline,  in 
some  aspects  of  my  theme,  that  may,  I  hope,  do  no  injustice  to  an  honoured 
name  and  a  precious  memory,  and  consign  it  to  you  for  a  place  in  your  interest- 
ing gallery  of  American  clerical  portraits.  It  is  now  twenty-one  years  since  I 
preached  the  Funeral  Sermon  of  our  lamented  Bruen;  and  it  seems  like  a  dream 
of  the  night.  The  Master  took  him  as  a  star  from  the  candlestick,  to  shine  in 
the  firmament  of  the  new  creation.  May  we  meet  him  in  IXeaven;  and  by  reflec- 
tion bright,  shine  with  him  there  to  the  glory  of  that  uncreated  light  of  the 
Lamb,  which  makes  all  other  radiance  retire  unseen. 

"  There  entertain  him  all  the  saints  ahove, 
"  In  solemn  troops,  and  sweet  societies, 
"  That  sing,  and  singing  in  their  glory  move— 
''  And  wipe  the  tears  forever  ft-om  his  eyes.'' 

But  let  us  recur  to  what  he  was, — to  what  he  seemed, — when  with  us  in  this 
world.  His  form,  his  manners,  his  living  character,  his  unfeigned  originality 
and  unobtrusive  independence,  I  love  to  recollect,  as  they  "gave  the  world 
assurance  of  a  man." 

He  was  a  person  of  medium  sise,  symmetrical,  of  an  air  elegant  and  some- 
times princely,  and  all  his  manners  imported  no  ordinary  man.  His  natural 
parts  were  sound  and  serviceable,  his  taste  exquisite,  his  education,  especially  as 
improved  by  foreign  travel,  was  quite  excellent,  and  his  entire  character  worthy 
of  the  high  esteem  it  every  where  conciliated, — more  remarkably  among  the 
enlightened,  the  elevated  and  the  good.  The  estimate  of  such  persons,  as  Dr. 
John  Pye  Smith,  Robert  Hall,  John  Foster,  Robert  Lundie,  and  Hannah  More, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  first  names  at  home,  may  put  the  superiority  of  his  char- 
acter into  bold  and  credible  relief  before  all  men. 

As  a  pfeacher,  however,  what  shall  I  say  of  him?  Few  of  his  cotemporaries 
could  enter  the  sacred  desk  with  more  theological  wealth,  discrimination  of 
truths  general  reading,  or  sincere  desire  to  be  useful.  And  he  was  useftil. 
By  him  the  pulpit  was  graced  with  rich  and  ripe  preparation  of  the  Qospel 

Vol.  it.  69 


g46  PRBSBTTEBIAK. 

of  peace.  No  scholar  could  hear  and  not  honour  anch  a  preacher;  no  Chrisi* 
ian,  and  not  love  him.  There  were  scriptural  truth,  pietj^  sagacity,  learningj 
sincerity,  polish,  taste  and  heauty,  all  combined;  and  yet  something  seemed 
wanting.  Instead  of  characterizing  it  in  words,  I  will  relate  the  following  anec- 
dote which  may  serve  for  illustration  not  only,  but  also  to  evince  Bruen's  just 
and  even  rigid  comprehension  of  himself.  In  a  pleasant  and  confiding  colloquy 
with  a  co-presbyter  on  the  subject  of  preaching,  and  the  immense  and  appalling 
difiSculties  attending  its  full  and  complete  exemplification,  as  so  much  above  the 
ordinary  powers  of  human  nature,  said  the  latter,—*'  0,  Bruen,  I  almost  fear 
to  preach  in  your  presence,  when  I  remember,  as  I  can  never  forget,  the  compara- 
tive inferiority  of  my  education,  and  the  rare  excellence  of  your  own,  in  so  many 
ways  accomplished  and  accomplishing  its  possessor."  "  Hush,"  he  rejoined,  "  I 
cannot  affect  an  audience  as  I  ought,  and  as  others  can.  ^  It  is  out  of  my  power 
to  arrest  them,  to  hold  their  attention,  to  impress  their  feelings,  to  make  them 
sympathize  with  roe  in  what  I  preach,  and  to  influence  them  either  to  go  home  to 
the  Bible  and  the  closet,  or  to  come  again  and  hear  me,  with  gratified,  and  above 
all,  with  edified,  desire.  Could  I  do  this,  it  would  be  more  than  all  that  I  aim, 
or  hope  ever  to  do.  Others  do  it;  and  those  I  know  whose  education  has  not 
been  equal  to  mine.  But  could  I  possess  such  a  gift,  and  use  it  well  to  the  glory 
of  our  blessed  Master,  I  should  consider  it  as  paramount  to  any  thing  else  this 
side  the  world  of  glory.  But  I  have  it  not,  and  you  have.  Pray  be  content,  and 
be  grateful,  and  be  faithful  too  forever!"  Possibly,  indeed,  he  disparaged  his 
official  gifts.  His  judgment  of  his  own  public  appearances  seems  always  to  have 
been  severe — so  much  so  as  to  discourage  him.  His  own  mind,  alive  in  a  remark* 
able  degree  to  the  animating  power  of  eloquence,  formed  an  ideal  excellence  which 
he  could  never  attain. 

In  respect  to  popular  effect,  and  the  best  ordinary  results  of  preaching,  it  must 
be  conceded  that  there  was  a  deficiency.  The  tone  of  his  voice  was  not  full  and 
commanding.  There  appeared  a  want  of  power  in  the  manner,  and  also  a  con- 
sciousness of  some  quality  which  should  prevent  success.  There  was  a  fineness 
of  appearance,  a  sentimentality,  and  a  cultivation,  and  a  superiority  about  him, 
which,  though  regretted  and  resisted,  rather  than  affected  or  desired,  still  char- 
acterized him  to  the  people,  and  thence  alienated  them  at  large  from  that  social 
oneness  and  sacred  sympathy  with  the  preacher,  without  which  the  proper  traits 
of  his  ministrations  are  not  ordinarily  realized.  Hence  he  was  not  popular,  in 
the  common  acceptation  of  the  word,  with  the  masses;  nor  was  he  properly 
appreciated  by  them.  His  very  style  was  so  terse,  so  correct,  so  chastened,  so 
scholastic,  also  tasteful  and  ornate,  as  to  be  less  directly  effective  or  acceptable 
to  the  many,  especially  at  first.  It  was  to  his  honour,  and  it  might  have  been 
for  his  encouragement,  that  he  gained  on  his  hearers.  At  first  they  were  not 
specially  taken.  Next  time  they  thought  better  of  him.  At  last  they  began  to 
think  there  was  more  in  him  and  more  of  him  than  they  had  supposed.  His  own 
people,  however,  who  knew  him  out  of  the  pulpit  as  well  as  in  it,  loved  him  with 
rich  and  rare  affection.  They  accredited  his  worth,  and  they  felt  as  well  as  knew 
it.  Their  esteem  was  ever  growing  and  powerful.  They  were  all  cordially 
united  in  him.  He  had  their  entire  confidence.  That  he  was  truly  a  good  man, 
there  lived  not  one  of  them  to  doubt.  That  he  was  well  informed,  wise,  and 
reasonable  in  all  his  ways;  that  he  knew  what  he  was  about,  and  was  always 
about  it;  that  he  was  a  practically  devoted  pastor,  a  sincere  servant  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  an  enlightened  counsellor,  caring  always  for  the  true  interests 
of  his  people,  and  that  every  way  and  increasingly  he  was  entitled  to  their  con- 
fidence, and  as  copiously  enjoying  it  too,  was  their  common  sentiment  and  con- 
viction; and  they  loved  him  more  and  more  till  they  wept  at  his  funeral. 

To  the  last  years  of  his  brief  but  brilliant  life,  he  lived  fast  for  the  time.  He 
grew,  matured,  and  became  more  extensively  related  and  ready  to  every  good 


MATTHIAS  BRUEK.  547 

work.  His  correspondence  was  large,  and  his  influence  ever  widening  its  circle, 
so  as  to  be  retained  in  neither  hemisphere  alone.  As  his  character  became  better 
and  more  understood,  the  public  estimate  of  his  worth  proportionally  ripened 
and  consolidated.  He  continually  and  jet  gradually  ascended,  till,  on  an  hoB- 
cured  eminence,  with  more  elevated  prospects  before  him,  he  was  suddenly 
removed  from  the  scenes  of  this  world. 

Your  friend  and  brother  in  the  Gospel  of  our  conimon  Lord, 

S.  H.  COX. 

FROM  MRS.  M.  G.  L.  DUNCAN. 

Ediitbuboh,  July  1,  1861. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  The  request  you  have  made  leads  to  the  revision  of  twelve 
years— a  task  involving  many  a  revived  remembrance,  and  awakening  many  a 
sleeping  association.  But  though  the  revision  of  a  voluminous  correspondence 
sets  before  me  the  mind  and  action  of  my  ever  honoured  friend,  as  clearly  as  if 
twenty  years  had  not  intervened  since  our  earthly  communings  ceased,  it  is  not 
easy  to  place  before  you  what  is  so  brightly  mirrored  to  me.  In  truth,  the 
memoir  of  the  Rev.  Matthias  Bruen,  to  which  you  so  kindly  refer,  contains  all 
that  at  the  time  it  seemed  expedient  to  give  to  the  public, — so  that  I  can  have 
little  more  to  say  on  the  subject.  It  was  but  a  section  of  his  life  that  came  within 
luy  range  of  vision — ^it  is  for  his  fellow- workers,  such  as  my  friend  Dr.  Cox,  to 
delineate  the  ardent  zeal,  the  abundant  labour,  and  the  consistent  walk,  which 
they  saw,  shared,  and  cheered  with  their  sympathies. 

His  path,  as  that  of  the  just  must  ever  do,  shined  "  more  and  more  unto  the 
perfect  day."  His  reviews  of  his  character  which  were  peculiar,  not  for  apology 
or  excuse  but  for  austerity  and  strictness,  exhibit  a  gradual  advance  and  eleva- 
tion— an  escape  from  the  slough  of  self-seeking  and  self-depending  to  the  clearer 
light  that  cheers  the  soul  which  finds  in  itself  emptiness  or  evil,  but  in  Christ 
Jesus  fulness  and  holiness.  He  refers  to  a  perilous  illness  which  he  endured  in 
childhood,  "  when  all  the  blindness  and  obstinacy  of  sin  possessed  me,^-such 
wilfulness  as  human  nature  at  every  age  can  exhibit " — again,  a  few  years  have 
elapsed,  and  he  describes  himself  as  solemnized  by  the  stillness  of  the  parental 
roof  on  the  Lord's  Day— speaks  of  his  seeking  to  be  alone,  and  having  a  pres- 
sure on  his  soul  as  though  he  could  not  go  from  the  Spirit,  nor  flee  from  the  pre- 
sence, of  the  God  who  was  so  near  to  him ;  and  yet  a  few  years  more,  and  he 
discovers  on  review,  '*  the  puppyism  and  conceit  which  must  have  been  unpleas- 
ing  to  every  humble  minded  and  intelligent  observer."  In  the  sternness  of  his 
self-scrutiny  he  thus  expresses  himself — *'  Surely  I  am  greatly  changed — I  am 
ashamed  and  confounded  at  the  power  this  world  had  over  me  to  make  me  imitate 
Its  madness  amid  the  profession  of  so  many  better  motives — my  self-conceit,  and 
▼anity,  and  wickedness,  and  weakness,  astonish  me.  How  much  have  even  you 
known  of  me  to  despise!  I  often  ask  myself  how  you  bore  with  my  conceit, 
which  certainly  to  me  now  would  be  insufferable  in  any  other  person.  Madness 
has  been  in  my  heart — may  the  Spirit  of  Jesus  put  me  and  keep  me  in  a  sound 
mind."  He  refers  to  his  demeanour  when,  in  1817,  he  was  introduced  to  us — 
such  revolution  could  seven  years  work  in  his  view  of  his  own  character;  yet,  if 
the  conceit  existed,  of  which  he  so  fiercely  accused  himself,  it  was  imperceptible 
to  us,  who  enjoyed  the  freshness  of  the  views  and  criticisms  of  a  foreigner  the 
more  that  his  bearing  was  marked  by  manly  modesty.  When  difference  of  opinion 
]<*d  to  discussion,  it  was  marked  on  his  part  by  philosophical  enquiry  and  rational 
desire  to  be  convinced,  accompanied  by  uniform  politeness  and  deference  to  his 
seniors.  We  sometimes  smiled  at  his  fastidiousness,  which  appears  to  me  a  more 
suitable  term  than  "conceit;"  but  when  we  told  him  the  working-day-world 
would  drive  that  away,  as  his  power  of  usefulness  increased,  he  met  us  rather 


548  PBESBTTERIAK. 

with  meek  admission  than  with  defence  or  denial.  Tet  there  must  have  been 
foundation  for  his  self-accusing;  for  a  very  intimate  and  interested  obserrer  wrote 
of  him  in  a  similar  strain  in  1826 — "  He  has  improved  very  much  since  you  knew 
him  face  to  face — he  has  gained  in  energy  and  efficiency,  which  will  increase  his 
usefulness  in  the  Church;  and  has  banished  a  great  deal  of  fastidiousness,  so 
that  he  is  enabled  willingly  to  be  a  servant  of  any  one  for  Christ's  sake.  He 
has  a  growing  influence  among  the  clergy,  which  I  feel  he  will  always  use  on  the 
best  side.'' 

The  brief  explanation  of  this  improvement  was  that  his  faith  was  strei^th- 
ened — ^an  enlarged  conception  of  the  Divine  wisdom  and  holiness,  a  closer  view 
of  the  fitness  of  the  Redeemer  for  all  his  deep  necessities,  a  consciousness  of 
being  about  his  Master's  business  daily,  and  the  comfort  in  all  short-comings  and 
perplexities  of  feeling  that  ''  the  name  of  the  Lord  is  a  strong  tower  into  which 
the  righteous  runneth  and  is  safe,"  cut  short  many  unprofitable  self-scrutinies, 
and  cleared  away  many  a  cloud  which  a  very  tender  conscience  was  apt  to  raise 
between  his  soul  and  the  perfect  work  on  which  he  ultimately  rdied  with  quiet* 
ness  and  assurance.  With  the  strengthening  of  Mr.  Bruen's  faith  was  also 
strengthened  his  Christian  liberty*  At  one  time  in  Paris,  with  much  pain  to 
himself,  he  refused  the  dying  request  of  his  Christian  friend  to  commemorate  the 
Redeemer's  dying  love  privately  in  her  chamber.  He  seemed  to  be  in  bondage  to 
some  idea  of  church  order;  yet,  shortly  after,  meeting  with  his  friend  Dr.  Malan, 
at  Havre,  when  he  was  about  to  embark  for  bis  native  land,  he  concludes  the 
expression  of  their  joyful  sympathy  thus — "  At  length  we  parted — ^not  until  we 
had  prayed  together — not  until  we  had  broken  bread  together — ^yes,  (and  two 
penitent  sinners,  I  trust,)  not  until  in  this  land  of  drought,  in  the  moment  of 
separation  from  off  this  table  on  which  I  write,  we  had  commemorated  the  dying 
of  the  Lord  Jesus.  It  was  no  time  to  settle  forms,  nor  is  it  now  time  to  explain, 
but  I  know  that  God  was  with  us  of  a  truth;  and  Jesus,  thou  wilt  be  ever  with 
us  even  unto  the  end;  and  the  end  cometh."  When  he  re-crossed  the  ocean,  two 
years  later,  he  still  retained  a  sweet  savour  of  that  opportunity.  He  described 
his  emotions  alone  in  the  throng  on  the  docks  at  Havre,  waiting  till  the  wind 
should  change,  and  his  joy  at  meeting  Malan,  as  he  landed  from  an  English 
packet,  the  unresting  and  unthinking  hurry  of  their  hotel,  the  solemnity  of  their 
secret  devotions  in  their  upper  chamber,  when  the  door  was  shut,  and  their 
realizing  of  the  presence  of  the  Lord  as  on  the  stained  table  over  which  they 
leaned,  they  reverently  partook  of  bread  and  wine  in  thankful  remembrance  of 
his  death.  That  time  of  refreshing,  so  independent  of  the  preparations  and  out- 
ward forms  which  man  calls  solemn,  reminds  us  of  churches  in  the  desert,  or  of 
those  forty  days,  apart  from  the  history  of  the  common  world,  when  the  Lord 
stood  in  the  midst  of  the  disciples  in  their  upper  chamber,  and  said  "  Peace  be 
unto  you." 

Later  still,  in  his  ministerial  history,  Mr.  Bmen  mentioned  enjoying  the  ordi- 
nance privAtely  in  New  York  with  a  man  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption.  This 
person  had  but  recently  experienced  a  saving  change  under  his  ministrations ;  and 
he,  without  hesitation,  joyfully  partook  with  him  of  the  strengthening  memorials, 
before  the  new-born  spirit  ascended  to  his  God.  That  the  beloved  pastor  who 
administered  should  so  soon  be  summoned  to  follow  his  dying  disciple,  fills  my 
soul  afresh  with  tender  regret;  not  surely  that  he  has  been  called  to  go  up  higher, 
but  that  the  Church  which  felt  it  could  not  spare  him,  has  been  deprived  of  his 
services,  when  he  had,  after  many  struggles,  attained  the  stature  of  a  perfect  man 
in  Christ  Jesus. 

Believe  me  yours  with  sincere  respect  and  esteem, 

M.  G.  L.  DUNCAN. 


OBADIAH  JSKKIKOS.  549 


OBADIAH  JENNINGS,  D.  D  * 

1816—1832. 

Obadiah  Jenninqb  was  born  near  Basking  Ridge,  N.  J.,  December 
13, 1778.  He  was  the  fourth  son  of  the  Rev.  Jacob  Jennings,  a  descendant 
from  one  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  who  settled  at  Plymouth.  He  (the  father) 
was  bom  in  Somerset  County,  N.  J.,  in  the  year  1744.*  Haying  early 
studied  medicine,  he  commenced  the  practice  of  it  in  a  small  village,  near 
Elisabeth  town,  N.  J.;  but,  after  some  time,  removed  to  Readington,  Hun- 
terdon County,  where  he  continued  in  the  practice  of  his  profession,  with 
considerable  reputation,  for  many  years.  At  the  age  of  about  forty,  h% 
directed  his  attention  to  Theology,  and  became  a  licensed  preacher  of  the 
Gospel, — it  is  believed,  in  connection  with  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church. 
After  his  licensure,  he  resided  for  several  years  in  Virginia.  He  removed 
to  Western  Pennsylvania  about  the  year  1791,  and  in  April,  1792,  was 
received  a  member  of  the  Presbytery  of  Redstone.  He  accepted  a  call 
from  the  Congregation  of  Dunlap*s  Creek,  in  Fayette  County,  Pa.,  and 
retained  his  pastoral  charge  there  until  June,  1811,  when,  on  account  of 
bodily  infirmities,  the  relation  was,  by  his  own  request,  dissolved.  He  died 
on  the  17th  of  February,  1813. 

Of  the  early  years  of  Obadiah  Jennings,  his  brother,  the  Rev.  Samuel 

K.  Jennings,  M.  D.,  of  Baltimore,  has  given  the  following  account : — 

"He  was  no  less  amiable  when  a  youth,  than  benevolent  and  deserving  of  affection 
when  a  man.  I  shall  never  forget  the  cheerfulness  with  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
divide  his  little  stores  of  fruits  and  nuts  with  his  brothers,  when  he  was  at  any  time 
better  furnished  than  they,  nor  the  complaisance  with  which  he  would  undertake  the 
performance  of  services  expected  at  their  hands.  He  was  remarkable  for  his  unquali- 
fied obedience  to  his  parents, — an  unerring  index  of  his  subsequent  usefulness  in  life. 
His  literary  attainments  were  made  with  great  facility,  yet  he  appeared  to  be  uncon- 
scious of  any  superiority  of  genius.  He  was  naturally  disposed  to  be  facetious,  and  his 
retentive  memory  enabled  him  to  collect  an  unusual  stock  of  anecdotes,  in  the  selec- 
tion and  application  of  which  he  displayed  uncommon  skill.'' 

As  he  gave  evidence,  at  a  very  early  period,  of  much  more  than  ordinary 
powers  of  mind,  his  father  determined  to  afford  him  the  best  advantages  of 
education  that  were  within  his  reach.  He  was  accordingly  sent  to  a  flour- 
ishing Academy  at  Cannonsburg,  which  afterwards  became  Jefferson  College. 
Here  he  studied  the  classics  and  sciences  with  great  avidity  and  success ; 
and,  having  acquired  the  best  education  which  the  Western  country  could 
then  afford,  he  oommenoed  the  study  of  Law,  under  the  instruction  of 
John  Simonson,  £sq.,  of  Washington,  where  he  was  first  admitted  to  the 
Bar,  in  the  autumn  of  1800. 

Shortly  after  this,  he  removed  to  Stenbenville,  and  commenced  practice 
a0  a  lawyer.  His  very  first  effort  at  the  Bar  attracted  great  attention,  and 
gave  promise  of  a  brilliant  career.  He  remained  at  Steubenville  until 
1811,  when  he  took  up  his  residence  at  Washington,  Pa.,  continuing,  how- 
ever, to  practise  in  the  courts  of  Ohio,  as  long  as  he  remained  in  the  pro* 
fession.  Ho  had  a  rare  combination  of  intellectual  qualities  favourable  to 
success  as  a  lawyer,  and  in  his  addresses  to  the  jury  particularly,  he  evinced 

•  Memoir  by  Rev.  Matthew  Brown,  D.  B.,  prefixed  to  the  ''Debate  on  Campbellism." — 
JfS.  Sermon  oeeMioned  by  his  death,  bj  Rer.  C.  C.  Beatty,  D.  D.-rAppendix  to  the  Memoir  of 
Ktff*  Slisba  Maemdy,  D.  D. 


550  FKBSBxariBiAir. 

a  skill  and  power  almost  nnrivallod.  He  was  also  ezoeedingly  popular  with 
hb  brethren  of  the  profession,  and  enjoyed  in  an  unusual  degree  the  confi- 
dence of  the  whole  community. 

Notwithstanding  Mr.  Jennings  had  had  the  benefit  of  a  religious  ednca* 
tion,  had  always  been  moral  in  his  deportment,  and  had  evinced  a  respectful 
regard  for  Christian  institutions,  it  was  not  till  the  year  1809  that  he  had 
such  experience  of  the  power  of  Divine  truth  upon  his  heart  as  to  justify 
him,  in  his  own  estimation,  in  making  a  public  profession  of  religion. 
What  his  views  were  of  the  nature  and  importance  of  the  change  which  he 
experienced  at  that  period,  may  be  inferred  from  the  following  letter  which 
he  addressed  to  an  intimate  friend,  dated  "  Washington,  April  1,  1812." 

^'  Dear  Sir:  You  are  pleased  to  iatimate  a  desire  to  know  my  experience,  &c.  As  I 
shall  have  no  leisure  for  some  weeks,  I  have  concluded  to  write  you  at  the  present^ 
though  in  great  haste. 

**  My  experience,  my  dear  Sir.  is  very  small.  It  is  not  long,  as  yon  know,  since  I 
set  out  in  the  Christian  race,  and  my  attention  has  been  much,  too  much,  diverted  by 
the  cares  and  allurements  of  this  world.  Such,  however,  as  it  is,  I  will  give  with 
cheerfulness,  feeling  as  I  do  something  of  that  infinite  obligation  I  am  under  to  Him 
whO;  I  humbly  hope,  has  called  me  fVom  darkness  to  li^^ht.  And  here,  my  dear  Sir, 
suffer  me,  once  for  all,  to  express  my  deep  sense  of  my  mability  to  write  on  this  sob- 
iect,  and  my  earnest  prayer  that  nothing  of  what  I  may  say,  may  operate  as  a  stum - 
bliag  block  in  your  way.  The  experience  of  one  Christian,  whatever  may  be  his 
attainments,  can  never  be  the  proper  rule  for  another,  though  it  may  serve  to 
encourage,  streuffthen,  and  confirm.  Did  I  not  then  know  something  of  the  terrors 
of  the  Lord,  and  of  the  absolute  necessity  of  a  change  of  heart,  in  order  to  obtain 
durable  happiness,  and  did  I  not  feel  myself  bound  to  give  a  reason  for  my  hope  when 
requested,  and  thereby  to  bear  a  testimony,  however  feeble,  to  the  power,  goodness, 
faithfulness,  mercy,  and  truth  of  Him  who  came  not  to  condemn,  but  to  seek  and  save 
that  which  was  lost,  I  should  on  this  subject  be  silent. 

**  I  was  educated  religiously,  and  had  convictions  from  time  to  time  from  my  child- 
hood, up  to  youth  and  manhood.  I,  however,  still  endeavoured  to  obtain  peace  ol 
conscience  by  entertaining  a  kind  of  half-way  resolution  that  I  would  at  some  future 
time  seek  for  religion,  and  it  was  not  until  a  short  time  before  I  was  awakened 
seriously  to  inquire  what  I  should  do  to  be  saved,  that  I  began  deliberately  to  think 
of  giving  up  all  hopes  of  making  my  peace  with  God.  I  had  gone  far  in  the  paths  of 
iniquity,  and  I  have  reason  to  look  back  with  shame  and  horror  upon  my  conduct. 
While  1  was  in  this  state  of  mind,  some  time  in  the  fall  of  1809,  while  sitting  in  the 
most  careless  manner,  hearing  Mr.  Snodgrass*  preach, — "  Eternity,"  upon  which  he 
was  treating,  was  presented  to  my  mind  in  such  a  way  as  I  cannot  possibly  describe.  It 
made  such  an  impression  on  my  mind  that  I  began  immediately  to  form  a  resolution 
of  amendment;  This  impression  was  not  wholly  worn  off,  when  the  sudden  death  of 
Mr.  Simonson  was  made  the  means  of  Airther  alarm  to  me.  I  was  not  long  after 
led  seriously  to  inquire,  what  I  should  do  to  be  saved.  I  began  to  read  the  Bible,  to 
meditate,  to  pray.  But  all  only  served  to  prove  my  inability  to  do  any  thing  of  myself. 
1  found  the  Bible  to  be  a  sealed  book.  I  could  not  understand  it.  I  found  1  was 
grossly  ignorant,  stupid,  blind,  hard-hearted,  and  unbelieving.  Our  Saviour  appeared 
to  be  ''a  root  out  of  a  dry  ground,  without  form  or  comeliness."  I  found  1  could 
no  more  believe  in  Him  or  trust  in  Him  for  salvation,  than  I  could  liil  a  mouutaiu. 
How  often  was  I  tempted  in  this  state  of  mind  to  give  up  all  pursuit!  Still, 
however,  I  felt  and  secretly  cherished  an  opinion  or  belief  that  if  I  did  but  try,  I  could 
do  something  effectual.  And  every  new  trial,  every  struggle,  every  effort,  only  served 
further  to  prove  my  real  situation,  my  weakness,  my  miserable  condition,  and  to  dis- 
cover my  secret  enmity  against  God.  What  hard  thoughts  did  I  entertain  of  that 
Being  who  is  infinite  in  goodness !  What  risings  of  heart  against  his  sovereignty,  and 
what  enmity  of  heart  against  Himself!  I  could  not  see  the  justice  and  propriety  of 
casting  me  off  forever,  provided  I  did  all  I  could.  I  had  no  proper  conviction  of  my 
guilt  for  my  past  horrid  crimes,  nor  had  I  any  proper  knowledge  of  the  spirituality, 
Ihe  holy  nature,  and  inflexibility  of  that  law  of  God  which  is  immutable  in  its  nature, 
and  by  which  1  was  justly  condemned.    However,  after  many  painful  struggles,  vain 

•  Javks  Smodobass  was  bom  in  Psnnsylvania  in  Kovamb«r,  1765.  He  was  edoeated  at  the 
institution  at  Cannonabnrg  before  it  was  a  College,  and  studied  Theology  nnder  the  Rev.  Dr. 
MoMillan.  Ue  settled  in  the  ministiy  first  in  Steubenville  and  Island  Creek  in  1800*,  was 
dismissed  from  Steubenville  in  January,  1817,  and  from  Island  Creek  in  April,  1826.  He 
then  removed  to  Stark  County,  where  be  died  March  10^  1843. 


OBADIAH  JEKNI2(6S.  55^ 

I  eflbrts,  and  iiMffectual  attempts  to  make  myself  fit  to  come  to  Christ,— after  passing 

b  many  dark  days,  and  sorrowful  nights,  I  was  at  length,  as  I  hope,  convinced  of  my  sin 

^  and  misery; — ^that  if  I  ever  received  any  help  it  must  be  from  God;  that  if  ever  I  was 

cured,  it  must  be  by  the  great  Physician  of  souls.    I  was  not  long  in  this  situation 
I  before  God,  who  is  Love,  '*  revealed/'  as  I  trust,  *'  his  Son  in  me."    Hy  views  of  the 

,  Divine  character  were  entirely  changed.    I  could  almost  say  with  Watts, 

'  Hy  rapture  seemed  a  pleasing  dream^ 
Tne  gnoe  appeared  so  great.' 


My  hard  thoughts  of  God  were  gone.  I  could  now  rejoice  that  '  the  Lord  God 
Omnipotent  reigneth.'  The  mystery  of  Grod  manifest  in  the  flesh  appeared  indeed 
great.  Jesus  appeared  altogether  lovely,  and  the  chief  among  ten  thousand.  My 
heart  was  ravished  with  his  love,  (which  passeth  knowledge,)  in  assuming  our  nature 
to  pay  that  debt  which  we  could  never  pay , — in  rendering  that  obedience  to  the  Divine  law 
which  we  could  never  render,*— in  giving  Himself  a  sacrifice  to  make  an  atouument  for  our 
■ins,  whereby  we  may  draw  nigh  unto  God, — ^in  becoming  the  end  of  the  law  for  right- 
eousness to  all  that  believe.  In  short,  my  hard  heart,  which  nothing  could  move,  was 
conquered  bv  his  love, — his  dying  love.  He  appeared  to  be  the  way,  the  truth  and  the 
life;  a  hiding  place  from  the  storm, — a  city  of  refUge  where  my  guilty  soul  fled  for 
shelter.  I  was  constrained  by  his  love,  his  kind  invit-ations  and  liis  grace,  and  in  a 
highly  favoured  hour  I  hope  I  was  enabled  to  give  myself  away  to  Him  in  an  ever- 
lasting covenant,  never  to  be  forgotten, — to  commence  a  friendship  which  I  hope  wUl 
last  to  all  eternity.  Yours,  &c., 

"  O.  Jennings.'' 

Mr.  Jennings  joined  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Steubenville,  in  1810 ; 
and,  as  he  removed  to  Washington,  Pa.,  shortly  after,  he  was  there  elected 
to  the  office  of  mltng  elder.  In  this  office  he  continued  until  he  passed 
from  it  to  the  higher  office  of  a  minister  of  the  Oospel.  Its  duties  he 
discharged  with  marked  ability  and  fidelity ;  and  in  the  various  Church 
Courts, — the  General  Assembly  not  excepted, — he  acquitted  himself  with 
great  credit,  and  rendered  important  service  to  the  Church. 

It  does  not  appear  that,  for  some  time  after  the  change  in  his  views  and 
feelings  above  referred  to,  he  had  any  intention  of  relinquishing  the  profes- 
sion of  the  Law ;  and  he  was  led  first  to  take  the  subject  into  serious  con* 
sideration  by  an  appeal  to  his  conscience  from  an  obscure  Christian,  who 
happened  to  pass  a  night  in  his  family.  After  this,  his  mind  was  not  a 
little  exercised  in  respect  to  the  path  of  duty,  and  while  he  became 
increasingly  averse  to  the  collisions  and  conflicts  inseparable  from  the  prac- 
tice of  the  Law,  he  felt  that  the  ministry  of  the  Oospel  would  be,  more 
than  any  thing  else,  in  accordance  with  his  new  principles  and  sanctified 
tastes.  While  the  question  was  yet  undecided  in  his  own  mind,  he  was 
prostrated  by  a  violent  disease,  which,  for  a  time,  threatened  the  termina- 
tion of  his  life ;  and  while  the  disease  was  preying  upon  his  body,  an  awful 
cloud  of  spiritual  gloom  settled  upon  his  mind.  Contrary  to  all  expecta- 
tion, the  malady  was  arrested  before  it  reached  a  fatal  crisis ;  and  at  the 
same  time  the  cloud  passed  off,  and  the  joys  of  salvation  were  restored 
to  his  soul.  At  this  point  he  formed  the  definite  purpose  that  if  God 
should  spare  his  life,  ho  would  devote  to  Him  the  residue  of  it  in  the  minis- 
try of  reconciliation. 

Immediately  upon  his  recovery,  he  made  his  arrangements  to  retire  from 
the  Bar,  and  commenced  a  course  of  theological  reading.  In  the  fall  of 
1816,  ho  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Ohio  ;  and,  shortly 
after,  received  a  unanimous  call  from  the  Church  in  Steuben ville  to  become 
their  Pastor.  Another  call  reached  him,  about  the  same  time,  from  the 
Church  in  Harrisburg, — the  seat  of  government  in  Pennsylvania;  and, 
though  the  latter  place  was  in  many  respects  the  more  important,  and 
presented  more  flattering  worldly  prospects,  he  decided  in  favour  of  the 


552  PBMBYTBlUAir. 

former, — ^partly,  as  it  would  seem,  from  his  attaohment  io  ike  people,  and 

partly  from  a  very  modest  estimate  of  his  own  abilities. 

He  was  ordained  and  installed  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Stenbenville,  m 
the  spring  of  1817.  Here  he  continued  labouring  with  great  fidelity,  and  a 
good  measure  of  success,  for  six  years.  At  the  end  of  that  period, 
the  Church  in  Washington,  Pa.,  having  become  vacant  by  the  removal  of 
the  Bev.  Matthew  Brown  to  the  Presidency  of  Jefferson  College,  they 
directed  their  attention  towards  Mr.  Jennings  as  a  suitable  person  to  supply 
his  place ;  and,  notwithstanding  there  was  a  very  strong  attachment  betweea 
him  and  his  people,  he  was  led  to  believe  that,  in  consideration  of  the 
wider  field  of  usefulness  at  Washington,  it  was  his  duty  to  make  the  change. 
He  accordingly  accepted  the  call,  and  was  installed  in  his  new  charge  in  the 
spring  of  1828. 

Here  he  remained,  an  earnest  and  efficient  labourer  in  the  vineyard  of 
the  Lord,  five  years.  He  then  received  a  call  from  the  Church  in  Nash* 
ville,  Tenn.  Though,  for  a  time,  he  had  great  doubts  in  respect  to  his 
duty  in  answering  this  call,  he  finally  determined  to  accept  it ;  but  his 
regret  on  leaving  his  people  was  not  a  little  heightened  by  the  fact  that, 
after  he  had  answered  the  call  in  the  affirmative,  and  before  his  removal, 
there  commenced  in  the  congregation  that  he  was  leaving  an  extensive 
revival  of  religion.  He  would  now  gladly  have  remained  at  Washington ; 
but  his  negotiation  with  the  Church  at  Nashville  had  gone  so  far  that  he 
oould  not  with  dignity  and  propriety  recede. 

He  removed  to  Nashville  in  April,  1828,  and  continued  there  till  the 
close  of  his  life.  His  health,  for  some  years  previous  to  his  removal,  had 
been  considerably  impaired;  and  it  was  still  more  so  afterwards,  insomuch  that 
there  were  frequent  and  sometimes  protracted  interruptions  in  his  ministerial 
labours.  He,  however,  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  of  his  ability ;  and, 
though  the  accessions  to  his  Church  were  not  very  numerous,  his  good 
influence  was  felt  not  only  by  his  immediate  congregation,  but  throughout 
the  region  in  which  he  lived.  In  the  year  1830,  he  was  unexpectedly  drawn 
into  a  public  controversy  with  Alexander  Campbell  on  various  points  of 
Christian  doctrine,  in  which  he  discovered  great  intellectual  acumen  and 
logical  power.  This  controversy  he  subsequently  reduced  to  writing,  and 
it  was  published  some  time  after  his  decease,  in  connection  with  a  brief 
Memoir  of  his  life. 

In  1831,  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  hy 
the  College  of  New  Jersey. 

It  was  when  he  was  growing  most  rapidly  in  the  affectionate  regards  of 
his  congregation  at  Nashville,  and  in  the  respect  and  good  will  of  the  sur- 
rounding community,  that  death  terminated  his  career.  During  his  last 
illness,  a  hope  was  entertained  that  journeying  might  prove  beneficial  to 
him,  and  his  congregation  unanimously  requested  that  he  would  make 
the  experiment ;  but  before  he  had  time  to  comply  with  their  request,  he 
was  called  from  his  labours  to  his  reward.  His  dying  scene  was  a  most 
edifying  example  of  Christian  serenity  and  hope.  A  draught  of  water  was 
given  him,  and  he  said,  as  he  received  it,  **  I  shall  soon  drink  from  the  river 
of  life,  which  issues  from  the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb."  And  shortly 
after,  liis  spirit  took  its  upward  flight.  He  died  January  12,  1832,  aged 
fifty-four  years.     His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Bev.   Mr. 


Hvme.*  FwMnl  ^Senoons  were  abo  preeebed  at  SteubenvSle  and  Wash* 
iogton,  bj  the  Pastors  of  the  two  Glmrehes  to  which  he  had  saccessivelj 
miDistered. 

Dr.  Jennings'  publications  are  a  Sernysn  delivered  before  the  Synod  of 
Pittsburg,  1818 ;  a  Missionary  Sermon  delivered  at  the  organii^tion  of  a 
Mission  Family  in  Pittsburg,  1822 ;  a  Sermon  delivered  on  the  occasion  of 
the  death  of  David  Acheson  jr.,  1826 ;  [the  substance  of  thb  was  published 
by  the  American  Tract  Society];  the  History  of  Margaretta  0.  Hoge, 
daughter  of  David  Hoge,  Esq.,  of  Steubenville,  who  died  in  the  fifteenth 
year  of  her  age,  1827 ;  [a  sn^  volume  published  by  the  American  Sunday 
Sehool  Union. J  He  published  also  various  articles  in  the*  religious  periodi- 
eals  of  the  day. 


FROK  THE  BEY.  DAVID  ELLIOTT,  D.D., 

Western  Theological  SeminabTi  > 

Allbghant  Gitt,  February  6, 1849.  > 

Dear  Sir :  With  the  exception  of  a  single  interview,  I  do  not  recollect  that  I 
ever  met  with  Dr.  Jennings  until  we  met  in  Philadelphia,  as  memhers  of  the 
General  Assembly  of  1820.  In  1829, 1  became  his  successor  as  Pastor  of  the 
Church  in  Washington,  Pa.»  where  I  had  the  opportunity  of  meeting  him  after- 
wards, and  learning  something  more  of  him  in  his  private  and  social  character. 

I  well  recollect  that,  upon  my  first  acquaintance  with  him,  one  of  the  strongest 
impressions  made  upon  my  mind  was  that  arising  from  his  remarkable  candour 
and  unreserved  4^ankness.  By  the  easiness  and  freedom  of  his  manners  he 
divested  you  at  once  of  the  feeling  of  a  stranger,  and  placed  you  upon  the  foot- 
ing of  an  intimate  friend.  There  was  nothing  artificial  in  his  conversation, — no 
measured  stateliness  in  any  of  his  movements;  but  all  was  fVank  and  familiar, 
inviting  you  to  the  most  free  and  unrestrained  fellowship.  In  this  respect  he 
partook  largely  of  the  characteristics  of  a  JVtsttm  man,  who  had  been  trained 
in  the  midst  of  society  in  that  state  of  progress,  to  which  there  belongs  less  of 
form  and  more  of  animated  existence  and  social  harmony.  His  colloquial  pow- 
ers were  of  a  high  order.  Animated  and  sprightly  in  his  conversation,  he 
imparted  a  charm  to  the  social  circle,  which  he  often  enlivened  by  sallies  of 
genuine  wit,  and  the  introduction  of  appropriate  anecdotes.  In  the  midst  of  his 
liveliest  seasons  of  relaxation,  however,  he  never  forgot  the  propriety  of  a  gen- 
tleman, nor  trenched  upon  the  sacredness  of  the  character  of  a  minister  of  Christ. 
He  was  as  courteous  as  he  was  cheerful,  and  as  delicate  as  he  was  frank  and 
unceremonious. 

It  was  but  seldom  that  I  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  hearing  him  preach,  and 
only  when  his  health  was  feeble.  His  discourses  were  marked  by  good  sense, 
evangelical  doctrine,  and  an  excellent  spirit;  but  his  manner  was  neither  so 
forcible  nor  impressive  as  I  had  expected.  This  I  attributed  partly  to  his  want 
of  physical  strength,  and  partly  to  a  slavish  dependance  on  bis  manuscript,  at 
the  time  I  heard  him.     For  although  he  was  a  ready,  fluent  speaker  when  at  the 

*  WiLtiAM  Hume  wm  bom  in  Sootland,  Avgoft  15, 1770,  andwM  edowtad  at  the  UniTenitr 
of  Edinburgh.  He  wae  eent  m  a  mufionary  to  this  oountiy  by  the  Synod  of  the  Seoetsion  Chareh 
in  1799,  and  arrived  in  NaflhTille,  in  1800,  where  he  ooniinaed  iiU  bli  death.  He  was 
lereral  yeare  Profeteor  of  Ancient  LangueeeB  in  Cumberland  College,  and  alto  Principal  of  the 
NaehvUU  Female  Academy.  He  died  in  NaehriUe  on  the  23d  of  May,  183.^,  and  hie  Funeral 
Bermon  wae  preached  by  PrcBident  Lindaley.  He  wm  widelT  known,  m  a  man,  not  only  of  learn- 
ing, but  of  most  exemplary  religloui  character.  One  of  hii  eons,  the  late  Alfred  flume,  was 
distincniBbed  as  a  teaenor.  Another,  the  late  Rot.  James  )V.  Hume,  was  bom  at  Nsshville 
in  1822;  was  graduated  at  the  University  of  Nashville,  and  at  Iha  Tbeolofrioal  Seminary  ai 
Princeton;  was  settled  in  the  ministry  caocessively  in  Gallatin,  Tenn.,  and  in  Tallahassee^  Fa.  $ 
and  died  near  Smyrna,  Tenn.,  in  1864. 

Vol.  IV.  70 


554  FBBSBTTEBIAH. 

Bar,  in  the  pulpit  he  genenllj  read  his  sermons.  Upon  expressing  to  him  xny 
surprise  that  one  who  had  been  so  thoroughly  disciplined  to  speak  without  wri- 
ting, should  adopt  this  method,  he  gave  as  a  reason,  that>  as  he  had  not  been 
early  trained  to  the  arrangement  and  discussion  of  theological  subjects,  he  was 
afraid  he  might,  in  the  haste  and  Vapidity  of  extemporaneous  speaking,  say 
something  which  would  not  be  in  accordance  with  the  Word  of  God,  and  thus 
endanger  both  his  own  soul  and  the  souls  of  his  hearers.  When  an  emergency 
occurred,  however,  which  threw  him  back  on  his  former  habit  of  extemporaneous 
speaking,  he  is  reported  to  have  preached  with  much  more  power  and  &r  greater 
acceptance,  than  when  he  read  his  discourses — as  the  following  anecdote,  which  I 
received  from  the  Rev.  Elisha  Macurdy,  will  sho^. 

On  a  certain  occasion,  he  went  to  assist  Mr.  Macurdy  in  the  administration  of 
the  Lord's  Supper.  Having  lodged  in  the  neighbourhood  on  the  night  preceding 
the  Communion,  in  retiring  to  rest  he  had  left  his  coat — ^in  the  pocket  of  which 
were  his  sermons — too  near  the  fireplace.  During  the  night  it  fell  into  the  fire, 
and  both  coat  and  sermons  were  burnt.  Having  repaired  his  loss  in  the  morning, 
as  far  as  his  clothing  was  concerned,  from  Mr.  Macurdy's  wardrobe,  he  went  to 
the  church,  and  entered  the  pulpit  with  much  fear  and  trembling,  lest,  for  want 
of  his  notes,  he  should  not  be  able  to  proceed.  The  result,  however,  was  very 
different  from  what  he  had  anticipated.  He  preached  with  uncommon  readiness 
and  ability,  and  every  body  was  delighted.  A  pious  old  lady  who  had  often 
heard  him  preach  before,  could  not  withhold  the  expression  of  her  gratified  feel- 
ings; and,  as  Dr.  Jennings  passed  out  of  the  church,  she  approached  him,  and 
eagerly  grasping  his  hand,  said,  *'  0,  Mr.  Jennings,  but  that  was  a  fine  sermon 
you  gave  us  to-day — I  never  heard  you  preach  so  well  before."  "It  was  a  pretty 
good  substitute,"  said  Mr.  Macurdy,  who  was  near,  "  but  as  fco*  his  sermon,  it 
was  burned  last  night,"  and  then  told  her  what  had  occurred.  "  Well,  truly," 
said  the  good  lady,  after  hearing  the  account  of  the  disaster, — "  I  wish  Mr.  Jen- 
nings no  harm,  but  I  wish  he  may  always  have  his  sermons  burned,  when  he 
comes  to  preach  for  us." 

As  far  as  my  own  observation  extended,  however,  it  was  on  the  floor  of  our 
ecclesiastical  courts  that  he  exhibited  his  greatest  strength,  and  appeared  to  the 
most  advantage.  I  recollect  to  have  received  a  very  deep  impression  of  his  great 
power  as  a  debater,  on  one  occasion,  in  the  General  Assembly.  The  question 
under  discussion  was  a  proposition  relative  to  making  the  Synods  the  final  courts 
of  adjudication  in  all  cases  of  disciplinary  process.  In  the  discussion  of  this 
question  he  appeared  to  be  quite  at  home,  and  handled  the  subject  like  one  to 
whose  mind  courts  of  law,  and  questions  of  jurisprudence,  were  perfectly  famil- 
iar. And  although,  in  the  view  which  he  took,  he  was  not  sustained  by  the  vote 
of  the  house,  all  admitted  the  ability  of  his  argument,  and  the  skill  with  which 
he  presented  itt  On  such  occasions  he  might  justly  be  said  to  be  eloquent.  Not 
that  there  was  any  thing  sparkling  or  brilliant  in  his  speeches,  but  with  a  clear, 
strong  flow  of  thought  and  language,  he  riveted  the  attention  of  his  hearers,  and 
carried  them  with  him  to  the  conclusions  which  he  aimed  to  reach.  His  trains 
of  argumentation,  when  I  heard  him,  were  not  indeed  as  compactly  logical  as 
those  of  some  other  men;  but  they  were  sufficiently  so  for  all  the  purposes  of 
successful  conviction.  He  was  quick  in  discerning  the  weak  point  of  an  argu- 
ment, and,  as  a  respondent,  never  failed  to  take  advantage  of  it,  and  make  his 
opponent  feel  that  his  best  constructed  defences  were  in  imminent  danger  of 
demolition,  if  indeed  they  were  not  actually  levelled  to  the  ground.  In  his  cele- 
brated debate  with  Mr.  Campbell  at  Nashville,  an  intelligent  young  friend  of 
mine  who  was  present  and  heard  him,  wrote  me  in  terms  of  high  admiration  of 
his  skill  and  power,  in  this  respect.  I  have  often  heard  it  remarked  by  those 
who  knew  him  as  a  lawyer  at  the  Bar,  that,  in  this  particular,  he  greatly 
excelled. 


OBADIAH  JENNINGS.  555 

The  piety  of  Dr.  Jennings  was  earnest,  but  unostentstions.  He  seemid  to  be 
a  man  of  very  humble  spirit;  and  his  whole  deportment  was  that  of  a  sincere 
follower  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus.  He  had  a  mild  and  placid  countenance, 
calculated  to  win  the  affection  and  secure  the  confidence  of  his  brethren  and 
fellow  Christians. 

Such  are  my  recollections  and  impressions  respecting  this  highly  gifted  and 
excellent  brother.  By  the  ministers  and  churches  throughout  this  region,  he  is 
held  in  respectful  and  affectionate  remembrance. 

Your  friend  and  fellow-labourer  in  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 

DAYID  ELLIOTT, 


FROM  THE  HON.  JOHN  FINE, 
MBMBaa  or  ooNoaass,  *o. 

OonsMSBVBO.  N.  T*,  July  6, 1848. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  In  conversing  with  you,  some  time  since,  upon  the  peculiar 
traits  of  character  exhibited  by  some  eminent  clergymen  of  by-gone  days,  T 
related  an  anecdote  of  the  late  Rev.  Obadiah  Jennings,  which,  in  compliance 
with  your  request,  I  now  repeat  in  writing. 

Many  years  ago,  (about  a  quarter  of  a  century,)  I  met  Mr.  Jennings,  as  a 
fellow-member,  in  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  He  had 
been  ordained  a  minister  a  few  years  before;  and  this  was  his  first  appearance, 
at  least  in  that  capacity,  in  that  venerable  Body.  I  was  struck  with  the  plain- 
ness of  his  person,  and  the  simplicity  of  his  manners.  He  often  engaged  in 
debate  on  matters  of  business;  and  though  he  spoke  briefly,  it  was  always  with 
discrimination,  clearness,  and  point.  He  evidently  at  first  felt  himself  somewhat 
a  stranger;  but  from  day  to  day  he  became  more  at  ease,  and  his  arguments 
were  listened  to  with  attention  and  respect.  They  were  manifestly  the  product 
of  a  sound,  logical  and  well  balanced  mind. 

Before  the  close  of  the  session  of  the  Assembly,  a  circumstance  occurred, 
which  exhibited  the  meekness  and  self-possession  of  Mr.  Jennings,  even  more 
strikingly  than  his  success  in  debate  had  shown  his  reasoning  powers.  A  certain 
Doctor  of  Divinity,  from  the  Southwest,  of  highly  respectable  standing,  and 
venerable  in  years  and  appearance,  took  the  opposite  side  in  an  argument  with  Mr, 
Jennings,  who,  with  the  coolness  and  skill  of  an  experienced  disputant,  effectu- 
ally refuted  his  antagonist's  positions.  The  Doctor,  apparently  conscious  of 
being  worsted,  lost  his  temper,  and  asked  with  great  spirit  where  Mr.  Jennings 
had  learned  his  clerical  manners,  that  he  could  treat  the  opinions  of  his  seniors 
in  the  ministry  with  no  more  respect.  He  recollected  that  Mr.  J.  had  spent  most 
of  his  life  at  the  Bar, — ^in  a  profession  that  foments  disputes  and  wrangling;  and 
he  could  tell  the  young  minister  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  cultivate  both 
piety  and  modesty.  He  continued  his  remarks  at  some  length;  and  they  were 
so  personal,  and  severe,  and  withal  so  undeserved,  as  to  excite  a  genei^al  sympa- 
thy for  Mr.  Jennings.  When  he  rose  to  reply,  I  thought  the  clergyman  would 
be  lost  in  the  lawyer;  but  it  was  far  otherwise.  Mr.  J.  said  it  was  true  that  ho 
had  spent  most  of  his  life  in  the  practice  of  the  Law,  and  had  brought  into  the 
ministry  much  of  that  independence  of  thought  and  freedom  of  remark  to  which 
ho  had  been  accustomed  in  his  former  profession.  He  remarked  with  great 
liuraility^  that  much  of  his  life  had  gone  to  waste,  but  that  what  remained  ho 
had  devoted  to  his  Saviour.  He  begged  of  the  fathers  in  the  Church  to  give  him 
their  counsel  or  reproof,  when  they  saw  that  he  needed  either;  and  when  they 
instructed  him  to  be  humble,  he  expressed  the  hope  that  they  would  do  it  in 
such  a  manner  as  they  would  be  willing  he  should  imitate.  The  good  Doctor 
again  arose,  and  was  quite  overcome  with  feeling.    He  said  that  the  strong  food 


556  FEBSBTTSRIAJr. 

and  healthj  climate  of  the  West  rendered  her  eons  hnpnlaiTe  and  impetooiis 
He  asked  forgiyeness  of  the  young  minister,  and  promised  that,  when  he  again 
administered  r^roof,  he  would  do  it  in  a  more  Christian  manner. 

Yours  yery  truly, 

JOHlf  FINE. 


-♦♦■ 


SYLVESTER  LARNED  * 

1817—1820. 

Btlysstxr  La&nsd,  whose  career  was  scarcely  less  splendid  or  less  brief 
than  that  of  a  meteor,  was  bom  in  Pittsfield,  Mass.,  August  31,  1796. 
His  father,  Ool.  Simon  Lamed,  was  a  man  of  no  small  consideration  both  in 
oivil  and  military  life ;  and  his  mother,  who,  previous  to  her  marriage,  was 
a  Miss  Bull  of  Hartford,  possessed  a  degree  of  intelleetuai  and  moral 
energy,  and  withal  a  power  and  copiousness  of  expression,  which  gave  her 
a  prominence  in  every  circle  in  which  she  moved.  This  son  is  said  to  have 
inherited,  in  no  small  degree,  his  mother's  peculiarities;  and  some  who 
were  fascinated  and  overwhelmed  by  the  son's  eloquence,  did  not  hesitate  to 
say  that  if  the  mother  could  have  appeared  in  the  pulpit,  she  would  have 
shown  herself  in  no  wise  his  inferior. 

The  earliest  development  of  young  Laraed's  mind  conveyed  no  equivocal 
evidence  of  both  brilliancy  and  power.  Even  in  the  intercourse  of  child- 
hood, he  was  distinguished  for  his  remarkable  control  of  other  minds ;  and 
his  youthful  companions  are  said  to  have  rendered  many  an  nnoonscions 
tribute  to  his  stirring  eloquence.  It  is  recorded  of  him  that,  on  one  ooea- 
sion,  he  laid  a  wager  with  his  brother  that  he  would  talk  to  him  in  a  way 
that  should  make  him  weep;  and  that  his  pathetic  utterances  actually 
proved  an  overmatch  for  his  brother's  power  of  resistance.  His  course 
preparatory  to  entering  College  was  at  Lenox  Academy ;  and  his  proficiency 
in  every  branch  to  which  his  attention  was  directed,  bespoke  an  intellect  of 
the  highest  order. 

txk  the  year  1810,  when  he  was  yet  only  in  his  fourteenth  year,  he  entered 
Williams  College ;  but,  before  he  had  been  there  many  months,  he  gave 
himself  so  much  to  youthful  indiscretions  and  irregularities,  that  it  was 
thought  proper  that  he  should  be  withdrawn  from  the  institution.  The  next 
year,  however,  he  was  transferred  to  Middlebory  College,  where  he  found 
strong  religious  influences  pressing  upon  him,  which  he  seems  to  have  had 
little  disposition  to  resist ;  and  it  is  believed  that  his  mother's  affectionate 
and  earnest  counsels  came  in  aid  of  his  own  reflections,  to  set  him  forward 
in  the  right  way.  But,  notwithstanding  he  evinced  an  exemplary  respect 
for  Divine  institutions,  and  a  disposition  to  associate  chiefly  with  persons  of 
virtuous  habits,  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  a  permanent  change  of  char- 
actor  till  he  had  reached  his  Junior  year.  Indeed,  previous  to  this  time, 
he  seems  to  have  relapsed,  in  some  measure,  into  the  thoughtlessness  and 
levity  of  preceding  years ;  and  if  he  had  moved  onward  with  the  current 
into  which  he  was  then  falling,  not  improbably  he  would  have  been  found, 

•  Life  and  Eloqaenoe  of  Larned^  by  Bey.  R.  E.  Gnrley.— MS.  fix»m  Rey.  W.  Allen,  O.  D, 


STLVBSTEB  LABK SD.  g57 

at  no  digtant  period,  sitting  in  the  seat  of  the  scoffer.  In  1818,  howerer, 
bis  mind  was  fastened  intensely  and  permanently  on  the  things  that 
belonged  to  his  everlasting  peace.  I  am  indebted  to  my  friend,  the  Rev. 
Beuben  Smith,  who  was  a  class  mate  of  Mr.  Larned,  and  in  the  moat 
intimate  relations  with  him,  for  the  following  account  of  the  change  which, 
at -that  time,  occurred  in  his  character  : — 

*'  It  was  during  one  of  those  memofable  revivals  of  religion  with  which  Mid* 
dlebury  College  was,  at  that  early  period,  remarkably  blessed,  that  Lamed 
became,  as  there  is  reason  to  believe,  a  subject  of  renewing  grace.  The 
scenes  that  passed  in  some  of  our  religious  meetings  in  those  days  will,  I  am 
sure,  never  be  forgotten  by  any  who  witnessed  them.  I  remember  the 
place  and  the  hour  which  marked  the  first  open  manifestation  of  seriousness 
in  Lamed,  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday.  In  one  of  the  lecture  rooms  in  the 
old  College,  there  was  a  crowded  assemblage  of  students  engaged  in  a  con- 
ference or  prayer  meeting.  The  scene  was  one  of  deep  solemnity.  It  was 
observed  that  many  heads  were  bowed  during  the  exercises ;  but  not  an 
individual,  I  presume,  even  suspected  that  Larned  was  sharing  in  the 
impression.  But  he  was  there ;  and  that  hour  undoubtedly  marked  the 
beginning  of  a  crisis  in  his  existence. 

** After  the  meeting  was  dismissed,  and  Mr.  Solomon  M.  Allen  of  Pittsfield, 
(Larned's  intimate  friend,)  with  myself,  were  remaining  in  the  room,  we 
found,  to  our  surprise,  that  L.  was  lingering  also.  He  was  sitting  in  pro« 
found  silence  and  solemnity,  as  if  the  terrors  of  the  Almighty  had  taken 
hold  of  him.  And  this  indeed,  was  really  the  case.  A  question  that  we 
put  to  him  brought  from  him  the  most  frank  avowal  of  the  state  of  his 
mind ;  and  so  intense  was  the  agony  of  hb  spirit  that  it  seemed  almost 
insupportable.  He  asjced  us  to  pray  for  him,  and  we  did  so ;  and  then  left 
him  for  that  evening,  not  less  astonished  than  gratified  by  what  we  had 
witnessed. 

''  This  state  of  deep  conviction  of  sin  did  not  quickly  pass  away.  He 
straggled  on  for  weeks  in  *  a  horror  of  great  darkness.'  It  was  to  have  been 
expected,  considering  his  characteristic  ardour,  that  his  exercises,  while  in 
this  state  of  mind,  would  be  marked  by  great  strength  and  pungency ;  and 
80  it  actually  was.  I  can  never  forget  the  meeting  I  had  with  him,  during 
this  period,  on  my  return  to  College  after  a  short  absence — when  I  inquired 
of  him  in  respect  to  the  state  of  his  feelings,  he  made  me  this  frightful 
answer — '  It  is  an  awful  thing  to  say,  I  know ;  but  I  may  as  well  say  it  as 
feel  it — if  I  could  with  this  right  arm  reach  up  and  pluck  Jehovah  from  his 
throne,  I  would.*  And  yet,  the  rebel  yielded  at  last;  and  then  hia  soul 
seemed  to  be  filled  with  the  peace  and  joy  of  Heaven.  I  heard  him,  shortly 
after,  make  his  first  address  in  a  prayer-meeting — *  Oh,'  said  he,  with  a 
perfectly  illuminated  expression  of  countenance, — *  how  easy  a  thing  it  now 
appears  to  me  to  become  a  Christian — it  is  not  more  easy  to  breathe ; '  and 
he  seemed  really  to  marvel  that  all  the  unconverted  persons  whom  he  was 
addressing,  did  not  instantly  give  their  hearts  to  the  Saviour.  Here  again, 
his  highly  imaginative  and  glowing  temperament  had  full  opportunity  to 
display  itself;  and  so  intense  was  his  spiritual  rapture  that  I  remember  his 
saying,  on  one  occasion,  that  he  should  be  perfectly  willing  that  the  light- 
niug  should  strike  him  at  that  moment,  that  thus  his  spirit  might  imme- 
diately be  borne  into  his  Bedeemer's  presence. 


*568  PRESBYTERIAN. 

"This,  of  course,  in  the  first  fashion  of  it,  did  not  continue.  .But  his 
subsequent  life  clearly  showed  that  he  was  now  the  subject  of  a  radical 
change.  In  due  time,  he  made  a  public  profession  of  his  faith,  and,  so  f^r 
as  I  know,  he  always  honoured  that  profession  by  an  exemplary  Christian 
life." 

Notwithstanding  Mr.  Lamed  gave  evidence,  throughout  his  college  course, 
of  great  comprehensiveness  of  mind,  and  a  remarkable  facility  at  acquiring 
knowledge,  it  cannot  be  said  that  he  was  ever  distinguished  for  intense  appli- 
cation. He  seemed  to  have  an  almost  intuitive  knowledge  of  every  subject 
that  presented  itself;  and  not  unfrequently  the  most  rapid  glance  at  the 
lesson  to  be  recited,  would  enable  him,  in  the  recitation,  greatly  to  eclipse 
those  who  had  been  doggedly  at  work  for  hours  in  exploring  its  deep  and 
dark  places.  He  graduated  at  the  Commencement  in  1813 ;  and  on  the 
occasion  delivered  an  Oration  on  ''  the  Fall  of  Poland,"  which  marked  the 
highest  order  of  intellect,  and  elicited  the  most  intense  admiration. 

It  had  been  his  intention,  previous  to  the  change  which  occurred  in  his 
religious  views  and  feelings,  to  devote  himself  to  the  profession  of  Law; 
but,  in  consequence  of  that  event,  he  changed  his  purpose,  and  resolved  to 
enter  the  ministry.  Accordingly,  having  become  a  member  of  the  church 
in  his  native  town,  he  joined  the  Seminary  at  And  over,  with  a  view  to  pro- 
secute his  theological  course.  His  connection  with  the  institution,  however, 
continued  only  a  few  months,  when  he  returned  to  Pittsfield,  and  was 
engaged  for  some  time,  with  great  popularity  and  success,  as  a  teacher. 
During  his  residence  here  at  this  period,  he  delivered  an  Oration  on  the 
Anniversary  of  American  Independence,  indicative  alike  of  a  lofty  genius 
and  a  glowing  patriotism. 

Having  relinquished  his  place  as  a  teacher  at  Pitts^ld,  he  went  to  Prince- 
ton in  November,  1814,  and  became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary 
in  that  place.  From  the  beginning,  he  was  greatly  pleased  with  his  situa- 
tion, and  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  he  was  quickly  marked  as  a 
young  roan  of  great  power  and  promise.  Perhaps  he  was  not  distingubhed 
here,  more  than  at  Middlebury,  for  his  diligence  in  the  prescribed  course  of 
study  ;  but  his  facility  at  acquiring  and  communicating  gave  him  an  advan- 
tage which  few  others  have  ever  possessed  ;  and  those  exercises  particularly 
which  put  in  requisition  comprehensiveness  of  thought,  strength  of  imagina* 
tion,  and  promptness  and  power  of  expression,  marked  him  as  a  star  of 
the  first  magnitude.  Not  long  before  he  left  the  Seminary,  he  passed  some 
time  in  Newark  and  Elizabeth  town,  during  a  season  of  unusual  attention  to 
religion  in  those  places ;  and  though  he  was  not  yet  a  licensed  preacher,  he 
addressed  large  assemblies  on  the  subject  of  the  great  concern,  with  sur- 
prising ability  and  effect.  His  own  religious  affections  seem  to  have  been 
quickened  and  improved  from  mingling  in  these  deeply  interesting  scenes; 
and  nothing  could  have  constituted  a  better  preparation  for  his  approaching 
consecration  to  the  ministerial  office. 

He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  York  on  the  17th 
of  April,  1817  ;  and  was  ordained  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  by  the  same 
Presbytery,  about  the  middle  of  July  following.  His  exercise  before  the 
Presbytery,  technically  styled  "  the  popular  sermon,"  he  is  said  to  have 
prepared  in  the  course  of  one  night,  while  the  Presbytery  was  in  session. 
The  occasion  of  his  ordination  seems  to  have  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
his  mind,  and  a  letter  to  his  sister,  written  shortly  after,  shows  how  strongly 


STLYESTER  LARNED.  559 

he  felt  his  dependance  on  tho  Saviour's  promised  aid,  and  how  highly  he 
valued  the  privilege  and  honour  of  being  an  ambassador  of  Christ. 

Mr.  Lamed's  first  appearance  in  the  pulpit  astonished  all  who  had  not 
previously  witnessed  the  exhibition  of  his  wonderful  powers.  The  announce- 
ment that  he  was  to  preach  in  any  particular  church,  was  the  signal  for  that 
church  being  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity ;  while,  not  unfrequently,  a  large 
proportion  of  those  who  thronged  to  the  place  were  unable  to  get  within  tho 
sound  of  his  voice.  There  are  many  who  remember  the  wonderful  excite* 
meut  that  prevailed  in  respect  to  him ;  and  probably  none  who  do  remem- 
ber it,  can  remember  any  thing  that  approaches  to  it  in  point  of  intensity, 
in  respect  to  any  other  individual. 

About  the  commencement  of  the  year  1817,  the  Rev.  Elias  Cornelius, 
who  had  undertaken  a  mission  to  the  South,  partly  to  enlist  public  atten- 
tion to  our  Indian  tribes,  and  partly  and  especially  to  ascertain  the  moral 
condition  of  New  Orleans, — stopped  at  Princeton,  and,  as  it  would  seem, 
engaged  Mr.  Lamed  to  become  a  coadjutor  with  him  in  his  projected  enter- 
prise. Accordingly,  after  having  spent  a  few  weeks,  subsequent  to  his  licen- 
sure, in  visiting  his  friends,  and  making  the  necessary  arrangements  for 
his  journey,  Mr.  L.  set  out,  near  the  close  of  September, — not,  however, 
without  some  painful  anxieties,  and  even  gloomy  forebodings, — to  join 
his  friend  who  had  gone  before  him.  He  preached  at  various  points  on  his 
route,  and  never  failed  to  leave  behind  him  a  powerful  impression, — no  mat- 
ter what  may  have  happened  to  be  the  character  of  the  audience.  On  his 
arrival  at  Natchez,  he  received  the  sad  intelligence  of  the  death  of  his  father. 
He  reached  New  Orleans  on  the  22d  of  January,  1818,  and  was  met  with  a 
most  hearty  welcome,  not  only  by  his  friend  Cornelius,  but  by  many  others 
who  had  been  looking  for  him  with  great  interest  and  expectation. 

Immediately  after  his  arrival,  he  commenced  his  public  labours,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  the  first  sound  of  his  voice  thrilled  not  only  through  the  length 
and  breadth,  but  to  the  innermost  heart,  of  the  city.  Persons  of  all  classes 
and  descriptions  thronged  after  him,  and  the  purpose  was  formed  without 
delay  to  secure,  if  possible,  his  permanent  ministrations.  Provbion  was 
made  at  once  for  erecting  a  new  and  splendid  church,  and  the  individuals 
engaged  in  the  enterprise  presented  him  a  call  to  become  their  Pastor,  which 
he  seems,  with  little  hesitation,  to  have  accepted.  He  remained  in  New 
Orleans,  labouring  in  season  and  out  of  season,  till  the  beginning  of  April, 
when  he  set  out  to  return  to  the  North ;  having,  during  his  brief  sojourn 
there,  drawn  forth  an  amount  of  good  will,  and  gratitude,  and  admiration, 
which  constituted  the  most  decisive  testimony  to  both  his  intellectual  and 
moral  qualities. 

He  reached  Pittsfield  about  the  middle  of  June,  where  he  was  welcomed 
of  course  with  every  affectionate  and  congratulatory  expression.  As  the  prin- 
cipal object  of  his  visit  to  the  North  was  to  complete  the  arrangements, 
already  partially  made,  for  the  building  of  hb  church,  he  found  but  little 
time  to  devote  to  his  friends ;  though  he  travelled  somewhat  extensively, 
and  preached  in  several  of  the  most  important  churches,  and  never  failed 
to  fulfil  the  highest  expectation  which  had  been  formed  concerning  him. 
fle  reached  New  Orleans,  on  his  return,  on  the  21st  of  December  following, 
after  a  journey  rendered  uncommonly  tedious  and  difficult  by  the  low  water 
in  the  Wastem  rivers. 


500  PBXSBTTXRIAir. 

NotwitliBtaiiding  some  disoonraging  curcamstanoes  had  CMWurred  in  conneo* 
tion  with  the  building  of  his  church,  they  were  all  auoeessfiilly  met.  and  on 
the  4th  of  July,  1819,  the  finished  building  was  dedicated  to  the  worship 
and  service  of  God,  which  he  made  the  ocoasion  of  one  of  his  most  eloquent 
efforts. 

In  December  following,  he  was  married  to  Sarah  Wyer,  from  Newbury- 
port,  Mass., — a  lady  of  great  worth  and  no  small  personal  attraction. 

As  Mr.  Lamed  had  not  yet  passed  a  summer  in  New  Orleans,  his  eonsti* 
ttttion  of  course  had  not  become  in  any  degree  conformed  to  the  climate; 
and  hence  it  was  with  no  little  anxiety  that  his  friends  heard  of  his  deter- 
mination to  remain  there  during  the  succeeding  sickly  season.  Though  no 
one  can  doubt  that  his  purpose  to  do  so  was  dictated  by  the  strongest  con- 
viction of  duty,  as  he  could  not  but  be  aware  that  his  life  was  in  imminent 
peril,  yet  it  may  reasonably  be  questioned  whether  it  was  not  a  mistaken 
view  of  his  obligations  that  led  him  to  this  course.  He  seems,  however,  to 
have  formed  the  purpose  after  the  most  mature  reflection,  and  to  have 
girded  himself,  from  the  beginning,  for  a  conflict  even  with  the  last  enemy. 
Meanwhile,  his  conversation  and  deportment  indicated  an  increased  degree 
of  spirituality ;  and  his  preaching  seemed  specially  designed  to  accomplish 
the  immediate  preparation  of  his  hearers  for  the  eternal  world.  Among 
his  papers  were  found  the  following  resolutions,  dated  New  Orleans,  July 
8,  1820. 

"  1.  I  will  try,  from  this  time,  to  be  more  punctual  and  fervent  in  secret  as  well  as 
in  family  prayer. 

''  2.  1  will  try  to  give  up,  both  in  fact  and  in  appearance,  my  besetting  levity  of 
character  and  disposition. 

*'  8.  I  will  try  to  study  more  in  my  profession,  and  to  preach  better. 

"4,  I  will  try  to  bring  myself,  upon  the  whole^  nearer  every  day  to  the  proper 
deportment  of  a  serious  Christian. 

"  Hay  the  Lord  Jesus  help  me  in  my  effort,  for  his  name's  sake.    Amen. 

"  Stlvesteh  La&hxd.' 

The  pestilence  at  length  began  to  show  itself;  and  before  the  close  of 
August  it  was  spreading  with  terrible  effect.  Mr.  Lamed,  prompted  alike 
by  a  naturally  humane  and  generous  spirit,  and  by  a  high  sense  of  duty  as 
a  Christian  minister,  hesitated  not  to  be  found  wherever  there  was  suffering 
to  be  relieved  or  want  to  be  supplied.  On  the  last  Sabbath  in  August,  he 
met  his  beloved  flock,  bowed  as  they  were  under  the  burden  of  sorrow,  and 
addressed  them  (as  it  proved,  for  the  last  time)  on  these  strikingly  appro- 
priate words, — words  which  might  seem  almost  prophetic  of  the  scenes  upon 
which  he  was  about  to  enter: — **For  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is 
gain.'*  The  sermon,  which  is  incorporated  in  the  memoir  of  his  life  by  Mr. 
Gurley,  is  exceedingly  brief  and  apparently  unstudied ;  and  yet  it  breathes 
a  spirit  well  befitting  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was  delivered. 

On  the  following  morning,  he  was  seized  with  the  fever,  and  it  quickly 
became  apparent  to  both  himself  and  others,  that  it  was  assuming  its  most 
malignant  form.  It  had  a  fatal  termination  on  Thursday  evening,  the  81  si 
of  August, — the  day  which  completed  his  twenty-fourth  year. 

The  following  brief  account  of  his  illness  is  from  a  letter  of  Mrs.  Lamed 
to  Mr.  Cornelius,  written  shortly  after  his  death. 

"He  evinced  no  alarm,  when  sensible  that  the  yellow  fever  had  seized  upon  biiu. 
After  thirty -six  hours,  lie  abandoned  all  hope  of  recovery,  though,  at  that  tune,  thj 
apprehension  of  danger  was  entertained  by  his  friends.  From  the  ccanmeBeemcBt  of 
his  disease,  a  most  unnatural  depn  ssion  of  his  spirits  was  evident,  flrom  which  no 
effort  could  arouse  him.   When  1  have  bent  over  him,  using  every  possible  exertion  lo 


STLYSgTSR  labhed.  ^61 

restore  some  sign  of  wonted  cheerfolness,  he  would  look  upon  me  with  a  fixedness  «nd 
psrnestness  which  seemed  to  say, — '  Call  not  my  thoughts  from  the  contemplation  of 
that  scene  into  which  my  spirit  soon  must  enter.'  The  expression  of  his  face  at  those 
iiiomunts  I  can  never  forget,  though  my  years  be  lengthened  to  the  utmost  bound  of 
liuman  existence, — ^the  calmness  and  resignation  of  the  Christian  triumphing  over  the 
struggles  of  nature.  He  was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  nature  of  the  disease,  and 
marked  its  progress,  and  observed  each  unfavourable  change  as  it  appeared.  There 
was  entire  resignation  to  his  Maker's  will,  and  a  readiness  to  obey  tlie  summons,  at 
whatever  hour  lie  might  be  called  to  depart.  When  all  hope  was  annihilated,  and  the 
last  fatal  symptom  appeared,  he  beheld  it  with  the  most  perftnrt  composure,  and  an 
ttucbanged  couutenance.  Death  had  no  terrors  for  him ;  it  came  like  a  kind  angel  to 
bjar  him  to  his  Father's  bosom ;  and  when  the  heart  that  clung  to  him  as  to  life  itself 
was  bursting  with  unutterable  anguish,  he  remained  unmoved,  for  his  heart  was  fixed, 
trusting  in  the  Lord.  His  reason,  except  for  a  few  short  inten'als,  was  continued  to 
him,  bright  and  unimpaired  till  life's  last  hour.  A  few  hours  before  his  death,  he  took 
his  leave  of  me,  saying  that  it  was  idl  right  that  we  should  be  separated,  and  begged  I 
might  not  come  into  the  room  again — he  had  given  up  the  world,  and  wished  to  shut 
out  every  object  that  might  fix  his  thoughts  upon  it.  We  parted, — ^my  beloved  hus- 
band to  join  the  blest  above,  and  enter  a  blissful  and  enrapturing  scene, — I,  to  a  world 
which  no  longer  held  a  charm  to  entice  me, — for  the  dearest  tie  that  bound  me  to  it 
was  dissolved." 

Mr.  Lamed^s  death  occurred  on  the  day  which  had  been  set  apart  by  his 
church  to  be  devoted  to  prayer,  humiliation,  and  thanksgiving,  and  on 
which  they  had  expected  to  listen  to  his  voice  from  the  pulpit ;  but,  as  it 
turned  out,  they  had  occasion  to  observe  it  as  a  day  of  the  deepest  mourn- 
ing. His  remains  were  carried  to  his  church,  where  the  Episcopal  burial 
service  was  read  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hull,*  after  which  they  were  deposited 
in  their  final  resting  place.  The  shock  to  the  congregation  which  he  had 
been  instrumental  of  gathering, — to  the  city  of  which  he  was  fast  becoming 
the  idol,  cannot  well  be  imagined ;  and  the  sad  tidings,  as  they  went  abroad 
through  the  land,  produced  everywhere  an  intensity  of  grief,  as  if  there 
bad  been  an  all-pervading  sense  of  personal  bereavement. 

Mr.  Lamed,  in  his  whole  character,  bore  the  unequivocal  stamp  of  great- 
ness. Though  he  was  not  above  the  middle  size,  yet  his  erect,  synmietrical 
and  majestic  form,  his  open  and  generous  countenance,  the  lustre  of  his 
eye,  and  the  grace  of  his  whole  manner,  marked  him,  even  in  a  crowd,  as 
an  extraordinary  roan.  And  these  external  characteristics  were  a  true 
index  to  his  mind  and  heart.  He  had  a  quickness  of  apprehension  that  well 
nigh  outstripped  the  lightning.  He  comprehended  by  a  glance  that  upon 
which  others  might  bestow  weeks  of  intellectual  labour,  and  yet  not  com- 
prehend it  so  well.  Though  his  mind  more  naturally  laid  hold  of  a  sub- 
ject in  bold  and  impressive  outline  than  in  minute  detail,  yet,  if  occasion 
required,  he  could  grapple  successfully  with  the  most  difficult  problems  in 
intellectual,  moral  or  theological  science.  His  memory  was  uncommonly 
retentive  and  exact,  and  was  always  ready  to  give  out  with  perfect  accuracy 

•  James  Foster  Hull  was  bom  in  Belfast,  Ireland,  on  the  15th  of  May,  1776.  His  father 
was  a  respeotable  Presbyterian  elergyman,  and  his  mother  was  distingaished  not  only  for  her 
intellect  bat  her  patriotism,  and  was  an  inUmate  friend  of  Lord  Castlereagh.  He  was  edaoated 
at  the  University  of  Olasf^w,  and  afterwards  travelled  extensively  under  circumstances  faighlv 
Cavumrable  to  iatelleotnal  improvement.  On  his  return  to  his  native  country,  be  enlisted  with 
great  seal  in  the  memorable  strnsgle  of  1798  and  1799,  and  Anally  yielded  to  the  pressure  off 
cireumstanoes,  and  came  to  the  Umted  States,  arriving  at  Norfolk  early  in  1800.  lie  officiated 
lor  a  while  as  a  Presbyterian  mmister  at  Augusta,  Qa.,  where  he  was  married  to  an  Irish  lady 
of  ipreat  beauty  and  elegance.  Thenoe  he  removed  to  Missouri  and  praetased  Law.  H»  was 
invited  to  Kew  Orleans  in  1814  to  take  charge  of  a  congregation,  and  ofiiciated  at  first  as  a  Pres* 
bvterlaa  eleigyiaan,  but,  by  request  of  the  congregation,  took  orders  in  the  Episoopal  Church. 
lie  was  a  good  classical  seholar,  and  established  an  Aoadenoy  in  Nsw  Orleans,  which  was 
liberally  patronised.  He  died  at  New  Orleans,  after  a  lingering  illness,  on  the  6th  of  June, 
1838,  havkc  bera  the  Reetor  of  Christ  Church  in  that  dty,  nineteen  years.  He  was  TS17 
latlaMtowiUiMr.  LanMd,  and  otBdatad  at  bb  marriage  as  weU  as  his  borM. 

Vol.  IV.         •       71 


562  PBS8BTT8RIAK. 

what  had  once  been  oommitted  to  it.  Hig  imagination  was  bold  and  loftj : 
it  revelled  amidst  images  of  grandeur  and  strength,  rather  than  of  exquisite 
beauty  and  delicacy.  His  feelings  were  as  strong  as  his  perceptions  were 
clear  and  rapid ;  and  yet  they  were  under  admirable  control, — never  sub- 
jecting him,  either  in  private  or  in  public,  to  the  semblance  of  embarrassment. 
He  was  eminently  qualified,  by  both  his  intellectual  and  moral  constitution, 
for  great  enterprises :  with  a  power  of  persuasion  that  was  irresistible,  an 
ardour  that  nothing  could  damp,  an  intrepidity  that  nothing  could  terrify,  * 
and  a  perseverance  that  nothing  could  discourage, — he  had  only  to  set  about 
any  great  work,  and  it  was  almost  sure  of  being  accomplished.  There  were 
difficulties  attendant  on  the  project  of  building  his  church  in  New  Orleans, 
that  seemed  well  nigh  insurmountable  ;  and  yet,  before  his  skilful  manage- 
ment and  untiring  energy,  they  all  disappeared  ;  and  he  lived  long  enough 
(alas !  only  long  enough)  to  see  this  favourite  object  brought  to  its  desired 
consummation. 

But  it  was  in  the  pulpit  that  he  earned  his  brightest  laurels.  He  was  great 
everywhere,  and  in  every  thing ;  but  it  was  in  his  appropriate  character  as 
a  preacher  of  the  Oospel,  that  he  towered  to  such  a  surprising  height  His 
voice  was  unrivalled,  in  both  melody  and  flexibility,  and  accommodated 
itself  with  perfect  accuracy  to  the  sentiment  which  he  uttered.  There  was 
a  solemnity,  an  earnestness,  and  sometimes  an  all-subduing  pathos ;  there 
was  the  soul  kindling  in  the  eye  and  beaming  through  the  countenance ; 
there  was  a  grace  and  appropriateness  of  gesticulation,  and  an  incompara- 
ble majesty  pervading  the  whole  manner, — ^all  of  which  combined,  constitu- 
ted him  no  doubt  one  of  the  first  pulpit  orators  of  the  age.  The  e£fects 
which  his  preaching  produced,  were  quite  in  accordance  with  this  represen- 
tation. I  heard  him  in  one  of  his  first  efforts  in  the  pulpit ;  and  though  his 
audience  was  composed  chiefly  of  his  fellow-students,  and  other  young  men 
with  many  of  whom  he  was  in  habits  of  most  familiar  intercourse,  yet,  for 
a  time,  he  made  them  all  forget  that  he  was  their  daily  companion,  and  at 
the  close  of  the  service,  they  found  themselves  well  nigh  overpowered  by 
his  eloquence.  He  was  preaching  in  Philadelphia,  (as  I  was  informed  by 
the  clergyman  whose  pulpit  he  occupied,)  when  the  bells  rung  an  alarm  of 
fire;  but,  contrary  to  all  precedent,  not  an  individual  moved  from  his  seat. 
A  gentleman  of  high  standing  in  political  life,  who  had  no  religious  sympa- 
thies with  Mr.  Larned,  and  who  rather  prided  himself  upon  his  power  of  self- 
command,  was  induced  by  the  report  he  had  heard  of  his  eloquence,  to  go 
to  hear  him  preach ;  and  he  sat  struggling  with  his  emotions,  and  bathed  in 
tears,  during  nearly  the  whole  service,  though  he  subsequently  expressed 
himself  very  doubtful  in  regard  to  the  doctrine  to  which  he  had  listened. 

Notwithstanding  all  that  must  be  admitted  in  respect  to  Mr.  Larned'a 
high  intellectual  endowments,  it  cannot  be  questioned  that  the  secret  of  hia 
marvellous  power  over  an  audience,  lay  chiefly  in  his  manner.  One  or  two 
facts  occur  to  me  which  strikingly  illustrate  this.  I  remember  to  have 
heard  him  preach  a  sermon  on  the  text — "  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son 
hath  the  witness  in  himself."  During  the  last  eight  or  ten  minutes  of  its 
delivery,  the  audience  were  well  nigh  entranced ;  and  well  do  I  recollect  to 
have  heard  one  individual  who  listened  to  it,  and  who  had  not  the  reputation 
of  easily  falling  into  ecstacies,  remark  that,  at  the  close  of  the  discourse, 
such  was  the  efifect  produced  upon  him,  he  found  it  scarcely  possible, 
for  some  time,  to  rise  from  his  seat ;  and  yet  the  expressions  by  which  thii 


SYLVESTER  LABKED.  533 

effect  was  chiefly  produced  were  "And  can  yon  sleep  f  Will  you  sleep  ? 
Dare  you  sleep  V*  Dr.  GorDelias  stated  that  shortly  after  Mr.  L.  went  to 
New  Orleans,  he  (Dr.  C.)  happened  to  be  in  his  study  on  a  Sabbath  eve- 
ning, just  as  Mr.  L.  was  going  out  to  preach ;  and  seeing  his  sermon  lie 
upon  the  table,  he  took  it  up,  and  in  the  midst  of  an  impassioned  strain  of 
eloquence,  found  this  expression — 

'*  Death,  what  a  thought!" 
He  told  Mr.  L.  that  it  was  too  tame  a  remark  to  be  admitted,  especiblly  in 
sneh  a  connection  ;  that  it  would  inevitably  impair  the  effect  of  the  sermon ; 
and  besought  him  to  omit  it  in  the  delivery.  He  did  not,  however,  agree  to 
the  suggestion ;  the  consequence  of  which  was  that  Dr.  C,  though  delighted 
with  the  previous  part  of  the  discourse,  was  anticipating  with  a  painful 
anxiety  what  he  regarded  the  objectionable  passage.  But,  when  the  preacher 
oame  to  it,  he  uttered  it  with  such  indescribable  power,  that  Dr.  C.  himself 
acknowledged  that  it  produced  more  effect  upon  himself  than  the  whole 
sermon  besides.  And,  if  I  mistake  not,  my  view  of  this  matter  will  not  be 
doubted  by  any  one  who  compares  the  acknowledged  effect  of  his  discourses, 
as  delivered,  with  the  actual  effect  which  they  now  produce,  when  read. 
They  certiunly  are  characterized  by  vigorous  thought,  and  occasionally  by 
a  high  order  of  eloquence ;  and  yet  they  are  far  from  sustaining  the  acknow- 
ledged reputation  of  the  preacher.  I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that  his  power 
lay  so  entirely  in  his  manner,  that  there  was  little  besides :  doubtless  if  he 
had  lived,  he  would  have  produced  discourses  which  would  have  done  the 
highest  honour  to  his  country  and  his  age ;  but  we  are  to  bear  in  mind 
that  those  which  we  actually  possess,  were  written  between  the  age  of 
twenty-two  and  twenty-four,  and  written  too  generally  with  the  utmost  rapid- 
ity, and  without  the  least  suspicion  that  they  were  ever  to  see  the  light. 
Larned  has  a  reputation  for  pulpit  eloquence  which  the  publication  of  even 
the  tamest  sermons  could  not  kill ;  but  I  am  constrained  to  say  to  those 
who  would  know  something  of  what  he  was  in  the  pulpit,  that  they  must 
gather  it  rather  from  the  existing  traditions  of  the  effect  of  his  preaching, 
than  from  the  volume  of  his  discourses  that  has  been  given  to  the  world. 

Mr.  Larned's  sermons  were  generally  written  and  delivered  memoriter ; 
though  he  had  a  rare  talent  at  extemporaneous  speaking,  and  some  of  his 
off-hand  efforts  were  among  his  most  eloquent  and  effective.  When  he 
spoke  under  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  and  without  premeditation,  his 
sentences  were  as  correct,  and  his  utterance  as  ready,  and  oflen  more 
impressive,  than  when  he  delivered  the  results  of  his  most  mature  reflection. 

In  the  year  1844,  an  interesting  Memoir  of  this  remarkable  man,  by  the 
Rev.  R.  R.  Gurley,  was  published  in  connection  with  the  Sermons  already 
referred  to.  These  Sermons,  especially  to  those  who  knew  the  author, 
must  be  invaluable ;  but  there  is  little  doubt  that  posterity  would  have 
formed  both  a  higher  and  a  juster  estimate  of  his  powers,  if  the  means  of 
forming  an  estimate  whioh  these  discourses  furnish,  had  not  been  supplied 
to  them. 

PROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  ALLEN,  D.  D. 

NoaTHAxnov,  October  19, 1852. 

ReT.  and  dear  Sir:  When  you  have  requested  me  to  give  yon  some  of  my 
recollections  and  impressions  concerning  Sylvester  Lamed,  my  answer  has  been 


564  PBESBTTEBIAK. 

that,  although  his  familj  was  of  my  parish,  and  he  was  rooeived  hj  me  i&to  the 
Church  at  Pittsfield,  of  which  I  was  Pastor,  yet  that  I  was  not  mach  conrersant 
with  him,  and  could  say  little  in  respect  to  him.  This  is  to  be  accounted  for 
from  the  fact  that  I  resided  elsewhere  until  he  became  a  member  of  College, 
and  that  he  was  yery  little  at  Pittsfleld  subsequently  to  that  period. 

Yet  I  will  mention,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  forty  years,  with  what 
interest  I  regarded  him  as  a  beautiful  graceftil  boy,  of  a  vigorous  mind,  a  noble 
spirit,  and  great  strength  of  purpose.  Tou  can  hardly  conceive  of  a  greater 
contrast  of  character  than  existed  between  his  parents.  The  father.  Col.  Lamed, 
who  had  been  a  soldier  of  the  Revolution,  was  a  calm,  quiet,  pleasant  man,  and 
by  no  means  distinguished  for  the  stronger  points  of  character.  The  mother 
was  a  woman  of  impulse;  yet  her  impulses  were  on  the  side  of  virtue,  order, 
benevolence,  and  piety.  She  had  strong  sense,  and  a  wonderful  fluency  and 
energy  of  speech;  and  what  she  deemed  right,  she  dared  to  do,  whatever  might 
be  the  opposing  influences.  Being  her  young  pastor,  I  was  in  intimate  relations 
with  her;  and  experienced  from  her  continual  acts  of  kindness  which  will  never 
fade  from  my  memory.  I  doubt  not  that  the  character  of  the  mother  was  trans- 
ferred in  strong  lines  to  the  son, — not,  however,  by  any  mysterious  process,  but 
by  the  intelligible  method  of  maternal  influence,  transmitted  through  the  eye 
and  car,  by  example  and  teaching,  to  the  growing  intellect  and  susceptible  heart. 

More  than  I  knew  by  personal  intercourse  with  Mr.  Lamed,  I  knew  by  means 
of  his  friendly  connection  with  my  brother,  Solomon  M.  Allen,  his  class  mate  at 
Middlebury,  and  afterwards  Professor  of  Languages  there,  and  his  fellow  student 
in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover.  My  brother  in  one  of  his  letters 
says, — '*  Sylvester  does  well.  Rabbi  Stuart  tells  me  that  he  is  a  plant  worth 
cultivating."  But  he  was  not  a  little  embarrassed  in  his  theological  course  by 
his  inability  to  meet  his  unavoidable  expenses  without  personal  effort;  and  he 
Accordingly  returned  to  Pittsfield  and  engaged  in  a  school  at  a  salary  of  thirty  dol- 
lars per  month.  Afterwards,  while  a  resident  at  Pnnceton,  he  felt  the  same  pres- 
sure as  to  his  pecuniary  circumstances,  as  was  indicated  by  the  following  extract 
of  a  letter  which  he  addressed  to  me  in  February,  1816 : — **  Certain  circumstances 
induce  me  to  ask  whether  if  I  should  wish  to  spend  the  ensuing  summer  at 
Pittsfleld,  you  will  give  me  a  seat  in  your  study.  This  sentence  incloses  the 
whole  of  my  request.  I  do  not  solicit  the  privilege  of  recitation,  or  eren  of  par- 
ticular superintendence,  although  both  of  them  would  be  as  agreeable  as  they 
would  be  useful ;  but  merely  if,  in  ordinary  cases,  I  can  avail  myself  of  your 
study,  and  in  all  cases,  of  your  library.  But  I  find  I  have  said  too  much,  unless 
I  say  more.  The  certain  circumstances  to  which  I  have  alluded  are  the  farther- 
est  possible  from  any  thing  like  dissatisfaction  with  this  Seminary.  1  am  bound 
to  state  most  explicitly  that  I  have  never,  for  a  moment,  had  a  feeling  like  this. 
Will  you  be  pleased  to  bear  in  mind  that  it  is  by  no  means  impossible  I  may  bo 
compelled  to  spend  the  summer  out  of  Princeton.  As  the  state  of  things  is 
uncertain,  you  will  confer  a  favour  by  forbearing  to  mention  to  any  one  the 
subject  of  this  letter.  I  merely  wish  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  business,  so  as  not 
to  be  thrown  at  once  from  all  opportunity  of  prosecuting  my  studies.  Even  my 
parents  will  not  at  present,  and  perhaps  at  no  future  time,  be  made  acquainted 
with  my  intentions.'' 

This  extract  rereals  at  once  several  traits  of  his  character;  his  tender  regard 
to  the  peace  and  comfort  of  his  parents,  whom  he  deemed  unable  to  provide  him 
with  the  requisite  funds, — his  manly  spirit  of  independence,  and  his  determina- 
tion in  no  event  to  suffer  his  theological  studies  to  be  entirely  interrupted.  I  do 
not  remember  in  what  manner  his  difficulties  were  removed;  but  they  we're 
removed  in  some  way,  and  he  proceeded  with  his  studies  without  interruption. 
This  was  perhaps  a  necessary  and  useful  discipline  of  Providence,  improving  his 


STLYBSTBB  LARVED.  535 

chATftcter,  and  fitting  him  for  a  transition,  in  a  short  time,  to  a  rtrj  different 
state  in  regard  to  wolrldly  prosperity. 

As  to  the  religious  controversies  of  the  day,  his  friend,  Professor  Allen,  having 
asked  hira  which  side  he  took,  he  answered  (March  24, 1817) — *'  Strictly  speak- 
ing, perhaps  neither  side;  but  my  sentiments,  on  the  whole,  are  such  that  I  am 
called  a  Uopkinsian.  From  some,  however,  of  the  reputed  doctrines  of  Hopkin- 
sianism  I  revolt  as  much  as  any  one.  I  have  ever  thought  it  my  duty — I  think 
it  my  duty  still — to  preach  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  in  precisely  the  same  way 
as  1  should  have  done,  had  John  Calvin  or  Samuel  Hopkins  never  existed.  And 
I  feel  groat  pleasure  in  believing  that,  however  the  ministers  of  my  adopted 
Church  may  differ  in  minor  things,  they  agree  in  all  those  questions  which  may 
be  deemed  fundamental,  or  even  highly  important." 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  speak  of  the  deep  impression  which  rests  upon  my 
mind,  in  respect  to  the  talents,  accomplishments,  and  eloquence,  as  well  as  the 
high  Christian  character,  of  Sylvester  Lamed.  It  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of 
Providence  that  his  earthly  career,  which  seemed  to  promise  such  a  vast  amount 
of  good,  should  be  terminated  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-four  years.  A  similar 
mystery  attends  the  early  removal  of  the  others  of  "  the  group  of  stars  "  at 
Andover,  commemorated  by  Carlos  Wilcox,  their  friend,  in  one  of  his  poems : 
they  were  Solomon  M.  Allen,  Joseph  K.  Andrus,*  Alexander  M.  Fisher,  Pliny 
Fisk,  and  Levi  Parsons.  To  these  may  be  added  Mr.  Wilcox  himself,  making 
now,  as  we  may  hope,  **  a  constellation  of  seven  stars,  like  the  Pleiades,  resplen- 
dent in  Heaven." 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  with  very  great  respect, 

Your  friend  and  Christian  brother, 

WILLIAM  ALLEN. 


FROM  FRANCIS  HALL,  ESQ., 

EDITOR  or  THS  NSW  TOEK  OOMMBBCIAL  ADVaSTISBR. 

New  York,  February  16, 1867. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  It  was  my  privilege  to  know  Mr.  Lamed  soon  after  he 
became  a  minister  of  Christ;  and  after  his  setllcment  in  New  Orleans,  I  was 
favoured  with  occasional  letters  from  him; — the  last  of  which  was  written  but  a 
few  days  before  his  death.  In  that  letter  he  stated  that  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  remain  at  his  post,  although  friend  after  friend  was  falling  around  him. 
The  result  of  his  thus  remaining  forms  one  of  the  sad  events  in  the  history  of 
that  day. 

Sylvester  Lamed  was  no  common  man — though  it  has  been  my  privilege  to 
know  many  distinguished  young  clergymen,  I  can  call  only  one  to  memory  who 
had  as  wide  and  splendid  a  reputation  as  he — that  was  the  celebrated  Summer- 
field,  who,  a  correspondent  of  yours  says,  ''passed  like  a  lambent  flame  through 
the  land,  shedding  along  his  path  a  brilliant  irradiation  of  Christian  light;" — 
and  the  same  writer,  uniting  the  names  of  Lamed  and  Summerfield,  says,  *'  both 
were  martyrs  to  their  sense  of  duty,  and  fell  on  the  field  of  their  fame  with  their 
armour  on." 

When  Mr.  Lamed  left  Pittsfield  for  New  Orleans,  he  took  Detroit  in  his  route. 
I  met  him  at  Utica,  and  as  joumcying  at  that  time  was  slow, — ^being  in  stage- 
coaches, which  travelled  only  from  fifty  to  sixty  miles  a  day,  I  continued  in  his 

•  JoBspH  Raphael  Andrdb  was  born  in  Cornwall,  Vt.,  in  1791 ;  wai  gradaated  at  Middle- 
bnrv  CoUm  in  1812;  stadiod  at  Yale  College  ag  a  resident  graduate  in  1812-lS;  at  the 
Andover  Theological  Seminary  from  1813  to  1816;  with  Bishop  Oriswold  in  Rhode  Island  in 
1815-16:  reeeir^  Episcopal  ordination;  preached  in  Marblehead,  Mass.,  and  in  the  Nortbem 

K,rtof  Yonnont,  in  1816-17;  and  in  Virginia,  from  1817  to  1821.    In  Jannaiy,  1831,  having 
en  appointed  first  agent  of  the  American  Colonisation  Society,  he  sailed  for  Africa  with  a 
oolonjr  of  free  negroes^  and  died  at  Sierra  Leone,  July  28,  1821. 


^566  PHXSBTTERIAK. 

company  about  two  weeks.  He  preached  with  great  power  at  Utfca,  the  daj 
after  his  arriyal  there.  The  next  morning,  we  proceeded  to  Auburn,  and  t!ie 
fbllowing  afternoon,  reached  Ganandaigua.  In  the  eyening,  I  called  on  my  old 
friend  Thomas  Beales,  £sc).,  and,  in  the  course  of  our  conrersation,  mentioned 
that  Mr.  Lamed  was  at  the  hotel.  He  asked  whether  he  would  preach  in  Ganan- 
daigua :  I  replied  that,  as  we  should  not  leare  until  the  next  day,  I  thought  he 
would,  if  invited.  Shortly  after,  Mr.  Beales  called  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Johns,* 
and  arrangements  were  made  that  Mr.  Lamed  should  preach  at  eight  o'clock. 
It  was  known  to  Mr.  L.  that  the  Rer.  Dr.  Fitch,  formerly  President  of  Williams 
GoUege,  resided  at  Bloomfield,  a  few  miles  West  of  Ganandaigua,  and  he  propo- 
sed to  visit  him  the  next  day.  Dr.  Fitch  was  President  of  the  Gollege  when 
Lamed  was  a  student,  and  although  the  Doctor  was  very  much  attached  to  him, 
he  was  obliged  to  consent  to  bis  withdrawing  from  the  institution.  He  had  not 
^een  the  good  old  man  since  he  left  Williamstown;  and  now  being  so  near  his 
residence,  he  had  a  strong  desire  to  pay  his  respects  to  him.  Some  time  before 
the  service  was  to  commence,  I  met  Dr.  Fitch,  who  was  on  his  way  to  Bloom- 
field,  and  mentioned  to  him  that  one  of  his  old  pupils  was  in  town,  and  was  to 
preach  that  evening  in  Mr.  Johns'  Ghurch.  Learning  that  it  was  Sylvester 
Lamed,  be  determined  to  remain  and  hear  him.  He  returned  with  me  to  the 
hotel,  and  there  saw  Mr.  L. ;  and  I  hardly  need  say  that  the  meeting  was  one 
of  much  interest  to  both.  At  the  appointed  hour,  we  went  to  the  Gongregational 
Ghurch,  and  though  the  notice  was  short,  there  was  a  very  respectable  congre- 
gation. The  venerable  Ex-President  Fitch  was  deeply  excited  during  the  dis- 
course, and  on  leaving  the  church,  he  remarked — *'  1  was  always  of  the  opinion 
that  my  wild  pupil  would  make  a  great  man;  and  I  rejoice  that  that  opinion  is 
so  far  confirmed."  Myron  Holley,  £sq.,  who  was  one  of  the  number  that  heard 
the  sermon,  pronounced  it  one  of  the  most  admirable  pulpit  efforts  he  ever 
listened  to;  and  he,  with  many  others,  requested  and  finally  prevailed  on  Mr. 
Larned  to  remain  and  give  them  another  sermon  the  next  evening.  He  did  so, 
and  preached  to  a  large  and  delighted  audience. 

We  proceeded  West,  and  on  Saturday  reached  Buffalo.  This  was  a  small 
village  at  that  time,  and  had  no  church  edifice  within  its  bounds.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Squires  was  there,  and  occupied  the  Gourt  House  on  the  Sabbath.  It  was  in  an 
unfinished  state,  without  regular  seats, — temporary  benches  being  used,  and  the 
floors  not  fully  laid.     Here  he  preached  twice  to  an  admiring  assembly. 

From  Buffalo,  we  visited  Fort  Erie,  and  proceeded  on  the  Ganada  shore  to 
Niagara  Falls,  and  at  Forsyth's  Hotel,  we  celebrated  the  twenty-firat  birthday 
of  Mr.  Larned;  and  the  prayer  he  ofiered  that  evening,  I  shall  always  remember. 
He  glanced  at  his.  past  life,  and  expressed  great  thankfulness  that  his  Heavenly 
Father  had  dealt  so  kindly  with  hira,  and  asked  for  Divine  grace  to  support  him 
in  the  labours  and  trials  to  which  he  was  destined. 

The  night  after  we  left  the  Falls,  a  portion  of  Table  Rock  fell;  and  so  far  as 
we  could  ascertain,  fell  from  the  spot  where  we  had  so  recently  stood.  We  heard 
of  this  before  we  separated  at  Buffalo;  and  immediately  after,  went  to  our  room, 
where  he  poured  out  his  thanksgiving  to  God  for  the  kind  providence  that  ha<l 
preserved  us  from  danger;  and  such  was  the  impres.sion  that  it  made  upon  his 
mind,  that  he  subsequently  alluded  to  it  in  his  correspondence  with  me. 

*EvAiv  JoHKS  was  bom  in  Wales,  in  1763,  and  migrated  to  this  country  about  the  be|nnnmg 
of  the  present  century.  He  was  settled  Pastor  of  the  First  Congregational  Cbaroh  in  Berlin, 
Conn.,  in  1802;  was  dismissed  in  1811;  resided  for  several  years  at  South  Hadley,  Mass., 
diirin|f  which  he  cultivated  a  few  acres  of  land,  and  ocoaeionallj  preached  for  his  brethren  or 
supplied  avftoant  pulpit;  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Gongregational  Church  in  Ganandaigua, 
K.  v.,  October  24,  1817;  and  died  May  3,  1849.  His  first  wife  was  a  daushter  of  Thomas 
Harmer,  author  of  a  well-known  work  on  Oriental  Antiquities,  entitled  ''Observations  on 
various  passages  of  Scripture,"  Ac.,  and  his  second,  a  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lyman  of  Hat- 
field, lie  was  mnrried  a  third  time,  and  his  widow  still  (1857)  survives.  He  was  a  strong- 
mi  nded  man,  had  considerable  learning,  and  was  a  somewhat  sealons  antiquary. 


STLYESTSB  LABNED.  gg7 

I  remember  he  told  me  that  the  greatest  trial  he  ever  encountered  in  facing  ac 
aadience  was  when  he  preached  his  first  sermon  at  home.  Here  he  had  to  meet 
not  only  the  fathers  and  mothers,  who  knew  his  wildness  when  a  boy,  but  those 
Tery  boys  that  bad  been  bis  companions  in  the  frolics  and  gaieties  of  youth.  He 
was,  however,  wonderfully  supported  on  the  occasion,  and  at  the  close  of  the 
day,  was  enabled  to  say  that  it  had  been  one  of  the  most  happy  days  of  his 
life. 

With  great  respect,  your  obedient  servant . 

FRANCIS  HALL. 


FROM  ALFRED  HENNEN,  ESQ. 

Nsw  Obleams,  February  1, 1854. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  am  more  than  willing  to  add  my  testimony  to  the  tribute  you 
design  to  pay  in  your  forth-coming  work  to  the  late  Rev.  Sylvester  Larned.  I 
was  a  resident  of  this  city  during  his  ministry  here,  and  co-operated  with  liiui 
in  the  enterprise  from  which  he  was  so  early  called  to  his  final  reward.  I  knew 
him  intimately  and  loved  him  dearly;  and  as  an  evidence  of  my  affectionate 
Inspect,  named  one  of  my  sons  for  him,  who  has  since  followed  his  namesake,  I 
doubt  not,  to  a  better  world.  I  will  present  to  you,  in  a  few  words,  both  the  outer 
and  inner  man,  as  he  is  preserved  in  my  affectionate  and  grateful  recollections. 

In  person,  Mr.  Larned  was  erect,  symmetrical,  manly,  and  strikingly  hand- 
some— ^in  dress,  plain  but  neat,  and  wearing  colours  that  would  not  mark  him 
for  a  clergyman — in  his  gait  and  motion,  quick,  graceful  and  majestic — his  fuce 
beamed  with  cheerfulness,  and  his  whole  aspect  lefl  upon  you  the  impression  of 
an  extraordinary  man.  His  manners  were  simple,  winning,  and  in  the  highest 
degree  gentlemanly — his  conversation  was  full  of  life, — at  once  cheerful,  enter- 
taining and  instructive.  He  won  the  hearts  of  all  without  an  effort — no  man 
could  distrust  him, — for  he  was  evidently  a  stranger  to  disguise. 

His  talents,  as  every  body  knows,  placed  him  in  the  first  rank  of  great  men. 
His  memory  was  at  once  quick  and  retentive;  his  imagination  brilliant  and  pro- 
lific; and  his  judgment  clear  and  discriminating.  Not  only  did  he  possess  these 
several  faculties  in  a  high  degree,  but  they  were  so  harmoniously  blended  as  to 
form  a  well  balanced  and  symmetrical  intellectual  character. 

As  a  pulpit  orator,  I  can  truly  say  that  he  made  an  impression  upon  me  that 
no  other  man  has  ever  done.  The  elegance  of  his  form,  the  gracefulness  of  his 
action,  the  power,  and  compass,  and  exquisite  sweetness  of  his  voice,  which  he 
wielded  as  if  it  had  been  a  magic  wand,  gave  him  a  control  of  an  audience  which 
would  make  us  realize  what  has  been  said  of  Bridaine  or  Whitefield.  A  proof 
of  this  was  exhibited  in  the  case  of  an  eminent  Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
Louisiana.  He  had  heard  much  of  the  great  power  of  Mr.  Larned 's  eloquence; 
but  thinking  that  the  popular  representations  of  it  must  be  somewhat  exaggera- 
ted, he  determined  to  hear  and  judge  for  himself.  He  did  so;  and  the  effect 
upon  him  was  perfectly  overwhelming.  His  interest  in  the  service  increased  as 
the  preacher  proceeded,  and  he  soon  became  riveted  to  his  seat — the  tears  flowed 
profusely  down  his  cheeks,  as  he  heard  him,  like  the  great  Apostle,  reason  of 
righteousness,  temperance,  and  judgment  to  come;  and  so  irresistible  were  the 
appeals  made  to  his  conscience,  that  he  afterwards  declared  that  he  was  resolred 
never  to  listen  to  such  preaching  again,  until  he  had  brought  Himself  to  yield  a 
practical  obedience  to  the  requirements  of  the  Gospel. 

The  power  of  Mr.  Larned 's  preaching  undoubtedly  lay  rery  much  in  the 
remarkable  fervour  and  splendour  of  his  delivery.  It  was  manifest  that  he  felt 
what  he  uttered — he  entered  into  his  work  under  a  deep  sense  of  its  mighty 
responsibilities..  He  had  little  time,  while  he  was  here,  for  study,  and  none  for 
preparing  elaborate  discourses — he  saw  the  appalling  moral  desolations  of  the 


59S  PnBSBTT£BIAK. 

world  around  hitn»  and  hia  eye  affeoted  his  heart;  and  he  went  forth  to  the  great 
work  of  persuading  sinners  to  be  reconciled  to  God  with  an  earnestness  befitting 
his  hallowed  mission.  The  themes  of  his  discourses  were  highly  evangelical » 
and  were  always  luminously  presented;  though  another  man  might  have  uttered 
the  same  words,  and  they  would  have  been  comparatively  powerless.  His  inter- 
est was  especially  awakened  in  regard  to  young  men-^his  own  experience  of  the 
temptations  of  the  world  drew  forth  his  sympathy  and  his  efforts  in  their  behalf; 
and  by  his  earnest  expostulations  out  of  the  pulpit,  as  well  as  his  powerful 
addresses  in  it,  he  laboured  to  the  utmost  to  bring  them  to  a  practical  recognition 
of  the  claims  of  Christianity  upon  their  hearts.  And  his  labours  in  this  way- 
were  attended  with  the  Divine  blessing. 

Mr.  Lamed,  during  his  brief  ministry,  exerted  an  influence  on  all  classes  oi 
society  in  New  Orleans,  greater,  I  imagine,  than  has  often  been  exerted  by  any 
clergyman  on  any  community,  in  the  same  time.  His  bland  manners,  and  lofty 
bearing,  and  sincere  piety,  united  with  his  remarkable  powers  as  a  public 
speaker,  gave  him  access  to  every  class  of  minds,  and  a  control  over  them  that 
you  cannot  easily  imagine.  Hence  the  purpose  was  early  formed  to  secure  his 
permanent  services  here  by  the  establishment  of  a  Presbyterian  Church;  and 
that  purpose,  owing  to  his  wonderful  influence,  was  carried  out  with  comparative 
ease  in  a  short  time.  The  means  of  building  a  church  edifice  and  supporting  a 
pastor  were  quickly  provided;  and  what  gave  the  impulse  to  the  whole  was  the 
prospect  of  having  such  a  ministry  established  in  the  midst  of  us.  Before  Mr. 
L.  came,  no  funds  for  religious  purposes,  to  any  considerable  amoant,  had  ever 
been  raised  in  New  Orleans;  but  his  eloquence  opened  a  channel  through  which 
they  flowed  in  at  once  freely  and  copiously;  and  in  this  respect  as  well  as  others, 
his  coming  among  us  may  well  be  considered  as  marking  a  bright  epoch  in  the 
religious  history  of  our  city.  Ue  was  respected  and  admired  by  Roman  Catho- 
lics as  well  as  Protestants.  The  generation  that  was  contemporary  with  him 
has  indeed  chiefly  passed  away;  but  his  memory  is  still  fragrant, and  is  destined 
to  be  transmitted  gratefully  and  honourably  to  a  remote  posterity.  I  account 
myself  happy  iu  being  able  to  give  you  my  recollections  of  such  a  man. 
'*  Take  him  all  in  all,  I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again." 

With  much  respect,  I  am  your  obedient, 

ALFRED  HENKEN. 


FROM  THE  REV.  J.  N.  DANFORTH,  D.  D. 

Alxxaxdsia,  Ya.,  August  5,  1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  A  mournful,  yet  pleasant  duty  you  have  imposed  on  me, 
touching  our  departed  friend,  Rev.  Sylvester  Lamed.  Thirty-seven  years  this 
month  have  fled  since  he  died,  after  having  preached  the  memorable  Sermon, 
from  the  text — *'  For  to  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain,"  and  with  him 
have  gone  to  the  spirit-land  the  whole  of  that  gifted  family, — father,  mother,  four 
brothers,  and  two  sisters — an  impressive  comment  on  the  flight  of  time  and  the 
ravages  of  death.  Through  the  solemn  vista  of  the  past  I  love  to  behold  his 
image,  to  dwell  on  those  brilliant  qualities  of  this  extraordinary  man,  softened, 
but  not  obscured,  by  the  medium  of  time. 

In  respect  to  natural  genius  and  temperament,  the  boy  was  the  germ  of  the 
man.  Looking  at' his  spiritual  life,  the  man  was  the  reverse  of  the  boy.  His 
mother  and  mine  were  immediate  neighbours,  members  of  the  same  church, 
friends  at  all  times.  Our  respective  fathers  served  and  suffered  together  during 
the  Revolutionary  war,  and  together  enjoyed  the  triumphs  of  peace.  They 
were  only  separated  by  death.  Their  children  would  naturally  be  thrown 
together,  and  among  the  sixteen,  Sylvester  was  always  the  conspicuous  one, — 
the  admired,  the  caressed,  the  almost  idolized;  the  life  of  tvery  company,  the 


STLVUfBR  LABNBD.  5^0 

joy  of  oTory  eirde.  A  doep  and  flowing  onthnsiMni  was  constituttonal  in  him; 
•  free  and  generous  temper;  a  natural  eloquence,  not  forced  out  in  artificial  Jets, 
but  bursting  ih>m  an  original  fountain  within.  From  a  child  he  delighted  in 
•zercising  his  gifts,  as  a  bird  opens  its  mouth,  and  instinctiTely  pours  forth  its 
native  melody.  All  the  village  school  bowed  to  his  superiority,  all  depended  on 
his  resources,  all  were  delighted  with  his  skill  in  creating  amusements.  If  he 
was  mischievous,  he  was  not  malignant.  If  high  spirited,  he  was  not  haughty. 
But  he  could  not  comprehend  meanness.  A  narrow  soul  he  scorned.  A  small 
mind  in  his  presence  shrunk  away  beyond  observation. 

How  truly  may  it  be  said  that  boys  *'  take  after  "  their  mothers!  His  father, 
Col.  Simon  Larned,  was  a  man  of  dull  temperament,  though  dealing  in  a  kind 
of  amusing  wit.  His  mother  was  a  prodigy  of  genius  and  moral  courage,  and 
of  great  force  of  character.  She  had  a  will  that  would  have  strengthened  any 
throne  on  earth;  a  flood  of  utterance,  that  woqld  have  confounded  the  most 
daring  opposition,  and  that  often  did  rebuke  folly  or  crime.  She  was  no  doting 
mother,  though  she  loved  her  children.  But  she  expected  from  them  something 
strong,  salient,  efficient.  Sylvester  copied  her  energetic  traits  of  character. 
They  grew  up  with  him.  They  struck  forth  in  evil  directions  until  his  conversion; 
but  when  sanctified  by  the  Spirit,  were  mighty  through  God  to  the  pulling  down 
of  strong  holds.  It  is  usual  for  such  splendid  intellects  as  his  to  overpower  the 
tabernacle  of  clay.  But  Larned  grew  up  a  healthy  boy,  owing  in  part  to  his 
incessant  muscular  activity,  the  absence  of  all  melancholy  in  his  temperament, 
and  a  bold  purpose  to  be  driving  at  some  object.  At  the  Academy  he  got  up  a 
uioot-court,  and  by  unanimous  sufTrage  was  made  attorney -general  at  twelve 
years  of  age.  But  the  Court  did  not  last  long,  for  he  overwhelmed  not  only  his 
antagonist  and  the  prisoner,  but  judge  and  jury  with  such  a  torrent  of  wit  and 
invective,  that  all  were  glad  to  escape  the  destructive  energies  of  his  intellect. 
He  studied  by  intuition,  rather  than  application,  reciting  well  in  various  classes, 
though  none  could  say  when  he  got  his  lessons.  At  thirteen  years  of  sge,  he 
delivered  an  oration  in  the  town  hall  at  Pittsfield  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  which 
drew  forth  the  plaudits  of  wise  and  thoughtful  heads,  and  no  doubt  pleased  the 
speaker's  young  vanity,  though  that  was  never  an  obtrusive  feature  in  his  char- 
acter, as  it  is  not  usually  in  men  of  true  genius.  We  were  all  proud  of  our  boy 
orator,  exalting  him  into  a  hero.  But  the  propriety  of  putting  forward  such 
precocious  youth  may  be  doubted.  His  mother  was  gratified,  not  enraptured, 
or  if  so,  gracefully  concealed  the  secret  raptures  of  her  soul,  disguising  them  b}' 
some  Spartan  observation,  as  did  the  mother  of  Washington,  when  La  Fayette, 
in  the  ecstacy  of  his  enthusiasm,  hastened  to  her  home  in  Fredericksburg,  to 
announce  to  her  the  victory  of  her  illustrious  son  at  York  town.  With  philosophi- 
cal coolness  she  replied  to  the  astonished  Frenchman — **  George  was  always  a 
good  boy,''  as  if  he  had  done  just  what  she  expected,  and  no  more.*  Mrs. 
Lamed  was  often  complimented  for  her  brilliant  son,  but  she  thought  of  his 
dangers  rather  than  of  his  triumphs.  Few  young  men  were  more  courted,  flat- 
tered, followed,  and  feasted.  He  suspected  his  own  perils,  and  prayed  in  secret 
to  be  delivered  from  them.  Among  the  severest  trials  pressed  upon  him  were 
the  repeated  calls  from  established  and  attractive  churches  at  the  North.  Ho 
resisted  them  all  with  characteristic  decision,  instead  of  sending  such  equivocal 
replies  as  might  invite  a  second  call.  He  would  neither  trifle  with  the  sincerities 
of  a  congregation,  nor  minister  to  his  own  vanity.  Openness,  frankness,  cor- 
diality were  in  him  ruling  traits. 

It  may  be  asked  what  were  the  qualities  which  so  impressed  people  as  to  carry 
his  fame  over  the  country.^  Was  it  any  predominance  of  the  imagination?  This 
indeed  was  a  brilliant,  but  not  in  him  an  exaggerated,  faculty,  though  it  some- 
times showed  itself  in  poetry.     But  it  was  not  conspicuous  even  in  his  boyish 

*  TUi  I  have  fh>ni  Bfr.  Cnitif . 
Vol.  IV.  72 


070  PBSSBTnBUV. 

oration.  At  the  age  of  eighteen,  vhile  he  was  teaebiog  achool  to  «ke  out  his 
scantj  funds,  his  townsmen,  proud  of  his  genius,  summoned  him  to  deliver  an 
oration  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  An  immense  assemblj  filled  the  large  church  at 
Pittsfield.  If  an  orator  was  ever  to  he  embarrassed,  that  was  the  time  and  place 
for  such  a  stripling  as  he — surrounded  by  those  who  knew  him  in  his  cradle. 
Bnt  he  rose  to  the  full  height  of  the  occasion,  developing  that  unblenching  confi- 
dence in  his  own  powers,  which  never  forsook  him; — aninyaloable  trait  in  a  pub- 
lic man,  who  has  a  solid  basis  on  which  to  build  that  confidence.  Peal  after  peai 
of  thundering  eloquence  seemed  to  shake  the  walls  of  the  old  church,  while  the 
fascinated,  the  astonished  audience,  wild  with  excitement,  greeted  him  with  equal 
and  answering  measures  of  applause.  He  scattered  no  gaudy  flowers  of  rhetoric, 
but  maintained  a  high  and  noble  strain  of  vigorous  thought  and  patriotic  senti- 
ment. I  cannot  say  how  much  the  faultless  symmetry  of  his  person,  the  extra* 
ordinary  music  of  his  voice,  and  the  energy  of  his  action  contributed  to  the  eflTect 
of  the  sentiment,  but  there  was  a  fine  proportion  in  them  all.  Calhoun's  actioo 
was  short,  quick,  sharp,  like  his  "  logic  on  fire."  Clay  was  rich,  rotund,  amplir 
fying,  persuasive  in  voice  and  manner,  as  he  was  in  matter.  Webster  was  mas- 
sive in  all.  So  in  the  pulpit  Summerfield,  without  being  strong,  was  the  very 
impersonation  of  gentleness,  grace,  purity,  and  love.  The  corrf.9pondence  was 
eminent  in  Larned.  Mortal  man  could  not  be  endowed  with  a  more  quick  and 
grasping  memory.  But  even  if  it  failed  him  at  a  casual  moment,  his  fertile  mind 
instantly  seized  a  substitute,  and  his  period  was  complete.  Christians  rejoiced 
that  the  American  pulpit  was  to  have  such  a  champion.  More  worldly  judges 
mourned  the  prospective  loss  the  Bar  and  the  Senate-house  were  to  sustain.  Dr. 
Way  land  writes  you  instructively  of  our  lamented  Wisnbs,  how  his  logical 
mind  led  so  triumphantly  in  debate.  I  witnessed  it  at  Princeton.  Who  was 
impervious  to  the  glance  of  his  keen,  large,  dark  eye?  Now  the  mind  of  Lamed 
had  a  less  logical  structure,  but  he  was  great  in  debate.  I  should  say  the  style 
of  his  reasoning  resembled  that  of  Cakniko,  who  sought  to  reflect  the  manner 
of  Pitt  in  presenting  his  thoughts.  But  Larned's  diction  was  equally  chaste,  if 
more  ornamental,  as  might  be  expected  from  and  pardoned  to  a  young  imagina- 
tion. Oh!  he  w^ould  have  made  a  great  statesman  and  parliamentary  leader, 
but  God  reserved  for  him  a  liigher  commission.  He  was  in  fact  a  true  miusionary. 
He  had  a  missionary  heart,  and  resolved  to  die  in  the  missionary  field.  We 
believe  he  has  gained  the  martyr's  crown. 

Could  any  thing  surpass  the  devotion  with  which  he  tarried  in  the  dull,  deadly, 
and  deserted  city  in  the  summer  of  1820?  What  a  living  sacrifice  was  that!  I 
cannot  express  the  emotions,  which  even  now  weigh  down  my  soul  at  the  recol- 
lection of  that  death-scene; — the  recent  sermon,  in  fact  his  own  Funeral  Sermon; 
the  little  band  of  trembling  Christians;  the  form  of  his  young  wife,  aboat  to 
lose  such. a  husband;  the  mighty  interests  of  his  holy  enterprise  pressing  upon 
his  anxious  heart;  all  his  brilliant  prospects  for  this  world  suddenly  clouded; 
the  last  embrace;  the  final  farewell;  the  sinking  of  that  noble  form  in  the  arms 
of  death;  the  irreparable  bereavement  of  the  Church;  the  threatened  desolations 
of  Zion — what  an  assemblage  of  afflictions ! 

Your  gallery  of  American  Divines  has  many  interesting  personages  in  it  of  all 
ages,  but  none  so  young  as  Lamed.  Twenty-four  years  was  his  space!  Yet  he 
lived  a  long  life,  if  life  be  estimated  by  its  true  glory!  Such  an  one  still  lives. 
He  cannot  die!  These  are  not  Egyptian  mummies  embalmed  in  your  volumes. 
They  are  the  choicest  of  the  living — princes  and  peers  of  the  spiritual  realm — 
they  stand  out  before  us,  disrobed,  indeed,  of  their  mortal  flesh,  but  shining  like 
60  many  stars  in  the  immortal  kingdom. 

**  Oh,  hadflt  thou  still  on  earth  remained, 

"  Vision  of  beauty,  fair  as  brief, 

*'  Perhaps  thy  brightness  had  been  stained 


STLTSSTBR  LARVSD  (^1% 

**  With  passion  or  with  grief. 

**  Now,  not  a  sullying  breath  can  rise, 

"  To  dim  thy  glory  in  the  skies?" 

The  crown  of  perfection  is  on  their  brow,  decorated  with  those  amaranthine 
jewels — souls  sayed ! 

I  ought  perhaps  here  to  conclude  ray  imperfect  sketch,  but  in  thinking  of 
Lamed,  I  am  continually  reminded  of  your  own  portrait  of  Key.  Robe&t  Hall, 
some  features  of  which  you  will  pardon  me  for  introducing  here:  ''He  conyerses 
a  great  deal,  partly  because,  when  his  mind  is  excited,  it  is  not  easy  for  him  to 
be  silent,  and  partly  because  there  is  so  much  in  his  conyersation  to  interest  and 
edify,  that  almost  eyery  one  who  is  in  his  company  regards  it  as  a  privilege  to 
listen  rather  than  talk,  and  acts  accordingly.  We  haye  been  struck  with  the 
fact,  that,  let  the  conyersation  turn  upon  whatever  subject  it  may,  even  though 
it  be  a  subject  on  which  he  might  be  expected  to  be  least  at  home,  he  is  equally 
ready,  equally  eloquent.  lie  possesses,  beyond  any  man  we  have  known,  the 
faculty  of  bringing  facts  and  principles  which  are  stored  up  in  his  mind  instantly 
to  bear  on  any  given  subject;  throwing  around  it  at  once,  to  the  mind  of  the 
hearers,  the  clear,  strong  light  in  which  it  appears  to  his  own.'*  The  parallel 
holds  good  still  further  in  your  sketch  until  you  say — *'  But,  notwithstanding 
he  converses  so  much,  there  is  not  the  semblance  of  an  obtrusive  or  ostentatious 
manner,  nothing  that  seems  to  say  that  he  is  thinking  of  his  own  superiority." 
Not  that  Larned  was  either  *'  obtrusive  or  ostentatious  "  in  his  manner,  but  it  is 
certain  that  those  who  surrounded  him,  as  he  took  the  lead  in  conversation,  felt 
the  superiority  of  his  genius,  and  "  bowed  with  deferential  homage  "  to  the 
supremacy  of  his  intellect.  Nor  was  he  insensible  to  the  fact  of  this  superior- 
ity. Perhaps  like  other  great  men,  he  virtually  claimed  it  as  a  kind  of  pre- 
rogative. It  was  in  Johnson,  in  Jackson,  in  Webster,  and  many  others  that 
might  be  named.  It  was  in  Larned  along  with  that  '*  strong  passion  for 
sarcasm  "  which  you  ascribe  to  Hall,  but  accompanied  with  as  fine  and  generous 
a  temper  as  eyer  adorned  a  human  being.  In  fine,  what  Hall  himself  said  of 
Burke,  may  truly  be  ayerred  of  Lamed:  ''His  imperial  fancy  laid  all  nature 
under  tribute,  and  collected  riches  from  every  scene  of  the  creation,  and  every 
walk  of  art."  I  drop  this  wreath,  wet,  as  it  is,  with  some  natural  tears,  on  the 
graye  of  this  extraordinary  American  youth.  The  wreath  may  fade,  but  not  the 
precious  memory  of  the  blessed,  the  immortal  dead.  That  blossoms  in  the  dust. 
Nay,  it  is  consecrated  in  the  heart  of  the  Church.  It  is  yital  in  Heaven.  It 
brings  forth  fruit  on  earth.  May  the  blessing  of  God  be  upon  your  labour  in 
gathering  and  garnering  these  precious  fruits  of  minds  and  hearts  now  enrolled 
among  the  sainted  in  Heaven. 

Very  cordially,  your  brother  in  the  Lord, 

JOSHUA  N.  DANFOBTH: 


572  ntisBTTSBiAir. 


ELIHU  WHITTLESEY  BALDWIN,  D.  D  * 

1817—1840. 

Elihu  Whittlesey  Baldwin  was  born  December  25,  1789,  in  Dur- 
ham, Greene  County,  N.  Y.,  whither  his  parents  had  migrat^ed  from  Con- 
nectiout,  shortly  after  the  war  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  the  fourth  child, 
and  eldest  son,  of  Deacon  Jonathan  and  Patience  (Lord)  Baldwin,  both  of 
whom  were  distinguished  for  a  consistent  and  elevated  Christian  character. 
His  early  religious  education  was  conducted  with  great  care,  and  was 
rewarded  by  correspondently  hopeful  religious  developmeuts.  When  he 
was  ten  years  old,  a  revival  of  religion  occurred  in  his  native  place,  during 
which  the  serious  impressions  of  his  earlier  years  seemed  to  have  been  con- 
firmed, and  perhaps  some  hope  cherished,  both  by  himself  and  his  friends, 
that  a  principle  of  religion  was  permanently  fixed  in  his  heart.  He  had, 
during  his  childhood,  little  relish  for  youthful  sports,  but  a  great  fondness 
for  books ;  and  he  was  withal  exceedingly  conscientious  and  careful  in  the 
selection  of  his  reading.  Shortly  after  the  revival  above  referred  to,  his 
parents  determined  to  give  him,  as  far  as  their  limited  means  would  allow, 
a  liberal  education.  At  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  was  placed  under  the  care  of 
his  pastor,  the  Be  v.  Jesse  Townsend,t  with  a  view  to  his  being  fitted  for 
College.  Having  gone  through  his  preparatory  course,  he  was  admitted  a 
member  of  Yale  College,  in  the  autumn  of  1807,  when  he  was  in  his 
eighteenth  year. 

In  the  spring  of  1808,  there  was  a  powerful  revival  in  College,  under  the 
ministrations  of  President  Dwight,  in  which  young  Baldwin's  experience 
was  of  so  decisive  a  character  as  to  leave  him  in  no  doubt  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  make  a  public  profession  of  his  faith.  Accordingly,  he  did  this  by 
joining  the  College  Church  on  the  first  Sabbath  in  May.  In  November 
following,  being  straitened  somewhat  in  his  pecuniary  resources,  he  left 
College  for  a  season,  and  went  to  live  at  Bcthlem,  in  the  family  of  the  Bcv. 
Dr.  Backus,  as  an  assistant  teacher  in  his  school.  Here  he  remained  till 
September,  1809 ;  and,  after  passing  about  two  months  in  Litchfield,  he 
accepted  an  invitation  to  take  charge  of  the  Academy  in  Fairfield,  and  com- 
menced his  labours  in  that  capacity  sometime  in  November, — where  he 
continued  five  months.  In  June,  1810,  he  returned  to  College,  after  an 
absence  of  about  eighteen  months,  and  took  his  place  in  the  class  next 
below  that  which  he  had  left.  He  pursued  his  studies  now  with  great 
vigour,  and,  by  an  imprudent  use  of  his  eyes,  brought  on  a  distressing 
inflammation,  which  was  followed  by  a  confirmed  weakness  apparently 
seated  in  the  optic  nerve.  This  occasioned  him  no  small  embarrassment ; 
but  he  was  still  enabled  to  maintain  an  excellent  standing  in  his  class,  and 
graduated  with  high  honour  in  September,  1812.  The  Senior  vacation, 
immediately  previous  to  his  graduation,  he  spent  at  Woodbridge,  Conn., 
where  he  took  charge  of  a  small  school. 

•  Memoir  by  Rev.  Dr.  Hatfield. 

f  Jessr  Townsend  wu  a  native  of  Aodoyer,  Conn. ;  waa  graduated  at  Vale  College  in  1790; 
was  settled  for  some  time  ae  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Durham,  N.  Y. ;  and,  after  bis  difmission, 
was  installed  (August.  29,  1817)  in  Palmyra  in  the  same  State,  where  he  continued  about  three 
years.  He  was  occupied  extensively  as  a  missionary  in  Western  New  York  in  both  the  earlier 
and  later  portions  of  his  ministry.    He  died  in  the  year  1838.  • 


ELIHU  WBlTtVEfmY  BALDWDT.  573 

Tbough  Mr.  Baldwin's  mind  was  now  fully  made  np  to  devote  himself  to 
the  ministry,  he  was  obliged  to  defer  hb  immediate  preparation  for  it,  for 
some  time,  for  want  of  pecuniary  means.  Accordingly,  he  accepted  an 
invitation  to  return  to  Fairfield  as  Principal  of  the  Academy.  Here  be 
continued,  discharging  his  duties  to  great  acceptance,  till  the  autumn  of 
1814,  when  he  became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andovcr. 
At  the  close  of  his  second,  year  in  the  Seminary,  he  received,  according  to 
usage,  a  temporary  and  local  license  to  preach ;  but  he  seems  to  have  used 
this  but  sparingly,  though  there  were  calls  made  for  his  services  from 
different  places.  He  was  licensed  in  due  form  by  the  Presbytery  of  New- 
buryport,  on  the  1st  of  May,  1817.  In  the  course  of  the  summer,  he 
preached  at  various  places  in  both  New  Hampshire  and  Massachusetts,  and 
on  the  10th  of  September  following,  was  ordained  as  an  Evangelist  at  Lon- 
donderry, by  the  Londonderry  Presbytery.  On  the  24th  of  the  same 
month,  he  completed  his  course  at  Andover,  on  which  occasion  his  theme 
at  the  anniversary  exercises  was  '*  The  preaching  of  President  Edwards." 

It  had  been  Mr.  Baldwin's  purpose  to  spend  some  time  at  least,  after 
leaving  the  Seminary,  in  missionary  labour, — beginning  in  the  region  of 
Buffalo,  and  extending  his  tour  as  far  West  as  Ohio.  Accordingly,  he 
commenced  his  journey  Westward,  and  on  passing  a  Sabbath  with  his  old 
friends  at  Fairfield,  he  was  strongly  solicited  to  allow  himself  to  be  consid- 
ered a  candidate  for  the  then  vacant  church  in  that  place ;  but  he  declined 
nil  negotiations  on  the  subject.  When  he  reached  New  York,  however,  he 
was  still  more  strongly  urged  to  accept  the  place  of  a  city  missionary ;  and 
so  fearful  was  the  destitution  of  religious  privileges  in  the  city,  which  a 
then  recent  investigation  had  brought  to  light,  and  so  earnest  the  appeals 
that  were  made  to  his  Christian  sympathies,  that  he  was  finally  induced  to 
change  his  purpose,  and  for  a  season  at  least  to  work  among  the  wretched 
inhabitants  of  the  lanes  and  outskirts  of  the  metropolis.  He  had  assigned 
to  him  a  populous,  but  extremely  destitute  and  immoral,  portion  of  the 
city.  But  his  labours  were  very  soon  attended  with  a  manifest  blessing, 
and  resulted  in  the  building  of  a  place  of  worship,  and  the  formation  of  a 
church,  which,  in  due  time,  was  received  under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery, 
as  the  Seventh  Presbyterian  Church.  He  was  installed  its  Pastor  on  the 
25th  of  December,  1820, — the  day  on  which  he  entered  the  thirty-second 
year  of  his  age. 

Mr.  Baldwin,  in  the  midst  of  many  discouragements,  held  on  the  even  tenor 
of  his  way,  year  after  year,  witnessing,  from  time  to  time,  large  accessions 
to  his  church  and  congregation,  until,  at  length,  their  place  of  worship 
became  too  strait  for  their  accommodation.  Meanwhile,  however,  they  were 
not  a  little  embarrassed  in  their  pecuniary  matters,  and  there  were  other 
and  more  commodious  edifices  being  built  around  them  by  other  denomina- 
tions, which  seemed  likely  to  swallow  them  up.  As  little  disposition  was 
manifested  by  the  people  to  attempt  to  meet  the  existing  exigency,  by 
building  a  larger  and  better  house,  Mr.  Baldwin  had  begun  seriously  to 
entertain  the  idea  of  a  removal  to  some  other  more  promising  field ;  and, 
just  at  that  time,  (February,  1826,)  he  received  a  call  to  become  the  Pastor 
of  the  Church  at  Jamaica,  L.  I.  Almost  simultaneous  with  this  call,  how- 
ever, was  a  movement  on  the  part  of  his  oongregation  towards  the  ereotion 
of  a  new  house ;  and  this  at  once  determined  him  against  accepting  the  call 
from  Jamaica.    The  new  enterprise  was  now  vigorously  proseoated ;  and  a 


g74  PRI8BTTSRIAK. 

flubfitantial  brick  Btrnotnre,  more  than  twice  as  large  as  the  old  clinrcb,  was 
completed  aboat  the  Ist  of  May,  1827.  This  edifice  was  destroyed  by  fire 
on  the  15th  of  February,  1831;  bnt,  chiefly  throagh  the  indefatigable 
efforts  of  the  pastor,  it  was  rebuilt  and  re-occupicd  before  the  close  of  the 
year. 

Mr.  Baldwin's  ministry  in  New  York  involved  great  sacrifices  and  trials, 
and  an  amount  of  labour  which  it  is  not  easy  to  estimate ;  while  yet  it  was 
instrumental,  beyond  that  of  almost  any  other  man,  in  bringing  light  oat 
of  darkness,  and  life  out  of  death.  In  one  year,  (1832,)  no  less  than  oue 
hundred  and  seventy-four  persons  were  added  to  his  church ;  and  no  year 
passed  that  did  not  witness  to  a  large  accession.  And  besides  his  stated 
labours  at  home,  he  was  often  put  in  requisition  in  revivals  of  religion 
abroad — at  Newark,  Philadelpliia,  Pittsfield,  Hartford,  and  various  other 
places,  he  laboured  with  great  zeal,  and,  in  some  instances,  with  remarkable 
success.  The  presence  of  the  yellow  fever  and  the  cholera  never  drove  him 
from  his  field ;  but  he  committed  himself  to  God,  and  kept  on  labouring  as 
calmly  and  as  diligently  as  if  no  pestilence  had  been  abroad.  He  had 
learned  to  contend  with  every  form  of  evil,  and  not  to  be  disheartened  or 
intimidated  by  any;  but  while  he  was  bold,  and  firm,  and  unflinching,  when 
the  case  required,  he  was  mild  and  cautious  in  his  ordinary  intercourse,  and 
was  especially  careful  that  his  good  should  not  be  evil  spoken  of. 

In  the  autumn  of  1834,  Mr.  Baldwin  was  applied  to,  to  become  the  Pre- 
sident of  Wabash  College.  The  selection  had  been  advisedly  made,  and 
the  application  was  strongly  urged  on  the  ground  of  the  paramount  claims 
of  the  great  and  ever  growing  West.  On  the  27th  of  February,  1835,  he 
signified  to  the  Trustees  of  the  College  his  acceptance  of  the  appointment. 
He  left  his  people  on  the  1st  of  May,  and,  after  devoting  several  months  to 
an  agency  in  behalf  of  the  enterprise  with  which  he  had  thus  become  identi- 
fied, he  directed  his  course  towards  his  new  field  of  labour.  His  reception, 
on  reaching  the  place  of  his  destination,  was  every  thing  he  could  desire. 
He  entered  on  his  appropriate  duties  in  the  early  part  of  November,  but 
was  not  regularly  inaugurated  until  the  annual  Commencement,  which  took 
place  in  July  of  the  next  year. 

In  February,  1838,  he  received  a  very  urgent  call  from  the  Manhattan 
Island  Church,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  to  become  their  Pastor;  but, 
though  he  had  lost  nothing  of  his  relish  for  a  pastor's  life,  and  there  was 
much  in  the  situation  that  would  have  been  attractive  to  him,  such  was  the 
evidence  he  had  of  his  usefulness  in  the  College,  that  he  felt  that  he  had 
no  right  to  leave  it,  and  accordingly  returned  to  the  call  a  negative  answer. 

In  the  great  controversy  that  divided  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  1837 
and  1838,  Mr.  Baldwin's  sympathy  and  action  were  entirely  with  the  New 
School  party,  though  he  neither  indulged  nor  countenanced  any  thing  like 
crimination  or  violent  measures. 

In  the  summer  of  1838,  he  made  a  visit  to  New  York  and  New  England 
in  behalf  of  the  interests  of  the  College ;  and,  while  in  New  York,  the 
intelligence  was  communicated  to  him  from  home  that  the  third  and  fourth 
stories  of  the  college  edifice,  together  with  the  library  and  philosophical 
apparatus,  had  been  destroyed  by  fire.  It  was  a  great  shock  to  him,  but  he 
quickly  recovered  his  accustomed  equanimity,  and  began  to  gather  himself 
up  for  an  effort  to  repair  the  desolation.  Having  made  considerable  collec- 
^ons  among  his  friends  in  New  York  and  some  other  places,  he  returned  to 


ELIfiU  WHITTL^T  BALDWIN.  57§ 

CniwibrdBville,  the  seat  of  the  College,  where  he  still  cotitinQed  his  efforts, 
in  various  ways,  to  repair  the  loss  to  which  the  College  had  been  snbjeoted. 
About  this  time,  he  received  a  pressing  invitation  to  become  the  Pastor 
of  the  Second  Church  in  Indianapolis ;  but  such  was  his  interest  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  College  that  he  scarcely  gave  to  the  matter  any  conside- 
ration. 

In  July,  1839,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity 
from  Indiana  College,  Bloomington; — a  mark  of  distinction  the  more  flat- 
tering, from  the  fact  that  it  came  from  a  rival  College  of  his  adopted  State, 
and  from  one  that  was  understood  to  be  favourable  to  the  views  of  the  Old 
Sclkool  branch  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

He  visited  the  East  again  in  the  summer  of  1839,  in  the  hope  of  doing 
Koinc thing  for  his  College,  but  so  great  was  the  pecuniary  pressure  that  he 
Ava")  able  to  accomplish  but  little.  He  returned  home  in  November,  and 
immediately  resumed  the  active  duties  of  hi?  office.  After  the  next  Com- 
mencement, which  occurred  in  July,'  he  made  a  long  and  tedious  journey 
iuto  the  Northern  part  of  the  State,  in  behalf  of  the  College,  preaching 
frequently,  as  opportunity  offered,  and  addressing  the  people  on  the  subject 
of  education.  Shortly  after  his  return  home  in  September,  he  attended  a 
meeting  of  the  Presbytery,  thirty  miles  distant  from  Crawfordsville,  and 
returned  to  his  family,  apparently  in  excellent  health.  On  the  12th 
of  September,  however,  it  became  apparent  that  the  bilious  fever  of  the 
West  had  fastened  upon  him.  For  a  few  days,  his  case  was  not  considered 
specially  alarming;  but,  after  the  first  week,  it  evidently  changed  for  the 
worse,  and  he  himself  indulged  but  faint  hopes  of  recovery.  From  that 
time  his  mind  became  intensely  fastened  upon  eternal  realities.  Such, 
however,  was  the  nature  of  his  disease  that  he  had  not,  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  time,  the  entire  possession  of  his  faculties;  though,  in  his  lucid 
intervals,  it  was  evident  that  he  was  deeply  absorbed  in  communion  with 
God.  When  it  became  evident  that  he  must  die,  the  students  of  the  Col- 
lege came  to  take  their  final  leave  of  him.  The  scene  was  one  of  most 
tender  and  overpowering  interest.  After  having  lain  unconscious  for  some 
time,  he  suddenly  revived,  and,  with  a  cheerful  smile,  recognised  the  friends 
who  stood  around  him,  and  assured  them  that  he  enjoyed  great  peace.  After 
this,  he  gradually  sunk  away,  and  on  Thursday,  the  15th  of  October,  1840, 
finished  his  earthly  course. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Baldwin's  publications : — A  Tract  on  Fash- 
ionable Amusements.  A  Sermon  on  the  Final  Judgment,  published  in  the 
National  Preacher,  1827.  A  Tract  entitled  ••The  Five  Apprentices,"  1828. 
A  Tract  entitled  "  The  Young  Free-thinker  sustained."  An  Address  on 
'*  Liberal  Education,"  delivered  on  occasion  of  his  Inauguration  as  Presi- 
dent of  Wabash  College,  1836.  A  Sermon  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  Madison  Street,  New  York,  1837. 

On  the  12th  of  May,  1819,  Mr.  Baldwin  was  married  to  Julia  C, 
daughter  of  Elias  Baldwin,  of  Newark,  N.  J.     They  had  seven  ohildren. 

FROM  THE  REV.  EDWIN  F.  HATFIELD,  D.D. 

Nbw  York,  April  28, 1860. 
Dear  Sir:  It  affords  me  no  small  pleasure  to  comply  with  your  request,  and 
communicate  my  personal  recollections  of  my  excellent  predecessor,  the  Rev.  Dr. 


576  ntssBtmiAv. 

Baldwin,  illusiniiife  of  hig  clutracter.    Of  one  whose  memory  is  so  preeioiis  to 

all  who  knew  him,  it  is  pleasant  and  profitable  to  write. 

Dr.  Baldwin  was  so  much  my  senior  that  I  can  have  almost  nothing  to  say,  of 
my  own  knowledge,  respecting  the  earlier  years  of  his  ministry.  It  was  my  privi- 
lege to  hear  him  occasionally  as  a  preacher  before  I  became  personally  interested 
in  religion,  and  I  always  listened  to  him  with  pleasure.  My  acquaintance  with 
him  commenced  about  twenty-fire  years  since,  at  the  time  of  my  becoming  a 
candidate  for  the  ministry.  It  was  peculiarly  gratifying  to  a  timid  youth  to 
be  taken  by  the  hand  with  so  much  gentleness,  kindness,  and  cordiality,  as  were 
manifested  in  all  his  interviews  with  me,  from  that  time  until  I  entered  the  min- 
istry. His  manner  towards  his  younger  brethren  was  ordinarily  so  unassuming, 
so  fraternal  and  frank,  as  to  win  their  confidence  and  secure  for  himself  a  warm 
place  in  their  affections. 

A  peculiar  providence  very  unexpectedly  brought  me,  early  in  the  summer  of 
1835,  into  a  relation  of  considerable  delicacy  and  intimacy  with  Dr.  Baldwin. 
He  had  just  resigned  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  church  over  which  he  had 
watched  for  seventeen  years  and  more,  in  order  to  take  charge  of  the  new  Col- 
lege at  Grawfordsville,  Ind.  I  bad  just  returned  to  New  York  from  a  residence 
of  nearly  two  and  a  half  years  in  St.  Louis.  We  met  on  the  platform  of  the 
American  Home  Missionary  Society  at  Chatham  Street  Chapel,  during  the  May 
anniversaries,— -^acli  of  us  having  been  invited  to  make  addresses  on  the  occa* 
sion.  That  interview  resulted  in  my  nomination  as  his  successor  in  the  pastoral 
ofiloe  with  his  cordial  approbation.  From  that  period  until  his  death,  it  was  my 
privilege  to  enjoy  his  friendship  and  confidence  as  fully  as  I  could  possibly  have 
desired.  His  removal  to  the  West  occurred  some  four  months  later,  and,  during 
the  interval,  we  were  much  together  in  counsel  and  in  pleasant  social  intercourse. 
Thrice  we  were  favoured  with  his  gratifying  and  edifying  visits  during  the  next 
five  years.  They  were  always  seasons  of  unrestrained  fellowship  and  delightful 
recollections. 

He  was  eminently  fitted,  in  my  estimation,  both  to  enjoy  and  bless  the  social 
circle.  He  was  of  medium  stature,  somewhat  slightly  built,  especially  in  his 
earlier  life,  sprightly  in  conversation  and  action,  of  pleasant  aspect,  almost  always 
wearing  a  smile  upon  his  face,  with  a  quiet  humour  beaming  from  his  dark  and 
mellow  eye,  indicative  of  the  uniform  kindliness  of  his  generous  and  noble  nature, 
and  without  the  least  approach  to  moroseness,  vanity,  or  pride.  So  winning  was 
his  look,  and  so  bland  his  demeanour,  that  the  stranger  was  at  once  inspired  with 
confidence  in  approaching  him,  and  the  child  would  spring  to  his  arms,  and 
quietly  repose  on  his  knee.  He  had  a  pleasant  word  for  the  poorest  and  hum- 
blest of  the  fiock,  whose  hearts  were  drawn  to  him  with  fond  and  oonfiding 
affection.  He  knew  well  the  blessed  art  of  condescending  to  men  of  low  estate. 
He  made  himself  one  of  them — without  assuming  the  air  of  a  superior,  he  entered 
fully  into  their  varied  experiences  of  care,  and  toil,  and  grief,  and  trial.  He  was 
a  faithful  friend  and  trusted  counsellor  of  his  flock,  in  all  their  troubles,  both 
worldly  and  religious.  A  deportment  so  mild,  so  kind,  so  condescending,  so 
lively  withal  and  sprightly,  gave  him  peculiar  power  over  the  young  in  the 
Academy,  the  Church,  and  the  College. 

For  the  particulars  of  his  useful  and  honoured  life,  as  well  as  for  a  Ailler 
appreciation  of  his  character,  I  must  refer  you  to  the  Memoir  of  his  Life  in  which 
I  have  recorded  my  estimate  of  his  qualifications  for  the  responsible  positions 
that  he  occupied.  You  yourself,  dear  Sir,  while  associated  with  him  in  the 
charge  of  the  Academy  at  Fairfield,  Conn.,  must  have  had  abundant  opportuni- 
ties to  observe  with  what  diligence  he  devoted  himself  to  the  duties  of  his  office; 
how  carefully  be  had  improved  the  opportunities  of  his  curriculum  at  College; 
how  faithfully  in  particular  he  had  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  the  ancient 
classics;  how  accurately  he  bad  investigated  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  with 


ELIHU  WniTTLESKT  BALDWIN.  577 

whfti  saooess  ht  Imd  sought  to  farniiih  himself  vith  stores  of  useful  learning. 
In  later  years  also,  his  brethren  in  the  ministry,  and  especially  they  who  knew 
him  best, — ^the  members  of  the  Presbytery  of  Now  York,  and  of  the  Third  Pres- 
bytery of  New  York,  delighted  to  honour  him  as  a  scholar.  It  was  this  appre- 
eiation  of  his  literary  qualifications,  as  well  as  their  knowledge  of  the  other 
strong  points  of  his  character,  that  led  them  to  recommend  him  afterwards  to 
the  Presidency  of  Wabash  College. 

His  attainments  were  less  showy  than  solid.  He  loTed  knowledge  for  its  own 
sake,  and  pursued  it  can  amore.  He  sought  rather  to  6c,  than  to  seem  to  be,  a 
man  of  literary  ability.  He  was  too  modest  a  man,  and  too  diffident  of  his  own 
resources,  and  had  too  high  an  estimate  of  the  talents  and  scholarship  of  his 
brethren,  to  make  any  parade  of  what  he  knew.  He  was  neither  brilliant  nor 
strong  in  his  stylo  of  writing  or  address.  The  language  of  his  public  discourses 
was  ordinarily  so  pure,  so  free  from  foreign  admixtures,  so  plain  and  direct, 
as  to  reach  the  most  ordinary  capacity.  lie  sought  to  be  understood,  rather 
than  to  dazzle  and  confound  by  gorgeousness  of  diction,  splendour  of  imagery, 
or  intricacy  of  metaphysical  and  transcendental  discussion.  The  fathers  of 
the  New  England  pulpit,  Edwards,  Bellamy,  Backus,  West,  Strong,  and 
Dwight, — but  chiefly  the  last,  were  the  models  of  his  religious  discourses. 

All  his  attainments,  moreover,  were  made  tributary  to  his  holy  calling.  From 
the  time  of  his  personal  consecration  to  Christ,  he  steadily  and  manifestly  set 
himself  to  be  a  Christian  indeed.  A  very  slight  acquaintance  with  him  sufficed 
to  induce  the  conyiction  that  he  had  learned  the  Divine  art  of  self  control.  He 
had  his  passions  in  subjection.  He  had  schooled  himself  under  the  tutelage  of 
his  Lord  and  Master,  into  a  prompt  and  cheerful  obedience  to  the  requirements 
of  the  Gospel.  No  one  that  knew  him  after  he  became  a  Christian,  could 
hesitate  as  to  the  reality  of  his  conversion.  Probably  no  one,  either  saint  or 
sinner,  ever  questioned  it.  In  this  portion  of  our  city,  where  he  was  universally 
known,  no  one  among  the  hundreds  with  whom  I  have  conversed  respecting  him, 
has  ever,  in  my  hearing,  breathed  even  the  remotest  suspicion  of  his  Christian 
sincerity  and  piety.  He  was  a  Nathaniel,  of  whom  an  admiring  community 
delighted  to  say, — **  Behold  an  Israelite  indeed  in  whom  is  no  guile. '*  Not  even 
the  tongue  of  slander  could  find  aught  against  him.  His  morality  was  as  pure 
as  his  piety  was  sincere.  Not  a  stain  of  reproach  rested  on  him  during  the  whole 
of  his  pastoral  career.  The  bitterest  foes  of  religion,  and  the  most  earnest 
opposers  of  his  theological  views,  failed  to  discover  in  his  daily  life  any  thing  to 
constitute  the  ground  of  accusation.  They  were  all  constrained  to  admit  that 
he  was  an  honest  man,  a  true  hearted  friend,  a  most  estimable  citizen  and  neigh- 
bour, a  lover  of  mankind,  and  a  sincere  Christian. 

Animated  with  the  high  and  holy  purpose,  therefore,  of  making  all  his  powers 
subservient  to  the  good  of  men  and  the  glory  of  God,  he  sought  to  make  full 
proof  of  his  ministry.  It  iq)peared  in  his  conversation,  in  his  correspondence,  in 
his  literary  efforts,  and  especially  in  his  public  discourses.  He  aimed  at  clear- 
ness of  exposition,  correctness  of  interpretation,  simplicity  of  address,  directness 
of  application,  fervour  and  persuasiveness  in  utterance,  and  so  at  the  winning 
of  souls  to  Christ.  He  seldom  preached  what  the  world  would  call  "great 
sermons;"  was  never  regarded  as  a  *'  great  gun,"  and  rarely  drew  the  multitude 
to  throng  the  house  where  he  preached.  But  he  as  rarely  &iled  to  interest  and 
pUase  an  audience,  and  to  make  an  impression  on  the  minds  of  his  hearers, 
favonrable  to  truth  and  godliness.  He  preached  with  an  unction  that  always 
mftde  him  welcome  to  the  pulpit  in  a  season  of  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit, 
whether  in  city  or  country.  Many  were  hopefully  converted  through  his  instru- 
mentality. I  was  told  by  a  worthy  Christian,  in  one  of  the  villages  of  New 
Hampshire,  some  twenty-four  years  ago,  that  he  was  brought  to  Christ  through 
tli9  ministratiouB  of  Br,  Baldwin  there,  whale  conneeted  with  the  Andorer 

Vol.  IV.  73 


g79  PBS8BTOBLUI. 

logical  Seminary.    More  than  fire  hundred  converts  vere  added  to  htfl  ami 
church,  as  the  seals  of  his  ministry. 

Yoa  would  naturally  gather  from  this  imperfect  description  of  his  qualifioa* 
tions  for  the  ministerial  office,  even  if  you  had  not  known  it  fnHa  your  own 
observation,  that  he  was  eminently  fitted  for  the  work  of  a  pastor.  Of  this  fact 
the  first  few  years  of  my  ministry,  as  his  successor,  furnished  me  with  abundant 
evidence.  Everywhere  his  people  were  delighted  to  speak  of  his  labours  of  love 
among  them.  They  would  entertain  me  with  the  story  of  his  early  sacrificen 
and  self-denying  exertions,  when  the  field  which  he  cultivated  was  rough  and 
stubborn,  and  when  immorality,  profaneness,  and  every  vice  abounded  in  what 
was  then  a  struggling  suburb  of  the  metropolis.  Of  his  demeanour  among  the 
families  of  his  charge  1  have  already  written.  I  need  not  add  that  it  was  such 
as  always  made  him,  in  sickness  and  health,  in  adversity  and  prosperity,  a 
most  welcome  visitor  and  guest. 

I  have  seldom  known  a  man  of  such  uniform  equanimity.  As  you  saw 
him  once,  you  were  sure  to  see  him  when  you  met  him  again.  In  this  as  well  as 
in  other  respects,  he  was  an  admirable  model  for  the  young.  His  eccentricities 
were  few  and  never  prominent.  The  ardour  with  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
pursue  a  favourite  topic  sometimes  occasioned  an  absent-mindedness,  that  proba- 
bly was  observed  by  only  a  few  of  his  most  intimate  friends.  He  had  been  con- 
versing one  morning  in  my  study  on  some  of  his  plans  of  usefulness,  and  as  he 
rose  to  depart,  so  full  was  he  of  the  subject,  that  he  instantly  raised  the 
umbrella  that  he  carried,  without  the  slightest  consciousness  of  what  he  was 
doing,  until  he  was  arrested  by  the  posts  of  the  door.  Among  his  very  harm- 
less peculiarities  was  an  intense  dislike  for  butter  in  the  preparation  of  his  food. 
He  could  not  endure  it  apparently  in  any  form.  I  never  met  with  one  who  had 
the  same  antipathy  in  the  same  degree. 

What  he  was  in  the  Professor's  chair,  and  as  the  presiding  officer  of  a  literary 
institution,  others  can  inform  you  better  than  myself.  I  will  only  add  that 
whether  as  a  Pastor  of  a  Church,  or  a  President  of  a  College,  he  was  one  of  the 
most  indefatigable  men  that  I  ever  knew.  It  has  often  been  a  matter  of  wonder 
to  me  how  he  could  have  undergone  the  protracted  toils  and  trials  of  the  first 
thirteen  years  of  his  ministry  in  this  section  of  our  city.  Thrice,  during  that 
period,  was  he  called  to  erect  a  house  of  worship  for  the  people  of  his  charge, 
and  at  no  time  was  he  sustained  by  any  adequate  pecuniary  ability  among  them. 
Similar  trials  awaited  him  at  Crawfordsville,  and  yet  he  pressed  through  and 
over  them  all,  living  to  accomplish  the  purpose  of  his  heart  in  both  localities, 
and  dying  in  the  midst  of  his  useful  labours. 

Of  such  ministers  the  Church  has  special  need,  in  this  busy,  worldly  age, 
Qod  grant  us  many  Baldwins  to  build  up  the  waste  places  of  Zion. 

Yours  in  the  Lord, 

BDWIN  F.  HATFIELD. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOSEPH  HURLBUT. 

Nbw  LoMDOff,  Conn.,  Janoary  20, 1867. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  There  are  memories  of  friends,  which  are  in  our  minds  like 
beautiful  poems;  and  in  those  calm,  thoughtful  moods  which  sometimes  come 
over  us,  we  love  to  dwell  upon  them,  and  feel  their  happy  influence.  Such  are 
my  recollections  of  the  Rev.  £.  W.  Baldwin, — one  of  the  most  gentle,  guileleBS, 
godly  men  I  ever  knew.  President  D wight,  whom  he  served  as  an  amaan- 
ensis,  after  leaving  College,  said  of  him,  that  if  there  ever  was  one  who  deserved 
the  title  of  the  *'  beloved  disciple,''  it  was  he. 

My  first  acquaintance  with  him  was  in  the  fear  1823,  when^  caliiiig  witii  a 
clerical  brother,  cm  a  fine  morning,  we  found  him  in  his  study,  with  the  lower 


ELIHU  WfllRLISBT  BALDWIN.  579' 

sbottara  closed,  and  his  manner  appearing  subdued  and  solemn.  After  sRtingf  a 
few  minutes,  he  kindly  apologised  for  the  manner  in  which  he  had  received  ns,-— 
saying  they  bad  reason  to  hope  that  Ood  was  about  to  visit  them  with  the  influ- 
ences of  his  Holy  Spirit,  and  were  observing  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  He 
then  asked  us  to  stay  and  unite  with  them ;  but,  as  we  did  not  feel  prepared, 
we  took  leave.  And  as  we  came  away,  my  friend  remarked, — ^*  Here  is  good 
brother  Baldwin,  toiling,  and  fasting,  and  praying,  in  the  true  spirit  of  his  Mas- 
ter, and  in  straitened  circumstances,  while  many  other  ministers,  who  are  much 
more  liberally  supported,  do  not  perform  half  the  labour.''  At  a  later  period, 
when  we  had  become  more  intimate,  he  told  me  that,  during  the  whole  of  his 
ministry  in  New  York,  where  he  gathered  one  of  the  largest  congregations  and 
churches,  with  a  Sabbath  School  more  than  doable  any  other  at  that  time,-— 
there  was  hardly  a  period  when  he  was  not  often  at  his  wit's  end,  to  meet  the 
necessary  expenses  of  his  most  economical  family. 

When  he  was  invited  to  the  Presidency  of  Wabash  College,  and  urged  by 
friends  to  accept  it,  I  did  all  I  could  to  dissuade  him  from  the  undertaking.  I 
told  him  God  had  made  him  by  nature,  and  grace,  for  a  Pastor;  that  all  his 
talents  were  happily  adapted  to  that  most  important  ofBce;  that  he  lacked  the 
self-reliance  and  pioneer  spirit  requisite  for  a  President  of  a  Western  College; 
and  never  did  I  feel  the  force  of  this,  as  much  as  when  he  fell  an  early  victim  to 
the  climate,  in  the  midst  of  his  usefulness,  and  left  a  large,  dependant  family  and 
bereaved  College  to  mourn  his  untimely  end.  I  have  alluded  to  his  qualifica- 
tions for  the  pastoral  office;  and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  they  were 
rarely  surpassed.  His  constitution  was  good,  his  habits  self-denying  and  simple, 
his  temper  amiable,  his  disposition  hopeful  and  cheerful.  No  ambition,  or  envy, 
or  avarice,  or  discontent,  ever  disturbed  his  mind;  but,  like  the  beloved  disciple, 
he  delighted  to  repose  his  aching  head  on  his  Saviour's  bosom,  and  then  with 
renewed  vigour  go  forward  in  his  Master's  service.  His  labours  were,  by  no 
means,  confined  to  his  own  church;  and  especially  in  times  of  sickness,  he  went 
into  the  garrets  and  cellars  of  the  most  abject  poor,  and  administered  to  their 
spiritual  necessities.  When  the  cholera  first  appeared  in  New  York,  and  the 
stoutest  hearts  were  appalled,  he  remained  at  his  post,  calm  and  faithful.  He 
told  me  that  he  daily  visited  from  house  to  house,  and  preached  on  the  Sabbath; 
that  he  had,  before  breakfast,  officiated  at  three  Funerals  of  poor  Catholics,  and 
others  not  connected  with  his  Church;  and  that  he  never  changed  his  diet,  or 
abfltained  from  fruit,  or  took  a  particle  of  medicine. 

It  was  my  privilege  to  make  a  Journey  with  him  in  the  fall  of  1838,  to  attend 
a  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  in  Maine.  Being  detained  by  a 
storm  in  Boston,  it  was  gratifying  to  witness  the  influence  of  his  pleasing 
address  and  benevolent  spirit  on  a  promiscuous  assembly  of  strangers  at  a  public 
house.  It  was  the  custom  at  that  hotel  to  have  a  blessing  asked  at  the  table, 
with  morning  and  evening  devotions  in  the  parlour;  and  never  can  I  forget  the 
subdued  and  respectful  attention  of  fashionable  ladies  and  gentlemen,  both  young 
and  old,  to  the  services  he  performed.  This  reminds  me  of  the  very  happy  and 
impressive  way  he  had  of  presenting  the  subject  of  religion,— especially  to  the 
young, — without  giving  offence.  I  knew  instances  myself,  and  have  heard  of 
others,  in  which  such  conversation  was  blessed  to  the  conversion  of  youth 
of  both  sexes-— no  doubt  the  revelations  of  eternity  will  bring  to  light  many 
moie.  His  spirit  was  emphatically  the  spirit  of  Christ,  and  he  breathed  the  very 
atmoaphere  of  Heaven.  His  style  of  preaching  was  simjde  and  scriptural,  with 
pleasing  animation,  and  expressive  language  and  action.  He  never  sought  te 
display  himself,  or  produce  an  effect  by  arts  of  eloquence;  but  he  kindled  with 
his  subject,  and  carried  his  andienoe  with  him,  rarely  faHing  to  leave  a  good  and 
lasting  imprestiMi. 


11^  FBESBTTEBIiLN* 

Fev  minisUrs  hare  been  blessed  with  more  reytvals,  or  a  greater  aninber  of 

hopeful  converts  among  their  own  hearers.  He  uaed  to  say  that  he  was  carefid 
to  remember  the  injunction  of  Christ  to  Simon, — **  Feed  my  lambs,"  and  oneo 
related  to  me  the  following  interesting  fact.  A  dear  little  girl  about  fifteen, — 
the  only  child  of  her  parents,  impressed  with  Divine  truth  from  his  lips,  gav« 
her  heart  to  God,  and  exhibited  most  pleasing  evidence  of  piety.  But,  alas! 
sudden  disease  attacked  her,  and  the  angel  of  death  spread  his  dark  wing  over 
that  happy  dwelling.  From  day  to  day  he  visited  her,  and  was  comforted  to  find 
her  not  only  resigned  to  the  will  of  God,  but  animated  with  the  hopes  of  Heaven. 
After  a  very  affecting  interview  with  her,  she  said  to  him, — "  My  dear  Pastor,  I 
trust  I  have  the  hope  and  faith  of  a  Christian  in  some  humble  degree,  and  am 
willing  to  leave  my  parents  for  my  Saviour,  if  it  be  his  holy  will;  but  sometimes 
I  fear  to  go  down  into  the  dark  valley,  aU  aUme.*'  '^O,  my  dear  child,"  said 
he,  *'  you  will  not  go  alone,  for  Christ  has  promised  to  go  with  you."  "  I  know 
that,"  said  she,  ''but  I  am  a  poor,  weak,  timid  creature,  and  I  dread  the  last 
struggle  with  the  king  of  terrors."  "Daughter,"  said  he,  *'can  you  believe 
that  your  dear  Saviour,  who  died  for  you,  and  now  sheds  npon  you  the  light  of 
his  heavenly  countenance,  will  leave  you  in  darkness  in  the  trying  hour.'  O,  no! 
Trust  Him,  and  He  will  grant  you  dying  grace  in  the  dying  hour."  She  looked 
up  with  a  heavenly  smile,  and  simply  said,  "I  will  trust  Him;"  and  on  his 
taking  leave  of  her,  she  fell  into  a  sweet  slumber,  with  her  mother  sitting  by  her 
side.  He  tarried  a  few  minutes  in  the  parlour  with  the  afflicted  father,  but  soon 
they  were  summoned  to  the  room  above.  There  lay  the  dear  child,  as  if  in  a 
sweet  sleep — without  a  sigh,  or  even  the  movement  of  a  muscle,  or  the  slightest 
sign  of  consciousness,  the  released  spirit  bad  taken  its  upward  flight. 

In  the  autumn  of  1820,  he  visited  me  in  company  with  the  Rev.  Matthias 
Bruen.     It  was  one  of  those  angel  visits, — **few,  and  far  between," — that  we 
love  to  remember.     Most  delightful  was  our  Christian  intercourse,  while  they 
scented,  with  a  high  relish,  our  sea-breezes,  and  enjoyed  our  ocean  scenery.     But 
alas!  little  did  we  apprehend  the  sad  blow  that  was  so  soon  to  fall  upon  us.   We 
all  returned  to  New  York  the  last  of  the  week,  and  on  the  Sabbath  Mr.  Bruen 
was  attacked  with  disease  in  the  pulpit.     He  lingered  in  the  most  excruciating 
pain  through  the  week,  and  died  on  Saturday  night  following,  in  joyful  hope  of 
a  blessed  resurrection.     On  Sabbath  morning,  I  went  down  very  early  to  engage 
Brother  Baldwin  to  supply  the  vacant  pulpit  of  our  deceased  friend.    **  Ah," 
said  he,  as  he  took  my  hand,  *'  I  see  that  our  beloved  brother  has  gone  home." 
'' Yes,"  said  I,  ''and  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  preach  in  his  place  to  day." 
He  paused  a  moment,  and  while  his  breast  swelled  with  deep  emotion,  he  raised 
his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  said,  "  I  will  come  and  preach,  from  the  very  text 
we  both  heard  him  preach  from  a  fortnight  ago  to  day  in  New  London, — '  I  shall 
be  satisfied,  when  I  awake  with  thy  likeness;'  and  I  will  tell  them  he  is  satis^ 
jSed."     Never  can  I  forget  that  service.     There,  in  that  dear  Bleecker  Street 
Chapel,  dedicated  "  Christo  et  Ecclesiie,"  and  over  the  door  of  which  was  the 
beautiful  inscription, — "The  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof," — there  he  poured  out 
his  overflowing  heart,  while  such  men  as  John  Aspinwall  and  James  Roosevelt, 
Knowies  Taylor  and  Marcus  Wilbur,  John  McComb  and  Joseph  Brewster,  and 
many  of  the  choicest  spirits  of  New  York,  (all  of  whom  have  passed  away  to 
their  reward,)  were  weeping  before  him.     How  often  have  I  regretted  that  the 
Bleecker  Street  Church,  founded  by  the  refined  and  lamented  Bruen,  and  conse- 
crated by  the  services  of  the  unselfish,  high-minded,  and  talented  firskine 
Mason,  where  the  ashes  of  the  former  slept  beneath  the  altar,  and  the  beautiful 
tablet  of  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity,  adorned  the  walls,  should  be  swept  away 
by  the  spirit  of  speculation,  and  degraded  to  the  service  of  Mammon.*     How 
refreshing,  and  yet  how  afiecting,  it  is  to  those  that  remain,  to  eall  to  mind  the 

•  A  8avfai0i  Bank. 


ELIHU  WHITTLESEY  BALDWIN.  581 

pun  and  bright  spirits,  that  ministered  at  the  altar  in  New  York,  about  that 
|ieriod,  bat  who  haye  passed  away  (alas,  too  early)  to  those  IXeavonly  mansions 
prepared  by  the  Redeemer  for  his  ransomed  ones.  And  as  the  names  of  Sum- 
merfleld  and  Christmas,  Bruen  and  Baldwin,  Joseph  Sanford  and  Erskine 
Mason,  pass  before  me,  I  am  reminded  of  the  saying  of  the  heathen  sage,—* 
"  Those  whom  the  gods  love,  die  early ;"— or  more  appropriately,  of  the  affecting 
and  beautiful  prayer  of  our  Saviour,  "  Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou 
hast  given  me,  be  with  me  where  I  am,  that  they  may  behold  my  glory." 

With  sentiments  of  regard, 

I  am  yours  very  truly, 

JOSEPH  HURLBUT. 


-♦•- 


JAMES  LONG  SLOSS  * 

1817—1841. 

Jambs  Long  Slobs,  a  son  of  Bobert  and  Ann  Sloss,  was  bom  in  the 
pftrish  of  Bellaghy,  County  of  Derry,  Ireland,  on  the  18th  of  March,  1791. 
His  father,  who  was  a  cloth  merchant  and  manufacturer,  gave  him  good 
opportunities  for  early  education,  while  in  his  native  country.  In  June, 
1803,  the  family  migrated  to  the  United  States,  with  a  view  of  finding  here 
a  permanent  home.  The  ship  in  which  they  embarked  having  landed  at 
Baltimore,  they  remained  there  a  few  months,  and  then  removed  and  settled 
at  Lexington,  Ya.  It  seems  to  have  been  the  earnest  desire  of  his  parents, 
at  an  early  period,  that  he  should  be  devoted  to  the  work  of  the  ministry; 
and  one  of  his  earliest  recollections  was  that  his  father  placed  his  hand 
upon  his  head,  and  said, — ''My  son,  I  would  rather  see  you  a  faithful  min- 
ister of  the  Gospel  than  a  crowned  monarch.'*  But  as  they  were  not  in 
circumstances  to  meet  the  expense  of  his  necessary  preparations,  he  was,  in 
the  spring  of  1804,  bound  out  as  an  apprentice  for  seven  years  to  learn 
**  the  art  and  mystery  of  printing."  After  being  thus  engaged  for  four 
years  at  Lexington,  he  was  obliged  to  make  new  arrangements  in  conse- 
quence of  the  determination  of  his  employer  to  abandon  the  business ;  and 
accordingly,  at  th-j  suggestion  of  the  BeV.  William  F.  Turner,  then  of 
Baleigh,  N.  C,  with  whom  he  had  become  acquainted,  he  went  thither,  and 
served  the  remaining  years  of  his  apprenticeship  under  Messrs.  Jones  and 
Henderson,  Printers  of  the  Baleigh  Star.  After  this,  he  removed  to  Briery 
County,  Va.,  where  he  was,  for  a  while,  under  the  instruction  of  the  Bev. 
Mr.  Mc£lhenny,  and  at  the  same  time  was  an  assistant  teacher  in  his  school. 
At  a  still  later  period,  he  went  to  South  Carolina,  and  was  engaged  succes- 
sively as  Tutor  in  an  Academy,  and  as  teacher  in  a  private  family. 

Mr.  Sloss'  religious  character  seems,  by  this  time,  to  have  been  in  a  good 
degree  dereloped ;  and  now  he  forms  the  purpose  of  endeavouring  to  carry 
out  the  early  wish  of  his  parents,  as  well  as  his  own  wish,  in  becoming  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel, — the  obstacles  to  it,  which  had  hitherto  existed, 
having  been,  in  a  great  measure,  removed.     Some  of  his  friends  were  very 

•  MSS.  from  bis  fomlly.— Hlnato  of  PKsbjtoy. 


gg2  PRBSBTTBRIAK. 

desirous  that  he  should  stady  Lftw» — thinking  that  be  was  eminently  fitted 
to  sbiDe  in  that  profession ;  and  he  was  not  himself  without  some  leaning 
to  it ;  but,  upon  mature  reflection,  he  determined  in  favour  of  the  ministry. 
He  accordinglj  placed  himself  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Moses  Wad- 
del  of  Willington,  S.  0.,  and  there  completed  his  preparatory  course.  On 
the  18th  of  November,  1817,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the 
Presbytery  of  South  Carolina. 

The  next  day  after  his  licensure,  he  received  a  commission  from  the  Pres- 
bytery as  a  missionary  through  portions  of  Georgia  and  the  newly  formed 
settlements  of  what  was  then  called  the  **  Alabama  Territory.*'  On  the 
Sd  of  October,  1818,  he  was  ordained  as  an  itinerant  on  the  Southwestern 
frontier. 

Not  long  after  his  ordination,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Church  at  St. 
Stephens,  Clarke  County,  Ala.,  where  he  remained  for  three  years,  preaching 
very  successfully,  and  having  charge  of  an  Academy  at  the  same  time.  He 
then  removed  to  Selma,  in  Dallas  County,  and  took  charge  of  the  three 
Churches  of  Selma,  Pleasant  Valley,  and  Cahawba.  After  another  three 
years,  he  accepted  a  call  to  Somerville  in  Morgan  County,  and  while  there 
divided  his  ministerial  labours  between  Somerville  and  New  Providence, 
^ain  adding  to  his  duties  as  a  minister  those  of  a  teacher,  and  being  emi- 
neotly  successful  in  both  departments.  Having  remained  here  six  years, 
he  was  called  to  Florence  in  Lauderdale  County,  and  h«re  he  spent  the  Isat 
eleven  years  of  his  life.  Nearly  the  whole  of  his  ministerial  life  was  passed 
in  Alabama.  It  was  characterized  by  great  activity  and  devotedness,  and 
much  of  it  by  great  self-denial. 

In  the  division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  1838,  Mr.  Sloss  was  deci* 
dedly  and  actively  with  the  Old  School. 

In  1841,  he  attended  the  sessions  of  the  General  Assembly  at  Philadel- 
phia, and  shortly  after  his  return  home,  was  attacked  with  a  bilious  fever, 
of  which  he  died  on  the  5th  of  August,  aged  forty-nine  years.  His  last 
days  and  hours  were  an  edifying  scene  of  Christian  serenity  and  triumph. 
When  his  attending  physician  announced  to  him  that  his  recovery  was  hope- 
less, his  reply  was — ^*Lct  the  will  of  the  Lord  be  done — I  am  content." 
To  a  brother  in  the  ministry  who  visited  him,  he  remarked  that  no  man 
had  more  in  his  domestic  relations  to  render  life  desirable  than  himself; — 
but  that  he  could  cheerfully  leave  all  to  go  to  his  Saviour.  He  then  offered 
a  fervent  prayer  for  his  family,  for  the  Church  at  large,  and  especially  for 
his  own  beloved  congregation.  He  had  a  word  of  Christian  counsel  for  all 
who  came  into  his  chamber,  and  conversed  most  affectionately  and  faithfully 
with  each  of  his  children  and  servants.  He  would  often  say, — **No  place 
is  hojne  but  Heaven."  The  day  before  his  death,  he  sung  three  verses  of 
the  Hymn, — **  When  I  can  read  my  title  clear,"  &c.;  and,  being  unable,  on 
account  of  exhaustion,  to  proceed,  he  requested  one  of  his  elders,  whe  was 
present,  to  finish  it.  His  eldest  daughter,  by  his  request,  sung  and  played 
on  the  piano — *' Jerusalem,  my  happy  home."  A  few  moments  before  he 
expired,  one  of  his  physicians  began  to  converse  with  him, — when  he  sud- 
denly exclaimed — **  Be  silent,  my  brother — I  wish  to  commune  with  my 
Saviour."  His  countenance,  which  had  not,  during  his  illness,  lost  its  lustre, 
then  became  surprisingly  illumined ;  and  having,  with  an  unearthly  expres- 
sion, uttered  the  words — "Flesh,  flesh — it  can't  prevent  it — I  am  coming — 
1  am  coming" — ^his  spirit  departed  for  the  better  country. 


JAMSS  LCQIiG  SLOSS.  ggg 

On  the.  St2d.Qf.  H»y,  ia21,  llr.  Sloaa  was  married  in  Gahawba,  Ala.,  to 
Letitia  0«,  youngesi  daughter  of  the  Hon.  Jndge  David  Campbell.  He 
bad  nine  ohiidren,  seven  of  whom,  with  their  mother,  Burvived  him. 

FROM  N.  ROWELL,  M.  D. 

*  Mlbik  Wood,  near  Florence,  Ala.,  April  4, 1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  Your  request  that  I  should  furnish  you  my  recoUoctions  of  the 
Rev.  James  L.  Sloss  touches  a  tender  chord  in  my  heart;  for  while  we  sustained 
to  each  other  the  relations  of  Pastor  and  Physician,  we  were  also  hosom  friends. 
From  the  time  that  he  came  to  Florence  in  1830  till  his  death,  T  had  every  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  his  life,  and  forming  a  judgment  of  his  character,  that  con- 
stant intercourse  with  him  could  furnish.  In  the  pulpit  and  in  the  family,  at  the 
fireside  and  on  the  street,  in  social  circles  and  benevolent  associations,  in  the  house 
of  mourning  and  at  the  bed  of  death,  I  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  him  often, 
and  noticing  how  admirably  he  adapted  himself  to  every  exigency  that  could 
occur.  His  memory  is  most  gratefully  cherished  in  this  whole  region,  and  I  am 
aore  that  all  who  knew  him  well,  must  think  him  worthy  of  an  enduring 
record. 

Under  all  the  various  phases  of  life  in  which  T  ever  saw  Mr.  Sloss, — whether 
as  a  gentleman,  a  scholar,  or  a  Christian  minister,  he  was  so  unexceptionable, 
and  honourable,  and  exemplary,  that  it  would  not  have  been  easy  to  suggest  any 
considerable  improvement  in  his  character  and  bearing.  He  was  naturally  a  man 
of  high  spirit,  but  it  was  delightfully  softened  and  controlled  by  the  influence  of 
a  consistent  and  enlightened  piety.  His  mind  was  decidedly  of  a  superior  order — 
his  taste  was  highly  cultivated;  his  general  as  well  as  scientific  knowledge  was 
extensive;  he  had  a  great  amount  of  practical  good  sense;  was  an  attentive  and 
accurate  observer  of  men  and  things:  and  had  an  almost  intuitive  discernment 
of  whatever  pertained  to  moral  fitness  and  beauty. 

As  a  preacher  of  the  Qospel,  I  think  there  were  few  of  his  contemporaries,  at 
least  in  this  part  of  the  country,  who  could  claim  an  equality  with  him.  Ilis 
sermons  were  admirable  expositions  of  evangelical  truth,  delivered  in  a  manner 
well  fitted  to  aid  in  securing  their  legitimate  efifect  upon  the  heart  and  conscience. 
I  never  heard  him  read  a  sermon  in  the  pulpit,  but  he  usually  preached  from 
short  notes ;  and  the  most  appropriate  language  always  seemed  to  come  to  him 
without  eflbrt.  His  thoughts,  as  they  were  presented  to  his  audience,  were  logi- 
cally consecutive,  and  were  evidently  the  result  of  much  previous  reflection.  He 
reasoned  poa-erfully,  but  his  arguments  were  drawn  chiefly  from  the  word  of 
God;  though  he  did  not  disdain  to  employ,  as  occasional  auxiliaries,  history  and 
philosophy.  He  had  naturally  a  fine  imagination;  and  though  this  was  often 
apparent  in  his  preaching,  it  was  manifestly  his  aim  to  keep  it  in  check,  and  to 
deal  with  his  people  chiefly  through  the  more  sober  medium  of  reason  and  judg- 
ment. His  voice  had  ample  compass,  but  was  rather  harsh;  his  gesticulation 
was  easy  and  natural;  and  his  whole  manner,  by  its  fervour  and  boldness  as 
well  as  propriety,  fitted  to  make  a  deep  impression.  He  was  peculiarly  happy 
on  Sacramental  occasions — some  of  his  addresses  at  the  table,  for  richness  and 
depth  of  pious  thought  and  expression,  I  have  never  heard  surpassed.  There  are 
not  a  few  who  still  remember  them  as  having  contributed  not  a  little  to  their 
spiritual  comfort  and  growth. 

If  Mr.  Sloss'  labours  were  eminently  acceptable  in  the  pulpit,  they  were  not 
less  so  out  of  it.  As  a  Pastor,  he  showed  himself  intensely  devoted  to  the  spir- 
itual interests  of  his  people,  always  discharging  these  more  private  duties  with 
marked  fidelity.  He  was  especially  welcome  at  the  beds  of  the  sick  and  dying — 
few  knew  so  well  as  he  how  to  meet  each  particular  case,  and  to  present  to  the 
mind  of  the  languishing  patient  the  moat  appropriate  themes.    His  good  sense, 


1 


gg4  PB£»TTBRIAK. 

tendernosgy  dclicacjr^  and  piety,  all  combinad  ta  qualify  him  in  a  rematluibla 
degree  for  this  department  of  pastoral  labour.  It  was  a  principle  vith  him  Co 
discharge  every  duty  that  devolved  upon  him,  at  the  proper  time,  and  in  the  best 
way  he  could.  No  matter  whether  the  call  was  to  some  benevolent  association, 
or  to  some  religious  meeting  connected  with  his  own  church,  or  any  other  occasion 
in  respect  to  which  he  was  satisfied  of  his  own  obligation  to  bo  present, — ^neither 
the  darkness  of  the  night,  nor  the  indemeney  of  the  weather,  nor  any  other 
obstacle,  was  sufifered  to  stand  between  him  and  hia  convictions  of  duty. 

Mr.  Sloss  was  zealous  for  the  standards  of  the  Presbyterian  Church;  though 
he  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  press  the  Calvinistic  doctrines  to  an  extreme. 
During  the  conflict  which  resulted  in  the  division  of  the  Church,  he  was  greatly 
tried  by  the  sacrifice  of  harmony  and  good  feeling  which  it  involved  in  its  pro- 
gress, and  ho  had  been  anticipating  the  result  for  some  time  before  it  was  realised. 
He  was,  however,  fully  satisfied  that  it  was  for  the  best,  and  had  no  misgivings 
in  sustaining  the  Old  School  party  in  their  decisions  and  measures. 

Owing  to  an  affliction  in  my  own  family  at  the  time,  I  was  not  permitted  to 
witness  the  dying  scene  of  this  excellent  man;  but  it  was  the  testimony  of  all 
who  were  present,  that  his  death  was  worthy  of  his  life.  His  bench  of  elders, 
and  many  others  whom  he  assisted  to  train  for  glory,  have  already  entered  with 
him  into  the  fulness  of  joy. 

I  am,  dear  Sir,  very  truly  yonrs, 

N.  ROWELL. 

FROM  THE  REV.  J.  O.  STEDMAN. 

MfiMPHis,   Tcnn.,  May  29,  1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sloss  commenced  in 
the  spring  of  the  year  1837.  I  was  at  that  time  residing  in  North  Carolina,  my 
native  State;  but  having  received  a  call  to  become  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Tuscumbia,  Ala.,  it  had  been  arranged,  by  mutual  friends,  that  I 
should  meet  Mr.  Sloss  in  Piiiladelphia,  and  accompany  him  to  my  new  home. 
He  had  been  appointed  a  Commissioner  from  the  Presbytery  of  North  Alabama 
to  the  General  Assembly  of  our  Church,  which  met  in  that  city  at  the  time  above 
mentioned.  I  shall  never  forget  the  warm  and  fraternal  cordiality  with  which  he 
greeted  me  on  my  introduction  to  him,  and  the  constant  and  unwearied  atten- 
tion and  kindness  bestowed  upon  me  and  mine  during  our  journey  Westward,  and 
ever  afterwards.  Had  I  been  the  nearest  relative,  he  could  not  have  shown  me 
greater  marks  of  favour  and  friendship.  Our  charges  were  only  four  miles  dis- 
tant from  each  other,  in  adjoining  counties  of  the  same  State,  and  separated  by 
the  Tennessee  River.  I  had  constant  opportunities  of  the  most  familiar  inter- 
course with  him ;  ourselves  and  families  were  on  terms  of  the  most  afiectionate 
intimacy,  and  in  the  habit  of  visiting  each  other  as  though  we  were  relatives; 
and  after  an  interval  of  many  years,  I  know  of  none  of  my  acquaintances  and 
friends  with  whom  are  associated  more  tender  and  hallowed  reminiscences.  We 
always  assisted  each  other  on  Sacramental  occasions,  which,  according  to  the 
custom  of  that  part  of  the  country,  were  held  quarterly,  and  invariably  com- 
menced on  Friday  evening,  and  continued  till  over  the  Sabbath,  and  sometimes, 
till  Tuesday;  and  if  there  were  unusual  impressions  made,  or  any  special  interest 
manifested,  the  services  were  protracted  even  a  week  or  more.  We  also  fre- 
quently accompanied  each  other  to  the  meetings  of  Presbyteries  and  Synods; 
and,  occasionally,  we  laboured  together  in  protracted  meetings,  in  some  destitnie 
or  scantily -supplied  portions  of  our  territory.  As  he  was  older  than  myself,  and 
had  been  long  in  the  ministry  before  I  knew  him,  I,  as  a  young  and  inexperienced 
preacher,  was  accustomed  to  go  to  him  for  advice  in  my  difficulties  and  trials, 
and  was  always  sure  of  the  tendorest  sympathy  on  his  part,  and  of  such  coan- 


JAMES  LONG  SL08S.  585 

■aift  ss  oeuid  be  safely  i^ied  upon.  Situated  as  I  then  was,  in  my  nnt  ministe- 
rial charge,  and  encompassed  about  with  peculiar  perplexities,  I  oannot  feel  su^ 
ficiently  thankful  to  that  gracious  Proyideuce  which  threw  me  in  such  proximity 
to  so  kind-hearted  a  man,  so  generous  and  sympathising  a  friend,  so  warm  and 
devoted  a  Christian,  so  experienced  and  able  a  minister,  and  so  judicious  and  safe 
a  counsellor. 

Mr.  Sloss  was  rather  below  than  above  the  medium  size — with  a  mild,  pleasing 
and  intelligent  face — ^high  and  projecting  forehead — keen  and  penetrating  black 
eyes,  which  flashed  and  danced  about  with  a  peculiar  expression,  when  any  thing 
particularly  interested  or  excited  him — a  mouth  rather  large,  and  nose  small. 
The  whole  contour  of  his  face  was  somewhat  peculiar,  and  cannot  well  be 
described  even  by  those  who  knew  him  most  intimately .-  He  was  particularly 
neat  in  bis  personal  hal»ts,  and  in  dress  and  general  demeanour,  never  approxi-> 
mated  to  any  thing  like  slovenliness  or  carelessness.  And  yet  there  was  not  the 
least  appearance  about  him  of  formality  or  stifthess.  He  was  exceedingly  social 
in  his  disposition,  and  manifested,  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places,  the  manners  of 
a  refined  and  cultivated  Christian  gentleman,  being  perfectly  at  home  in  the 
highest  and  most  intelligent  circles  of  society,  and  rendering  himself  accessible 
and  acceptable  to  the  poorest  and  humblest  of  his  acquaintances  by  a  uniformly 
kind,  obliging,  and  courteous  deportment.  He  was  not  only  known  by  every 
body,  but  seemed  to  know  every  body  most  familiarly,  within  the  limits,  not 
only  of  his  Presbytery,  but  of  the  Synod.  And  in  travelling  with  him  in  pri- 
vate conveyance  to  and  from  our  ecclesiastical  bodies,  I  have  known  him  to 
recognise  almost  every  one  he  met  on  the  road;  and  it  was  his  invariable  prac 
lice  to  stop  and  detain  them  for  a  few  moments  with  kindest  inquiries  after  their 
health  and  prospects,  and  the  welfare  of  their  families,  relatives,  and  friends.  I 
have  often  wondered  how  he  could  so  readily  recognise  persons;  and  especially, 
how  he  could  with  so  much  particularity  inquire  after  each  member  of  different 
families,  whom  he  might  not  have  seen  for  a  long  while,  as  though  he  had  special 
and  peculiar  interest  in  each  and  all,  and  looked  upon  them  as  part  of  his  own 
endeared  household.  But  this  very  trait  in  his  character,  as  may  be  readily 
imagined,  gave  a  wide-spread  and  wonderful  influence  to  the  man,  and  caused 
his  name  every  where  to  be  spoken  with  the  profoundest  respect  and  the  roost 
ardent  enthusiasm.  And  a  letter  of  recommendation  from  him  was  a  sure  pass- 
port to  the  warmest  hospitalities  and  attentions  of  all  who  knew  him. 

Mr.  Sloss  was  literally  **  given  to  hospitality."  I  never  knew  a  man  to  enjoy 
more  the  society  of  his  friends,  or  to  put  himself  to  greater  pains  to  entertain 
and  render  them  comfortable.  Almost  every  thing  he  had  was  at  their  disposal; 
and  it  was  to  him  and  his  estimable  family  a  real  luxury  to  keep  an  open  house 
for  the  passing  stranger,  and  especially  for  the  wayfaring  servants  of  Christ 
Jesus.  His  house  was  emphatically  the  minister's  home;  and  those  who  know 
the  habits  and  customs  of  our  Southern  and  Southwestern  people,  will  be  able 
to  understand  and  appreciate  the  term.  Blessed  with  a  warm-hearted,  intelli- 
gent, energetic,  sympathizing,  cheerful  and  pious  wife;  affectionate  and  dutiful 
children;  and  well-trained  servants;  to  cross  their  threshhold  was  to  be  sure 
of  the  warmest  Christian  reception,  and  of  every  attention  that  kindness  and 
generosity  could  prompt,  to  make  the  stay  of  the  friend  or  the  stranger  agreea- 
ble. None  ever  entered  his  hospitable  home  who  did  not  receive  favourable 
impressions  of  his  character  as  a  gentleman  and  Christian,  nor  did  any  one  ever 
leave  it  without  a  desire  to  return  again,  if  Providence  should  afford  the  oppor- 
tunity. No  where  did  he  appear  to  more  advantage  than  in  his  own  family 
circle, — ^{i^uiding  and  ruling  them  in  the  fear  of  Qod,  setting  before  them  a  godly 
example,  and  shedding  around  continually  the  light  of  a  cheerful  and  pious  con- 
versation. With  limited  worldly  means,  he  managed,  nevertheless,  so  prudently 
to  dispose  of  the  things  he  possessed,  as  to  contribute  even  largely  to  the  com«^ 

Vol.  IV.  74 


586  PRfiSBTTXSIAK. 

fori  of  those  more  immedimtely  aroand  hfan,  and  of  buBdrods  wko  had  no  ekisM 
Airiher  than  were  required  by  the  ties  of  a  common  bamanity  and  religion. 

The  manners  of  Mr.  Sloss  were  reniarkablj  bland,  dignified  and  courteous. 
He  was  always  accostomed  to  greet  bis  friends,  however  frequently  he  might 
meet  them,  with  a  cordial  shake  of  the  hand,  a  pleasant  smile,  and  a  slight 
and  respectful  inclination  of  the  head  and  body  peculiar  to  himself.  Nor  is  he 
belicTed  ever  to  have  made  any  invidious  distinction  of  persons  in  bis  outward 
treatment  of  them,  showing  equally  to  all,  even  the  humblest,  the  same  kind  and 
respectful  attentions.  In  this  respect,  he  greatly  excelled  any  man  I  ever  knew, 
exhibiting,  at  all  times  and  in  all  places,  the  dignified  yet  easy  deportment  of  a 
polite  and  refined  Christian  gentleman.  He  was  particularly  fond  of,  and  atten- 
tive to,  children  and  young  persons,  and  drew  them  around  him  by  a  sort  of  easy 
and  delightful  confidence,  which  gave  him  almost  unbounded  influence  over  them, 
won  them  without  reluctance  to  his  instructions,  and  inclined  them  to  seek 
his  counsel  and  guidance,  as  children  of  a  father. 

He  interested  himself  very  much  in  pious  young  men,  whom  he  thought  quali- 
fied for  and  disposed  to  the  Gospel  ministry;  and,  in  every  proper  way,  encour- 
aged them  to  consider  the  matter  of  personal  duty  in  this  respect.  And  where 
any  had  decided  to  prepare  themselves  for  this  good  work,  without  the  means 
successfully  to  accomplish  their  wishes,  he  was  always  sure  to  put  their  minds 
at  rest,  and  provide  for  the  prosecution  of  their  studies.  One  of  our  most  useful 
young  ministers,  who  is  now  labouring  successfully  within  the  bounds  of  the  Pres* 
by tery  to  which  Mr.  Sloss  was  attached,  and  within  a  day's  ride  of  his  old  home- 
stead, where  his  venerable  father,  an  estimable  elder  of  the  church  that  witnessed 
his  first  espousals  to  Christ,  taught  him  from  earliest  infancy  to  fear  and  honour 
God,  dates  his  first  distinct  and  permanent  religious  impressions  to  a  tract  that 
was  put  into  his  Iiands,  at  an  opportune  moment,  by  his  watchful  and  judicious 
pastor.  And  he  remembers,  with  heartfelt  gratitude,  the  marked  kindness  of 
Mr.  Sloss,  his  ready  encouragement  and  assistance,  and  his  wise  and  whole- 
some admonitions  and  counsels,  in  the  days  of  his  inexperience  and  serious 
inquiry  after  truth  and  duty.  And  such  would  doubtless  be  the  testimony  of 
many,  if  we  had  the  opportunity  of  discovering  and  making  known  their  senti- 
ments.    But  the  record  of  such  a  man  is  on  high. 

The  intellectual  powers  of  Mr.  Sloss  were  of  a  high  order.  He  was  not  a 
brilliant  man — nor  what  may  be  called  a  ^*  genius;*'  but  every  development  of 
his  mental  exercises  evinced  a  clear,  sound,  logical,  discriminating  mind, 
and  sober  judgment.  He  was  a  good  scholar,  well  read  in  history  and  general 
literature,  and  was  ready  to  give  an  intelligent  opinion  on  any  subject  that  was 
introduced  in  general  conversation.  He  was  possessed  of  remarkable  conversa- 
tional powers,  and  was  as  fluent  and  easy  in  language,  as  he  was  graceful  and 
dignified  in  manners.  Every  one  might  be  sure  that  an  hour's  intercourse  with 
him  would  be  both  agreeable  and  profitable.  He  had  the  happy  art  of  intro- 
ducing interesting  subjects  of  discussion  at  all  times,  and  of  keeping  up  the  dis- 
cussion with  great  animation.  And  so  candid  and  free  was  he  himself,  that  no 
one  felt  any  reluctance  to  express  an  opinion  in  his  presence. 

He  was  fond  of  argument,  and  was  a  ready  debater.  He  would  sometimes 
join  himself  to  debating  clubs,  attend  the  meetings  regularly,  and  discuss  with 
considerable  zest  literary  and  scientific  subjects.  Whenever  he  rose  to  speak, 
there  was  marked  attention,  and  something  pertinent,  sensible,  and  striking  was 
always  expected.  His  opinions  on  all  subjects  were  always  received  with  con- 
sideration and  deference. 

The  moral  character  of  Mr.  Sloss  was  above  reproach  or  suspicion.  He 
frowned  upon  vice  and  immorality,  under  whatever  forms  they  appeared,  or 
whatever  names  they  assumed.  He  was  the  earnest  advocate  and  promoter  of 
virtue's  cause,  and  strove  conscientiously  to  avoid,  in  habit,  conversation,  and 


JAMSS  LOU 6  SLOSS.  |^7 

gtaerd  b^^Tkmr,  even  the  appearftnce  of  evil.  I  have  neTer  known  a  man  to 
set  hlnuelf  wiUi  a  more  determined  will,  against  the  usages  and  practices  which 
he  conceived  to  be  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of  morality  and  religion.  He  was 
not4d  ibr  his  rigid  and  uncompromising  opposition  to  the  vices  of  our  fallen 
nature,  which  he  rebuked  daily  by  his  own  consistent  and  exemplary  Christian 
life,  and  which  he  did  not  fail  faithfully  and  sternly  to  reprove  in  words,  when 
the  time  and  occasion  seemed  to  call  for  it.  And  yet,  he  was  no  dreamer,  nor 
enthusiast,  but  planted  himself  upon  the  true  and  safe  principles  of  the  Gospel, 
and  acted  accordingly. 

He  was  mightily  opposed  to  what  are  called  *'  worldly  amusements,"  and 
dreaded  their  influence  upon  Christian  character  and  the  interests  and  prosperity 
of  religion.  If  invited  to  officiate  at  a  marriage,  it  was  understood  by  his  friends 
that  the  sound  of  the  viol  and  the  merriment  of  the  dance,  were  not  to  be  heard 
till  he  had  left  the  house.  Out  of  respect  to  his  opinions  and  feelings,  such  a 
thing  was  seldom  attempted  even  by  those  who  were  not  influenced  by  religious 
considerations,  or  whoso  views  on  the  subject  were  diflerent  from  his  own.  And 
if,  at  any  time,  there  should  be  any  deviation  from  this  course,  he  would  imme- 
diately show  his  disapprobation  by  taking  his  hat,  and  with  his  family,  if  pre- 
sent, marching  out  of  the  house,  even  before  the  entertainment  had  been  served,  in 
spite  of  the  most  earnest  entreaties  and  remonstrances  of  his  friends  to  the  con- 
trary. He  has  been  known  to  do  this  more  than  once;  and  he  always  gave  as  a 
reason  for  it,  that  every  body  knew  his  feelings,  and  that  he  considered  it  as  dis- 
respect shown  to  his  character  as  a  minister,  and  that  he  could  not  witness  or  in 
any  wise  countenance  a  practice  which  he  believed  so  contrary  to  the  Word  of 
God  and  detrimental  to  true  piety,  and  which  his  mind,  and  conscience,  and 
heart,  so  unequivocally  condemned.  He  was  a  man  of  great  decision,  and  did 
not  waver  a  moment  as  to  any  opinion  or  course  of  conduct  that  had  the  approval 
of  his  own  conscience,  and  in  which  he  felt  himself  to  be  sustained  by  the  author- 
ity of  God's  Word.  . 

Notwithstanding  Mr.  Sloss,  during  perhaps  the  larger  portion  of  his  ministe- 
rial life,  was  obliged  to  add  the  cares  and  labours  of  a  Teacher  to  those  of  a 
Preacher  and  Pastor,  he  found  time  for  general  and  specific  reading,  and  was  at 
all  times  a  diligent  student.  The  labours  of  the  day,  and  interruptions  by 
company,  were  such,  that  he  read  and  studied  mostly  at  night,  even  after  the 
family  had  retired  to  rest — sitting  up  often  till  three  o'clock.  He  had  a  small, 
but  well  selected,  library,  of  which  he  made  good  use.  He  commenced  Iiis  prepa- 
rations for  the  pulpit  usually  on  Friday  evening,  and  was  accustomed  to  devote 
the  first  part  of  the  week  to  the  school,  to  his  friends,  or  to  pastoral  visitations. 

He  did  nothing  more  than  take  down  the  heads  of  his  discourse,  but  studied 
his  subject  thoroughly;  and,  from  the  time  of  commencing  preparation,  whether 
in  the  family  or  among  friends,  appeared  thoughtful,  as  if  intent  in  turning 
over  in  his  mind  the  selected  matter.  He  always  went  into  the  pulpit  with 
a  serious  and  sober  countenance;  and  though  kindly  greeting  eyery  one  he  met 
on  his  way  to  church,  or  at  his  entrance,  any  one  could  readily  perceive  that  his 
mind  and  heart  were  upon  his  message  and  work,  and  that  he  did  not  feel  them 
to  be  of  small  import. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  plain,  practical,  instructive  and  earnest,  systematic 
and  logical.  He  did  not  deal  much  in  flights  of  fancy,  but  was  satisfied  to 
present  the  truth  of  God  in  its  scriptural  simplicity.  But  so  clear  and  dis* 
criminating  was  he  in  the  enunciation  of  truth,  so  earnest  and  impressive  in 
manner,  and  so  easy  and  fluent  in  his  utterance,  that  he  never  failed  to  secure 
the  attention  of  his  audience  ;  and  when,  at  protracted  or  Presbyterial  or  Sy nod- 
ical meetings,  it  was  known  that  he  would  preach,  he  was  always  sure  of  a  largo 
and  interested  congregation.  He  dwelt  much  in  his  preaching  on  tbe  terrors  of 
the  law,  and  was  very  faithful  in  reproving  sin;  but  he  could  linger  too  with 


588  PRESBTTSRIAir. 

much  effect  about  the  CroBS,  and  would  often  touch,  melt,  and  win  by  his  impas- 
sioned and  tender  appeals,  while  his  constantly  flowing  tears  would  tell  the  story 
of  his  own  delightful  and  tender  experience.  He  was  particularly  happy  on 
Sacramental  occasions,  and  hundreds  now  living  can  bear  willing  testimony  to 
the  edification  and  comfort  they  hare  experienced  at  such  times,  as  he  spake  to 
them  so  clearly,  touchingly,  and  earnestly,  of  the  love  of  Christ  that  passeth 
knowledge. 

Although  his  preaching  was  altogether  extempore,  he  is  never  known  to  have 
failed,  faltered,  or  even  hesitated.  He  was  an  uncommonly  ready  man.  In  the 
pulpit,  the  lecture  room,  or  in  debate,  he  was  the  same.  Words  exprcssire  of 
his  ideas,  seemed  to  flow  from  him  as  naturally  and  easily  as  streams  from  a 
Ml  and  living  fountain.  In  his  sermons,  he  usually  adopted  the  textual  plan  of 
treatment;  and  begun,  advanced,  and  ended  with  uniform  fluency  and  ease. 
Such  indeed  was  the  freedom,  grace,  and  precision  with  which  he  expressed  him- 
self, that  a  stranger,  unacquainted  with  his  habits,  might  yery  naturally  have 
supposed  that  his  sermon  had  been  carefully  written  out  and  committed  to  mem- 
ory. I  well  remember  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  him  preach.  It  was  in  the 
dty  of  Philadelphia,  at  the  time  of  our  first  acquaintance,  (1837,)  in  the  Church 
on  Spruce  street,  then  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Winchester.  His  text  was 
taken  from  I.  Pet.  ir.  17 — "  What  shall  the  end  be  of  them  that  obey  not  the 
Oospel  of  God  ?"  He  had  not  a  single  note;  yet  he  spoke  with  so  much  ease 
and  felicitousness,  and  had  so  sprightly  and  earnest  a  delivery,  that  the  atten- 
tion of  every  one  of  a  large  congregation  seemed  to  be  absorbed,  and  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  services,  there  was  an  almost  involuntary  expression  of  admiring 
commendation.  At  that  time,  he  did  not  preach  more  than  twenty-five  minutes. 
But  a  great  deal  had  been  said  in  that  short  time,  and  very  much  to  the  point. 
His  sermons  were  usually  from  thirty  to  forty-five  minutes  in  length;  and  I 
believe  I  seldom,  if  ever,  knew  them  to  exceed  the  latter. 

I  have  already  said  that  Mr.  Sloss  never  entered  the  pulpit  but  with  a  serious 
and  solemn  air,  showing  that  his  heart  was  in  his  work,  and  that  he  felt  deeply 
the  tremendous  responsibilities  involved  in  his  ofSce.  His  most  familiar  friends 
knew  him  to  be  a  man  of  deep  and  ardent  devotion.  And  as  he  grew  in  years, 
he  seemed  daily  to  grow  in  grace  and  consecration  to  his  work.  For  some 
time  previous  to  his  death,  he  repeatedly  told  me,  when  in  familiar  conversa- 
tion with  him  respecting  the  duties  and  trials  of  a  minister,  that  he  scarcely 
ever  went  into  the  pulpit  without  a  deep  impression  that  it  might  be  for  the 
last  time.  On  his  return  from  the  General  Assembly  in  1840,  he  seemed  to 
be  fired  with  a  zeal,  even  more  than  ordinary,  for  the  prosperity  of  Zion,  and  was 
actuated  by  the  intensest  desire  to  get  and  to  do  good.  The  last  service  in  which 
he  engaged  previous  to  his  last  sickness,  was  the  regular  prayer  meeting.  It 
was  one  of  unusual  interest  and  solemnity.  Those  present  thought  there  was 
uncommon  animation  in  his  countenance,  and  that  he  was  unusually  energetic 
and  fervid.  With  much  affection  and  power  he  pressed  upon  them  the  claims 
of  Christ's  love,  and  the  duty  of  immediate  and  united  consecration  to  his  ser- 
vice. This  was  the  last  public  demonstration  he  was  permitted  to  give  of  his 
faithfulness  to  Christ  and  his  cause,  and  of  his  earnest  desire  for  the  edification 
and  revival  of  his  Church.  And  it  illustrates  the  feeling  expressed  in  the  sick- 
ness that  soon  followed: — "  I  love  the  Church.  It  is  near  my  heart.  0,  the 
love  of  Christ!  Strive  to  have  the  love  of  Christ  to  live  and  reign  in  your  heart. 
To  get  the  heart  away  from  every  thing  else  but  God!  7%i8  is  the  point  !  7%is 
is  the  point  /'* 

As  a  pastor,  few  men  were  more  faithful.  I  presume  hardly  a  day  passed, 
that  he  did  not,  when  not  otherwise  particularly  engaged,  visit  some  of  his  flock. 
He  was  specially  attentive  to  the  poor  and  the  afflicted;  and  was  prompt  and 
skilful  in  binding  up  with  precious  Gospel  ointment  any  wounds  that  sin  or 


JOm  LOHa  8L0SS.  509 

sorrow  Iwd  made  in  the  heftrts  of  his  people.  Within  %  few  dsys  past,  I  hare 
found  a  sorrowing  child  of  God>  who,  looking  back  over  an  interval  of  fifteen 
years  or  more,  remembers,  with  tenderest  emotions,  his  kindly  sympathy  in  the 
hour  of  trial,  and  how  beautifully  and  sweetly  he  opened  up  the  Scriptures  to  her 
burdened,  disconsolate  heart. 

As  a  Presbyter,  Mr.  Sloss  was  invaluable.  He  was  a  wiz^e  and  experienced 
counsellor,  with  a  fine  business  talent,  prompt,  energetic,  and  untiring — ^never 
evading  legitimate  responsibilities,  or  shrinking  from  any  duty  his  brethren 
might  see  fit  to  impose  upon  him,  and  submitting  to  almost  any  amount  of 
toil,  inconvenience,  and  even  sacrifice,  in  order  to  carry  out  the  wishes  of  those 
whom  he  had  promised  to  obey  in  the  Lord,  and  to  advance  and  strengthen  the 
interests  of  Christ's  Kingdom. 

He  was  one  of  the  most  punctual  men  in  observing  his  appointments  I  ever 
knew.  Whether  those  appointments  were  made  by  himself,  or  by  the  order  of 
Presbytery,  nothing  hardly,  short  of  a  miracle,  could  prevent  their  fulfilment. 
He  was  strictly  a  man  of  hia  word,  to  be  relied  upon  and  trusted  even  when 
difficulties  and  obstacles  seemingly  insurmountable  would  be  in  the  way.  He 
was  not  the  man  to  stop  at  trifies,  when  duty  was  to  be  done.  He  attached  great 
importance  to  punctuality.  To  be  late  at  Divine  service  on  the  Sabbath  or  through 
the  week;  was  what,  I  suppose,  never  happened  in  the  whole  course  of  his  min- 
istry. And  he  had  trained  his  family  and  all  connected  with  him  to  be  ready  to 
the  minute. 

He  never  disappointed  me  in  a  single  engagement  to  assist  me  at  a  Sacra- 
mental meeting,  during  a  period  of  six  years.  Several  times,  I  remember,  he 
had  been  delayed  coming,  as  had  been  his  custom,  and  I  began  to  get  uneasy,  as 
it  was  always  expected  that  the  minister  assisting  would  do  all  the  preaching; 
but  presently  the  dear  brother  would  be  seen  riding  up,  just  in  time  for  the 
service.  He  had  been  detained,  perhaps  by  some  special  emergency;  but  he 
managed  to  keep  his  appointment. 

At  the  meetings  of  Presbytery  and  Synod,  it  was  always  expected  that  ho 
would  be  among  the  first  to  arrive.  And  his  counsel  and  experience  were  valua- 
ble in  organizing,  and  in  marking  out  the  order  of  business,  and  in  the  general 
proceedings  and  arrangements. 

As  illustrative  of  his  punctuality,  I  may  relate  the  following  incident — On 
one  occasion,  ho  had  an  appointment  to  preach  nine  miles  from  home.  At  the 
same  time,  one  of  his  children  was  lying  seriously  ill,  with  scarcely  a  hope  of 
recovery.  He  remained  with  the  child  until  the  last  moment,  allowing  himself 
just  time  enough  to  fulfil  his  engagement.  Then  commending  the  child  to  the 
protection  and  care  of  its  and  his  Heavenly  Father,  he  departed  and  fulfilled  his 
appointment.  On  his  return  homo  in  the  evening,  instead  of  finding  his  child 
dead,  as  he  had  anticipated,  he  was  rejoiced  to  discover  that  it  was  better;  and  it 
was  ultimately  spared  to  him  as  a  monument  of  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God. 

According  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  he  was  in  the  habit,  for  several  years, 
of  holding  a  camp-meeting  nine  miles  distant  from  his  residence.  He  would  take 
his  entire  family,  and  pitch  his  tent,  with  others,  on  the  ground  where  they  were 
accustomed  to  meet,  and  for  a  week  give  himself  up  to  special  and  untiring 
efforts  for  the  spiritual  good  of  his  people,  without  any  care  upon  his  mind  res- 
pecting his  home  or  his  domestic  concerns.  Such  occasions,  at  that  period, 
in  a  sparsely  settled  country,  were  looked  'forward  to  with  peculiar  interest. 
Some  would  come  from  a  distance  of  thirty  miles  to  enjoy  the  services.  And 
hundreds  of  those  gathered  on  such  occasions,  would  date  their  first  religious 
impressions,  and  perhaps  their  conversion,  to  those  seasons.  For  often  the 
Spirit  of  Qod  was  poured  out  in  great  power,  and  the  natural  and  unfelled 
forests  would  resound  with  the  praises  of  God's  revived  people,  and  of  those 


g90  PBBSBTTIRIAV. 

specially,  who  for  ihb  first  time  felt  the  efficacy  of  the  Savionr's  pvedous  l^ood, 
applied  to  cleanse  their  souls  from  guilt  and  shame. 

I  have  spoken  of  Mr.  Sloss  as  a  ready  debater.  lie  was  sometimes  called  oat 
very  unexpectedly,  to  oppose  views  and  plans  that  be  considered  erroneous  and 
of  dangerous  tendency.  But  he  always  acquitted  himself  with  honour,  and 
satisfaction  to  his  friends — never  halting,  or  hesitating,  but  going  on  in  a  direct, 
manly,  free  and  dignifled  discussion,  proving  that  he  had  quick  discernment 
and  abundant  resources,  was  always  ready,  and  was  not  to  be  taken  by  sur- 
prise. Occasionally,  when  roused,  he  would  indulge  in  burning  sarcasm — but, 
ordinarily,  he  was  free  from  this;  and  while  he  was  firm  and  fearless  in  main- 
taining and  defending  his  own  opinions,  he  was  courteous,  both  in  manner  and 
language  towards  his  opponents  and  was  careful  not  to  oifend  needlessly  any 
who  differed  from  him. 

It  was  my  privilege  to  see  Mr.  Sloss  several  times  during  his  last  illness;  and 
I  can  truly  say  that  I  have  never  witnessed  a  more  striking  illustration  of  the 
all-sustaining  power  of  the  Gospel  in  the  last  and  most  trying  exigency.  While 
his  devoted  attachment  to  his  family  and  friends  came  out  in  the  most  beautifal 
and  impressive  manner,  his  faith  triumphed  over  even  his  natural  affection,  and 
rendered  him  far  more  eloquent  in  his  death  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life. 
None,  I  am  persuaded,  who  witnessed  that  scene,  will  ever  lose  it  from  among 
their  most  cherished  recollections. 

The  name  of  Mr.  Sloss  is  very  precious  to  many  of  his  surviving  ministerial 
brethren,  who,  after  the  lapse  of  fifteen  years,  cannot  think  of  him  but  with 
the  tenderest  emotions.  And  there  are  hundreds  of  persons,  scattered  through- 
out the  Southwest,  who  formerly  knew  him, and  were  instructed  and  com- 
forted, and  perhaps,  convicted  and  converted,  by  his  faithful,  earnest  preach- 
ing, who  cannot  bear  his  name  mentioned  without  a  flood  of  the  roost  grateful 
and  delightful  recollections. 

I  am,  Rev.  and  dear  Sir,  yours  truly, 

J.  O.  STEDMAN. 


-♦♦- 


JEREMIAH  CHAMBERLAIN,  D.  D.* 

1817—1860. 

The  grandparents  of  Jeremiah  Chamberlain,  on  the  father's  side,  emigrated 
from  the  North  of  Ireland  to  America,  about  the  year  1742,  and  settled  in 
Lancaster  County,  Pa.,  not  far  from  Slate  Ridge.  They  removed  from 
that  place  between  the  years  1750  and  1760,  with  a  family  of  three  sons 
and  two  daughters,  to  York  County,  (now  Adams,)  in  the  same  State. 
Colonel  James  Chamberlain,  their  second  son,  and  the  father  of  the  subject 
of  this  sketch,  was  bom,  during  their  residence  in  Lancaster  County,  in 
1745.  He  early  imbibed  the  spirit  of  76,  was  appointed  a  Captain,  raised 
a  company  in  his  neighbourhood,  and  marched  with  it  to  Chester  County, 
Pa.,  to  join  the  main  forces.  He  continued  in  the  army  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  war.  In  1777,  he  was  appointed  Major,  and  about  the  close  of 
the  war,  was  appointed  Lieutenant  Colonel.  After  Peace  was  declared,  he 
returned  to  his  father's  farm,  near  great  Conewago,  and  married  Ann  Sample 

•  pTMbytAriaii  for  I8(0.*]IS8.  from  hlf  fondly,  moA  B«y.  Zebvlon  Butler,  B.  B. 


JEREMIAH  CHAMRBKLAIN.  £§X 

of  York  CoQDtj ;  and  there  tbey  rused  a  £ttiiiilj  consbfting  of  fire  sons  and 
four  daughters.  They  were  both  earnest  Christians,  and  members  of  th& 
Presbyterian  Church ;  and  Jeremiah »  their  eldest  son,  is  said  to  have  been 
solemnly  dedicated  to  the  Church  by  his  parents,  in  his  infancy,  in  accord- 
ance with  a  vow  made  by  his  mother. 

Jeremiah  Chamberlain  was  born  January  5,  1794,  and  continued  at 
home,  labouring  more  or  less  upon  his  father^s  farm,  until  the  year  1809. 
Beiug  then  in  his  fifteenth  year,  he  was  sent  to  Gettysburg,  Adams  County, 
Pa.,  and  placed  under  the  care  of  the  Kev.  David  MoConaughy,  who,  at 
that  time,  kept  an  excellent  school  for  the  preparation  of  young  men  for 
College.  Here  he  remained  not  only  a  pupil  in  Mr.  M.'s  school,  but  a 
boarder  in  his  family,  until  the  year  1812,  when  he  joined  the  Sophomore 
olass  in  Dickinson  College.  During  his  connection  with  College,  he  made 
a  profession  of  religion,  and  united  himself  with  the  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Carlisle.  He  graduated  in  1814  ;  and  immediately  after  became  a  member 
of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  where  he  remained  three  years. 
He  is  represented  as  having  been  a  vigorous  and  successful  student  through- 
out his  whole  course,  both  academical  and  theological. 

He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Carlisle  in  the  year  1817. 
The  same  year  he  accepted  a  commission  from  the  General  Assembly's 
Board  of  Domestic  Missions,  to  travel  as  a  missionary  in  the  West  and 
South.  His  appointment  to  the  mission  is  in  the  following  words, — 
extracted  from  the  31inutes  of  the  General  Assembly  of  1817 — "  Mr.  Jere- 
miah Chamberlain,  six  months  through  the  Southwestern  Counties  of 
Pennsylvania  to  the  Ohio  lliver,  and  down  that  river  to  St.  Louis,  where 
he  will  join  Mr.  Lamed,  and  then  visit  the  destitute  towns  on  the  Missis- 
sippi between  Natchez  and  New  Orleans,  and,  if  practicable,  visit  the  set- 
tlements on  the  Mobile."  He  commenced  this  mission  in  November,  1817. 
At  Bedford,  Pa.,  he  found  the  ohnroh  without  a  Pastor,  and  overtures  to 
remain  were  made  to  him,  which,  however,  he  felt  obliged  to  decline, 
with  a  view  to  the  prosecution  of  his  mission.  As  he  was  on  his  way  down 
the  Ohio  River,  he  received  a  formal  call  from  the  Bedford  Church  ;  and, 
after  accomplishing  his  mission  at  Natchez,  New  Orleans,  and  Mobile,  he 
returned  in  the  summer  of  1818,  and  accepted  it.  He  entered  immediately 
upon  his  labours  at  Bedford  ;  and  besides  preaching  regularly  in  that 
church,  he  preached  occasionally  at  Schellsburg,  and  conducted  a  flourishing 
classical  school  the  whole  time  he  remained  there. 

In  the  winter  of  1822-23,  he  removed  to  Danville,  Ky.,  in  consequence  of 
having  received  and  accepted  a  call  to  the  Presidency  of  Centre  College. 
Here  he  entered  upon  a  new  and  difficult  field  of  labour,  as  every  thing 
pertaining  to  the  institution  was  in  an  incipient  state ;  but,  by  a  vigorous 
co-operation  of  several  philanthropic  individuals  with  himself,  an  important 
change  was  soon  effected — the  College  was  placed  upon  a  firm  basis,  and 
the  buildings  filled  with  students.  The  new  College  charter,  obtained  during 
his  administration,  included  the  important  feature  of  authorizing  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  Theological  Seminary  in  connection  with  it.  He  preached 
regularly,  besides  conducting  a  Bible  class,  during  the  whole  time  of  his 
residence  in  Danville.  In  connection  with  his  labours,  a  powerful  revival  of 
religion  took  place  in  the  College,  which  extended  many  miles  into  the 
eountry ;  and  not  a  few  of  the  stadents,  who  were  numbered  among  its  sub* 
jects,  afterwards  became  ministers  of  the  Gk>speL 


292  PBB3BTTBRIAK. 

In  the  winter  of  1824-25,  he  resigned  the  Preridencj  of  Centre  CMlege, 

and  removed  to  Jackson,  La., — having  accepted  the  same  office  in  a  State 
Institution  in  that  place.  Here  he  found  every  thing  yet  to  he  done  in 
organizing  and  establishing  the  College ;  and,  after  struggling  with  great 
difficulties  for  about  two  years,  with  little  hope  of  accomplishiDg  his  plans, 
and  little  sympathy  and  encouragement  from  the  State  authorities,  who  had 
control  of  the  institution,  he  resigned  his  office  in  1828,  and  opened  an 
Academy  for  the  instruction  of  youth,  in  a  church  edifice  which  he  had 
erected  in .  the  same  place,  at  his  own  expense,  and  especially  for  the 
students  who  withdrew  with  him  from  the  institution  over  which  he  had 
presided.  He  preached  regularly  while  he  was  connected  with  the  College, 
and  organized  a  Presbyterian  Church,  where  none  had  existed  before. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Centre 
College,  in  1825. 

During  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1828,  he  matured  a  plan  for  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  literary  institution,  to  be  under  the  care  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  to  be  located  somewhere  in  that  Southern  country.  After  pre- 
senting his  views  very  fully  to  the  Presbytery  of  Mississippi,  that  Body 
adopted  his  plans,  and  took  under  their  care  and  control  the  projected  insti- 
tution. The  establishment  of  Oakland  College,  in  Clairbome  County,  Miss., 
was  the  result  of  the  enterprise.  He  removed  to  the  grounds  of  the  Col- 
lege in  1830;  and,  as  the  exclusive  control  of  the  institution  was  to  be 
vested  in  the  Presbytery,  that  Body  appointed  him  to  the  Presidency  the 
same  year.  Here,  doubtless,  he  accomplished  the  most  important  work  of 
his  life.  He  laboured  in  season  and  out  of  season,  spared  no  expense,  and 
shrunk  from  no  sacrifice,  by  means  of  which  the  interests  of  this  favourite 
object  might  be  advanced.  A  charter  for  the  College  was  early  obtained 
from  the  Legislature  of  the  State,  with  ample  privileges  for  a  theological 
department;  and  funds,  buildings,  and  friends  were  continually  added,  until 
the  day  of  his  death,  when  Oakland  College  had  become  a  noble  monument 
of  his  untiring  zcul  and  Christian  philanthropy. 

Dr.  (.^hamberlain's  eminently  useful  life  was  terminated  by  a  fearfully 
tragical  death,  on  the  5th  of  September,  1850.  The  circumstances,  as 
detailed  by  a  writer  in  the  *' Presbyterian,*'  a  short  time  after  the  event 
occurred,  were  these : — 

**  Under  tlie  excitement  connected  with  the  late  election  for  a  State  Convention  in 
Mississippi,  a  card  was  published  in  Fort  Gibson,  asserting  that  a  student  bad  been 
expelled  Irom  Oakland  College,  for  expressing  disunion  sentiments  in  a  speech.  This 
charge  was  at  once  contradicted  by  Dr.  Chamberlain,  and  one  of  the  Trustees.  Mr. 
G.  A.  B.  was  then  mentioned  by  the  author  of  the  first  card  as  his  informant.  In  an 
excited  state  of  mind,  owing  to  his  position  in  the  affair,  B.  on  the  6th  of  September, 
was  in  Kodney,  and  armed  himself  with  a  bowie-knife.  After  drinking  freely  through 
the  day.  he  started  for  home,  driving  up  to  Dr.  Chamberlain's  house,  as  he  passed. 
The  Doctor  met  him  without  suspicion,  and  stood  talking  with  him  at  the  gate.  His 
two  daughters  from  the  house  observed  what  followed.  They  heard  B.  call  their  father 
repeatedly  a  liar;  to  which  the  latter  replied — 'You  must  prove  that;'  when  B.  twice 
struck  him  to  the  ground  with  a  loaded  whip:  and,  upon  his  rising  the  last  time, 
stabbed  him  with  his  knife  to  the  heart.  Upon  being  asked  if  he  was  hui-t,  Dr.  Cham- 
berlain replied — '  I  am  killed.'  lie  entered  the  hall  where  his  daughters  and  wife  met 
him,  and  to  the  exclamation  from  one  of  them — *Lord  Jesus,  receive  his  spirit/ 
returned  a  smile  Aill  of  the  serenity  and  hope  he  could  not  utter  with  his  lips,  and  fell 
and  expired.  On  the  Sabbath,  7th  of  September,  his  remains,  attended  by  a  large 
concourse  of  people,  were  laid  in  the  College  burial  ground.  Little  was  said,  for  all 
hearts  were  pervaded  with  a  sorrow  that  could  not  be  expressed  in  words. 

**  Go  the  afternoon  of  the  same  Sabbath.  B.  was  found  by  a  negro  in  a  thicket,  in  a 
dying  state,  giving  every  indication  of  having  poisoned  himself.  He  lived  a  few  boon 
after  being  found,  and  then  passed  to  the  bar  of  his  Judge  I** 


JERElfiAH  CHAMBIBLAnr.  |gg 

Dr.  Qiftmberkin'i  life  was  souiimIi  a  scene  of  aotive  labour,  tbat  he  verj 
farely  apoke  through  the  press.  Some  of  his  Inaugural  and  Baccalaureate 
Addresses,  and  Circular  Letters  on  Education,  and  Letters  to  the  Churches 
designed  to  awaken  a  spirit  of  Christian  enterprise,  were  printed ;  hut  only 
in  the  newspapers  of  the  daj.  In  1881,  he  published  a  Sermon  on  the 
sanctity  and  perpetuity  of  the  Sabbath.  The  last  Sermon  he  ever  preached, 
was  published  after  his  death. 

On  the  29th  of  July,  1818,  he  was  married  to  Rebecca,  daughter  of 
Robert  and  Susan  Blaine  of  Carlisle.  She  died  very  suddenly  in  1836,  in 
the  forty- third  year  of  her  age.  She  was  a  lady  of  rare  intellectual,  social 
and  Christian  qualities,  and  was  an  efficient  helper  of  her  husband  in  every 
good  work.  In  1845,  he  was  married  to  Catharine,  daughter  of  Jacob 
Metsger,  of  Hanover,  Pa.,  who  still  (1855)  survives.  By  the  first  marriage 
be  had  eleven  children ;  by  the  last,  none.  He  had  one  son,  of  much  pro- 
mise, who  graduated  at  Oakland  College  in  1851,  but  soon  after  fell  a 
Tictim  to  the  yellow  fever,  at  Warrenton,  Miss.,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  N.  WADDEL,  D.  D., 

P&OrSSBOB  IK  THB  tJIflVBBflITT  01  MISSISSIPPI. 

Uhiv£S81tt  op  Mississippi.  March  21, 1854. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  The  opportunities  which  were  afforded  me  of  knowing  the 
late  Rev.  Dr.  Chamberlain,  were  the  occasional  meetings  which  occurred  between 
us  at  Presbytery,  at  Oakland  Collie,  and  other  places  in  the  State,  together 
with  a  correspondence  of  some  extent  by  letter,  joined  with  the  fact  that  we 
belonged  to  the  same  Synod,  and  resided  both  of  us  in  Mississippi,  during  the 
last  ten  years  of  his  life.  And  from  these  opportunities  of  becoming  acquainted 
with  him,  I  give  you  the  following  as  my  impressions  of  his  personal  appearance, 
manners,  and  general  character. 

nis  person  was  tall  and  dignified — the  prevalent  expression  of  his  counte- 
nance was  that  of  mild  benignity,  mingled  with  a  very  perceptible  vein  of 
humour.  A  man  of  more  amiable  disposition  I  never  have  known;  and  his  pro- 
pensity to  humour  and  pleasantry  was  never  indulged  at  the  expense  of  the 
feelings  of  another.  And  yet  few  men  were  more  ready  in  repartee,  which, 
though  uttered  in  a  pleasant  way,  would  often  silence  an  antagonist,  by  exposing 
the  weak  points  in  his  position.  An  anecdote  illustrative  of  this  trait  in  his 
character  occurs  to  me — Dr.  C.  was  dining  in  company  with  a  large  party, 
among  whom  was  a  man  noted  for  his  infidelity,  who  assumed  a  conspicuous 
place  in  the  conversation.  He  presently  entered  into  a  debate  with  the  Doctor, 
in  which  he  was  profuse  in  his  eulogy  of  human  nature — its  perfectibility,  its 
many  virtues,  its  superiority  in  freedom  from  priestcraft,  its  native  love  of  truth, 
Ac.  The  Doctor,  with  a  pleasant  smile,  replied  to  all  this — *'  Well  Colonel,  the 
Psalmist  states  that,  on  a  certain  occasion,  he  said  in  his  kaate,  'all  men  are 
liars  !'  but  for  my  part,  I  think  if  he  had  lived  in  our  day,  he  might  have  said 
so  at  his  leisure !"  A  laugh  was  raised  at  the  expense  of  the  Colonel,  and  he 
was  silenced. 

His  manners  were  courteous  and  easy,  and  his  solicitude  seemed  ever  to  be 
that  all  around  him  should  be  happy  and  contented. 

He  was  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  intellectual  power.  His  mind  was  com- 
prehenstre  and  quick  in  its  grasp  of  a  subject,  while  his  judgments  generally 
showed  mature  thought  and  profound  wisdom. 

He  was  a  man  not  only  of  incorruptible  integrity,  but  of  distinguished  benevo- 
lenoe  and  public  spirit.   The  sacrifk^es  which  he  made  to  sustain  various  benevolbnt 

*  Vol.  it.  75 


594  PB£SBYTERIAK. 

and  religious  institutions,  among  which  Oakland  College  stood  prominent,  it  is 
not  easy  adequately  to  estimate.  As  a  preacher,  he  was  clear  and  logical  in 
the  treatment  of  his  subject,  and  set  Christ  forward  always  as  the  great  Sun 
of  the  Christian  system.  His  views  of  doctrine  were  fully  in  aooordanoe  with 
the  standards  of  the  Church  to  which  he  belonged.  Though  be  never  rose  to 
what  would  be  called  a  very  high  pitch  of  eloquence,  he  was  always  sensible, 
'  earnest,  and  affectionate,  and  there  was  so  much  of  sincerity  manifest  in  all  he 
said,  as  to  disarm  prejudice,  and  win  confidence  at  once. 

He  was  distinguished  in  ecclesiastical  bodies  for  his  success  as  a  queller  of 
disturbances,  and  a  restorer  of  peace.  Many  instances  of  this  kind  will  occur  to 
the  memory  of  those  who  were  once  associated  with  him. 

But  it  is  perhaps  as  President  of  a  College,  that  Dr.  Chamberlain  was  most 
favourably  known  and  most  eminently  useful.  He  seemed  to  be  constituted  by 
nature  for  a  governor  of  youth.  There  was  such  a  combination  of  kindness  and 
firmness  in  his  discipline,  that,  while  the  subject  of  it  saw  there  was  no  moving 
him  from  his  purpose  of  enforcing  his  rules,  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
be  ofiended,  or  at  any  rate  to  cherish  towards  him  a  malicious  temper.  He  was 
considerate  of  the  students'  feelings — never  harsh  or  hasty  in  his  language.  He 
had  the  entire  confidence  of  all  who  were  entrusted  to  his  care;  and  the  student 
knew  that  his  paternal  counsels  were  always  ready  to  be  afforded  to  him,  when- 
ever they  were  sought.  Indeed  he  was  the  sole,  —the  father,  of  the  College.  The 
good  he  cifected  in  his  Presidency,  can  never  be  fully  estimated;  but  his  infiu- 
ence,  beginning  with  the  young  men  sentout  from  Oakland,  (among  them  several 
prominent  ministers  of  the  Gospel,)  will,  through  them,  be  continually  widen- 
ing and  deepening,  and  will  be  perpetuated  to  eternity. 

Very  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

JOHN  N.  WADDEL. 


FROM  THE  REV.  GEORGE  POTTS,  D.  D. 

New  YorK;  December  28, 1866. 

My  dear  Brother :  I  wish  your  request  in  regard  to  our  excellent  brother  Cham- 
berlain had  been  addressed  to  some  one  better  qualified  to  do  Justice  to  his  mem- 
ory. But  you  are  pleased  to  commit  the  duty  to  my  hands,  partly,  I  suppose, 
because  those  who  held  the  longest  communion  with  him  during  life,  are  at  a 
great  distance,  and  partly  because  you  know  that  I  was,  for  many  years,  his 
co-presbyter  and  friend,  in  that  distant  region  in  which  he  laboured.  Without 
making  any  further  apology  for  the  imperfection  of  the  memorial,  accept  what 
I  shall  say  as  the  sincere  tribute  of  my  heart. 

My  personal  recollections  of  him  commence  with  his  arrival  in  the  South  to 
take  charge  of  one  of  the  Southern  Colleges  in  Louisiana.  The  infancy  of  that 
institution,  and  the  want  of  unity  of  sentiment  in  its  governing  council,  made 
the  task  one  of  great  difficulty — too  great  indeed,  even  for  his  great  patience  and 
executive  ability.  Abandoning  this  po<tt,  afler  suffering  untold  trials,  he  will- 
ingly assented  to  the  proposal  made  by  a  few  of  us,  to  undertake  the  organiza- 
tion of  a  College,  which  should  be  placed  under  Presbyterial  supervision,  and 
which  should  thus  insure  at  least  unity  of  purpose,  based  on  unity  of  religious 
principle.  It  was  a  project,  however,  that  required  great  patience  and  perse- 
verance, because,  at  that  time,  the  Presbyterian  interest  in  all  that  r^on  was 
very  limited.  But  there  were  a  few  gentlemen  connected  with  our  congregation, 
who  felt  that  the  interests  of  education  could  best  be  promoted  by  establishing 
an  institution  that  should  not  be  subject  to  the  change  of  masters,— one  of  the 
pernicious  effects  of  sectarian  differences  among  the  Trustees.  We  were  rejoiced 
to  have  the  experience  of  one  so  highly  principled,  so  active,  and  so  ready  to 
encoonter  labour  and  self-denial  in  this  difficult  undertaking.    In  that  region. 


JEREMIAH  CHAMBERLAIN.  595 

the  yeiy  name  of  College  was,  by  many,  considered  almost  a  synonyme  for  failare. 
Bat  the  zeal  and  quiet  decision  of  Dr.  Chamberlain  shamed  the  reluctant  pru- 
dence of  those  who  feared  failure.  To  him  mainly,  is  the  credit  due  for  can- 
Tassing  the  friends  to  whom  we  must  look  for  funds,  in  doing  which,  he  travelled 
much  and  far,  and  for  giving  force  and  even  direction  to  the  thoughts  of  many 
on  the  general  subject  of  education,  in  its  bearings  on  the  Church.  We  all 
Admired  his  quiet,  cheerful,  resolute  zeal  in  the  matter — his  great  good-sense  and 
practical  wisdom.  He  might,  at  any  time,  have  commanded  a  settlement  as  a 
pastor,  but  he  seemed  to  have  made  up  his  mind  that  his  service  to  Christ  and 
his  cause  was  to  be  mainly  in  this  field,  and  from  the  commencement  of  his 
work  to  its  untimely  close,  he  devoted  himself  to  it  with  patient  ardour. 

Dr.  Chamberlain  was  a  good  preacher :  sensible,  scriptural,  and  full  of  unc- 
tion. T  knew  no  one  who  kept  more  steadily  in  view  the  great  end  of  all  labour 
in  the  minis  try,  »the  conversion  of  souls.  He  was  a  simple-hearted  believer  and 
preachei*,  amidst  all  his  practical  cares.  My  congregation  in  Natchez  always 
heard  him  gladly.  He  was  a  thoroughly  sincere  and  frank,  though  a  courteous, 
man.  A  gentleman,  not  in  the  way  of  outward  pretension, — for  in  this  he  was 
rather  negligent, — but  in  his  careful  regard  for  the  feelings  of  others.  There  ran 
through  his  nature  a  strong  current  of  cheerfulness,  when  in  company  with  kin- 
dred minds,  and  the  humorous  always  had  attractions  for  him. 

Of  bis  skill  as  a  teacher,  I  thought  highly, — although  he  had  had  too  much 
executive  labour  thrown  upon  him  for  many  years  before  I  knew  him,  to  allow 
of  his  becoming  a  learned  man.  His  erudition  was  that  of  one  who  had  laid  a 
good  foundation  in  early  life,  and  who  kept  an  eye  upon  the  subject  of  education, 
with  a  view  to  the  benefit  of  others,  rather  than  for  the  pleasure  and  advantage 
of  a  learned  fame. 

In  short,  he  was  one  of  those  hearty,  energetic,  self-denied  workers,  who  find 
their  resemblance  in  the  pioneers  of  civilization — men  who  subdue  the  forest, 
and  open  the  fields,  and  build  the  log-houses  and  fences,  thus  preparing  the  way 
for  more  enlarged  and  careful -results.  In  doing  this  work,  I  do  not  think  he  had 
a  superior.  An  obscure,  laborious,  thankless,  self-denying  work — it  is  to  be 
feared  that  it  would  not  have  been  begun,  or  carried  on  as  it  has  been,  but  fbr 
his  great  administrative  ability. 

The  institution  to  which  he  devoted  so  much  labour,  and  for  which  he  encoun- 
tered so  much  self-denial,  has  been  sustained  by  the  gifts  and  prayers  of  many. 
It  has  had  some  staunch  friends,  to  whose  liberality  it  owes  the  respectable  and 
permanent  character  it  has  now  assumed.  But  I  am  not  detracting  from  the 
merit  of  any  of  these,  when  I  say  that  our  friend  was  the  rallying  point  for  their 
gifls  and  prayers,  and  that  to  him,  more  than  any  other,  is  due  the  praise  of  its 
ultimate  success.  He  died  by  violence,  but  even  his  death  was  overruled  of  Gk>d 
to  the  confirmation  of  the  institution  in  the  regards  of  the  public.  Under  its 
present  auspices,  it  promises  benefits  even  greater  than  those  it  has  already  con- 
ferred. 

Trusting  the  numerous  friends  of  our  excellent  friend  and  brother  will  pardon 
this  imperfect  testimony, 

I  remain  ever  yours, 

6E0R6B  POTTS. 


} 


j^gQ  PtBgBTTElIAV. 


ELIPHALET  WHEELER  GILBERT,  D,  D  * 

1817— 1858, 

Elifhalet  Wheeler  Gilbert  was  a  son  of  Elisha  and  Ellen  (Van* 
derpoel)  Gilbert,  and  was  born  at  Lebanon,  Columbia  County,  N.  Y.,  on 
tbe  19th  of  December,  1793, — the  eldest  of  ten  children.  He  was  educated 
by  his  grandfather,  Elisha  Gilbert,  a  man  of  great  worth,  who  came  to  the 
State  of  New  York  from  Hebron,  Conn.  His  grandmother  early  devoted 
him  to  the  ministry,  and  his  grandfather  educated  him  for  this  express  pur- 
pose. At  the  age  of  thirteen,  he  was  placed  under  the  care  of  the  Her. 
Dr.  Nott,  of  Schenectady,  though,  owing  to  his  youth,  he  did  not  imme- 
diately become  a  member  of  College.  He  remained  at  Schenectady  about 
six  years,  and  graduated  nt  Union  College  in  1813,  at  the  age  of  twenty. 

The  year  after  his  graduation,  he  went  to  spend  some  time  with  a  rel»- 
tive  in  Philadelphia.  He  was  not  at  this  time  professedly  pious,  though  he 
seems  to  have  had  the  ministry  always  in  view ;  but  it  was  not  long  after 
this,  that  he  experienced,  as  he  believed,  a  radical  change  of  character, 
which  he  attributed,  under  God,  to  his  own  study  of  the  Scriptures.  In 
the  autumn  of  1814,  he  joined  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton.  In 
the  course  of  that  year  an  extensive  revival  of  religion  commenced  in  Wil- 
mington, De.,  which  continued  with  great  power  fbr  more  than  two  years. 
A  number  of  students  from  the  Princeton  Seminary  visited  the  place,  and 
among  them  Mr.  Gilbert,  whose  appearance  excited  much  interest,  and 
whose  labours  were  attended  with  a  manifest  blessing.  He  was  licensed  to 
preach  in  the  year  1817,  and,  shortly  after,  accompanied  the  Rev.  Backus 
Wilbur  on  a  mission  of  six  months  to  the  West.  Returning  from  this  mis-- 
sion  at  the  close  of  181 7^  he  was  with  great  unanimity  elected  Pastor  of 
the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in  Wilmington,  De. 

i!dr.  Gilbert  found  at  Wilmington,  at  the  time  of  his  settlement  there,  a 
large  number  of  persons  who  were  strongly  opposed — some  of  them  heredi- 
tarily— to  that  system  of  religious  doctrine,  which  was  identified,  in  his  own 
mind,  with  true  Christianity.  Regarding  the  views  which  these  persons  held 
as  fundamental  error,  he  attacked  them  with  great  boldness,  and  the  result 
was  a  controversy  through  the  public  prints  which  was  afterwards  published 
in  a  volume  called  '*  The  Letters  of  Paul  and  Amicus.'*  At  a  later  period, 
he  engaged  in  an  oral  controversy  with  a  similar  class  of  persons,  in  all 
which  he  showed  great  power,  and  secured  the  respect  even  of  his  opponents. 
'yiThen  very  ill,  the  person  who  had  taken  the  most  active  part  against  him 
in  the  written  controversy,  was  his  physician  ;  and  he  watched  over  hiin  with 
unusual  oare.  Others  of  his  opponents  frequently  inquired  concerning  him 
with  great  interest ;  and  one  of  them  said — **  He  is  such  a  generous  oppo- 
nent, I  hope  he  will  not  die.'* 

He  was  in  the  habit  of  making  mbsionary  visits,  sometimes  in  company 
with  other  brethren,  to  different  towns  and  neighbourhoods  in  the  PeninsuliL 
Great  good  was  accomplished  by  means  of  these  visits — new  churches  were 
established,  feeble  churches  were  encouraged  and  strengthened,  and  some  of 
.the  more  prominent  men  in  the  region,  who  had  before  been  neglectful  of 

*  WallsM'f  Fna.  Bnm»'-^UB8.  from  Us  daaghtery— Mn.  Cimwfoid>  and  Mn.  A.  M.  Joam. 


£LIPHA%I$X  WHCBLXE  GILBERT.  ^ 

jrdigion,  w«r«,  lhn>c^h  (his  iBslraBMnUUijf   broogki  to  refleoftidn  and 
repeotanoe. 

On  the  21st  of  October,  1819/ he  was  married  to  Lydia,  the  eldest 
daughter  of  Dr.  George  Munro,  (an  elder  in  the  churohj  a  ladj  of  greit 
intelligence  and  consistent  and  elevated  piety.  She  proved  a  most. efficient 
auxiliary  to  him  in  his  work.  She  became  the  mother  of  six  children, — 
five  daughters  and  one  son.  She  died  at  Newark,  De.,  February  10,  1843, 
aged  forty-nine  years. 

In  1829,  the  building  of  a  new  place  of  publio  wonhip  (the  Hanover 
Street  Church)  caused  a  division  of  the  Congregation,  though  a  large 
majority  followed  their  pastor  to  the  new  edifice.  Here  he  continued  until 
April,  1834,  when,  by  his  own  request,  he  was  released  from  his  pastoral 
eharge.  In  May  following,  he  engaged  in  an  agency  for  the  American 
Education  Society,  and  laboured  in  that  cause,  with  his  accustomed  energy, 
for  more  Uian  five  months.  But  this  department  of  labour  was  not  con- 
genial with  his  studious  habits ;  and  being  chosen  President  of  Delaware 
College,  he  accepted  the  office,  and  entered  upon  its  duties  on  the  29th  of 
October,  1884.  An  extensive  revival  of  religion  occurred  in  the  College 
soon  after  his  connection  with  it  as  President  commenced,  some  of  the 
subjects  of  which  have  since  occupied  prominent  places  in  the  dijferent  pro* 
fessions. 

After  a  few  months,  circumstances  occurred  which  led  Mr.  Gilbert  to- 
think  that  it  was  his  duty  to  resign  the  office  of  President ;  and,  accordingly, 
he  did  resign  it  on  the  8th  of  June,  1835.  In  September  following,  he  was 
recalled  to  the  Hanover  Street  Church,  Wilmington,  where  he  was  cordially 
and  gratefully  welcomed  by  the  flock  he  had  already  served  so  long  and  so 
aoceptably.  His  second  connection  with  this  church  continued  more  than 
five  years, — making  his  whole  ministry  at  Wilmington  upwards  of  a  quarter 
of  a  century. 

In  the  great  controversy  that  divided  the  Presbyterian  Church,  Mr.  Gil- 
bert's convictions  and  acts  were  uniformly  and  strongly  with  the  New  School. 

In  May,  1841,  he  was  called  back  to  the  Presidency  of  Delaware  College, 
under  circumstances  in  which  he  recognised  the  voice  of  Providence;  and 
he  accordingly  accepted  the  call.  In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year  the  degree 
of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  University  of  Ver* 
mont.  During  his  residence  here  at  this  time,  he  formed  a  second  matri- 
monial connection  with  Mary  Ann  Singer  of  Philadelphia,  who  survived 
him.  By  this  marriage  he  had  no  children.  After  holding  the  office  of 
President,  at  this  time,  for  nearly  six  years,  he  resigned  it  in  April,  1847, 
to  accept  a  call  from  the  Western  Presbyterian  Church  in  Philadelphia. 
He  removed  thither  in  July  following,  and  was  installed  Pastor  of  the 
Church,  and  continued  in  that  relation  till  the  close  of  his  life. 

Dr.  Gilbert's  labours  were  continued  without  interruption  till  the  com«, 
mencement  of  his  last  brief  illness.  He  was  attacked,  while  absent  from 
home,  with  bilious  diarrhoea,  but  was  not  at  first  so  seriously  ill  as  to  exoito 
alarm  either  in  himself  or  in  his  friends*  He  had  been  ill  a  week  when  be 
reached  home,  and  he  lived  but  a  week  afterwards.  His  dying  scene,  which 
was  somewhat  protraoted,  was  oharaoterised  by  many  striking  remarks, 
iUttstrative  at  onoe  of  his  peeuliar  intellectual  constitution,  and  his  joyfnl 
confidence  in  the  Saviour.  He  died  on  the  Slst  of  July,  1853,  aged  sixty 
years. 


f98  PBBSBTnMAV. 

Besides  tlie  ^'Leiters"  already  referred  to,  Dr.  Gilbert  published  two 
Tracts — one  od  *' Regeneration,"  and  one  on  '*  Perseverance,"  and  three 
artieles  in  the  Presbyteriui  Review, — the  subjects  of  which  are  <*  Geology/* 
**the  Apocalypse,"  and  **Millenarianisni."  All  these  productions  indicate 
talent  of  a  high  order. 


PROM  THE  REV.  BENJAMIN   J.  WALLACE, 

BDITOa  or  THI  rBBBBTTBRIAir  QVABTEELT  BBVIBW. 

PaXSBTTKBIAH  PuBUOATIOB   HOUSB,  > 

Phiulbblphia,  December  12, 1864.  > 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  Mj  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Gilbert  would  warrant  me  in 
comply ing  with  your  request,  however  unfit  in  other  respects.  I  was  a  member 
of  his  Faculty  when  he  was  President  of  Delaware  College  at  Newark »  and 
afterwards  was  associated  with  him  as  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Presbyterian 
Quarterly  Review  in  this  city. 

In  an  article  in  the  Review,  and  a  Funeral  Sermon  which  I  preached  on  his 
death  by  request  of  the  Session  of  his  Church,  and  subsequently  by  that  of  the 
Synod  of  Pennsylvania,  I  have  exhausted,  b^  no  means,  his  merits,  but  entirel3' 
my  power  of  expression  in  regard  to  them.  I  wrote  under  deep  feeling,  and  I 
can  say  nothing  better  or  so  well  in  regard  to  him.  I  shall  take  the  liberty,  there- 
fore, to  repeat  some  of  the  most  characteristic  parts  of  these,  disregarding  quota- 
tion marks. 

Dr.  Gilbert  was  "mighty  in  the  Scriptures."  A  minister  who  knew  him 
intimately  says, — "  He  read  the  Bible  more  than  any  man  with  whom  I  have  ever 
been  acquainted."  He  believed  that  a  minister  should  have  a  transparently 
clear  knowledge  of  God's  truth,  and  that  his  main  office-work  is  to  give  his  flock 
the  same  knowledge.  His  aim,  in  accordance  with  his  idiosyncrasy,  was  not  oo 
much  to  produce  in  his  people  special  emotions,  as  to  give  them  clear  ideas.  He 
was  a  doctrinal  preacher,  but  his  preaching  was  never  dry.  Systematic  thoug^h 
he  was  in  every  thing,  from  gardening  to  reading  Bacon,  and  a  man  to  whom  the 
most  compacted  thoughts  were  as  easy  and  almost  as  amusing  as  a  tale,  yet  in 
preacliing  he  preferred  to  draw  short  outlines,  and  throw  in  a  vivid  illustration, 
and  to  speak,  as  he  wrote,  pointed  and  epigrammatic  sentences,  rather  than  to 
present  systematic  discourses,  or  laboured  arguments. 

Dr.  Gilbert  was  a  warm  friend  of  revivals  of  religion.  He  was  at  the  farthest 
possible  remove  from  any  thing  heated  or  fanatical — ^he  was  active,  acute,  versa- 
tile, rather  than  emotive;  a  critic  rather  than  an  author;  an  analyser  more  than 
a  swaycr  of  crowds.  Perhaps  there  hardly  ever  lived  a  man  whose  testimony 
to  the  reality  and  importance  of  revivals  of  religion  was  more  valuable  than  his; — 
for  it  w<as  an  intellectual  apprehension  rather  than  a  bias  of  feeling.  There  were 
several  revivals  under  his  preaching  at  Wilmington.  To  these  he  gave  himself 
'*  with  all  the  energy  of  soul  and  body."  He  entered  with  similar  energy  and 
success  upon  missionary  tours,  especially  in  the  Peninsula. 

He  was  eminently  public-spirited.  He  loved  his  own  Church,  he  loved  the 
whole  Church  of  Christ,  he  loved  his  country,  he  was  interested  in  the  welfare 
of  all  mankind.  No  one  read  the  newspapers  with  more  zest.  Their  minutife 
were  not  so  interesting  to  him  as  isolated  facts,  as  illustrative  of  principles, — as 
way-marks  in  the  progress  of  God's  grand  plans. 

It  was  a  great  privilege  to  bear  Dr.  Gilbert  discuss  theological  questions.  Ho 
delighted  in  them;  his  eye  sparkled,  the  soul  came  through  into  his  expressive 
countenance,  his  voice  seemed  made  for  acute  and  subtle  distinction;  ho  analysed 
thought  with  microscopic  accuracy,  his  wit  kindled  at  a  confusion  or  an  absurd- 
ity, and  a  lambent  light  played  over  the  entire  surface  of  the  subject.    It  was  like 


ELIPHALBf  WHBILXS  0ILBEBT.  g^ 

IIm  pictore  of  Corieggio,  called  Noite,  where  the  Iig^t»  by  the  painter's  skill, 
comes  from  the  in&nt  Sariour;  so, — not  to  say  it  irroverently,  there  played  a 
light  around  him  in  fine  discussion  which  fell  upon  the  whole  circle;  bringing 
into  the  countenances  of  the  bright  their  finest  expression,  and  wavering  and 
flickering  around  even  the  dullest,  so  that  they  appeared  intellectual. 

Dr.  Gilbert  came  nearer  to  mere  intellect  than  any  man  I  have  ever  known. 
lie  was  atmost  pure  intellection.  I  do  not  mention  this  in  entire  eulogy.  Sym- 
metry in  character  no  doubt  implies  a  more  even  balance  of  heart  and  mind,  of 
spirit  and  matter.  A  strong  body,  a  clear  mind,  deep  feeling,  a  powerful  will, 
a  bright  imagination — all  these  are  essential  as  the  basis  of  the  ideal  man.  His 
especial  characteristic  was  a  keen,  active,  inquiring,  investigating,  analyzing 
spirit.  In  regard  to  his  learning,  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish.  His  mind  was 
remarkably  rapid  and  versatile,  his  memory  so  tenacious  that  he  seemed  neTer 
to  forget  any  thing.  But  he  did  not  undertake  comprehensive  schemes  of  learn- 
ing, such  as  reading  the  whole  of  the  Christian  fathers,  or  all  the  Greek  classie 
authors.  He  loved,  in  reading,  to  keep  in  view  some  salient  human  interest.  His 
taste  led  him  strongly  to  biography  and  travels — ^like  the  wandering  Ulyssesy  he 
lored  to  study  men.  He  analyzed  every  thing,  but  especially  the  human  mind, 
and  the  mind  rather  in  action  than  at  rest.  He  kept  a  list  of  the  works  he  read* 
Tkgy  average  nearly  a  volume  a  week,  read  throtigh  and  digested.  Yet  a  more 
original  man  scarcely  lived.  Every  expression  was  from  his  own  mint,  obverse 
and  reverse,  sharply  struck,  motto  and  device  clearly  defined. 

There  was  something  playful  in  Dr.  Gilbert's  manner  at  home,  not  very  easily 
described,  but  perhaps  more  easily  understood,  which  diffused  a  charm  through 
his  household.  His  countenance  was  very  expressive;  the  soul  had  but  little 
materialism  through  which  to  make  its  way,  and  his  expression,  when  pleased 
and  half-mirthful,  was  delightful.  The  eye  brightened  and  softened,  and  the 
whole  countenance  which,  in  sorrow  or  rigid  thought,  was  too  sharp  for  beauty, 
seemed  to  become  more  rounded,  and  to  fall  into  a  pleasant  light  and  shade,  like 
the  quivering  image  of  the  foliage  waved  by  the  wind,  when  it  is  daguerreotyped 
around  your  pathway  by  a  bright  sun  shining  through  it.  He  was  one  of  the 
most  agreeable  members,  too,  of  the  editorial  corps  of  our  Review,  and  of  our 
Pastoral  Association.  One  reason  of  this  was  his  entire  freedom  from  vanity 
and  egotism.  He  was  singularly  careless  about  his  literary  reputation.  Ha 
threw  out  rich  thoughts  in  the  most  ordinary  conversation ;  suggestive  ideas  in 
almost  every  sermon.  The  hived  information  gathered  from  twenty  books,  he 
would  bestow  on  you  for  the  asking;  and  when  he  agreed  to  write,  it  would  be 
with  extreme  rapidity,  little  correcting,  and  not  much  heed  to  fix  every  thing  so 
as  to  make  the  best  impression.  Not  that  he  could  not  do  this,  but  he  was  too 
impatient,  too  anxious  to  acquire  new  information,  too  eager  to  read  another 
book,  to  do  it,  so  that  we  sometimes  had  a  half-thought  that  his  appetite  for 
knowledge  was  morbid. 

Perhaps  no  man  was  ever  more  absolutely  free  fh>m  envy.  He  revelled  in  the 
greatness  of  great  men.  He  did  himself  injustice;  he  looked  up  to  his  fellow- 
men  too  much.  He  thought  too  highly  of  the  verdict  of  present  popularity  in 
others;  he  had  a  weakness  for  the  "magic  of  a  name,"  the  more  remarkable 
when  we  think  of  his  acuteness.  But  it  did  not  seem  to  have  occurred  to  him 
that  he  might  be  overshadowed  by  the  greatness  he  loved.  It  lay  in  the  noble- 
ness iff  his  nature  not  to  be  anxious  about  fame,  and  to  be  glad  when  any  one 
else  was  appreciated. 

There  is  one  thing  that,  if  possible,  ought  to  be  made  prominent  in  his  life,  for 
it  is  itself  a  lesson  of  priceless  value.  I  never  knew  so  clear  and  learned  an  intd- 
lect,  so  acute  a  dialectician,  a  man  of  so  large  experience  in  dealing  with  the 
human  heart,  who  yet  had  so  simple,  absolute  and  childlike  a  faith  in  the  verities 
of  Christianity.    So  far  as  can  be  ascertained,  for  thirty  years  he  never  had  a 


600  ammatmuji. 

struggle  with  even  a  latent  deo^t.  fie  laughed  to  seora  the  fteUe  atteofitfl  «f 
infidelity;  be  could  see  absolately  nothing  iu  the  ieara  of  weak  Christtane  arisiiig 
fVom  alleged  discoveries  in  science.  He  understood  every  objection  to  Chria- 
tianity ;  ho  saw,  at  a  glance,  that  there  was  nothing  in  them.  One  ascertained 
sentence  from  God,  and  the  opposition  of  a  thousand  millions  of  men  were  to 
him  but  tho  foam  of  the  ocean  breaking  against  granite  rock.  Regard  for  God 
infinitely  more  than  for  man  was  the  key-^note  to  his  deeper  character,  and  the 
element  of  his  higher  existence. 

Religion  was  to  him  vastly  more  than  any  thing  else.  It  was  his  point  d^appuu 
It  was  settled.  All  else  was  comparatively  trifling.  If,  on  the  journey  to 
Heaven,  there  was  a  pleasant  book  at  hand,  or  an  agreeable  companion,  well; 
but  the  journey  was  the  main  thing,  and  this  unquestionably,  like  the  necessity 
of  a  vital  atmosphere. 

He  had  settled  it  as  a  fact  so  plain  that  it  could  not  be  made  pTainer,  that  an 
anregenerate  sinner  is  so  foolish  that  language  fhils  to  describe  his  folly.  It  was 
the  undoubted  conviction  in  regard  to  such  facts  in  his  own  mind,  that  sometimes 
made  it  seem  that  he  cared  not  to  talk  of  the  common-places  of  religion.  It  is 
thus  I  explain  the  fact  that  Dr.  Gilbert  could  be  so  calm  and  bright,  with  such 
awful  realities  of  Heaven  and  Hell,  and  God,  and  the  Church,  settled  within  him. 
The  vessel  rode  quietly  at  anchor.    Other  barks  are  forever  tossed  on  the  unquiet 


There  was  something  in  Dr.  Gilbert  that  makes  us  think  of  his  intellectual 
joy  in  Heaven.  The  clearing  up  of  mystery  and  the  bright  vision  of  light,  we 
cannot  doubt,  impart  a  peculiar  delight  to  his  acute  and  inquiring  intellect;  and 
we  are  all  glad  that  he  is  so  blessedly  employed. 

It  is  indeed  the  glory  of  intellect,  especially  when  combined  with  moral  worth, 
to  rest,  like  a  sunset  haie,  hallowing  all  things.  The  traveller  can  hardly  tell 
why  he  lingers  around  the  Acropolis,  and  walks  all  day  over  Marathon,  and 
watches  wave  after  wave,  as  it  rises  and  swells  and  breaks  at  Sslamis.  It  is  the 
glory  of  human  mind,  in  its  bright  developments,  that  it  is  deeply  interesting  to 
all  men.  So  do  we  linger  around  Dr.  Gilbert.  Like  nature,  he  never  wearies; 
the  play  of  light  and  shade  is  infinite. 

I  feel,  my  dear  Sir,  how  imperfect  this  sketch  is.  You  must  accept  my  desire 
to  honour  Dr.  Gilbert  for  the  accomplishment  of  it. 

Very  respectfully  yours, 

BENJAMIN  J,  WALLACE. 


JAXM  ITBABlt.  601 


JAMES  WHAREY  * 

1818—1842. 

Jaues  Wharet  was  bom  in  Rutherford  County,  N.  C,  June  15,  1789. 
His  parents  were  Thomas  and  Letitia  (Dennej)  Wharej,  both  of  Scotch 
Irish  extraction.  They  were  in  barely  comfortable  worldly  circumstances, 
but  were  eminently  pious  members  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and  much 
devoted  to  the  spiritual  interests  of  their  children.  While  he  was  very 
young,  he  had  a  severe  illness  ;  and,  after  all  hope  of  his  recoyery  had  been 
abandoned,  his  excellent  mother  resolved  once  more  to  make  intercession 
fior  him  at  the  throne  of  mercy.  And  while  she  wrestled  earnestly  for  his 
recovery,  she  solemnly  vowed  that  if  his  life  might  be  spared,  and  the  means 
of  bis  education  secured,  she  would  devote  him  to  the  Ghrbtian  ministry. 
She  returned  to  his  sick  room,  greatly  cheered  by  a  conviction,  for  which 
she  could  hardly  account,  that  he  would  recover.  He  did  recover,  and  she 
was  mindful  of  her  vow. 

The  precise  time  when  he  made  a  public  profession  of  religion  is  not 
known,  but  it  is  supposed  to  have  been  when  he  was  very  young.  He  con- 
tinued to  live  and  labour  with  his  parents  till  he  had  reached  his  twenty-first 
year.  About  this  time,  a  clergyman  by  the  name  of  Morrison,  came  to 
preach  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  lodged  at  his  father's  house.  In  the  course 
of  conversation,  he  incidentally  inquired  concerning  his  plans  for  the  future ; 
and  this  led  to  a  candid  statement  of  his  wishes,  and  of  the  hindrances 
which  existed  to  their  accomplishment.  The  result  was  that  Mr.  Morrison 
proposed  to  take  the  superintendence  of  his  education,  promising  to  teach 
him  without  charge,  if  he  could  get  boarding  in  his  neighbourhood ;  and  the 
proposal  was  received  by  both  himself  and  his  parents  with  gratitude  and  joy. 
Accordingly,  at  the  age  of  about  twenty-one,  he  became  Mr.  Morrison's 
pupil,  and  so  diligent  and  vigorous  a  student  was  he,  that  he  committed 
his  Latin  Grammar  to  memory  in  a  single  week.  After  pursuing  his  studies 
here  for  a  year,  Mr.  Morrison  accepted  a  call  from  another  State,  in  conse* 
quence  of  which  Mr.  Wharey  was  compelled  to  look  out  for  another  teacher. 
He  accordingly  placed  himself  under  the  instruction  of  the  Eev.  Mr.  Kil- 
patrick  ;t  but  as  he  lived  in  an  unhealthy  part  of  the  country,  Mr.  Wharey's 
health  soon  began  to  suffer,  and,  after  remaining  there  a  year,  he  returned 
to  his  father's  house.  Here  he  spent  another  year,  seeking  to  regain  his 
health  by  active  exercise  on  the  farm;  but  his  constitution  had  already 
received  an  injury  from  which  it  never  fully  recovered.  He  still,  however, 
adhered  to  the  purpose  of  preparing  for  the  ministry. 

At  this  time,  the  Kev.  Dr.  Moses  Hogc  held  the  double  office  of  Presi- 
dent and  Professor  of  Theology  in  Hampden  Sidney  College.    Mr.  Wharey 

*  MSS.  from  Rev,  William  S.  White,  D.  P.,  and  Mrs.  Br.  J.  H.  Rioe. 

t  JosepB  D.  KiLPATRiCK  wu  Ordained  hy  the  Orange  Presbytery  in  1793,  and  heeame  Pas- 
tor of  the  Third  Creek  Ohnreh,  whioh  was  formed  from  the  middle  pound  between  (he  Ghnrehea 
in  Iredell  and  Thyatira.  Ue  was  a  lealoas  friend  of  the  great  revival,  so  disHnguished  fbr  tha 
**  bodily  exercise,"  and  saw  nothing  seriously  objeotionable  in  tlie  irregalaritiei  by  which  it  was 
marked.  • 

Vol.  TV.  76 


fOS  PUSBTTEBIAir. 

repaired  to  this  institntion ;  and  while  he  pnnnied  his  studies  ander  Dr. 
Hoge,  he  paid  for  his  board  bj  teaching  several  children  in  the  family  of 
the  steward.  It  is  supposed  that  he  never  graduated  ;  but  prosecuted  both 
his  literary  and  theological  course  simultaneoosly.  Hero  he  spent  abont 
five  yearsi  being  employed,  during  part  of  the  time,  as  Tutor  in  College. 

He  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Qospel  by  the  Presbytery  of  Hanover,  at 
Lynchburg,  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  1818,  when  he  was  in  the  thirtieth 
year  of  his  age.  He  commenced  his  ministry  in  the  Counties  of  Amherst 
and  Nelson, — a  part  of  the  country  deplorably  destitute  of  the  means  of 
grace,  and  where  he  was  compelled  to  spend  a  portion  of  his  time  as  Prin- 
cipal of  an  Academy.  His  home  was  in  the  little  village  of  New  Glasgow,— 
the  County  seat  of  Amherst.  Among  the  few  who  sympathized  with  him 
in  his  evangelical  labours  was  Dr.  James  Brown,  an  eminent  practitioner  of 
medicine,  and  brother  of  Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  the  Scotch  metaphysician.  He 
and  his  accomplished  and  lovely  family  contributed  much  to  cheer  and  help 
Mr.  Wharey  in  the  discharge  of  his  arduous  and  self-denying  duties. 

On  the  22d  of  April,  1819,  Mr.  Wharey  was  married  to  Elisabeth  Fisher, 
daughter  of  Major  James  Morton,  of  Prince  Edward  County,  Ya.,  and 
sister  of  Mrs.  Doctor  John  H.  Rice.  The  connection  was  in  every  respect 
a  most  suitable  one,  and  proved  to  Mr.  Wharey  and  their  children,  the 
richest  of  earthly  blessings. 

He  continued  to  labour  in  Amherst  but  a  year  and  a  half.  Finding  him- 
self unable  to  obtain  there  a  competent  support,  and  imagining  at  least  that 
little  good  was  accomplished  by  his  labours,  he  felt  constrained  to  relinquish 
the  field.  Just  at  this  crisis  of  distressing  perplexity,  when  he  knew  not 
which  way  to  turn,  his  excellent  father-in-law,  Major  Morton,  invited  him 
to  bring  his  wife  and  daughter  to  Willington, — for  so  the  old  homestead 
was  called, — to  remain  there,  while  he  should  look  about  for  employment. 
He  gratefully  accepted  the  invitation  ;  but  scarcely  had  the  removal  been 
effected,  before  Mrs.  Wharey  was  prostrated  by  a  severe,  and  as  it  proved, 
protracted,  illness ;  and  when  she  had  only  begun  to  recover,  he  was  him- 
self seized  with  the  same  fever,  and  brought  to  the  gates  of  death.  During 
this  scene  of  severe  trial,  he  is  said  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
examples  of  calm,  cheerful.  Christian  endurance. 

His  health  was  so  far  regained  by  the  following  spring,  as  to  enable  him 
to  attend  the  meeting  of  his  Presbytery  which  was  held  in  the  town  of 
Petersburg.  At  the  close  of  this  meeting,  he  resolved  on  visiting  his  friend 
and  brother-in-law,  the  Hev.  Dr.  Hice,  who  was  then  settled  at  Hichmond ; 
and  the  result  of  this  visit  was  that  he  left  Mrs.  W.  and  their  infant  daugh- 
ter in  Doctor  Bice's  family,  and  went  on  a  missionary  tour  through  the 
Eastern  portion  of  the  State,  having  received  a  commission  from  tbe  Young 
Men's  Missionary  Society  of  Bichmond.  He  spent  two  months  in  exploring 
a  region  in  which  the  Presbyterian  Church  was  almost  wholly  unknown ; 
and,  although  he  had  reason  to  believe  that  he  had  not  laboured  in  vain,  he 
saw  no  good  reason  to  seek  a  permanent  settlement  there,  nor  even  to  pro- 
long his  labours  as  a  missionary. 

He  returned  with  his  family  once  more  to  Willington,  and,  soon  after 
their  arrival,  their  little  daughter — their  first-born — was  attacked  with  a 
fever,  which,  after  a  long  and  tedious  course,  had  a  fatal  termination.  He 
subsequently  attended  a  meeting  of  Presbytery,  in  the  hope  of  hearing  of 


JAXBS  ITHARST.  6O3 

some  field  of  luefaliiess  where  he  migbt  be  advantageouslj  employed  ;  but 
here  again  he  was  dbappointed.  Shortly  after  this,  however,  an  opening 
presented  itself,  which  occasioned  an  auspicious  change  in  his  circumstances. 
Mr.  J.  P.  Cushing  had  succeeded  Dr.  Hoge  as  President  of  Hampden 
Sidney  College.  But  as  Dr.  H.  had  also  held  the  offices  of  Professor  of 
Theology,  and  Pastor  of  the  College  Church,  and  as  Mr.  Cushing  was  not 
a  clergyman,  it  became  necessary  for  the  congregation  to  secure  a  pastor. 
Just  at  this  time,  Mr.  Wharey  returned  to  the  house  of  his  fatber-in-law, 
Major  Morton,  who  was  a  Trustee  of  the  College  and  a  ruling  elder  in  the 
Church.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Cushing  was  apprised  of  his  arrival,  he  called  to 
see  him,  and  proposed  to  employ  him,  at  his  own  expense,  as  Chaplain  to  the 
College.  Mr.  W.*s  extreme  modesty  led  him  at  first  to  hesitate  about  accept- 
ing the  proposal ;  but  when  he  found  that  it  met  the  opposition  of  none, 
and  the  approval  of  all,  immediately  concerned,  he  did  accept  it,  and  entered 
at  once  upon  his  labours, — ^with  a  distinct  understanding,  however,  that  the 
engagement  was  but  for  one  year.  The  congregation  soon  united  with  the 
College,  and  insisted  on  assuming  the  payment  of  the  salary,  and  seldom 
has  any  man  served  a  people  more  to  their  comfort  and  edification.  His 
audience  steadily  increased  in  numbers,  in  attention  and  solemnity,  until  his 
engagement  terminated ;  and  the  effect  of  his  labours  was  visible  long  after 
he  had  withdrawn  from  the  field. 

Near  the  close  of  the  year  1822,  just  as  the  period  of  his  service  at  the 
College  closed,  he  acceded  to  a  proposal  to  go  to  the  village  of  Cartcrsville, 
in  Cumberland  County,  about  fifty  miles  distant  from  Hampden  Sidney. 
Hero  there  were  a  few  pious  and  intelligent  Presbyterians,  but  no  organized 
church,  and  he  was  again  forced  to  eke  out  a  scanty  support  by  teaching  a 
school.  It  was  not  long,  however,  that  he  was  suffered  to  remain  in  this 
position.  His  able  and  useful  ministry  at  the  College  was  **  known  and 
read*'  of  many.  The  Churches  of  Bird  and  Providence,  in  Goochland 
County,  near  the  place  where  he  now  resided,  had  become  vacant,  and  they 
gave  him  a  unanimous  call  to  become  their  Pastor.  He  accepted  the  call, 
and  in  1S24  was  installed,  and  took  up  his  residence  among  the  people, 
with  whom,  after  eighteen  years  of  useful  labour,  he  ended  hb  days. 

These  were  old  churches  so  near  to  each  other  that  he  could  easily  serve 
both  of  them ;  but  they  were  neither  numerous  nor  strong.  Hence  he  was 
compelled,  even  here,  during  the  earlier  part  of  his  ministry,  to  resort  to 
teaching  in  order  to  make  out  an  adequate  support.  But  this  he  soon 
relinquished,  purchased  a  small  farm  on  which  he  wrought  with  his  own 
hands,  and  by  his  manifold  efforts  for  the  good  of  his  people,  attached  them 
to  him  to  an  extent  seldom  equalled. 

Mr.  Wharey  was  never  otherwise  than  an  invalid  from  the  time  of  the 
illness  that  obliged  him  to  leave  the  family  of  Mr.  Kilpatrick.  But  his 
complaints  became  more  serious  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  and  his  physi- 
cians were  of  the  opinion  that  he  suffered  from  an  ulcerated  or  cancerous 
affection  of  the  stomach.  Though  his  decline  was  gradual,  it  was  steady, 
and  he  preached  regularly  until  within  two  weeks  of  his  death.  As  soon 
as  he  was  confined  to  his  house,  his  physician  deemed  it  necessary  to  admin- 
ister to  him  freely  of  opiates,  to  moderate  the  incessant  and  violent* pain 
suffered  in  the  region  of  the  stomach.  This  rendered  it  impossible  for  him 
to  eonverse,  or  even  to  attend  to  the  conversation  of  others.  The  last  day 
of  his  life  he  was  comparatively  free  from  pain,  without  being  under  the 


1 


604'  omBi&nEiLuaf,'^ 

inflQenoe  of  optatiBs,  Imt  lie  was  so  feeble  tbat  be  fomt  U  Very  difiettl^ 
to  speak.  Still  ho  was  able  to  assure  his  family  and  friends  tl»t  in  llie 
faith  be  bad  long  professed  and  preached  be  was  now  most  willing  to 
die.  He  was  always  distinguished  for  a  tranquil  and  peaceful,  rather  than 
a  rapturous,  state  of  feeling.  And  so  it  was  now.  He  died,  just  as 
all  who  knew  him  expected  him  to  die,  calmly  and  serenely,  on  the  29th  of 
April,  1842.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  E.  D. 
Saunders,  who  bad  founded  a  classical  school  in  the  bounds  of  Mr.  Wharey's 
oongregation. 

Mr.  Wharey  had  ten  children,  five  of  whom  survived  him.  One  daughter 
is  married  to  the  Rev.  Archibald  Curry,  of  North  Carolina,  and  one  son  is 
now  (1855)  a  member  of  the  Union  (Virginia)  Theological  Seminary,  and 
another  a  member  of  Hampden  Sidney  College. 

Mr.  Wharey  wrote  for  the  religious  periodicals  of  the  day  on  a  variety 
of  topics.  A  series  of  articles  which  he  furnished  for  the  Southern  Reli- 
gious Telegraph  on  the  subject  of  Baptism,  and  another  series  in  the  same 
paper  on  Church  History,  were  so  popular,  that  their  publication  in  a  more 
durable  form  was  called  for.  They  were  accordingly  collected  and  pub* 
lished  in  separate  volumes.  These  volumes  may  be  found  among  the  publi- 
cations of  the  Presbyterian  Board.  They  are  highly  esteemed,  and  have 
bad  an  extensive  circulation. 


FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  S.  WHITE,  D.  D. 

Lexington,  Va.,  January  18, 1855. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  am  pleased  to  learn  that  you  intend  to  give  a  place  in 
your  forth-coming  biographical  work,  to  the  life  and  character  of  the  Rev. 
James  Wharey  of  Goochland,  Va.;  and  cheerfully  comply  with  3'our  request  to 
furnish  you  with  my  views  of  his  character. 

My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Wharey  commenced  in  the  spring  of  1819.  I  had 
then  just  entered  College,  and  he  had  very  recently  been  licensed  to  preach.  I 
met  him  first  at  his  own  wedding,  which  occurred  in  the  vicinity  of  Hampden 
Sidney  College.  Through  the  whole  of  my  course  in  both  the  College  and 
Seminary,  I  often  met  and  had  such  intercourse  with  him  as  is  common  witk 
persons  thus  relatively  situated.  During  a  year  of  this  time,  I  sat  r^^ulariy 
under  his  ministry,  and  derived  as  valuable  instruction  as  I  ever  received  from 
the  ministry  of  any  man.  From  my  licensure  to  preach,  until  his  death, — a 
period  of  fifteen  years, — our  relations  and  intercourse  were  intimate  and  agree- 
able. 

Mr.  Wharey 's  person  was  tall, — ^not  very  symmetrically  formed,  nor  very 
graceful  in  its  motions.  He  had  blue  eyes,  fair  complexion,  and  sandy  hair. 
His  voice,  originally  feeble,  was  rendered  still  more  so  by  long  continued 
ill  health.  This  detracted  very  much,  in  the  estimation  of  some  persons,  from 
the  effectiveness  of  his  preaching.  But  in  churches  of  ordinary  size  he  was 
heard  distinctly,  and  the  sound  instruction  embodied  in  his  discourses,  deliv- 
ered in  a  manner  so  solemn  and  tender,  abundantly  compensated,  with  all 
well-informed  people,  for  any  deficiency  of  voice,  or  mere  oratorical  display. 
Upoirthe  wbolci  his  person  was  prepossessing,— especially  to  those  who  knew 
bim  well. 

In  a  large  or  mixed  company  he  was  silent;  but  with  a  few  friends,  and  still 
more,  with  only  one  in  whom  he  fully  confided,  and  whom  he  really  loved,  he 


JAMM  WHAJBBY.  |A( 

ivmt  in  the  kigbesi  degreo  comniuiicfttiTe  uid  ftgreolile*  A  stranger  or  Ofttiud 
obeerver  might  think  he  was  of  a  melancholy  turn.  But  nothing  could  be  fur- 
ther fk>om  the  truth.  It  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  few  in  this  world  to  enjoy  more 
constant  serenity  and  peace  of  mind.  When  fully  engaged  in  conversation  with 
his  friends,  he  was  often  both  humorous  and  witty. 

He  was  reroaricable  for  his  hospitality— *he  was  not  "  forgetful  to  entertain 
strangers."  His  residence  for  many  years  was  near  to  a  much  frequented  road, 
along  which  there  were  yery  few  houses  of  public  entertainment.  In  conse- 
quence of  this,  his  hospitality  was  often  heavily  taxed.  In  some  instances  he 
was  much  imposed  on — sometimes  as  many  as  four  or  five  would  call  at  one  time, 
making  a  night's  accommodation  for  themseWcs  and  horses.  Such  applicants 
were  never  rejected,  and  of  such  imposition  he  never  complained;  but  he  would 
flay  very  good-naturedly, — *'  Who  knows  but  in  this  way  we  may  entertain 
angels  unawares?'' 

His  mind  acted  slowly,  but  safely  and  vigorously.  He  was  not  distinguished 
£>r  imagination,  and  yet  he  highly  relished  the  writings  of  our  best  poets,  and 
the  speeches  of  our  most  eloquent  orators.  His  own  style  of  composition  often 
rose  to  a  high  degree  of  beauty,  nor  was  it  wanting  in  poetical  merit.  He  was 
rather  remarkable  for  the  accuracy  of  his  knowledge,  than  for  its  extent  or 
variety.  Ha  owned  but  few  books,  because  the  smallness  of  his  salary  and  the 
largeness  of  his  family  would  not  allow  him  to  procure  much  of  a  library — an 
Inconvenience  which  too  many  of  his  brethren  have  to  share  with  him. 

Perhaps  there  never  lived  and  died  a  man  more  free  from  pride  and  ostentation. 
Weaknesses  of  this  sort  he  regarded  only  with  disgust.  He  was  emphatically 
of  a  **  meek  and  lowly  mind."  And  yet  there  was  nothing  vassal-like  or  mean 
in  his  spirit  or  manner.  He  despised  all  affectation  of  great  sanctity,  said  little 
about  bimself,  and  always  seemed  pleased  when,  in  our  Church  courts  or  else- 
where, the  precedence  was  given  to  others.  But  he  loved  to  preach,  to  serve  on 
committees,  or  to  engage  in  any  service,  however  humble,  or  however  arduous,  to 
which  the  voice  of  his  brethren  or  the  voice  of  Providence  might  seem  to  call  him. 
He  was  a  very  industrious  man. 

Mr.  Wharey  bestowed  much  time  and  labour  upon  the  distribution  of  evan- 
gelical books.  Our  own  Board  of  Publication  did  not  then  exist;  nor,  during 
the  first  ten  years  of  his  ministry  in  Goochland,  had  the  *'  Volume  enterprise" 
of  the  American  Tract  Society  been  undertaken.  He  was  accordingly  obliged  to 
furnish  himself  fW)m  the  booksellers  in  Richmond,  who  permitted  him  to  return 
such  works  as  he  could  not  sell.  He  was  allowed  a  small  discount  on  the  retail 
city  prices,  which  enabled  him  to  sell  at  such  advances  that  he  could  in  this 
way  pay  for  those  he  gave  away.  There  is  no  doubt,  however,  but  he  gave 
many  for  which  he  paid  from  his  own  scanty  purse.  His  labours  in  this  depart- 
ment were  abundant,  wise  and  useful,  long  before  the  American  Tract  Society, 
or  any  Ecclesiastical  Board,  had  thought  of  the  admirable  system  now  in  such 
general  and  useful  operation.  In  his  pastoral  visits  to  the  sick  and  others,  which 
were  frequent,  and  whenever  ho  preached,  as  he  often  did,  on  other  days  than  the 
Sabbath,  he  always  took  with  him  a  supply  of  these  books.  I  sometimes  assisted 
htm  on  Sacramental  occasions,  and  commonly  reached  the  church  at  eleven  o'clock 
on  Saturday  morning.  As  I  approached  the  church,  I  rarely,  if  ever,  fiiiled  to  see 
the  excellent  pastor,  with  his  books  spread  out  beneath  the  spreading  branches 
of  the  venerable  foi«st  oaks  whioh  shaded  the  yard,  and  many  of  his  people  arovnd 
bim.  making  their  purchases,  as  he,  with  oalm  and  solemn  dignity.  Indicated  the 
hook  best  suited  to  this  or  that  purchaser. 

In  this  way  he  greatly  eontribnted  to  the  development  and  cultivation  of  a 
taste  ibrreadingi  and  at  the  same  time  ministeved  to  the  taste  thus  c«ltiviied» 
•ppnopriaU  ntttriment. 


OM  PftMBTTXBUjr. 

So  mipreteiidmg  and  noiseless  wm  he  in  this  ss  wdl  ss  in  ell  his  otiier 
methods  of  doing  good,  that  the  casual  observer  would  suppose  that  he  iras 
really  doing  very  little;  and  yet,  by  a  silent  process,  he  was  laying  the  foun- 
dations so  deeply,  and  scattering  the  seeds  of  truth  so  widely,  that  after  his  death 
it  became  obvious  that  his  life  had  been  one  of  eminent  usefulness.  This  was 
proved  by  the  fact  that,  after  his  earthly  labours  ceased,  the  Presbytery  deemed 
it  advisable  to  divide  his  charge,  and  install  two  pastors  over  the  people  whom 
he  alone  had  serred. 

In  the  year  1834,  a  controversy  arose  on  the  propriety  of  ministers  of  the 
Qospel  engaging  in  secular  pursuits.  Three  or  four  writers  took  part  on  oppo- 
site sides  in  this  controversy.  A  good  deal  of  ability,  and  more  warmth,  was 
exhibited  by  both  parties.  Instead  of  coming  nearer  together,  they  got  farther 
and  farther  apart,  until  the  two  parties  found  themselves  on  opposite  extremes. 
When  the  contest  had  lasted  long,  and  waxed  yery  warm,  a  new  writer  appeared 
over  the  signature  of  **  Spectator."  The  style  of  this  writer  was  lucid,  and  his 
spirit  eminently  pacific.  He  professed,  as  his  signature  imported,  to  be  only  a 
witness  of  this  contest,  equally  the  friend  of  both  the  belligerent  parties,  and 
very  anxious  to  make  peace.  He  soon  made  it  apparent  that  all  concerned  were 
giving  forth  more  heat  than  light,  and  that  the  cause  of  Christian  truth  and 
charity  would  be  promoted  by  a  cessation  of  hostilities.  This  result  was  soon 
reached,  even  before  the  discovery  was  made  that  the  peace-maker  was  the  Rey. 
James  Wharey. 

In  the  troubles  which  arose  from  the  division  of  our  Church  into  Old  and  New 
School  Presbyterians,  he  could  not  be  called  an  active  partisan.  Many  of  his 
warmest  and  best  personal  friends  took  sides  with  the  New  School.  His  kind 
and  generous  heart  made  him  very  unwilling  to  separate  from  such.  Yet  when 
he  became  convinced  that  there  was  much  of  Presbyterian  doctrine  and  polity 
involved  in  the  controversy,  he  took  his  position  firmly  with  the  Old  School.  In 
establishing  a  paper  for  the  defence  of  Old  School  yiews,  he  took  an  important 
part;  and  when  established,  he  contributed  his  quota  to  its  columns.  But 
nothing  he  ever  did,  or  said,  or  wrote,  was  characterized  by  bitterness  or  wrath. 
He  spoke  what  he  believed  to  be  the  truth  plainly  and  fearlessly,  but  always  spoke 
it  in  love.  When  party  feeling  had  risen  very  high,  he  preached  a  sermon,  as 
Moderator  of  Presbytery,  on  the  words — **  If  ye  bite  and  devour  one  another, 
take  heed  lest  ye  be  consumed  one  of  another;"  and  the  impression  made  by  it 
was'  eminently  salutary. 

The  interest  he  took  in  behalf  of  the  coloured  people,  and  the  Christian  kind- 
ness which  characterized  his  conduct  towards  them,  were  just  such  as  the  wise 
and  good  eyery where  admire.  He  was  not  skilled  in  extempore  speaking,  nor 
did  his  voice  or  manner  display  great  warmth.  And  on  this  account  he  was  not 
much  admired  as  a  preacher  by  this  class  of  persons.  In  their  ignorance,  they 
think  him  the  most  pious  who  displayB  the  most  feeling,  and  him  the  wisest  who 
makes  the  most  noise.  Judged  by  this  rule,  Mr.  Wharey  would  haye  been 
regarded  as  a  cold  and  weak  preacher;  and  so  the  coloured  people  generally 
esteemed  him. 

Still,  in  his  personal  intercourse  with  them,  his  manner  was  so  condescending 
and  kind,  his  instructions  so  appropriate  and  faithful,  that  many  of  them  greatly 
admired  and  loved  him.  In  travelling  with  him,  as  I  often  had  occasion  to  do, 
I  never  knew  him  pass  on  the  highway  one  of  these  people  without  a  very 
respectful  salutation,  and,  if  the  time  permitted,  a  word  of  encouragement  or 
instruction.  Ho  often  preached  to  them,  but,  for  the  reasons  above  stated,  wss 
not  successful  in  this  way.  But  this  difficulty  he  sought  to  obviate  by  securing, 
wheneyer  he  could,  the  services  in  their  behalf  of  his  brethren  in  the  ministry, 
whose  extempore  powers,  and  whose  yehemence  of  manner,  made  them  man 
popular  among  them  than  himself. 


Mr.  Wharejr  was  «  model  biubaiid  and  father.  He  was  perka{to  sever  exceeded 
in  the  tender  love  and  faithful  care  with  which  the  duties  flowing  from  these 
relations  were  discharged.  He  had  seven  daughters  before  he  had  a  son;  and 
the  good  man,  who  was  not  wanting  in  harmless  humour,  used  to  say  he  was 
**  concerned  to  know  where  seven  good  husbands  could  be  found."  He  lost  two 
charming  daughters,  who  died  of  scarlet  fever  within  three  days  of  each  other,  at 
the  ages  of  twelve  and  fourteen  years.  It  devolved  on  me  to  preach  the  Funeral 
S^ermon  of  these  two  lovely  girls.  When  the  sermon  was  closed,  the  father  rose, 
and  though  almost  crushed  by  the  weight  of  sorrow  which  had  come  upon  him, 
addressed  the  congregation  for  about  ten  minutes  in  a  strain  which  literally 
bathed  every  person  present  in  tears.  The  occasion  was  one  never  to  be 
foi^otten.  He  spoke  of  the  great  goodness  mingled  in  the  bitter  cup  of  which 
he  was  then  called  to  drink;  of  a  Father's  hand  distinctly  seen  in  this  do^ 
affliction;  of  the  merciful  design  in  all  such  chastisements;  until  it  was  impos- 
sible to  say  which  was  most  conspicuous, — his  grief  as  a  father,  or  his  submis- 
sion as  a  chastened  child  of  Qod.  When  he  resumed  his  seat,  silence  reigned 
for  some  minutes,  unbroken  save  by  the  audible  expression  of  grief,  which 
came  from  every  part  of  the  house.  It  was  that  peculiar  sorrow  which  is  felt 
by  a  confiding,  affectionate  people,  when  sympathizing  with  a  deeply  afflicted 
pastor,  whom  they  honour  and  love  as  a  father. 

His  children  were  chiefly  taught  by  himself.  He  conducted  the  education  of 
his  daughters  much  as  he  would  have  done,  had  they  been  sons.  He  took  par- 
ticular pains  in  teaching  them  the  ancient  languages.  He  was  an  excellent 
classical  scholar,  and  placed  the  study  of  the  classics  in  the  front  rank  of  means 
for  the  development  and  strengthening  of  the  intellectual  powers.  When  in  the 
midst  of  his  family,  he  was  alway^s  teaching.  The  questions  he  asked  and  the 
communications  he  made  to  them  were  all  framed  and  directed  with  a  view  to 
their  intellectual  and  moral  improvement.  In  doing  this,  there  was  a  careful 
avoidance  of  every  thing  like  stiffness  of  manner.  The  greatest  simplicity  and 
freedom  from  ostentation  characterized  him  every  where,  but, more  especially 
when,  with  a  child  on  each  knee,  and  several  others  at  his  side,  he  sought  to 
guide  their  thoughts  aright,  and  to  store  their  minds  with  matter  which  might 
have  an  important  bearing  on  their  course  in  this  life,  and  fit  them  for  the- higher 
services  and  purer  joys  of  a  better.  He  greatly  delighted  to  have  his  children 
with  him,  and  took  great  pains  to  introduce  them  at  an  early  age  to  the  wise  and 
good.  He  also  thought  it  a  matter  of  some  importance  that  the  children  of 
ministers  especially  should  be  made  as  extensively  acquainted  as  possible  with 
the  Church  of  their  fathers.  Impelled  by  such  views,  he  would  take  such  as 
were  old  enough  with  him  to  the  meetings  of  our  Church  judicatories.  By  the 
way,  these  meetings  in  Virginia  are  great  occasions  for  the  gathering  together 
of  Qod's  people.  Not  only  the  members,  but  others — old  and  young,  male  and 
female,  go  in  great  numbers.  So  when  the  Presbytery  to  which  Mr.  W.  belonged 
was  about  to  hold  its  semi-annual  meeting,  in  the  autumn  of  1837,  at  Lynchburg, 
and  the  Synod  of  Virginia  their  annual  meeting,  on  the  following  week,  in  Lexing- 
ton, he  determined  to  take  his  two  eldest  daughters  along  with  him.  Neither  was 
fully  grown,  but  both  just  at  that  age  at  which  the  attention  would  be  most 
fully  arrested,  and  the  feelings  most  strongly  interested  in  what  would  be  seen 
and  heard. 

The  Presbytery  closed  its  sessions  on  Saturday  evening,  and  the  Sabbath, 
which,  with  us,  is  always  the  last  and  the  great  day  of  the  feast,  was  devoted 
with  nnnsual  solemnity  to  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  Early  in  the 
week,  a  very  large  company  took  up  their  line  of  march  to  Lexington,  where  the 
Synod  was  to  meet  on  Wednesday  evening.  The  road  was  circuitous  and  rugged, 
mnd  the  day  was  rainy.  Some  on  horseback,  and  others  in  vehicles  of  different 
•ortsy  with  coven  and  without  covers,  all  went  merrily  on.    Mountains  were  to 


•08 

be  p«Mnd,  Mid  riven  ereeaed.  Dr.  G.  A.  Baxter,  with  hit  hige  body  and  st^ 
laiiger  sool,  might  be  regarded  as  the  leader  of  the  cararan.  At  the  diatanoe  of 
tweoty-flye  miles  from  Lyndiburg,  Jamee  Bi^er  had  to  be  crossed  in  a  small 
ferry-boat.  The  day  was  &r  spent,  and  the  night  was  at  hand.  To  take  over 
so  large  a  company,  it  was  necessary  for  the  boat  to  cross  and  recross  many  times. 
The  ladies,  and  all  in  any  way  connected  with  ladies,  were  first  put  over.  As  I 
had  the  good  or  ill  fortune  to  have  no  lady  in  any  way  dependant  on  my  care,  I 
was  reserved  I6r  the  last  to  be  accommodated,  and  accordingly  when  I  reached 
the  opposite  shore  of  the  river,  it  was  growing  dark.  The  rain  bad  ceased,  and 
was  suoceeded  by  a  very  dense  fog,  which  threatened  as  dark  a  night  as  ever 
came.  The  place  of  rendezvous  for  the  night  was  still  eight  miles  distant,  and 
the  Blue  Ridge  chain  of  Mountains  had  to  be  crossed.  To  add  to  the  dreariness 
of  the  prospect,  the  end  of  the  road  last  to  be  travelled,  for  two  or  three  miles, 
was  known  to  be  in  so  unfinished  a  state,  as  to  be  very  dangerous.  I  travelled  in  a 
vehicle  then  common,  and  very  appropriately  called  a  ''sulky,''  drawn  by  a 
good  horse.  After  proceeding  a  mile  or  two,  I  came  up  with  a  barouche  drawn 
by  a  feeble  horse,  through  many  rocks  and  much  mud,  slowly  ascending  one  of 
the  steepest  parts  of  the  mountain.  It  was  too  dark  at  once  to  recognise  the 
carriage,  and  supposing  all  my  company  to  be  far  ahead,  I  attempted  to  pass. 
As  I  did  so,  a  voice  issued  from  the  carriage,  saying,  in  a  somewhat  plaintive  tone, 
'*  Brother,  you  will  not  leave  us?"  It  was  good  Brother  Wharey,  and  his  two 
daughters.  The  reply  to  his  interrogatory  was  instant  and  earnest—"  Why 
snrely  not."  So,  on  we  went  together.  In  a  little  while,  his  carriage  broke, 
and  we  were  stopped.  The  darkness  was  now  so  great  as  to  render  the  sense  of 
sight  useless.  We  had  almost  concluded  that  the  dark  night  must  be  passed 
just  there  in  the  mountains;  when,  recollecting  how  much  the  loss  of  one  sense 
improves  the  power  of  those  that  remain,  we  determined  to  resort  to  that  of 
feeling.  Thus  we  soon  discovered  that  the  fracture  could  be  temporarily  repaired 
by  the  help  of  our  trunk  straps.  This  being  done,  we  moved  slowly  on,  relying 
chiefly  on  the  instinct  of  our  horses.  Mr.  Wharey  insisted  on  leading  the  way, 
partly,  he  said,  because  his  horse  was  the  more  quiet,  and  partly  because  he  was 
the  better  driver.  The  last  reason  was  given  with  a  good-natured  laugh. 
Presently  he  stopped  suddenly,  and  exclaimed, — "  We  are  at  the  water's  edge, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  road."  Ho  left  his  carriage,  and  reconnoitered  with  his 
whip-staff,  and  recollecting  his  geography,  said, — "  0,  this  must  be  North  River^ 
which  just  here  enters  into  the  James, — the  two  forming  a  right  angle;  *and  we 
must  keep  along  the  side  of  the  latter."  He  advanced,  feeling  his  way,  sweep- 
ing his  whip-staff  in  front  to  trace  the  road,  and  holding  above  his  head  a  white 
handkerchief  as  our  guide, — this  being  the  only  visible  object.  Neither  of  us  had 
ever  travelled  this  road  before,  and  we  were  now  just  in  the  unfinished  and  most 
dangerous  part  of  it.  On  our  left  the  North  River  rolled  and  dashed  furiously, 
and  on  our  right  rose  the  high  and  rngged  cliffs  of  the  mountain.  The  road  was 
extremely  narrow, — ^barely  wide  enough  for  a  single  carriage  to  pass.  Just  here 
we  met  the  stage.  Mr.  Wharey,  being  ahead,  first  encountered  the  driver,  who 
rudely  ordered  him  to  **git>e  the  road  to  the  mail.**  The  kindness  with  which 
the  good  man  bore  with  this  rudeness,  and  the  Christian  gentleness  with  which 
it  was  met  and  conquered,  fiirnished  an  admiraUe  illustration  of  overcoming 
evil  with  good.  But  one  thing  could  be  done.  The  road  was  too  narrow  to  turn 
our  vehicles,  and  guided  by  the  lights  attached  to  the  stege,  we  disconnected  the 
horses  from  our  carriages,  lifted  them  round,  hiiched  up  again,  and  drove  back 
to  the  angle  formed  by  the  two  rivers,  and  thus  gave  the  stege  an  opportunity  te 
pass.  Then  turning  again,  we  resumed  our  dismal  journey.  The  light  wo  had 
temporarily  enjoyed  from  the  stage  lamps  had  only  served,  now  that  they  wers 
gone,  to  add  to  the  dreariness  of  our  oondition.  They  had  just  given  as  such  a 
view  of  the  -perils  which  anrronnded  us,  as  greatly  to  inorease  our  fears.    A  devi 


JAMSS  WHijanr;  ^gg 

fttion  to  tha  rigbi  or  left  of  •▼en  a  Uw  inchet  would  faaTo  thrown  ns  over  the 
precipice  into  the  riyer.  But  soon  a  bright  light  was  seen  in  the  distance,  moY- 
ing  rapidly  towards  ns.  It  prored  to  be  in  the  hands  of  a  messenger^  mounted 
on  a  fleet  horse,  and  dispatched  by  our  friends,  who  had  reached  the  hotel, — ^in 
aearch  of  us.  We  were  soon  safely  in  the  midst  of  them.  A  comfortable  sup- 
per was  already  growing  cold, — for  our  dear  brethren  had  said  they  could  not  eat 
until  they  knew  our  condition,  or  had  us  with  them.  The  repast  being  over ,-— all 
assembled  in  the  largest  room  of  the  hotel,  and  led  by  the  good  Dr.  Baxter,  the 
hymn  of  praise  was  sung,  the  word  of  God  was  read,  the  prayer  of  faith  offered, 
in  which  the  dear  man  of  God  did  not  fail  to  give  thanks,  even  with  tears,  for 
the  safety  of  the  brethren  who  had  been  left  behind. 

I  have  related  this  story  as  furnishing  a  specimen  of  the  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers often  encountered  by  those  who  labour  in  the  uncultivated  and  mountain- 
ous portions  of  the  Lord's  vineyard;  but  more  especially  to  illustrate  one  or  two 
points  in  the  character  of  Mr.  Wharey.  Through  all  these  difficulties,  it  was 
impossible  to  detect  a  discontented  or  murmuring  spirit  in  this  eminently  good 
man.  In  no  part  of  the  journey  was  he  more  cheerful.  "  The  Lord  reigneth." 
"  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye."  "  The  Lord  God  is  a  Sun  and  Shield." 
These,  with  kindred  passages,  seemed  to  live,  and  bum,  and  rule,  in  his  heart. 

And  then,  there  were  the  dear  girls  shut  up  in  that  barouche— the  eldest  driv- 
ing, as  the  father  walked  before,  holding  up  his  white  handkerchief  in  one  hand, 
and  sweeping  his  whip-staff  across  the  road  with  the  other.  They  were  often 
cheered  by  kind  inquiries  as  to  their  condition  and  feelings.  But  no  tear  fell 
from  their  eyes,  no  complaining  word  escaped  their  lips.  So  effectually  had  the 
lather  infused  his  own  meek  spirit  into  his  daughters,  that  they  submitted  to  all 
the  inconveniences  and  dangers  of  their  situation  with  something  of  a  martyr 
spirit. 

Mr.  Wharey  formed  his  opinions  cautiously  and  slowly,  but  when  formed,  he 
held  and  expressed  them  with  a  tenacity  and  fearlessness  which  could  not  easily 
be  overcome.  And  the  same  was  true  of  his  friendships.  lie  was  cautious,  but 
candid.  When  his  confidence  was  once  gained,  it  was  not  easily  lost;  and  when 
trusted,  it  never  deceived.  In  a  word,  he  was  altogether  too  unpretending  and 
childlike,  too  modest  and  self-sacrificing,  to  attract,  to  much  extent,  the  public 
gaxe,  or  to  call  forth  popular  applause.  He  was  more  than  content  to  occupy  the 
place,  and  serve  the  purpose,  of  those  parts  of  a  building,  which,  though  never 
seen,  are  yet  indispensable  to  its  permanence  and  utility.  Such  men  are  rare  in 
this  bustling,  noisy  age,  but  all  the  more  valuable  because  rare.  If  not  duly 
appreciated  while  they  live,  they  never  fail  to  leave,  when  they  die,  a  name 
which  "  is  as  ointment  poured  forth."  Being  dead,  they  yet  speak.  Unseen, 
they  are  still  felt,  and  known,  and  valued,  as  they  were  not  while  they  lived. 
Such  was  this  good  and  useful  man.  May  the  Church  be  blest  with  many  such 
sons! 

Yours  truly  and  affectionately, 

WILLIAM  S.  WHITE. 
Vol.  IV.  77 


%XQ  F8B8BTTBBIAK. 


WILLIAM  JESSUP  ARMSTRONG,  D.  D  * 

1818—1846. 

William  Jessup  ARMSTRONa  was  born  on  the  29th  of  October,  1796, 
at  Mendham,  N.  J.,  where  his  father,  the  Rev.  Amei  Armstrong,  D.  D., 
was  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Chnrch.  He  was  the  eldest  of  nine  child- 
ren. He  spent  his  earliest  years  at  home,  in  acquiring  the  common  rudi- 
ments of  an  education;  and  at  the  age  of  thirteen  was  fitted  to  enter 
College.  But,  in  order  to  the  more  effectual  development  of  his  physical 
constitution,  his  father,  instead  of  sending  him  immediately  to  College, 
placed  him  on  a  farm,  where  he  spent  about  five  years,  dividing  his  time 
between  manual  labour  and  general  reading. 

In  1814,  when  he  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  he  entered  the  Junior  class 
of  Princeton  College.  His  father,  whose  heart  had,  from  his  son's  earliest 
childhood,  been  set  upon  his  becoming  a  minister  of  the  Gospel, — ^in  the 
prospect  of  his  leaving  home,  addressed  a  sermon  to  the  youth  of  his  con- 
gregation, which  was  prepared  with  special  reference  to  his  son's  ease. 
And  the  sermon  was  not  without  its  effect.  It  left  a  strong  impression  on 
the  mind  of  the  young  man,  which  indeed  was  afterwards  partially  effaced 
by  the  new  scenes  into  which  he  was  brought,  but  was  subsequently  revived 
and  deepened  during  an  extensive  revival  of  religion  in  the  College,  from 
which  he  dated  the  first  formation  of  his  Christian  character.  In  the  spring 
of  1815,  he  made  a  public  profession  of  religion. 

In  the  autumn  of  1816,  Mr.  Armstrong  completed  his  college  course, 
having  sustained  throughout  a  highly  respectable  standing  as  a  scholar.  He 
returned  immediately  to  live  with  his  father,  who  then  had  charge  of  a 
large  and  flourishing  Academy  in  Bloomfield,  N.  J.  Placing  himself  under 
the  care  of  the  Jersey  Presbytery  as  a  candidate  for  the  ministry,  in  Octo- 
ber succeeding  his  graduation,  he  commenced  the  study  of  Theology  under 
his  father's  direction, — at  the  same  time  acting  as  an  assistant  teacher  in 
his  father's  school.  He  also,  in  his  theological  studies,  occasionally  availed 
himself  of  the  aid  of  Dr.  Richards,  then  minister  at  Newark,  and  after- 
wards Professor  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Auburn. 

After  spending  two  years  in  this  manner,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  by 
the  Presbytery  of  Jersey,  on  the  8th  of  October,  1818;  but,  instead  of 
entering  at  once  fully  on  the  duties  of  the  ministry,  he  repaired  to  Prince- 
ton, where,  for  a  year,  he  availed  himself  of  the  advantages  furnished  by 
the  Theological  Seminary.  When  the  year  was  completed,  he  received  a 
commission  from  the  General  Assembly's  Board  of  Missions,  to  proceed  to 
Albemarle  County,  in  the  central  part  of  Virginia.  Here  he  spent  two 
years,  labouring  principally  in  Charlottesville  and  its  vicinity, — a  region 
distinguished  at  that  time  for  the  prevalence  of  irreligion  and  infidelity.  His 
labours  here  were  attended  with  marked  success ;  and  several  infidels  were 
hopefully  converted  through  his  instrumentality. 

In  1821,  Mr.  Armstrong  was  recalled  to  New  Jersey  by  the  declining 
health  of  his  father.  On  his  arrival  at  Bloomfield,  he  found  an  extensive 
and  powerful  revival  of  religion  in  progress,  into  which  he  entered  with 

*  WaAoDMoj  Henld^  18i7.~^Meiiioir  prefixed  to  hit  Sermons.— HSS.  from  hie  fiuiii^. 


WILLIAir  JESSITP  ARM^TBONG.  ^H 

great  seal  and  interest.  His  labours  were  highly  acceptable  in  the  sar- 
rounding  country,  and  in  October  of  this  year,  he  accepted  a  nnanimons 
invitation  from  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Trenton  to  become  their 
Pastor.  Here  he  continued  labouring  with  great  fidelity  and  success  nearly 
three  years. 

In  the  spring  of  1824,  the  Eey.  Dr.  John  H.  Rice,  having  resigned  hia 
charge  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Richmond,  Ya.,  with  a  view  to 
enter  upon  a  Professorship  in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  recooi* 
mended  Mr.  Armstrong  as  a  suitable  person  to  succeed  him  in  the  pastoral 
office.  A  call  was  accordingly  made  out  for  him,  and  he  felt  it  his  duty  to 
accept  it.  Here  he  laboured  with  untiring  assiduity  for  ten  years,  during 
which  time  his  inflaence  was  constantly  increasing  throughout  the  State. 
He  was  Secretary  of  the  Home  Missionary  Society  of  his  Presbytery,  Trus- 
tee of  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  Manager  in  Temperanoe,  Sabbath 
School,  Colonization,  and  other.  Societies,  besides  being  a  most  efficient 
member  of  the  different  ecclesiastical  bodies  with  which  he  was  connected. 

Mr.  Armstrong  had,  from  the  commencement  of  hb  religious  life,  taken 
a  deep  interest  in  the  subject  of  missions ;  and  that  interest  was  constantly 
becoming  deeper  during  the  period  of  his  residence  in  Richmond.  On  the 
first  Monday  in  January,  1833,  at  a  meeting  of  the  ministers  and  churches 
of  Richmond,  he  seemed  to  receive  a  fresh  and  remarkable  baptism  of  the 
missionary  spirit,  the  influence  of  which  he  doubtless  felt  to  the  close  of  his 
life.  **I  am  ashamed,"  said  he,  '*my  brethren,  that  there  are  so  mapy  of 
us  in  this  Christian  land;  we  must  go  to  the  heathen."  At  the  next  meet* 
ing  of  the  East  Hanover  Presbytery,  measures  were  taken,  which  resulted 
in  a -new  missionary  organization,  under  the  name  of  the  **  Central  Board 
of  Foreign  Missions."  At  the  first  meeting  of  this  Board  in  March,  1884, 
Mr.  Armstrong  was  unanimously  elected  its  Secretary.  He  accepted  the 
appointment,  and  his  church,  though  devotedly  attached  to  him,  recognised 
the  higher  claims  of  the  missionary  cause,  and  cheerfully  consented  to  give 
him  up.  His  connection  with  his  congregation  was  dissolved  on  the  6th 
of  May. 

Agreeably  to  an  understanding  with  the  newly  organized  Society,  Mr. 
Armstrong  was  immediately  appointed  General  Agent  of  the  American 
Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  for  the  States  of  Virginia 
and  North  Carolina,  and  he  entered  on  his  labours,  in  this  capacity,  about 
the  beginning  of  June,  1834.  In  fulfilling  the  duties  of  this  Agency,  he 
met  with  great  encouragement;  was  everywhere  most  cordially  received, 
and  obtained  liberal  contributions  to  the  missionary  cause. 

After  the  death  of  Dr.  Wisner  in  February,  1834,  Mr.  Armstrong  was 
immediately  thought  of  as  a  suitable  person  to  fill  the  place  which  had  thus 
been  rendered  vacant ;  and,  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Board  in  the  fol- 
lowing September,  he  was  appointed  one  of  its  Secretaries  for  Correspond- 
ence. He  accepted  the  appointment,  and  removed  to  Boston  in  November. 
His  department  of  labour  was  the  Home  Correspondence,  including  the 
superintendence  of  Agencies.  In  April,  1838,  by  advice  of  the  Pnidenttal 
Committee,  he  removed  his  family  to  the  city  of  New  York,  where  he 
remained  during  the  rest  of  his  life.  His  relations  with  the  Pmdential 
Committee,  however,  and  his  associates  in  office,  wore  maintained  by  eon- 
Btant  eorrespondence,  and  by  his  attending  their  meetings  once  a  month. 


612  CKMBTTSiaAK. 

Daring  Mb  resideoM  b^tk  in  Bostoft  m4  in  N«w  York,  he  wm  ooaataiillj 

ooottpied  by  his  offioial  engagements*  Nenrlj  every  SabbaUi  he  was 
employed  in  pleading  the  cause  of  mieBionB;  and  partioularly  alier  ha 
removed  to  New  York,  his  Sabbath-day  labonra  took  a  wide  range.  His 
preaching  was  of  that  earnest,  stirring,  and  yet  intellectual,  character,  that 
earried  with  it  both  the  nnderstandiog  and  the  heart ;  and  some  of  the  most 
impressive  appeals  in  behalf  of  missions  that  have  ever  been  made  in  this 
oouutry,  undoubtedly  came  from  his  lips. 

In  1840,  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  bj 
the  College  of  New  Jersey. 

On  Monday,  the  23d  of  November,  1846,  Dr.  Armstrong  left  New  York, 
to  make  his  monthly  visit  to  Boston,  and  atteud  the  meeting  of  the  Pru- 
dential Committee  of  the  Board  of  Missions.  Having  accomplished  his 
object,  he  set  out  at  five  o^clock  on  Wednesday  P.  M.,  to  return  to  New 
York ;  though  the  prospect  of  a  violent  storm  led  his  friends  in  Boston  to 
urge  him  to  remain,  on  the  ground  that  it  would  be  perilous  to  spend  the 
night  upon  the  water.  He  travelled  by  rail- way  to  Norwich  and  Allyn's 
Point,  and  at  the  latter  place  took  passage  in  the  Atlantic  for  New  York. 
The  boat  was  detained  for  some  time  at  New  London,  and  did  not  proceed 
on  her  course  until  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock  on  Thursday  morning. 
About  nine  miles  out  of  the  harbour,  the  steam-pipe  burst,  readering  the 
eogioe  useless;  and,  immediately  after,  the  wind  changed  its  direction  and 
increased  in  violence.  The  anchors  were  thrown  out,  the  decks  cleared, 
and  every  thing  done  that  could  be  to  lighten  the  vessel;  but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose— the  anchors  were  dragged,  and  the  wreck  continued  to  drift  towards 
the  leeward  shore, — the  waves  continually  breaking  over  it.  The  fires*  too 
were  extinguished,  and  the  passengers  suffered  much  from  wet  and  cold,  as 
well  as  from  anxiety  and  terror.  This  state  of  things  continued  till  about 
four  o^clock,  Friday  morning,  November  27th,  when  the  wreck  broke  upon 
the  reef,  and  the  falling  deck,  and  the  raging  billows,  swept  Dr.  Armstrong 
and  many  others  into  the  sea.  During  this  season  of  extreme  anxiety  and 
agitation,  he  maintained  great  composure,  endeavouring  to  administer  warn* 
ing  and  consolation  to  his  fellow-passengers,  in  view  of  the  peculiarly  solemn 
circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed.  But  a  moment  before  the  scene 
closed,  he  remarked — '<  I  hope  we  may  be  allowed,  if  God  will,  to  reach  the 
shore  with  our  lives ;  but  if  not,  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  the  wisdom 
and  goodness  of  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well." 

The  remains  of  Dr.  Armstrong  were  recovered  from  the  water,  and  con* 
veyed  to  Norwich  on  Friday  P.  M.,  where  they  were  immediately  recognised, 
and  the  next  day  were  taken  to  New  York.  The  Funeral  solemnities 
were  attended  on  Monday,  at  Dr.  Adams*  Church,  in  Broome  Street,  with 
Appropriate  addresses  and  devotional  exercises.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Nehemiah 
Adams  of  Boston,  by  request  of  the  Prudential  Committee,  subsequently 
preaohed  s  Sermon  in  commemoration  of  their  beloved  and  honoured  col* 
league,  which  was  published. 

Dr.  Armstrong  was  married  in  April,  1824,  to  Sarah  Milnor,  daughter 
of  Horaee  Stockton,  of  Trenton,  N.  J.,  and  a  niece  of  the  Hon.  Richard 
Stockton,  of  Princeton.  She  was  a  lady  of  uncommonly  interesting  quail* 
ties,  but  died  in  less  than  a  year  after  her  marriage,  leaving  one  child, 
which  alao  died  at  the  age  of  about  seven.  In  August,  1828,  he  was  mar- 
ried a  second  time,  to  Charlotte,  daughter  of  Samuel  Pleasants,  of  Bicli* 


WILLIAM  JMStTP  ABHBTBONG.  ^1$ 


Bood,  editor  of  tho  Ytfgiiita  Argu.    By  this  marriage  tboro  were  six 
obildrett.  •  Mm.  A.  Ml  i(1856)  onrrives,  and  resides  ib  Riehmoiid. 

A  selection  of  Dr.  Anastrong^s  Sermons,  in  eonneotion  with  a  Memoir 
of  his  Life  by  the  Rev.  Hollis  Reed,  was  pabllshed  in  1858. 

I  first  knew  Dr.  Armstrong  when  he  entered  the  Seminary  at  Princeton, 
and  always  maintained  a  pleasant  acquaintance  with  him  till  the  time  of  his 
death.  In  his  person  he  was  short  and  thick  set,  and  had  a  face  that  indi- 
cated a  vigorous  mind  and  great  strength  of  purpose,  while  yet  it  was  easily 
lighted  up  with  a  smile.  He  walked  more  rapidly  than  gracefully,  and 
always  had  the  appearance  of  a  man  who  had  something  to  do.  From  the 
first  of  my  aoquaintanee  with  him,  I  was  struck  with  his  remaricably  tender, 
earnest,  conscientious  and  devout  spirit.  His  performances  in  the  Semi* 
nary  were  always  highly  respectable,  thoagh  they  soarcely  gave  promise  of 
00  much  eminenoe  as  he  reached  in  after  life.  After  he  became  one  of  the 
Secretaries  of  the  American  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  he  preached  seve- 
ral times  in  my  pulpit,  and  never  failed  to  leave  a  powerful  impression. 
His  sermons  were  evidently  designed  to  produce  an  effect  in  favour  of  hb 
cause,  and  not  in  his  own  favour.  They  were  always  thoroughly  elaborated, 
and  showed  a  comprehensive  and  vigorous  mind,  and  a  large,  warm.  Chris- 
tian heart.  His  voice  was  not  the  most  agreeable,  and  his  manner  in  the 
pulpit  was  far  from  being  polished ;  but  yet  there  was  a  simplicity,  a  direct- 
ness, a  melting  and  glowing  fervour,  that  would  have  made  his  manner 
eloquent,  even  if  it  had  lacked  much  of  the  general  propriety  and  dignity 
that  belonged  to  it.  In  his  private  intercourse  he  was  modest  and  unas* 
snming,  and  yet  was  a  most  agreeable  and  edifying  companion.  I  never 
knew  that  he  had  an  enemy. 

FROM  THE  REV.  DAYID  HAGIE,  D.  D. 

Eluabxthtown,  N.  J.,  December  16, 1849. 

Dear  Brother :  I  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request  that  I  should  furnish 
you  with  some  estimate  of  the  character  of  our  lamented  friend,  Dr.  Arm- 
strong, founded  on  a  somewhat  intimate  personal  acquaintance  with  him. 

My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Armstrong  commenced  soon  after  he  had  made  a 
public  profession  of  Christ's  name.  The  impression  which  I  received  of  his 
character  fVom  the  very  first,  was  distinct  and  deep,  and  though  modified  by 
time  and  circtim stances,  was  never  materially  altered.  He  was  one  of  those 
bold,  ardent,  independent  young  men,  who  are  sure  to  make  themselves  felt 
wherever  they  are.  His  impulses  were  naturally  strong,  and  his  feelings  impetu- 
ous. There  was  an  air  of  decision  and  energy  about  him  in  those  earlier  days, 
which  marked  his  whole  deportment,  and  adhered  to  him  to  the  very  last.  Hia 
was  no  mere  negative  existence,  either  before  or  after  conversion. 

There  was  something  in  his  very  appearance, — his  form,  his  features,  and  his 
motions,  which  conveyed  an  idea  of  energy  and  perseverance.  As  the  result  of 
habits  acquired  while  very  young,  he  possessed  uncommon  physical  strength, 
and  he  delighted  to  put  it  forth  on  every  fit  occasion.  Few  men  could  endure 
hardness  so  well — there  was  a  firmness  and  a  compactness  in  his  frame,  which 
betokened  extraordinary  force  and  power.  No  student  of  the  College,  of  the 
same  size,  could  at  all  cope  with  him.  Labours  and  exposures,  under  which 
most  constitutions  would  have  sunk  at  once,  he  was  able  to  bear  for  years  in 
Bueoession,  with  seeming  ease. 

Equally  marked  and  decided  were  the  qualities  of  his  mind.  He  was  blessed 
with  a  temper  delightfully  cheerfbl  and  buoyant,  leading  him  frequently  to  indulge 


0X4  nxBvmmAx. 

ID  pUyfal  remark,  and  renderii^  him  a  most  pleasant  and  desirable  eompanion 
Deeply  serious  as  he  generally  appeared,  there  was  not  a  particle  of  asceticism  in 
his  feelings.  Those  who  knew  him  well  are  aware  that  he  had  a  vein  of  wit  ana 
irony,  which  would  now  and  then  spontaneously  show  itself,  though  always  in  a 
quiet  and  harmless  way.  Few  ministers  of  the  Gospel  have  better  understood  how 
to  blend  the  pleasing  and  the  useful  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life.  He  had  a 
clear  understanding,  a  solid  and  correct  judgment,  a  fervid  imagination,  and  as 
large  and  warm  a  heart  as  is  perhaps  ever  given  to  man.  His  qualifications,  both 
mental  and  moral,  for  efficient  service  in  the  cause  of  Christ,  were  of  a  high  order. 

Still  the  chief  beauty  of  Dr.  Armstrong's  character  was  unquestionably  the 
beauty  of  holiness.  No  one  could  be  acquainted  with  him  at  all,  without  receiv- 
ing the  impression  that  he  was  a  man  who  had  really  tasted  of  the  good  word 
oi  God,  and  felt  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come.  Everywhere  and  on  all  occa 
sions,  he  was  a  kind,  devout,  faithful  Christian  minister.  It  was  impossible  to 
tarry  with  him  for  a  night,  join  with  him  in  a  prayer,  hear  him  deliver  an 
address,  or  travel  with  him  on  a  journey,  and  not  feel  the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment. 

His  preaching  had  in  it  a  happy  mixture  of  close  argument  and  fervent  appeal, 
well  adapted  to  produce  the  impression  that  he  spoke  in  demonstration  of  the 
spirit  and  with  power.  Never,  while  memory  lasts,  will  his  solemn  warnings, 
his  beseeching  looks,  and  his  earnest  expostulations,  be  forgotten.  It  often 
seemed  as  though  he  could  not  come  down  from  the  pulpit  without  some  encour- 
agement that  his  hearers  would  become  reconciled  to  God.  Besides  the  best 
advantages  of  education,  he  had  a  higher  and  nobler  training  for  the  work  of 
the  ministry,  than  could  be  furnished  by  any  school  of  Gamaliel.  His  prepara- 
Uon  was  such  as  had  grown  out  of  the  fears  and  hopes,  the  remembrances  and 
anticipations,  the  conflicts  and  conquests,  of  his  own  bosom.  He  was  deeply 
conversant  with  human  wants  and  woes,  and  felt  the  adaptedness  of  the  Gos- 
pel to  supply  the  one  and  remove  the  other.  This  made  him  one  of  the  most 
effective  and  successful  preachers  of  his  day.  No  one  could  love  the  pulpit 
more. 

During  the  years  that  he  served  the  American  Board  in  the  capacity  of  finan- 
cial Secretary,  his  feelings  were  in  a  perpetual  glow.  He  had  found  it  hard  to 
give  up  his  pastoral  charge,  and  there  were  times  when  he  sighed  for  the  hour 
when  he  might  again  take  the  oversight  of  some  flock  of  God.  But  there  was 
no  faltering,  no  holding  back,  no  sparing  of  himself  in  a  work  to  which,  for  the 
present,  a  wise  and  holy  Providence  had  called  him.  He  gave  himself  up  to  the 
business  of  his  Agency.  Eternity  alone  can  reveal  what  feelings  he  had,  what 
toil  he  bore,  what  supplications  he  offered,  what  entreaties  he  used,  while  pre- 
senting this  great  subject  to  the  churches.  It  seemed  as  if  he  was  under  a  con- 
stant pressure.  He  lived  and  laboured  as  if  the  case  of  the  whole  heathen  world 
was  upon  him. 

The  work,  as  he  felt  its  obligations,  and  sought  to  perform  its  duties,  was  too 
much  for  him.  It  is  impossible  for  flesh  and  blood  to  bear  such  a  burden  for  a 
long  time  together.  1  saw  that  he  was  rapidly  wearing  out.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  dreadful  catastrophe  which  hastened  him  out  of  the  world,  he  must  soon 
have  retired  from  active  service  in  the  cause  of  Christian  Missions. 

In  reference  to  the  manner  of  his  removal  to  a  better  world,  it  is  sufficient  to 
say  that,  of  all  the  ministers  and  men  of  God  of  my  acquaintance,  I  know  of 
no  one  better  fitted  to  stand  on  the  decks  of  the  Atlantic,  amidst  the  agitated 
and  awe-struck  company,  and  lift  up  his  voice  above  the  roar  of  the  ocean,  to 
speak  of  Jesus  as  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  and  dissipate  the  gloom  of  the 
sad  scene,  by  pointing  his  anxious  auditors  to  the  calm  and  quiet  of  the  celestial 
city. 

Yours  very  truly, 

DAYID  MAGIE. 


HOBBIS  BULL.  Q^g 


NORMS  BULL,  D.  D  * 

1818—1847. 

NoRRls  Bull,  the  son  of  John  and  Martha  (Rogers)  Bull,  was  born  in 
Harwlnton,  Litchfield  County,  Conn.,  October  24,  1790.  His  father  wa8 
a  respectable  farmer,  and  served  as  a  minute  man  in  the  war  of  the  Hovolu- 
tion.  Both  his  parents  had  an  eye  to  the  highest  interests  of  their  child- 
ren, and  gave  them,  in  the  best  sense,  a  Christian  education. 

The  son,  who  is  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  evinced,  from  the  first 
unfolding  of  his  faculties,  a  remarkable  thirst  for  knowledge.  Though  he 
spent  his  earlier  years  upon  a  farm,  and  was  destined  in  the  intention  of 
his  father  to  agricultural  pursuits,  his  passion  for  books  was  so  strong  as 
materially  to  interfere  with  the  successful  prosecution  of  his  daily  labours. 
A  portion  of  the  time  usually  given  to  sleep  he  was  accustomed  to  devote 
to  reading ;  and  it  was  not  easy  to  propose  to  him  any  amusement  so 
attractive,  but  that  he  declined  it  unhesitatingly,  for  the  sake  of  hb 
favourite  employment.  So  decided  was  his  preference  for  intellectual 
pursuits,  that  his  father  yielded  to  his  wishes  to  obtain  a  collegiate  educa- 
tion ;  and,  having  gone  through  the  usual  preparatory  studies,  he  entered 
Yale  College,  when  he  was  in  his  nineteenth  year. 

During  his  collegiate  course,  he  was  distingubhed  for  sobriety  and  diligence, 
and  was  much  above  mediocrity  in  his  acquirements,  and  that  too  in  a  class 
of  more  than  ordinary  reputation  for  both  talent  and  improvement.  He 
was  never  a  superficial  thinker  from  the  beginning — he  was  always  bent 
upon  knowing  the  reason  of  things,  where  it  was  within  the  range  of  his 
comprehension;  and  hence, as  might  be  expected,  he  excelled  in  the  severer, 
far  more  than  in  the  lighter,  studies.  He  neglected  nothing  that  formed 
part  of  the  prescribed  course,  and  uniformly  acquitted  himself  with  honour 
in  his  recitations ;  but  he  was  most  in  his  element  when  he  was  penetrating 
into  the  depths  of  Mathematics  and  Philosophy. 

Previous  to  his  beiug  graduated  in  September,  1813,  he  engaged  as 
Principal  of  a  school  in  Lansingburg,  N.  Y.,  and  actually  commenced  hb 
labours  as  a  teacher  immediately  after  the  final  examination  of  his  class 
in  July.  He  left  his  school  long  enough  to  attend  Commencement,  and 
receive  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  then  returned  to  it,  without  any 
definite  purpose  for  the  future,  other  than  to  continue  in  the  same  employ- 
ment. He  was  eminently  successful  as  a  teacher,  and  the  school  which  had 
previously  been  not  a  little  depressed,  quickly  increased  in  numbers,  so  that 
an  assistant  was  necessary  for  the  performance  of  the  requisite  duties. 
He  was  admirably  adapted  to  teach,  not  only  by  his  perfect  familiarity  with 
the  various  branches  of  study,  but  by  the  discriminating  estimate  which  he 
formed  of  the  capacities  of  the  young,  and  his  ability  to  make  himself 
understood  by  the  humblest  of  his  pupils. 

It  is  not  easy  to  define  the  period  of  the  commencement  of  his  Christian 
Ufc.  He  had  been  the  subject  of  religious  impressions,  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  from  his  childhood ;  but  they  had  never  been,  during  his  earlier 
years,  of  bo  decided  a  character  as  to  give  him  any  confidence  that  he  had 

MS.  fram  bli  fbmtlj. 


really  felt  the  sanotifyiDg  power  ai  the  Gospel.  It  was  d«ring  his  nsUeiioe 
in  Lansingburg  that  his  mind  beoame  deeply  and  pennanently  impressed 
with  the  great  conoern  ;  and  for  a  long  period  he  was  subjeet  to  the  most 
painful  struggles,  and  then  to  alternations  of  feeble  hope  and  over  whelming 
anxiety,  until  at  length  his  mind  reposed  in  the  joyful  conviction  that  he 
had  become  an  adopted  child  of  God.  The  late  Dr.  Blatohford,  within 
whose  congregation  he  lived,  was  his  spiritual  counsellor  during  this  period, 
and  in  due  time  he  received  him  to  the  Communion  of  the  Church. 

In  connection  with  the  change  of  character  which  he  believed  himself  now 
to  have  experienced,  he  formed  the  purpose  to  spend  his  days  in  preaching 
the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ.  And,  in  accordance  with  this  purpose, 
he  relinquished  his  place  in  the  school,  and  joined  the  Theological  Semiuary 
at  Princeton,  in  the  autumn  of  1816.  Here  he  maintained  the  reputation 
of  having  a  well  balanced  mind,  of  being  a  thorough  student,  and  a 
consistent,  exemplary  Christian  ;  and  those  who  were  most  intimate  with 
him,  knew  thut  he  had  a  keenness  of  discernment,  an  energy  of  purpose, 
and  withal  a  depth  of  spiritual  feeling,  that  would  scarcely  have  been 
imagined  from  meeting  him  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life.  His  con- 
nection with  the  Seminary  continued  until  sometime  in  1818,  when  he  was 
licensed  to  preach  at  Catskill,  N.  Y.,  by  the  Presbytery  of  Columbia. 

Shortly  after  receiving  licensure,  he  went  into  the  Western  part  of  the 
State  of  New  York,  as  a  missionary,  under  the  patronage  of  the  New  York 
Young  Men's  Missionary  Society.  His  first  stated  ministerial  services  were 
at  Warsaw,  in  the  County  of  Wyoming,  where  he  continued  about  two 
years,  labouring  much  to  the  edification  and  acceptance  of  the  people.  In 
1821,  he  received  a  call  from  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Geneseo,  N.  Y.; 
and,  though  he  did  not  immediately  accept  it,  he  consented  to  remove  thither, 
and  labour  among  them  for  some  time,  as  a  stated  supply.  The  next  year, 
however,  (1822,)  he  formally  accepted  their  call,  and  was  regularly  inducted 
into  the  pastoral  office. 

His  connection  with  the  people  of  Geneseo  continued  for  eleven  years. 
During  this  period,  he  was  most  earnest  and  laborious  in  the  discharge  of 
his  duties,  and  was  privileged  to  witness  the  highly  gratifying  results  of  bis 
ministry,  in  large  and  hopeful  accessions  to  the  Church.  After  some  time, 
however,  he  became  entangled  in  a  perplexing  and  painful  controversy, 
which  threatened  to  put  in  jeopardy  both  his  comfort  and  his  usefulness. 
The  details  of  that  controversy  could  not  be  brought  within  narrow  com- 
pass ;  and  I  have  neither  the  disposition  nor  the  ability  here  to  record  them  ; 
but  this  much  may  safely  be  said, — that,  whatever  difference  of  opinion  may 
have  existed  in  regard  to  the  expediency  of  any  of  the  measures  which  Mr. 
Bull  felt  constrained  to  adopt,  all  impartial  persons  were  agreed  in  the 
opinion  that  his  conduct  displayed  the  most  far  reaching  and  sagacious 
mind,  and  the  most  inflexible  adherence  to  his  own  honest  convictions.  It 
was  probably  owing,  in  a  measure  at  least,  to  the  change  in  some  of  his 
relations,  occasioned  by  this  unhappy  controversy,  that,  in  183B,  he 
accepted  a  call  from  the  Presbyterian  Congregation  at  Wyoming,  distant  a 
few  miles  from  Geneseo,  to  become  their  Pastor. 

In  connection  with  his  pastoral  charge  at  Wyoming,  he  also  held,  during 
the  greater  part  of  the  time,  the  place  of  Principal  of  an  Academy ;  and 
for  three  years  he  discharged  the  twofold  duty  of  pastor  of  a  flock,  and 
teacher  of  youth.     The  Academy  of  which  he  had  the  charge  was  eminently 


I  ]^rotper»ii0  andar  Ida  dirootton ;  and  his  oongregttiioil  had  ik>  reason  to  com* 

I  plain  of  any   laek  of   mtnistorial  fidelity  and  seal.    Bnt,   after  having 

I  sojourned  there  abont  three  years  and  a  half,  which,  so  far  as  his  relation  to 

,  those  around  him  was  concerned,  were  years  of  great'  quietude  and  comfort, 

\  he  accepted,  in  1836,  an  invitation  to  Clarkson,  to  become,  as  he  had  been 

I  at  Wyoming,  the  minister  of  a  congregation,  and  the   head  of  a  public 

school.  His  extensive  experience  and  high  reputation  as  a  teacher  rendered 
the  school  at  once  eminently  popular ;  and,  during  the  period  of  his  connec- 
tion with  it,  it  is  said  to  have  sent  forth  a  larger  namber  to  the  different 
Oolleges,  than  almost  any  similar  institution  in  Western  New  ITork.  At 
the  end  of  six  years,  however,  he  retired  from  the  school,  with  a  view  to 
devote  himself  more  entirely  to  the  work  of  the  ministry.  From  this  time 
till  1846,  his  whole  energies  were  directed  to  the  promotion  of  the  spiritual 
interests^  of  his  people.  But,  in  the  early  part  of  that  year,  he  came  to  a 
determination, — owing  to  some  peculiar  circumstances  in  his  congregation, 
which  he  thought  demanded  such  a  step, — to  resign  his  pastoral  charge ; 
and  this  be  did  at  the  next  meeting  of  Presbytery.  He,  however,  continued 
to  reside  with  his  family  at  Clarkson,  greatly  respected  and  beloved  by  the 
community  at  large,  till  some  time  in  the  succeeding  autumn,  when  he 
accepted  an  invitation  to  supply  the  then  vacant  Church  in  Lewiston,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Niagara  Falls.  Here  his  services  are  understood 
to  have  been  highly  appreciated,  and  his  situation  to  have  promised  much 
of  both  comfort  and  usefulness,  until  his  career  was  terminated  by  his 
sudden  and  lamented  death. 

In  1845,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Union  College. 

Dr.  Bull  possessed  a  naturally  vigorous  physical  constitution,  and  enjoyed 
uninterrupted  health  during  almost  his  whole  life.  And  his  health  and 
spirits  were  never  better  than  during  the  months  and  weeks  that  imme- 
diately preceded  his  unexpected  departure.  His  last  sermon  was  preached 
on  Thanksgiving  day,  (1847,)  from  Isaiah  Ix.  12.  His  system  became 
somewhat  excited  by  the  exercise  of  preaching,  and  he  found,  on  returning 
home,  that  he  had  taken  cold.  The  next  day  he  was  still  more  unwell,  and 
resorted  to  medicine  for  relief;  but  without  effect.  The  physician  came, 
but  his  skill,  too,  was  unavailing.  A  violent  inflammation  of  the  stomach  had 
commenced,  which  it  was  found  impossible  to  arrest.  In  the  progress  of 
his  disease,  his  mind  was  considerably  affected,  though  he  was  able,  to  the 
last,  to  recognise  the  different  members  of  his  family,  and  manifested  great 
patience  in  suffering,  and  a  serene  and  humble  confidence,  in  the  prospect 
of  the  scenes  which  were  about  to  open  upon  him.  **  Happy,  happy, 
happy,"  he  whispered  with  his  dying  breath ;  after  which,  his  lips  moved 
no  more.  He  died  on  the  7th  of  December,  1847.  His  Funeral  Sermon 
was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lord,  of  Buffalo,  and  was  published. 

Dr.  Bull  was  married,  June  9, 1819,  to  Mary  Ann  Henry,  of  Saugatuck, 
Conn.,  who  became  the  mother  of  four  children, — one  of  whom, — a  young 
man  of  extraordinary  powers  and  promise,  who  was  graduated  at  Union 
College  in  1842,  died  at  Rochester  in  1844.  Mrs.  Bull  survived  her  hus- 
band several  years. 

As  Dr.  Bull  shared  the  same  room  with  me,  during  the  whole  time  that 
he  was  in  the  Seminary  at  Princeton,  and  I  was  always  in  intimate  and 

Vol.  IV.  78 


618  FBESBTmiAK. 

endearing  relations  with  bim  till  the  eloee  of  his  life,  I  think  I  cannot  h^w 
erred  seriously  in  the  estimate  which  I  formed  of  his  character. 

In  seyeral  respects  he  was  highly  favoured  in  both  his  intellectual  and 
moral  constitution.  If  his  mind  operated  with  less  rapidity  than  some 
other  great  minds,  there  are  few  that  combine  the  same  degree  of  clearness 
with  the  same  degree  of  force.  He  had  the  rare  faculty  of  holding  a  diffi- 
cult subject  to  his  thoughts  for  a  long  time,  in  earnest  and  patient  investi- 
gation, keeping  every  window  of  the  soul  open  to  the  light, — ^no  matter 
from  what  direction  ;  but  when  once  his  opinion  was  maturely  formed, — so 
far  from  being  at  the  mercy  of  every  opposing  influence,  it  was  almost  cer- 
tain to  withstand  any  force  that  could  be  brought  to  bear  against  it.  He 
united  strong  common  sense,  an  intuitive  perception  of  the  springs  of 
human  action,  with  an  acuteness  of  intellect  that  qualified  him  to  traverse 
the  remotest  regions  of  metaphysical  abstraction.  He  had  a  power  of  self- 
control  that  enabled  him  to  maintain  his  accustomed  tranquillity,  when  the 
elements  around  him  were  wrought  into  the  fiercest  commotion.  He  had  a 
natural  gravity  of  disposition,  and  yet  he  was  habitually  cheerful,  and  often 
even  playful  and  buoyant,  in  his  intercourse  with  his  friends.  He  had  a 
heart  that  was  always  awake  to  generous  impulses,  and  had  no  communion 
with  a  contracted  or  disingenuous  spirit.  He  was  not  prone  to  unworthy 
suspicion  or  jealousy,  and  yet  his  eye  was  always  open  to  what  was  passing 
around  him  ;  and  whoever  attempted  to  circumvent  him,  was  sure  to  do  i% 
to  his  own  cost.  But,  above  all,  he  had  a  native  moral  heroism, — an  integ- 
rity as  high  and  firm  as  the  mountains, — a  spirit  which,  under  some  circuiu- 
stances,  would  have  figured  gloriously  amidst  scenes  of  martyrdom.  Such 
unyielding  resolution  as  he  possessed,  if  it  had  been  associated  with  a  dif- 
ferent set  of  qualities,  might  have  deserved  no  better  name  than  obstinacy  : 
it  might  have  been,  in  some  of  its  operations,  revolting, — even  terrific. 
But  joined,  as  it  was  in  his  case,  with  a  disposition  to  inquire  calmly  and 
to  judge  impartially,  with  a  single  eye  to  the  discharge  of  duty  and  with  a 
deep  sense  of  accountableness  to  God,  it  may  perhaps  be  regarded  as  form- 
ing the  crowning  attribute  of  a  noble  character. 

It  was  a  striking  feature  in  his  character  that  he  reduced  every  thing  in 
the  economy  of  his  life  to  perfect  system.  No  matter  how  great  might  be 
the  pressure  of  his  cares,  he  always  addressed  himself  calmly  to  each  duty 
in  its  proper  place,  and  never  allowed  himself  to  feel  in  a  hurry.  The 
arrangement  of  his  books  and  papers  was  so  perfect  that  he  could  always 
lay  his  hand  upon  any  thing  he  wanted,  even  in  the  dark.  The  same  sys- 
tematic regard  extended  also  to  his  financial  concerns.  So  rigidly  exact 
was  he  in  this  matter,  that,  from  the  time  he  entered  College  to  the  day  of 
his  death,  he  never  received* or  expended  a  shilling  for  which  he  could  not 
show  a  written  account.  Such  a  habit  as  this  might  in  some  minds  have 
generated  or  fostered  an  avaricious  spirit;  but  it  was  quite  otherwise  with 
him ;  for  he  always  met  the  claims  upon  his  charity,  both  private  and  pub- 
lic, promptly,  cheerfully,  liberally. 

As  a  preacher.  Dr.  Bull  would  be  judged  very  differently  by  different 
classes  of  hearers.  Those  whose  errand  at  the  house  of  God  is  merely  to 
gratify  a  refined  taste,  or  to  be  amused  by  the  eccentricities  of  the  preacher, 
would  be  likely  to  go  away,  saying  that  Dr.  B.  was  not  the  preacher  for 
them.  But  those  who  have  in  view  the  higher  object  of  substantial  Christian 
edification,  would  not  hesitate  to  set  him  down  among  the  best  preachers  to 


KORRIS  B0LL.  g]9 

whom  th«7  ever  listened.  His  sermons  displayed  bat  little  imagination ; — 
for  perhaps  he  possessed  less  of  that  than  any  other  faculty ;  but  they  were 
distinguished  for  logical  accuracy  and  great  perspicuity  of  style,  and  were 
eminently  rich  in  well  digested  scriptural  instruction.  His  delivery  was 
fiur  from  being  what  would  be  commonly  considered  attractive;  and  yet 
there  was  an  air  of  deep  sincerity,  and  sometimes  of  awful  solemnity,  about 
it,  that  was  far  more  impressive,  especially  in  seasons  of  unusual  serious- 
ness, than  the  most  finished  oratory.  His  sermons  were  generally  written 
out  and  read ;  and  yet  he  was  capable  of  a  highly  respectable  eztempora- 
neous  effort,  if  the  occasion  required  it.  His  prayers  were  characterized 
by  great  reverence,  humility,  and  spirituality  :  it  was  not  easy  even  for  the 
careless  listener  to  resist  the  impression  that  he  was  really  holding  com* 
munion  with  a  Being  of  infinite  purity. 

His  views  of  Christian  doctrine  were  indicated,  not  only  by  the  fact  that 
he  was  in  connection  with  the  Presbyterian  Church,  but  by  the  well  known 
part  which  he  took  in  the  controversy  by  which  the  Church,  during  his 
ministry,  was  agitated.  Though  it  cannot  be  said  that  his  views  ever 
underwent  any  strongly  marked  change,  after  he  made  a  public  profession 
of  hb  faith,  yet  there  is  no  doubt  that,  as  he  advanced  in  life,  he  rather 
receded  from  certain  forms  of  phraseology  on  some  points,  to  which  he  had 
early  been  accustomed,  and  received  the  Confession  of  Faith  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  a  somewhat  more  rigid  construction.  As  an  index 
to  the  particular  shade  which  his  theological  views  finally  assumed,  I 
remember  to  have  heard  him,  not  long  before  his  death,  express  the  opinion 
that  there  was  no  periodical  in  the  country  that  took  ground  so  entirely  in 
accordance  with  the  word  of  God  as  the  Princeton  Bepertory. 

Dr.  Bull's  forte  no  doubt  lay  in  management ; — not  management  iu  the 
low  and  unworthy  sense  of  that  word,  but  in  the  sense  of  a  skilful,  manly 
and  dignified  conduct  of  human  affairs.  His  extraordinary  sagacity  brought 
within  his  view  all  the  circumstances  that  had  a  bearing  upon  a  difficult  and 
complex  case,  and  enabled  him  to  give  to  each  its  legitimate  direction  in 
reference  to  the  end  which  he  designed  to  accomplish.  His  great  reputa- 
tion in  this  respect  was  the  occasion  of  his  being  often  resorted  to  as  a 
counsellor;  and  it  rarely,  if  ever,  occurred,  that  those  who  put  his  services 
in  requisition,  were  not  satisfied  that  the  best  possible  thing  had  been  done 
for  them.  In  a  deliberative  assembly,  especially  in  an  ecclesiastical  court, 
it  were  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  he  was  the  invincible  champion  of  any 
cause  he  undertook.  The  clearness  of  his  perceptions,  his  perfect  self- 
possession,  his  indomitable  perseverance,  and  his  acknowledged  incorrupti- 
ble integrity,  constituted  him  almost  of  course  the  master  spirit  of  the  Body, 
and  rendered  him  not  unfrequently  even  a  terror  to  his  adversaries.  He 
carried  his  points, — not  by  disingenuous  artifice,  or  studied  appeals  to  tho 
interest  or  the  passions  of  those  whom  he  addressed,  but  by  dealing  hon- 
estly, though  skilfully  and  powerfully,  with  their  understandings  and  con- 
sciences, and  throwing  the  strong  points  of  the  case  which  he  had  to  conduct, 
into  the  very  light  of  noonday. 

That  which,  perhaps  more  than  any  thing  else,  gave  complexion  to  Dr. 
Bull's  ministry,  was  the  resolute  opposition  with  which  he  breasted  the  tide 
of  innovation,  that  at  one  time  set  in  so  strongly,  especially  upon  the  por- 
tion of  the  Church  with  which  he  was  more  immediately  connected.  When 
the  system  of  "new  measures,'*  as  it  was  commonly  called,  first  came  in,  it 


$<)(j^  FBBS^TTBRIiLir. 

was  something  so  unlike  wh&t  the  men  of  this  generation  had  seen,  and 
withal  claimed  an  alliance  to  snch  superior  sanctity,  and  pointed  so  triumph- 
antly  to  such  speedy  and  glorious  results,  that  many  even  of  the  most  dts- 
oreet  and  sober  were  half  ready  to  subscribe  to  the  opinion  that  possibly 
they  were  called  upon  to  make  a  sacrifice  of  some  of  their  established  con- 
victioDS,  and  that  the  wonderful  doings  of  the  day  really  betokened  the 
commencement  of  a  more  glorious  state  of  the  Church.  Br.  Bull  held 
himself,  for  some  time,  in  the  attitude  of  observation  and  inquiry  ;  and,  on 
one  occasion,  at  Geneseo,  he  even  made  some  approach  to  the  adoption  of 
the  new  system,  in  one  or  two  of  its  features ;  but  he  quickly  became  con- 
vinced that  it  was  evil,  and  only  evil.  And  from  that  time,  he  not  only 
gave  it  no  support,  but  everywhere  met  it  with  a  vigorous  and  stern  resist- 
ance; and  that  too,  at  the  expense  of  being  held  up  as  opposing  revivals, 
and  strengthening  the  hands  of  the  ungodly.  The  course  which  he  thus 
adopted,  from  honest  conyiotion,  he  persevered  in  without  scruple  and  with- 
out wavering ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  be  exerted  a  very  importaut  influ- 
ence in  checking  the  prevailing  extravagances,  and  restoring  the  order  and 
purity  of  the  Church,  in  the  region  in  which  he  lived. 

Notwithstanding  Dr.  Bull  was  as  keeuly  sensible  to  existing  evils  in  the 
Church  as  any  other  person,  and  had  been  long  waiting  for  some  efficient 
remedial  agency,  he  was  not  prepared  for  the  measures  which  the  General 
Assembly  actually  adopted,  terminating  in  the  disruption  of  the  Chureh. 
He,  however,  was  disposed  to  make  the  best  of  the  case,  as  it  then  existed ; 
and  it  is  understood  to  have  been  chiefly  through  his  influence  that  his  own 
Presbytery,  which  was  reached  by  the  Exscinding  Act  of  the  Assembly, 
assumed,  and  as  long  as  he  lived,  continued  to  hold,  a  neutral  attitude. 
Some  of  his  brethren,  whose  general  views  of  doctrine  and  church  policy 
were  in  accordance  with  his  own,  differed  with  Lim  in  his  notions  of  expe- 
diency on  this  subject ;  but  I  have  reason  to  know  that  the  course  which  he 
adopted  was  the  result  of  the  most  mature  deliberation,  and  that  his  eon  vie* 
tion  of  the  rectitude  of  it  had  not  been  impaired  a  short  time  previous  to 
his  death. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  estimate  here  given  of  Dr.  Bull's  character 
may  appear  to  those  who  knew  him  but  slightly,  or  to  those  who  knew  him 
only  in  his  earlier  years,  as  somewhat  tinged  with  extravagance.  So  indeed 
I  should  myself  be  obliged  to  pronounce  in  respect  to  it,  if  I  were  to  speak 
only  from  the  impressions  received  concerning  him  during  a  considerable 
period  of  the  most  unreserved  intimacy ;  but  the  truth  is,  there  was  that  in 
him  which  it  required  a  powerful  influence  to  evolve  ;  though  that  influence 
ere  long  came,  and  it  was  found  that  modesty  had  been  mistaken  for  medi- 
ocrity, and  the  man  of  supposed  ordinary  intellectual  stature  expanded  to 
the  dimensions  of  a  giant.  Some  who  have  differed  most  widely  with  him 
in  his  religious  views,  and  have  even  arrayed  themselves  strongly  in  opposi- 
tion to  some  of  his  measures,  have  still  acknowledged  that  for  (he  ability  to 
plan  and  execute,  they  have  never  known  his  superior. 

The  only  acknowledged  publication  of  Dr.  Bull  is  an  Address  delivered 
before  the  Kappa  Phi  Society  of  Wilson  Collegiate  Institute,  at  its  first 
Anniversary,  1846.  It  is  appropriate,  well  reasoned,  and  of  excellent 
moral  tendency;  but  it  gives  no  adequate  idea  of  the  ability  of  the 
author. 


irOBBIS  BULL.  OJtl 


FBOM  THE  BET.  JOHN  G.  LOBD,  D.  D. 

BvrrALO,  Jannarj  19,  1857. 

My  dear  Sir :  It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  comply  with  your  request  to  give  you 
some  of  my  recollections  of  our  late  lamented  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bull.  Having 
succeeded  him  in  the  pastoral  office,  in  the  Church  at  Qeneseo,  in  the  year  1833, 
and  having  been  in  habits  of  the  closest  personal  intimacy  with  him  from  tliat 
time  to  the  period  of  his  death  in  1847,  no  one  out  of  his  own  family  has  known 
him  better;  and  the  large  share  I  had  in  his  confidence  and  affection  is  one  of 
those  grateful  remembrances  which  I  shall  cherish  to  the  last  hour  of  my  life. 

Dr.  Bull  in  person  was  erect  and  dignified;  his  countenance  was  expressive  of 
his  high  intellectual  character;  he  was  courteous  in  his  manners,  and  fond  of  the 
company  of  his  brethren  in  the  ministry.  He  possessed  unusual  conversational 
powers,  and  it  was  impossible  to  enjoy  his  society  even  for  a  brief  period,  with- 
out a  decided  impression  of  his  great  ability.  As  a  counsellor,  he  was  one  among 
a  thousand,  and  many  a  clergyman  in  difficulties  has  had  occasion  to  thank  Qod 
that  he  was  led  to  ask  counsel  of  Norris  Bull,  and  had  the  grace  to  follow  it. 
He  possessed  a  penetrating  judgment,  a  calm  temperament,  and  a  large  heart; 
and  his  younger  brethren  in  the  ministry  always  found  in  him  a  firm  friend,  and 
a  most  judicious  and  affectionate  adviser. 

Firm  in  his  opinion,  inflexible  in  his  decisions,  he  was  yet  modest  and  unas- 
suming. His  piety  was  marked  by  consdentiousness,  sobriety,  and  uniform 
consistency  of  life.  He  was  particularly  regardful  of  ministerial  reputation,  and 
never  suffered  an  imputation  upon  any  of  his  brethren  to  pass  without  rebuke* 
lie  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  prudence,  and  I  do  not  know  that  he  ever,  in  the 
course  of  his  ministerial  life,  uttered  a  hasty  or  injudicious  word,  or  was  betrayed 
into  an  act  of  levity  or  folly. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  exact,  logical  and  evangelical,  and  though  his  pulp'U 
efforts  were  never  equal  to  those  called  out  by  discussion  and  debate,  yet  he  wa.i 
always  heard  with  pleasure  and  profit.  His  style  was  chaste,  simple  and 
Saxon — every  thing  said  in  the  pulpit  was  fully  and  carefully  written  out,  and 
few  or  none  of  his  discourses  would  need  any  revision  or  correction  for  the  press. 
His  handwriting  had  all  the  accuracy  of  type,  and  a  printed  page  is  hardly  more 
exact  and  legible  than  are  his  sermons  and  letters  addressed  to  his  friends. 
There  is  something  of  his  character  to  be  seen  in  his  bold,  uniform  and  beautiful 
chirography. 

In  debate,  the  great  powers  of  our  friend  were  seen  in  their  highest  develop^ 
ment.  He  chained  the  attention  of  his  auditors,  even  when  he  was  assailing 
their  prejudices.  He  was  both  logical  and  eloquent  in  his  extempore  efforts, — 
clothing  his  thoughts  in  language  distinguished  for  precision,  clearness,  and 
classical  elegance — ^unruffled  amid  the  excitements  of  the  stormiest  discussion, 
he  always  commanded  the  attention  of  his  hearers,  however  excited  or  confused — 
when  he  arose  to  speak,  all  voices  were  hushed,  all  ears  attentive.  Calm  yet 
forcible,  he  touched  the  question  in  hand,  without  circumlocution,  upon  the  pre- 
cise points  at  issue.  His  manner  was  dignified  and  impressive,  his  voice  full 
and  melodious,  his  argument  consecutive,  and  generally  cenolusive  in  ooavincing 
or  silencing  those  of  a  contrary  opinion. 

Dr.  Bull's  ability  as  a  debater  was  felt  and  conceded  by  all.  Many  good  judges 
who  have  listened  to  the  discussions  in  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  who  have  heard  the  ablest  speakers  in  our  National  Congress,  have 
not  hesitated  to  express  the  opinion  that  our  departed  friend- was  one  of  the 
strongest  men  on  the  floor  of  a  deliberative  body,  in  the  United  States.  The  Iste 
James  Wadsworth,  Esq.,  of  Geneseo,  a  man  of  superior  ability  and  great  wealth, 
who  had  a  long  controversy  with  Dr.  Bull,  during  his  settlement  as  Pastor  of  the 


1 


(22  FASBBrrSfilAK. 

Presbyterian  Church  in  that  village,  was  heard  to  express  the  opiiiion  that  if 
Norris  Bull  had  been  a  ctviltan,  he  would  hare  made  one  of  the  most  eminent 
jurists  in  the  State; — thus  bearing  a  generous  testimony  to  the  ability  of  his 
opponent. 

I  rejoice  that  you  have  given  a  place  to  this  excellent  and  eminent  minister  of 
the  New  Testament,  whose  praise  is  in  all  the  churches  of  Western  New  York, 
in  your  Pulpit  Sketches.  It  has  been  with  me  a  labour  of  love  to  furnish  these 
brief  recollections  of  a  brother  in  the  ministry,  by  whose  counsels  I  was 
instructed,  and  by  whose  friendship  I  was  honoured,  during  a  period  of  fifteen 
years. 

Yours  in  the  Gospel, 

J.  G.  LORD. 


-♦♦■ 


SAMUEL  LYLE  GRAHAM,  D.  D  * 

1818—1851. 

Samuel  Lyle  Graham  was  bom  in  the  town  of  Liberty,  Bedford 
County,  Va.,  oi^  the  9th  of  February,  1794.  His  father,  Michael  Graham, 
was  a  native  of  Lancaster  County,  Pa.,  and  migrated  to  Virginia  daring 
the  Revolutionary  war, — an  elder  brother,  the  Rev.  William  Graham,  well 
known  as  the  Founder  of  Liberty-Hall  Academy,  afterwards  Washington 
College,  having  preceded  him  a  few  years.  He  (the  father)  was  actively 
engaged  in  the  Revolution,  and  participated  in  the  battles  of  Long  Island 
^nd  White  Plains.  Having  spent  some  years,  after  he  went  to  Virginia,  in 
mercantile  business,  he  purchased  a  farm,  distant  about  seven  miles  from 
the  village  in  which  he  had  resided,  and  continued  to  cultivate  it  till  his 
death,  which  occurred  in  1834.  He  was  an  intelligent,  honest,  pious  man, 
and  for  more  than  forty  years  an  influential  elder  in  the  Presbyterian 
Church.  The  mother  of  the  subject  of  this  sketch  was  Elizabeth,  daughter 
of  John  Lyle,  of  Rockbridge  County,  Va.,  and  was  distinguished  alike  for 
vigorous  and  cultivated  intellect  and  elevated  and  fervent  piety.  Both 
parents  were  of  Scotch  Irish  extraction,  and  inherited  and  cherished  a 
strong  attachment  to  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

Their  son,  Samuel  Lyle,  passed  his  early  years  under  the  watchful  eye 
and  benign  influence  of  his  parents.  As  a  youth,  he  is  said  to  have  pos- 
sessed quiet,  unobtrusive  manners ;  to  have  been  cheerful  and  kind-hearted ; 
industrious  and  persevering  in  his  habits;  seldom,  if  ever,  in  his  deport- 
ment, departing  from  the  rules  of  the  strictest  propriety.  He  was  very  fond 
of  music,  both  vocal  and  instrumental ;  and  though  he  had  but  moderate 
genius  for  either,  yet  by  dint  of  untiring  perseverance,  he  learnt  to  play 
with  some  facility  on  the  violin.  He  was  apt  to  learn,  and  diligent  in  hiis 
studies.  His  boyhood  was  chiefly  spent  in  attendance  on  the  common 
neighbourhood  schools  of  the  country,  termed  in  Virginia,  '*01d  Field 
Schools."  In  those  days,  these  schools  are  known  to  have  been  rather 
unedifying  contrivances  for  educational  ends.  They  were  mostly  under  the 
superintendence  of  persons  who  were  either  very  ignorant,  or  very  tyran- 

•  MSS.  fiom  William  L.  Qnhaniy  M.  D.^  Rev.  Jamei  Kaylor.,  R.  B.  Howiaon,  £aq. 


SAMUEL  LTLE  6RAHAH.  g2S 

Bioal,  or  both.     Young  Graham  had  not  unfreqaently  to  groan  under  the 
,  "  oppressor's  wrong/*  yet  he  was  abundantly  exercised  in  the  elementary 

I  branches  of  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic.     When  there  was  no  school  to 

attend, — as  it  was  a  household  maxim  that  idleness  was  a  most  unbecom- 
ing perversion  of  youthful  energies^ — ^he  was  actively  engaged  in  aiding  the 
I  operations  of  the  farm, — sometimes  following  the  plough.     In  this  manner 

I  tlie  years  of  his  boyhood  passed  away  until  he  reached  the  age  of  fourteen 

'  or  fifteen,  when  it  was  determined  to  give  him  a  liberal  education.     He  was 

'  accordingly  entered  as  a  pupil  to  the  Rev.  James  Mitchel,  a  Presbyterian 

miuister,  who  opened  a  private  school  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  taught  a 
small  Latin  class.  His  first  feat  at  this  school  was  to  commit  to  memory 
the  Latin  Grammar  in  five  days.  After  continuing  here  for  at  least  a  year, 
he  was  transferred  to  the  New  London  Academy,  then  a  well  established 
classical  school,  about  nine  miles  from  his  father's, — under  the  care  of  Dr. 
Thomas  P.  Mitchell.  Here  he  remained  about  two  years,  and  in  May,  1812, 
became  a  member  of  Washington  College,  at  Lexington.  During  the  latter 
part  of  his  term  at  New  London  Academy,  an  incident  occurred,  in  con- 
nection  with  which  he  was  in  imminent  danger  of  losing  his  life.  There 
was  night  preaching  in  the  Academy  building.  It  being  a  warm  summer 
evening,  young  Graham  had  seated  himself,  for  greater  comfort,  in  a  second 
story  window,  and  as  the  exercises  proceeded, — not  being  deeply  interested 
I  in  the  discourse,  he  dropped  to  sleep,  rolled  out  of  the  window,  and  fell  to 

the  ground, — a  distance  of  ten  or  twelve  feet.     He  was  severely  stunned, 
but  not,  however,  seriously  injured.     When,  on  his  next  visit  home,  he 
I  related  the  dangerous  accident,  his  mother  was  exceedingly  agitated ;  and 

I  as  soon  as  she  could  leave  the  family  circle,  as  she  herself  afterwards  stated, 

I  she  retired  to  her  closet,  and  there  poured  out  from  an  overflowing  heart  her 

thanksgivings  to  God  for  having  thus  preserved  the  life  of  her  son ;  and 
then  and  there,  too,  like  Hannah  of  old,  she  solemnly  made  a  new  dedica- 
tion  of  her  Samuel  to  the  Lord,  entreating  that  He  would  accept  him, 
and  train  him  for  the  service  of  his  sanctuary.  In  subsequent  years, 
she  looked  back  upon  thb  act  of  dedication  as  one  of  the  most  sacred  and 
obligatory  of  her  life. 

It  was  during  his  connection  with  Washington  College  that  his  mind 
underwent  a  decisive  change  on  the  subject  of  religion.  His  attention  was 
first  roused  by  a  sermon  from  the  Rev.  Andrew  B.  Davidson  ;  and,  subse- 
quently, under  the  preaching  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Baxter,  his  impressions  were 
confirmed  and  deepened,  and  his  mind  gradually  led  to  repose  in  the 
gracious  promises  of  the  Gospel.  The  tidings  of  this  happy  change  carried 
great  joy  to  his  father's  house,  and  especially  to  the  heart  of  his  devoted 
and  excellent  mother,  who  recognised  therein  an  answer  to  her  earnest  and 
persevering  prayers.  Shortly  after  this,  he  made  a  public  profession  of 
religion,  by  uniting  with  the  church  in  Lexington. 

He  graduated  in  April,  1814,  at  the  age  of  twenty, — receiving  at  the 
time  a  premium  awarded  by  the  Faculty  to  the  best  scholar  in  the  class. 
After  leaving  College,  he  was  engaged  for  six  months  as  a  private  tutor  in 
the  family  of  the  Hon.  Judge  Nash  of  Hillsboro',  N.  C.  Having  deter* 
mined  to  enter  the  ministry,  he  joined  the  Theological  Seminary  at4^rinee- 
ton  in  1815,  where  he  continued  to  the  close  of  the  prescribed  course.  He 
was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel,  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick,  on 
the  29th  of  April,  1818. 


024  PBESBTTSBUK. 

Aftor  his  licensure,  he  was  occupied  for  some  months  as  a  auasioBarj  on 
the  frontier  in  Indiana,  and  during  this  period  was  efTectuallj  taught  to 
endure  hardness  as  a  soldier  of  the  cross.  Finding  that  his  health  would 
ill  endure  the  climate,  and  withal  that  the  field  of  lahour  was  less  proiiu»- 
ing  than  he  had  expected,  he  returned  to  Virginia,  and  for  nearly  two  years 
following,  was  engaged  in  missionary  labours  in  Greenbriar  and  Monroe 
Counties. 

In  1821,  Mr.  Graham  removed  to  Granyille  County,  N.  C,  and  was 
ordained  by  the  Presbytery  of  Orange  on  the  7th  of  September  of  that  year. 
His  first  labours  in  North  Carolina  were  divided  between  the  Congrega- 
tions of  Oxford  and  Grassy  Creek,  both  of  which  he  found  in  a  languishing 
state,  though  they  rapidly  gained  strength  under  his  ministry.  He  estab- 
lished a  female  school  at  Oxford,  which,  though  it  promised  well,  he  soon 
found  it  necessary  to  discontinue,  on  account  of  its  interfering  with  his  pro- 
fessional engagements.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1828,  he  removed 
into  the  country,  resigning  his  charge  of  the  Oxford  Church,  and  assuming 
the  pastoral  care  of  Nutbush  Church,  in  connection  with  Grassy  Creek. 
He  was  installed  Pastor  of  these  Churches  on  the  8d  of  November,  1822. 

In  1830  and  1831,  extensive  revivals  occurred  in  his  churches,  as  the 
result  of  which  upwards  of  .eighty  new  members  were  added.  His  labours 
during  this  period  were  so  severe  as  materially  to  affect  his  health  —  he 
would  often  go  from  his  bed  to  the  pulpit,  and  from  the  pulpit  to  his  bed ; 
but  so  intensely  was  he  interested  in  the  passing  scene  that  all  personal 
considerations  seemed  to  be  forgotten.  He  was  accustomed  ever  afterwards 
to  recur  to  this,  as  perhaps  the  most  successful,  as  well  as  the  most  delight- 
ful, part  of  his  ministry. 

In  1832,  he  was  elected  to  the  Chair  of  Ecclesiastical  History  in  the 
Union  Theological  Seminary,  Ya.;  an  institution  under  the  care  of  the 
Synods  of  Virginia  and  North  Carolina.  This  appointment  occasioned  him 
great  doubt  in  respect  to  his  duty  ;  but,  after  having  seriously  considered 
it  for  several  months,  carefully  weighing  every  consideration  that  had. a 
bearing  upon  the  case,  he  reached  the  conclusion  that  it  was  better  that  he 
should  remain  with  his  pastoral  charge ;  and,  accordingly,  he  returned  a 
negative  answer. 

In  1883,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Union  College,  Schenectady,  N.  T. 

The  same  year  he  resigned  the  pastoral  care  of  the  Nutbush  Church,  and 
gave  the  portion  of  time  he  had  devoted  to  that,  to  the  Church  in  Clarks- 
ville,  Va.  In  1834,  he  relinquished  the  care  of  Grassy  Creek  Church,  and 
his  labours  were  now  divided  between  the  Churches  of  Clarksville  and 
Shiloh,  in  Granville  County,  over  which  he  was  installed  in  July,  1835. 
Nutbush,  Grassy  Creek,  and  Shiloh  are  all  in  the  same  neighbourhood. 

Dr.  Graham  was  a  delegate  to  the  General  Assembly  from  the  Orange 
Presbytery  in  1886  and  1837, — both  memorable  years, — the  one  as  having 
immediately  preceded,  the  other  as  having  witnessed,  the  division  of  the 
Church.  He  acted  promptly  and  efficiently  with  the  majority  throughoai 
that  great  struggle,  and  had  no  doubt  that  the  Exscinding  Acts  were  justi- 
fied anc^  demanded  by  the  then  existing  state  of  things. 

In  the  spring  of  1838,  he  was  again  called  by  the  two  Synods  to  the 
Professorship  in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary ;  and  so  harmoniously  wss 
the  appointment  made,  and  so  urgent  were  his  brethren  that  he  should 


SAMUEL  LYLE  GRAHAM.  g2b 

M0ept  it,  that  lie  was  finallj  brought  to  regard  it  as  a  call  of  Providenoe, 
and  treated  it  accordingly.  He  had  served  his  people  in  the  luinbtrj  of 
the  Gospel  with  great  fidelity  and  acceptance  seventeen  years,  and  tho 
separation  from  them  did  not  take  place  without  occasioning  a  severe  and 
mutual  pang.  He  removed  to  Prince  Edward  in  the  autumn,  and  entered 
on  the  duties  of  his  Professorship ;  but,  while  faithfully  discharging  these, 
he  spent  most  of  his  Sabbaths  in  supplying  vacant  churches  within  a 
moderate  distance  of  the  Seminary. 

During  the  last  few  years  of  Dr.  Graham's  life,  he  is  understood  to  have 
been  painfully  affected  by  the  fact  that  the  number  of  students  in  the  Semi- 
nary was  so  small,  and  to  have  expressed  the  apprehension  that  perhaps  a 
favourable  change  in  that  respect  might  be  effected  by  his  withdrawing  from 
the  Professorship,  that  some  person  might  succeed  to  the  place,  of  higher 
qualifications  than  his  modesty  allowed  him  to  < claim  for  himself.  In  the 
spring  of  1851,  his  views  and  feelings  on  the  subject  had  become  so  much 
matured,  that  he  tendered  his  resignation  to  the  Directors  of  the  Seminary. 
In  the  mean  time,  he  had  made  the  necessary  preparations  to  return  to  the 
duties  of  a  Pastor,  in  which  he  had  always  found  so  much  of  serene  and 
elevated  enjoyment.  The  Presbyterian  Church  of  Amelia  County,  Va., 
had  made  an  earnest  application  for  his  services,  and  he  seemed  favourably 
inclined  to  their  call.  But  it  was  not  the  will  of  his  Master  that  his 
labours  should  be  continued  on  earth.  Immediately  after  his  return  from 
Charlotte  Court  House,  where  he  had  been  preaching  by  invitation  in 
October,  1851,  he  showed  symptoms  of  fever,  which  increased  until  he 
became  seriously  ill.  He  was  sedulously  attended  by  several  physicians ; 
but  every  effort  of  skill  and  affection  proved  unavailing.  When  he  knew 
that  the  time  of  his  departure  was  at  hand,  he  called  around  him  all  the 
members  of  his  family,  and  took  leave  of  each,  with  a  few  words  of  appro- 
priate, affectionate  counsel  and  admonition.  The  Rev.  Dr.  B.  H.  Rice,* 
who  was  then  Pastor  of  the  College  Church  at  Prince  Edward,  coming  into 
his  room  a  short  time  before  his  death,  said  to  him — **  Dr.  Alexander  has 

*  Bbvjakik  Holt  Ricb  was  born  ntear  New  London  in  Bedford  Coontj,  Va.,  on  the  29th 
of  November,  1782.  Ho  was  ho^fally  converted  under  the  ministry  of  the  Rev.  James  Tur- 
ner, and  received  the  whole  of  his  education  under  the  direction  of  his  elder  brother,  the  Rev. 
Dr.  John  H.  Rice,  with  whom  he  lived  six  years.  He  then  went  to  North  Carolina,  where  he 
tansht  a  school,  first  at  Newbem,  and  afterwards  at  Raleieh  in  connection  with  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Mcrheeten.  While  at  Raleigh  he  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Orange,  on  the 
28th  of  September,  1810.  In  the  spring  of  1811,  he  was  sent  aa  a  missionary  to  the  sea-l>oard 
eoanties  of  North  Carolina,  under  an  appointment  of  tho  General  Assemblv.  On  the  3d  of 
April,  1812,  the  Presbytery  that  licensed  him,  ordained  him,  sine  titulOf  and  appointed  him  a 
Commissioner  to  attond  the  approaching  meeting  of  the  Qeneral  AsMmbly  in  Philadelphia.  In 
December  following,  he  oommenoed  preaching  at  Petersburg,  Va.,  then  one  of  the  most  difficult 
and  unpromising  fields  that  could  have  been  selected.  But,  by  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his 
labours,  he  succeeded  in  soon  or^nizing  a  Church,  of  which  he  was  installed  Pastor  by  the  old 
Hanover  Presbytery,  in  the  spnng  of  1814.  Here  he  remained  seventeen  years,  and  had  an 
eminently  sneoessfnl  ministry.  In  1829,  he  was  Moderator  of  the  Qeneral  Assemblv.  In  tho 
autumn  of  the  same  year,  he  aoeepted  a  call  from  the  Pearl  Street  Church,  New  York,  and  was 
installed  on  the  3d  of  December  following.  In  1832,  he  resigned  his  charge,  and  became  Asso- 
eialo  Secretary  of  the  American  Home  Missionary  Society.  In  September  of  the  same  year, 
he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  In  the  summer 
of  1833,  (August  15,)  he  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Princeton,  N.  J.  After 
remaining  here  nearlv  fourteen  years,  he  again  resigned  his  charge,  on  the  26th  of  April,  1847, 
on  the  groand  that  he  felt  himself  inadequate  to  discharge  properly  any  longer  his  pastoral 
doties.  He  then  proceede«i  to  Virginia  to  visit  his  ftiends,  and  a  few  months  after  became  the 
Pastor  of  the  Hampden  Sidney  College  Church,  in  which  connection  he  continued  till  the  oloie 
ef  life.  He  was  attaeked  with  paralysis  fn  the  pulpit  on  the  17th  of  January,  1856,  and  died 
on  the  24th  of  February  fbllowing,  in  the  seventy -fourth  year  of  his  age.  Hto  wUh,  who  wa« 
a  sister  of  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander,  and  one  of  the  excellent  of  the  earth,  died  at  Priaoeton 
en  the  6tb  of  Mareh,  ld4t.  Dr.  Rice  possessed  superior  talentf  and  an  admirable  spiiiti  and 
waa  eapable  of  a  very  commanding  eifort  in  the  pulpit. 

You  IV.  79 


g26  FBESBTTERIAK.  • 

got  borne  befbre  you/' — ^allading  to  the  death  of  that  venerable  falfter,  Am 
news  of  which  bad  then  just  reached  him.  Immediately  the  dying  man 
raised  himself  in  bed,  and  in  a  tone,  triumphant  even  in  its  feebleness,  cried 
out, — **  Oh,  is  it  possible — is  it  so — I  had  almost  shouted  *  Glory.'  Heaven 
lias  seldom  received  from  earth  such  an  inhabitant.  A  great  and  good 
man !  His  society  in  Heaven  will  be  invaluable."  After  this  he  lived  bat 
a  few  hours.  The  fever  which  had  prostrated  him,  left  him  so  weak  as  to 
forbid  reaction,  and  calmly  and  peacefully  he  passed  away.  He  died  on 
the  29th  of  October,  1851,  in  the  fifty*eighth  year  of  his  i^e. 

In  May,  1821,  he  was  married  to  Elisabeth  Lockhart,  daughter  of  Gap- 
tain  Charles  Arbuckle,  of  Lewisburg,  Va.,  and  neioe  of  Greneral  Arbnekle. 
late  of  the  U.  S.  Army.  She  became  the  mother  of  four  daughters, — only 
two  of  whom  survive — one  is  married  to  the  Rev.  James  Naylor,  a  Pres- 
bytcrian  minister  in  Mecklenburg  County,  Va., — the  other,  to  R.  R.  Howi- 
son,  Esq.,  a  lawyer  residing  at  Richmond,  and  the  author  of  a  History  of 
Virginia.  Mrs.  Graham,  who  was  a  lady  of  great  excellence,  died  on  the 
22d  of  October,  1834.  In  April,  1836,  Dr.  Graham  was  married  a  second 
time  to  Mrs.  Judith  Christian  Watkins,  widow  of  Joel  Watkins,  and 
daughter  of  James  B.  Daniel  of  Mecklenburg  County,  in  whom  he  found  a 
most  fitting  companion,  as  well  as  an  excellent  mother  to  his  children.  By 
this  marriage  there  were  two  children,  who,  with  their  mother,  now  (1857) 
reside  in  North  Carolina. 

Dr.  Graham  published  a  Sermon  entitled  '*  Beginning  at  Jerusalem," 
preached  before  the  Central  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  1835 ;  and  the 
Address  delivered  on  occasion  of  his  Induction  to  the  Professorship,  1838. 

Dr.  Graham  was  my  fellow-student  at  Princeton  for  about  two  yean; 
but  I  never  saw  him  after  he  left  the  Seminary.  I  remember  him  as  rather 
below  the  middle  stature,  of  dark  complexion,  dark  hair  and  eyes,  and  of 
an  expression  of  countenance  more  than  ordinarily  intellectual,  but  at  the 
same  time  exceedingly  modest  and  quiet.  In  his  manners  he  was  retiring, 
even  shy ;  though  his  reserve  gradually  yielded  as  one  became  acquainted 
with  him.  He  was  pleasant  in  his  social  intercourse,  and  would  sometimes 
say  a  very  witty  thing,  apparently  without  knowing  it,  but  was  never  very 
prodigal  of  words.  I  think  the  reputation  was  generally  conceded  to  him  of 
being  a  man  of  a  decidedly  vigorous  intellect,  and  much  given  to  profound 
reflection.  His  exercises  in  the  Oratory  were  always  highly  respectable; 
but  his  bashful  manner  of  speaking  was  unfavourable  to  a  strong  impres- 
sion. I  used  to  think  that  he  could  more  advantageously  exercise  his  min- 
istry among  my  countrymen  than  his  own ;  for  whereas  the  Yankees  at  that 
day  were,  to  say  the  least,  very  tolerant  of  a  staid  and  quiet  manner,  it  was 
understood  that  the  people  of  the  Old  Dominion  demanded  in  their  preach- 
ers  a  liberal  proportion  of  freedom  and  fire.  I  have  understood  that  his 
manner  afterwards  gained  much  in  animation.  He  was  always  a  great 
favourite  of  Dr.  Alexander ;  and  that  of  itself  is  no  mean  praise. 

PROM  THE  HON.  A.  W.  VENABLE, 

MBMBSB  or  00NGKX88. 

BaawHsviLLB,  Granville  Goonty,  N.  C  ,  ^ 
19th  March,  1857.  } 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  In  asking  for  my  recollections  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Graham, 
you  ask  of  me  a  service,  which  it  is  alike  ea.sy  and  pleasant  to  me  to  peribna 


SAMQIL  hXhM  imAMAU.  Qgff 

§f9  I  had  the  best  opportunity  of  knowing  hira,  and  regarded  htm  with  high 
esteem  and  affection.  My  intimate  acquaintance  with  him  commenced  in  1817, 
while  I  wa3  a  student  in  Princeton  College,  and  he  a  student  in  the  Theological 
Seminary.  A  few  years  after  that  time,  I  married  and  settled  in  his  congrega- 
tion, and  enjoyed  his  pastoral  care  and  his  edifying  public  ministrations,  until 
he  accepted  the  Professorship  in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary.  It  was  to  m* 
a  great  individual  privation,  when  he  was  re&oved  to  another  sphere  of  labour; 
and  yet,  believing  as  I  did  that  it  was  a  field  of  higher  usefulness,  and  one  for 
which  he  possessed  superior  qualifications,  I  felt  constrained,  both  as  a  membar 
of  the  Synod  of  North  Carolina,  and  as  a  Director  of  the  Seminary,  to  foraga 
all  personal  considerations,  and  do  what  I  could  in  aid  of  his  being  transfiirnid 
to  the.Profesaonship.  My  relations  with  him  were  of  an  intimate  and  endearing 
kind,  till  he  passed  from  his  labours  to  his  reward. 

Dr.  Graham's  personal  appearance,  though  far  from  being  imposing^  was  indi- 
cative of  a  thoughtful,  earnest  and  decided  character.  Without  possessing  a 
high  degree  of  imagination,  or  being  distinguished  for  the  rapidity  of  his  intel- 
lectual movements,  his  perceptions  were  clear,  his  judgment  sound,  and  his  power 
of  nico  discrimination  somewhat  remarkable.  His  opinions  were  not  hastily 
formed,  but  were  generally  the  result  of  much  sober  and  mature  thought;  and 
when  formed,  they  were  not  easily  surrendered.  He  was  cautious  and  far- 
seeing, — a  wise  and  judicious  counsellor  in  matters  of  private  interest,  as  well  as 
those  pertaining  to  the  welfare  of  the  Church. 

As  a  preacher,  Dr.  Graham  was  deservedly  held  in  very  high  esteem.  He 
certainly  could  not  be  called,  in  the  higher  sense,  a  pulpit  orator,  and  yet  he  was 
to  me  a  highly  pleasant  and  interesting  speaker.  His  sermons,  instead  of  being 
mere  unpremeditated  effusions,  were  carefully  and  devoutly  elaborated,  and 
were  enriched  with  much  evangelical,  striking  and  original  thought.  Indeed  I 
have  known  few  preachers  who  had  so  happy  a  faculty  at  combining  illustration 
and  argument,  of  rendering  prominent  the  great  truths  of  the  Gospel,  and  at  the 
same  time  keeping  out  of  the  beaten  track,  as  Dr.  Graham.  And  then  he  was 
remarkable  also  for  condensation — ^he  never  preached  long  sermons,  though  each 
sermon  always  contained  as  much  matter  as  the  intelligent  hearer  could  profita- 
bly digest,  and  much  more  than  many  preachers  contrive  to  spread  over  doable 
or  triple  the  same  space.  His  preaching  was  eminently  scriptural,  and  his 
proofis  were  generally  derived  from  Scripture,  and  were  so  clear  that  the  hum- 
blest intellect  could  feel  their  force.  His  prayers  were  short,  comprehensive, 
and  remarkable  for  simplicity  and  childlike  reverence.  Indeed  thare  was  an 
admirable  fitness  and  congruity  in  all  his  public  services. 

Dr.  Graham  combined  economy  with  benevolence.  His  contributions  to  the 
cause  of  religion  and  of  education  were  very  liberal  in  consideration  of  the  amount 
of  his  property;  but  such  was  his  prudence  in  the  management  of  his  financial 
concerns,  that  he  was  a  stranger  to  pecuniary  difficulties.  Independent  but  not 
wealthy,  he  was  always  unembarrassed,  and  ready  to  do  his  part  towards  help- 
ing forward  any  good  object  that  had  a  reasonable  claim  upon  him.  He  provided 
comfortably  for  his  family,  and  was  thus  saved  from  those  anxieties  concerning 
them  which  so  often  embitter  the  last  days  of  ministers  of  the  Gospel,  who 
have  not  considered,  during  health  and  life,  the  necessity  of  combining  some  of 
the  wisdom  of  this  world  in  the  management  of  their  temporal  concerns  with 
the  higher  duties  of  their  calling.  Much  of  painful  history  would  have  been 
unwritten,  if  more  of  such  prudence  had  been  practised  by  many  whose  bright 
and  useful  lives  present  scarce  any  other  thing  to  mar  that  brightness  and  curtail 
that  usefulness. 

No  man  had  clearer  or  more  definite  opinions  upon  the  passing  events  of  his 
time;  no  one  was  more  settled  in  his  convictions  upon  subjects  involving  the 
social  and  political  welfare  of  the  country;  and  yet  no  man  more  fully  appre- 


1 


0g^  pBssBmuAir. 

ci»ted  the  dignity  of  his  station,  or  rerolted  more  instinetiTelj  at  minisien 
of  the  Gospel  becoming  mixed  up  with  the  party  politics  of  his  day.  He 
regarded  it  as  nothing  less  than  sacrilegious  presumption  for  a  preacher  to  select 
a  passage  of  Scripture  as  a  text,  and  subsidize  the  pulpit  and  the  Sabbath  to 
tho  purpose  of  pouring  out  a  torrent  of  bitterness  and  railing, — such  as  might 
be  expected  from  some  half  phrenzied  political  demagogue.  Though  fully  sensi- 
ble of  his  rights  and  duties  as  a  citizen,  he  did  not  forget  that  he  was  an  ambas- 
sador of  Christ,  and  as  such  was  bound,  if  need  be,  even  to  forego  what  he  might 
reasonably  claim,  if  thereby  he  might  extend  his  own  influence  for  good,  and  do 
honour  to  Ilim  from  whom  he  had  received  his  commission. 

In  the  judicatories  of  the  Church  he  was  judicious  and  conciliating,  but  firmly 
aad  immovably  attached  to  the  principles  of  the  Presbyterian  Constitution. 
Opposed  to  any  alteration  of  our  system  of  responsibilities,  he  demanded  of 
every  candidate  for  licensure  or  ordination,  the  adoption,  in  their  true  intent  and 
meaning,  of  all  the  doctrines  of  our  Church,  in  respect  to  both  faith  and  polity. 
Believing  in  the  necessity  of  high  intellectual  culture  in  the  ministry,  he  was 
lealously  opposed  to  any  relaxation  of  the  existing  standard.  He  believed  that 
the  progressive  age  demanded  an  increase  rather  than  an  abatement  of  literary 
qualifications.  But,  after  all,  he  gave  to  an  earnest,  devoted  piety  the  highest 
place;  and  he  laboured  to  impress  all  candidates  for  the  ministry  with  the  para- 
mount importance  of  this,  to  the  extent  of  his  ability.  It  was  a  fovourite  opin- 
ion of  his  that  there  is  danger  of  appropriating  an  undue  proportion  of  time  to 
the  study  of  other  branches,  to  the  neglect  of  the  study  of  the  Scriptures  them- 
Mlves. 

Dr.  Qraham,  though  by  no  means  what  you  would  call  a  great  talker,  pos- 
sessed social  qualities  that  made  him  very  attractive,  especially  in  the  circle  of 
his  more  intimate  acquaintance.  He  was  particularly  popular  with  young  men; 
and  among  them  were  some  of  his  most  devoted  friends.  He  always  took  a 
kindly  interest  in  their  enterprises  and  pursuits,  was  ready,  when  occasion 
required,  to  meet  tliem  with  a  word  of  counsel,  and  sometimes  contributed  not 
a  little  to  their  amusement  by  his  keen,  but  quiet  and  innocent,  humour.  More- 
over, he  sometimes  extended  a  helping  hand  to  those  who  were  in  need,  and,  by 
a  timely  contribution  from  his  own  purse,  assisted  them  over  difficult  places, 
which  otherwise  might  have  discouraged  them  from  any  flirther  effort. 

I  have  thus,  my  dear  Sir,  given  you  as  briefly  as  I  could,  my  general  impres- 
sions of  the  character  of  my  lamented  Pastor  and  jfriend.  I  assure  you,  there 
was  no  necessity  for  an  apology  in  calling  upon  me  for  this  service,  for  it  is  only 
a  labour  of  love,  and  I  rejoice  to  be  able  to  render  this  tribute  to  his  memory. 

I  am,  with  sincere  regard, 

Tours  most  truly, 

A.  W,  VENABLE. 


WILUAM  KSTIMS.  JfjfJQ 


WILLIAM  NEVINS,  D.  D  * 

1819-1835. 

William  Nevins,  the  son  of  David  and  Mary  (Hubbard)  Ncvins,  was 
1)orn  in  Norwich,  Conn.,  October  13,  1797,  and  was  the  youngest  of  twelve 
children.  His  father  was  a  highly  respectable  man,  and  an  officer  in  the 
-war  of  the  Revolution ;  and  his  mother  was  a  lady  of  uncommonly  estima* 
ble  qualities.  Though  neither  of  his  parents  were  professors  of  religioQ^ 
previous  to  his  reaching  mature  years,  his  mother  particularly  seems  to  have, 
evinced  a  regard  for  the  higher  interests  of  her  children,  and  to  have 
bestowed  much  attention  upon  their  moral  and  religious  culture. 

William  was  originally  destined,  in  the  intention  of  his  father,  to  mer* 
can  tile  life;  and,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  he  commenced  a  clerkship  in  a 
counting  house  in  the  city  of  New  York.  But  both  he  and  his  friende 
quickly  found  that  this  was  not  the  sphere  in  which  he  was  likely  to  move 
most  easily  or  most  advantageously.  His  unquenchable  thirst  for  knowledge 
led  him  to  aspire  continually  to  a  collegiate  education ;  and,  accordingly,  at 
the  end  of  one  year,  by  the  consent  of  his  parents,  he  withdrew  from  his 
employment  as  a  clerk,  and  returned  home  with  a  view  to  prosecute  his  studies 
in  preparation  for  College. 

He  entered  Yale  College  in  1812,  and  graduated  in  1816.  Without 
being  a  very  laborious  student,  he  held  a  highly  respectable  standing  in  his 
class,  and  received  one  of  the  higher  honours  at  his  graduation.  He  was 
distinguished  for  quickness  of  apprehension,  and  a  very  keen  perception 
and  love  of  the  ludicrous ;  and  this  latter  quality,  though  afterwards  greatly 
modified  and  restrained  by  religious  influences,  was  always  more  or  less 
perceptible  till  the  close  of  life.  During  the  earlier  part  of  his  college 
course,  his  favourite  element  was  in  circles  of  gaiety  ;  and  there  was  notli- 
ing  to  indicate  that  he  was  not  destined  to  live  and  die  a  mere  man  of  the 
world  ;  but,  during  an  extensive  revival  of  religion,  which  occurred  in  the 
spring  of  1815,  his  mind  became  deeply  impressed  with  eternal  realities, 
and  ere  long  imbued  with  the  joy  and  peace  in  believing.  The  friend  to 
whose  instrumentality,  I  believe,  he  felt  more  indebted  in  connection  with 
this  event,  than  any  other,  was  Mr.  Samuel  B.  Ingersoll,t  then  an  under- 

•  Presbyterian,  1835.— Memoir  by  the  Rer.  WiUifm  Plnmer,  D.  D. 

t  Samubl  B.  lifGBRSOLL  was  bom  at  Salem,  Mass.,  October  13, 1785.  At  the  age  of  seven- 
teen, he  entered  on  sea-faring  life,  in  which  he  continued  about  ten  yean,  till  he  was  advanoed 
to  the  post  of  Commander.  Though  he  had  had  a  religions  education,  he  wm  regardless  of 
bis  spiritual  interests  till  the  year  1809,  when,  in  consequence  of  being  placed  in  imminent 
jeopardy  from  a  fearful  shipwreck,  he  was  roused  to  serious  reflection,  and  resoWed  that  if  he 
•hoold  ever  see  land  again,  he  would  devote  himself  to  the  service  of  God.  On  his  return  home, 
bis  friends  noticed  that  his  spirits  seemed  depressed,  but  he  did  not  reveal  to  them  the  cause. 
Having  a  lucrative  offer,  he  sailed  again  for  Europe,  and  soon  after  leavinjf  the  port,  he  lost  the 
mate  of  his  vessel, — an  event  which  strongly  alTected  his  feelings.  He  now  prayed  for  the  fint 
time  in  the  presence  of  others,  performed  the  funeral  rites  of  hu  friend,  and  committed  his  body 
to  the  deep:  and  from  that  time,  morning  and  evenine  prayers  were  regularly  offered  on  boanl 
the  ship.  When  he  came  home  again,  ne  avowed  the  change  in  his  feelings,  and  his  whole 
demeanour  showed  that  he  was  living  for  new  objects.  In  June,  1811,  he  joined  the  First  Con- 
gregational Church  in  Beverly,  to  wnich  his  father  s  family  belonged,  then  under  the  care  of 
the  Rev.  Abid  Abbot.  Shortly  after  this,  he  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  the  ministry;  aad 
having  gone  through  his  course  preparatory  to  entering  College,  partly  at  New  Ipswich,  N.  U., 
mod  partly  at  Farmington,  Conn.,,  he  joincl  the  Sophomore  cliies  at  Yale  in  the  autumn  of  I8l4» 
and  grarlnated  in  1817.  Immediately  after  this,  he  placed  himself  as  a  theological  student 
under  the  instruction  of  Professor  Fitoh,  and  in  May,  1819,  nas  licensed  to  preach  by  tbeWeat- 


030  PRMBPrSRiAK: 

graduate,  and  afterwards  settled  in  the  ministrj  at  Shrewsbnry,  Biass.  TUs 
ohange  gave  a  new  complexion  to  his  life ;  and,  after  much  serious  delibe- 
ration, be  resolved  to  gire  himself  to  the  ?rork  of  the  ministry. 

In  accordance  with  this  resolution,  immediately  after  having  completed 
bis  collegiate  course,  be  became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary  ai 
Princeton.     Here  be  exhibited  a  strongly  marked,  and  in  many  respects  an 
exceedingly  interesting,  character.     The  faculty  which  seemed  predominant 
in  most  of  his  written  exercises  was  imagination;  insomuch  that  few,  if 
any,  of  bis  contemporaries  in  the  Seminary  gave  him  credit  for  the  amonni 
of  strength  and  discrimination  which  be  actually  possessed.     He  sometimes 
showed  himself  capable  of  very  high  eflforts  in  the  dramatic;    and  some 
beside  myself  will  remember  one  of  his  exercises  in  the  Oratory,  in  which 
be  described  the  terrible  negotiation  between  Judas  and  the  murderers  of 
our  Lord,  with  such  graphic  and  startling  effect,  that  it  seemed  as  if    the 
sound  of  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  as  they  were  counted  out,  fell  upon 
(^very  ear.     His  natural   fondness  for  the  ludicrous,  already  referred  to, 
oame  out  not  only  in  his  private  intercourse,  but  not  unfrequently  in   the 
weekly  discussions  of  the  Theological  Society ;  and  perhaps  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  he  rarely  rose  to  speak,  but  that  it  was  a  signal  to  a  large 
part  of  his  audience  to  get  ready  for  a  hearty  laugh.     Those  who  only  met 
him  in    the  ordinary  intercourse  of  the  institution,  and  who  were   never 
admitted  to  the  interior  of  his  experience,  were  likely  to  form  a  very  par- 
tial view  of  his  Christian  character.     Indeed,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  his 
keen  wit  and  good-natured  sarcasm  were  sometimes  indulged,  at  too  great 
an  expense ;  but  those  who  knew  him  best,  knew  that  these  very  exhibitions 
<>f  cheei-fulness, — degenerating  perhaps  into  levity,  were  not  only  the  occa- 
Mon  of  bitter  repentance,  but  sometimes  of  the  deepest  spiritual  gloom.     No 
one  could  hear  him  pray  without  being  convinced  that  his  utterances  at  the 
throne  of  grace  were  from  a  heart  accustomed  alike  to  self-communion  and 
godly  sorrow. 

Having  completed  the  prescribed  course  of  three  years  in  the  Seminary, 
Mr.  Nevins  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  New  London  Association,  at 
Lisbon,  Conn.,  in  September,  1819,  and  preached  his  first  Sermon  the  next 
Sabbath  in  the  pulpit  of  the  Eev.  Mr.  Waldo''^  of  Griswold.  In  a  letter 
which  I  received  from  him,  written  immediately  after,  he  remarked  that  he 
got  very  calmly  and  comfortably  through  the  service,  and  that  so  far  as  he 
knew,  the  only  complaints  made  against  him  were  that  he  spoke  too  low, 

em  Association  of  New  Haven  County.  In  December  following,  be  was  married  to  Miss  Whit- 
tlesey, a  very  respectable  lady  of  New  Haven.  On  the  14th  of  Jane,  1820,  he  was  ordained  as 
Colleague  Pastor  with  the  Kev.  Dr.  Joseph  Sumner  of  Shrewsbury.  When  be  had  preached 
but  a  single  Sabbath,  he  was  taken  ill,  returned  to  his  friends  at  Beverly,  and,  after  languishing 
about  five  months  in  extreme  suffering,  died  on  the  14tb  of  November,  1820.  His  introductoiy 
(and  as  it  proved  his  final)  Sermon  at  Shrewsbury  was  published.  A  more  lovely,  beantifoU 
or  elevated  Christian  character  than  his  I  have  never  known.  His  good  influence  in  Yale  Col- 
lege it  is  impossible  adequately  to  estimate. 

Dr.  Sumner,  referred  to  above,  was  a  native  of  PomfVet,  Conn.;  was  graduated  at  Yale 
College  in  1750;  was  ordained  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Shrewsbury,  June  23,  1762;  received 
the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Harvard  College  and  the  College  of  South  Carolina  in 
1814;  and  died  December  9,  1824.  aged  eighty -five.  He  published  a  Sermon  at  the  ordinatioa 
of  Samuel  Sumner,  at  Southborough,  Mass.,  17U1;  a  Thanksgiving  Sermon,  1799;  a  Half- 
Ceotury  Sermon,  1812. 

*  HoKATio  Waldo  was  a  native  of  Coventry,  Conn. ;  was  graduated  at  Williams  College  ia 
1804;  was  a  Tutor  in  the  College  in  1806-07;  was  settled  as  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Griswold, 
Conn.,  in  1810;  resigned  his  pastoral  charge  in  1830;  and  went  to  reside  in  Portaga,  N.  Y., 
wliere  he  died  in  1840,  aged  sixty -nine. 


WILLIAM  KSYIKS.  ggX 

and  with  too  Utile  animatiOD ;  both  of  which  faults  he  trusted  he  should 
live  to  correct. 

The  great  question  that  now  urged  itself  upon  him,  had  respect  to  the 
choice  of  a  field  of  labour.  About  this  time  his  attention  was  particularly 
drawn  towards  the  rising  Republics  of  South  America ;  and  he  had  woU 
nigh  formed  the  purpose  of  giving  himself  to  the  missionary  work  in  that 
dark  part  of  the  world.  Meanwhile  he  travelled  as  far  South  as  Virginia ; 
and  in  Kichmond  particularly  made  a  brief  sojourn,  and  occupied  himself 
for  a  time  in  endeavouring  to  carry  the  Gospel  among  the  wretched  inmates 
of  the  penitentiary.  On  reflecting  more  maturely  upon  his  South  American 
project,  he  was  induced  to  abandon  it,  from  a  conviction  that  the  state  of 
the  country  was  not  ripe  for  the  contemplated  enterprise. 

In  August,  1820,  he  commenced  preaching  as  a  candidate  to  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church  in  Baltimore,  then  vaoant  by  the  death  of  the  Rev. 
Sr.  Inglis ;  and  on  the  19th  of  October  following,  he  was  ordained  and 
installed  as  its  Pastor.  The  Sermon  on  the  occasion  was  preached  by  his 
friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Miller  of  Princeton ;  and,  as  it  contained  some  state" 
ments  in  respect  to  Unitarianism,  that  contravened  the  judgments  and  feel- 
ings of  -the  advocates  of  that  system,  it  became  the  subject  of  animadver- 
sion, in  a  long  series  of  articles  in  the  **  Unitarian  Miscellany,"  which  were 
ultimately  enlarged  into  an  octavo  volume. 

On  the  13th  of  November,  1822,  Mr.  Nevins  was  married  to  Mary 
Lloyd,  daughter  of  the  Hon.  Philip  Barton  Key,  of  Georgetown, — a  lady 
of  fine  qualities  and  accomplishments,  and  well  fitted  to  grace  the  important 
station  to  which  her  marriage  introduced  her.  They  had  five  children, 
only  three  of  whom  survived  their  parents. 

Few  young  ministers  have  assumed  such  weighty  responsibility,  or  placed 
themselves  in  circumstances  of  so  much  peril,  as  did  Mr.  Nevins,  in  taking 
upon  himself  such  a  pastoral  charge.  Not  only  was  it  one  of  the  largest 
and  most  respectable  congregations  in  the  country,  but  it  was  rather  distin- 
guished, at  that  time,  for  the  prevalence  of  the  spirit  of  worldliness ;  and 
what  greatly  increased  the  difficulty  of  the  case  was,  that  the  youthful 
pastor  was  conscientiously  attached  to  the  strict  plan  of  baptism ; — in  other 
words,  he  maintained  that  baptism  should  be  aduiiiiistcred  only  to  children, 
one  of  whose  parents  at  least  was  a  communicating  member  of  the  Church ; 
whereas  the  prevailing  doctrine  and  practice  of  that  Chureli  had  always 
been  of  an  opposite  character.  When  his  views  of  this  subject,  and  his 
purpose  to  carry  them  out,  came  to  be  made  known,  it  was  natural  that 
they  should  be  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  an  offensive  innovation ;  and 
accordingly  no  small  dissatisfaction  was  expressed,  and  some  few  individuals, 
it  is  believed,  actually  loft  the  Church,  while  others  remained  in  a  state  of 
some  disquietude.  Mr.  Nevins,  however,  was  so  evidently  conscientious  in 
his  views,  and  earnest  in  his  purpose,  and  withal  was  so  capable  of  making 
a  vigorous  defence  of  the  position  which  he  had  taken,  and  was  so 
respectful  and  conciliatory  towards  those  who  differed  from  him,  that 
the  opposition  which  was  at  first  awakened,  gradually  died  away;  and 
ere  long  the  Church  settled  down  in  the  adoption. of  the  principle  which 
he  had  so  strenuously  urged.  With  less  firmness  or  conscientiousness  he 
would  have  yielded  to  the  opposition  ;  or  with  less  sagacity  or  forbearance 
he  would  have  been  swept  away  by  it ;  but  it  happened  that  there  was  in 
his  character  an  assemblage  of  qualities  that  singularly  qualified  him  &r 


0S£  FBXSBTnEIAll. 

jSnoh  an  emeigeooj,  onabling  him  at  the  same  time  to  hold  his  ptinoiples  and 

hold  his  place. 

For  several  years  do  remarkable  results  were  apparent  from  his  ministry, 
though  there  seemed  to  be  a  gradual  improvement  in  the  spirit  and  habits 
of  the  people.  But  in  the  winter  of  1826-27,  a  general  attention  to  religion 
prevailed  throughout  his  oongregation,  in  consequence  of  which  the  number 
of  communicants  was  considerably  increased,  and  the  Church  greatly 
advanced  in  spirituality  and  efficiency.  He  evinced  not  only  great  zeal  bat 
great  discretion  in  connection  with  this  most  welcome  revival ;  and  neither 
then,  nor  on  any  subsequent  similar  occasion,  did  he  even  connive  at  the 
workings  of  that  fanatical  spirit,  which,  for  several  years,  swept,  with  such 
desolating  efifcct,  through  many  of  the  American  Churches. 

In  the  summer  of  1832,  the  oity  of  Baltimore,  in  common  with  nearly  all 

the  large  cities  of   the   United  States,  was  visited  by  that  overwhelming 

toourge,  the  cholera.     The  following  extract  from  Mr.  Nevins'  diary,  dated 

the  28th  of  August,  shows  what  was  the  state  of  his  mind  in  view  of  this 

fearful  visitation. 

*'The  cholera  is  raging  in  the  midst  of  us,  hnt  praised  be  God,  I  and  mine  are 
Bpared,  not  for  our  deserts,  but  for  his  great  mercies.  I  feared  that  when  I  sliould  bo 
called  to  visit  a  subject  of  this  disease,  I  should  be  appalled  at  the  prospect;  but  when 
the  summons  actually  came,  I  was  enabled  to  obey  it  without  the  smallest  hesitation  or 
trembling,  and  to  di'termine  at  once  to  comply  with  every  similar  call  in  future,  the 
,  which  I  have  been  aided  to  do.  God  gives  his  servants  grace  just  when  they  want;  not 
in  anticipation  of  their  necessities." 

A  little  before  the  close  of  September  of  this  year,  Mr.  Ncvins  was 
attacked  with  a  violent  bilious  fever,  which  kept  him  out  of  his  pulpit  for 
many  weeks,  and  for  some  time  excited  serious  apprehensions  lest  it  should 
terminate  his  labours  and  his  life.  And  indeed  it  may  be  said  that  his  days 
of  active  service  were  now  nearly  numbered  ;  for  though  he  preached  sub- 
sequently to  this,  yet,  early  the  next  spring,  we  find  him  travelling  for  the 
benefit  of  his  health,  and  labouring  under  the  malady  (an  affection  of  the 
throat  and  voice)  from  which  he  was  destined  never  to  recover.  Having 
stopped  for  a  while  at  various  points,  he  reached  home  in  the  early  part  of 
September,  with  his  health  apparently  a  good  deal  improved,  and  with 
strong  hopes  that  it  would  soon  be  entirely  restored.  We  find  in  his  diary 
at  this  period  a  most  grateful  recognition  of  the  Divine  goodness  towards 
him,  particularly  as  manifested  in  the  strong  attachment  of  his  people,  to 
whom  for  some  time  he  had  been  able  to  give  at  best  but  an  interrupted 
service. 

When  he  returned  to  the  bosom  of  his  rejoicing  family,  he  little 
dreamed  that  he  was  on  the  eve  of  the  most  distressing  bereavement  that 
could  occur  to  him.  The  cholera,  which  had  made  such  terrible  ravages 
two  years  before,  came  back  in  the  autumn  of  this  year,  to  fill  up  its 
measure  of  desolation,  and  at  a  most  unexpected  moment  his  own  beloved 
wife  was  numbered  among  its  victims.  The  following  affecting  record  of 
the  event,  and  of  his  exercises  in  connection  with  it,  is  dated  November  9, 
1834:— 

y  Last  night  at  a  quarter  before  twelve  o'clock,  the  desire  of  my  eyes,  my  beloved 
wife,  was  taken  from  me  to  God.  He  took  her.  I  had  often  consecrated  her  to  Him. 
And  He  but  claimed  his  right.  He  took  her,  and  took  her  I  believe,  to  Himself,  and 
now  but  for  God,  I  should  be  desolate  indeed.  I  record  it  to  his  praise  that,  during 
her  sickness  which  commenced  on  Friday  evening,  and  even  until  now,  I  think  I  ha?e 
had  much  of  his  presence  and  have  been  supported  by  Him.  Though  my  heart  has 
bledy  it  has  not  rebelled. 


WILLIAM  irsynrs.  ^3 

.  "  I  tbaok  (he  Lord  for  alll  h«Te  to  canfort  me  in  her  deatti.  I  befMi  early  to  Mk 
Iier  questions,  and  was  always  satisfactorily  answered.  She  said  she  did  love  Jesus, 
mod  trusted  that  she  was  going  to  Uim.  She  prayed  sweetly  that  God  would  take  her 
to  Himself,  not  because  of  any  worthiness  in  her,  but  alone  through  the  merits  of 
Christ.  She  spoke  much  of  her  unworthiness  and  of  her  wanderings  from  God.  Slie 
asked  once  to  have  a  hymn  sung,  and  when  I  asked  what  liymn,  she  said  that  about 
eroesing  over  Jordan, — which  one  of  our  sisters  sung.  She  said  she  had  always 
expect^  that  the  proispect  of  deatli  would  almost  frighten  her  out  of  existence,  but 
now  she  saw  no  terror  in  death,  aud  she  trusted  it  was  grace  that  took  away  that 
dread.  Oh,  I  trust  it  is  all  well  with  her.  Only  Friday  afternoon  I  made  a  renewed  and 
^lecial  consecration  of  her  unto  God,  and  my  prayer  for  her  has  always  been,  firtt 
aanctify  her  for  thyself,  and  only  secondarily  have  I  prayed,  spare  her  to  me.  Tliai 
she  might  love  Jesus  more  than  me  I  have  always  desired,  and  often  have  expressed 
to  her  that  desire.  That  prayer,  I  believe,  has  been  heard,  though,  as  she  said,  she 
loved  Him  not  enough.  When  I  asked  her  if  her  reliance  was  on  Him,  she  said,— 
'Yes,  «nar«/y.'" 

Bat  he  had  not  yet  exhausted  the  oup  of  sorrow.  In  December  sucoeed- 
ing  the  death  of  his  wife,  her  mother,  who  was  at  that  time  an  inmate  of 
))is  dwelling,  suddenly  sickened  and  died*  In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  written 
on  the  day  of  her  death,  he  says : — 

"  Just  forty  days  after  my  dear  Mary  left  me«  her  mother  followed.  Two  deaths  In 
this  house,  within  six  weeks !  What  a  new  state  of  things !  I  have  seen  not  only  the 
daughter  but  the  mother  die.  I  have  heard  the  death  groans  of  her  that  bore  and 
DurMd  uiy  Mary.  It  was  enough  for  me  that  she  was  the  mother  of  my  all.  She  died 
not  so  easy  as  my  dear  one  did;  but  I  confidently  believe  that  she  has  gone.,  through 
grace,  to  glory.  They  have  met  in  Ueaven.  •  •  •  I  must  have  done  with  earth, 
and  look  awav  towards  Heaven." 

In  1834,  Mr.  Nevins  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the 
College  of  New  Jersey. 

Notwithstanding  Dr.  Nevins  evinced  much  of  the  dignity  of  Christian 
subini^jsion  under  his  sore  bereavements,  it  was  apparent  to  his  friends  that 
his  health,  which  had  previously  seemed  somewhat  improved,  was  now 
rapidly  upon  the  wane.  He  preached  his  last  sermon  on  the  1st  of  January, 
1835,  on  Micah  vii.  8, — **  Who  is  a  God  like  unto  thee,  that  pardoneth 
iniquity?*'  Shortly  after  this,  he  passed  a  little  time  with  his  friends  in 
Philadelphia,  and  also  in  New  York,  and  then  embarked  for  St.  Croix,  to 
try  the  effect  of  a  milder  climate.  After  passing  several  weeks  on  that 
Island,  without  experiencing  the  benefit  he  had  hoped  for,  he  returned 
home,  not  doubting  that  the  time  of  his  departure  was  at  hand.  Having 
stopped  a  short  time  at  Qermantown,  he  passed  on  to  Baltimore,  desirous 
that  that  should  be  the  resting  place  of  his  mortal  remains  till  the  resur- 
rection. 

After  he  reached  home,  his  decline  became  more  rapid ;  but,  the  nearer 
he  approached  to  the  grave,  the  more  he  seemed  to  have  of  the  spirit  of 
Heaven.  The  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions 
was  in  session  in  Baltimore  during  some  of  the  last  days  of  his  life ;  and, 
having  sent  for  one  of  his  brethren  in  the  ministry,  who  was  a  member,  to 
come  to  his  room,  he  gave  him  one  hundred  dollars  for  the  Board,  and 
added, — ^*It  is,  I  suppose,  the  last  donation  I  shall  ever  make  to  the  cause 
of  Christ.  If  you  see  any  suitable  way  of  saying  it,  I  should  like  to  have 
it  known  that  the  nearer  I  get  to  Heaven,  the  dearer  is  the  cause  of  mis- 
sions to  my  heart."  Three  days  after  this,  it  became  manifest  that  death 
was  just  ready  to  do  its  work.  His  spirit,  however,  sustained  itself  amidst 
his  dying  struggles  with  dignified  and  joyful  confidence.  Indeed  it  was  not 
merely  a  tranquil, — it  was  a  triumphant,  death.  It  was  a  glorious  testi- 
mony to  the  power  and  grace  of  the  Saviour  and  the  Comforter  in  the  dork 

'  Vol..  IV.  80 


0j^  ^EBaxrwsiAK. 

▼alUj.  To  hi*  Inmily,  and  frieftds,  and  oongregatioii,  Ihe  loss  seamed  irre- 
parable; but  no  one  doubted  that  what  was  lost  to  earth  was  gained  to 
Heaven.  He  died  on  the  14th  of  September,  1885,  waBtio^  tweBtj-itiiie 
days  of  being  thirty-eight  years  of  age. 

Dr.  Nevins'  only  acknowledged  publioations  in  his  lifetime  were  twa 
Sermons  in  the  National  Preacher,  and  five  Tracts,  published  by  the  Amer* 
ican  Tract  Society,  entitled — "The  Great  Alternative" — **What  have  I 
done?*'— " What  must  I  do?"— **I  will  give  liberally"— *» Don't  break  the 
Sabbath."  Shortly  after  his  death,  there  was  published  a  duodecimo  volume 
composed  of  selections  from  his  manuscripts,  entitled  **  Select  Remains,'* 
which  was  introduced  by  an  interesting  Memoir  written  by  the  Rev.  William 
S.  Plumer,  D.  D.  His  contributions  to  the  New  York  Observer,  over  the 
finals  M.  S.,  were  published  about  the  same  time,  in  two  small  volumes, 
under  the  titles,  **  Thoughts  on  Popery"  and  '*  Practical  Thoughts."  A  vol- 
ume of  Sermons,  (thirty  in  number,)  selected  by  himself,  was  printed  in  1837. 

The  leading  features  of  Dr.  Nevins'  character  have  been  made  sufficiently 
apparent  in  what  has  been  already  said  of  his  brief  but  brilliant  career. 
One  thing,  however,  in  respect  to  him,  deserves  more  particular  considera- 
tion,— namely,  the  regular,  progressive  development  of  his  faculties;  the 
rapid  and  yet  symmetrical  growth  of  his  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious 
character. 

It  has  already  been  remarked  that,  while  he  was  a  student  of  Theology,  he 
was  especially  inclined  to  the  imaginative  and  poetical;  and  there  were  not 
wanting  those  who  thought  they  saw  in  this  peculiarity  of  his  constitution 
that  which  augured  inauspiciously  for  his  future  usefulness.  But,  as  years 
passed  over  him,  this  feature  of  his  mind  became  less  prominent,  while 
his  other  faculties  were  advanced  to  a  vigorous  maturity.  And  there  was  a 
similar  change  in  regard  to  his  moral  and  Christian  character.  Though 
it  was  always  manifest  to  his  intimate  friends  that  his  heart  was  deeply 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  piety,  yet  it  cannot  be  disguised  that,  in  the 
earlier  stages  of  his  religious  life,  his  conversation  was  not  always  sufficiently 
tempered  with  the  sobriety  of  the  Gospel,  and  he  sometimes  gave  occasion 
to  others  to  say  what  in  turn  furnished  occasion  to  him  to  weep.  But 
here  again,  as  he  advanced  in  the  Christian  life,  his  religious  character 
acquired  a  consistency,  and  dignity,  and  strength,  far  exceeding  all  that  had 
been  promised  by  its  earlier  developments ;  and  it  may  safely  be  said  that 
few  persons,  who  have  died  at  so  early  a  period,  have  left  behind  them  A 
savour  of  such  exalted  piety. 

As  might  naturally  be  expected  from  the  highly  favourable  change  which 
his  character  underwent  in  his  progress  to  mature  years,  he  reached  an 
eminence  in  his  profession,  which  disappointed  perhaps  the  most  sanguine  of 
his  friends.  His  earliest  efforts  in  the  pulpit  were  characterized  by  such  au 
exuberance  of  beautiful  imagery,  that,  though  they  were  listened  to  hy 
multitudes  with  almost  boundless  admiration,  the  more  judicious  and  serious 
class  of  hearers  sometimes  expressed  the  fear  that  the  imagination  was 
cared  for  at  the  expense  of  the  heart  and  conscience.  The  experience  of  a 
few  years,  however,  wrought  a  wonderful  change  in  the  character  of  his 
ministrations.  His  preaching  became  as  remarkable  for  its  directness,  and 
pungency,  and  thrilling  power  over  the  innermost  soul,  as  it  had  been 
for  its  profusion  of  the  ornamental  and  fascinating.  There  was  withal  an 
increased  earnestness  and  unction  in  his  manner,  that  fiutened  upon  every 


iriLUAX  ITBTIVS.  fgg) 

hauer  th«oonviiOtion  thai  Idft^wB  spint  was  ormrwketmed  viKh  an  sense 'of' 
eternal  things.  And  there  wia  a  eorresponding  impreremeait  in  his  char*, 
aofter  as  a  Pastor — ^there  was  a  tenderness,  and  zeal,  and  fidelity,  in  hia 
intercourse  with  his  people,  which,  while  it  drew  him  constantly  more  closely 
to  their  hearts,  carried  with  it  a  benign  and  quickening  influence,  and  gave 
additional  effect  to  his  more  public  ministrations. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  an  individual,  in  attempting  to  bring  to  its 
proper  place  some  intellectual  or  moral  quality  which  he  regards  as  having 
undue  prominence  in  his  constitution,  rushes  from  one  extreme  to  the  oppo- 
site; and,  instead  of  producing  the  harmony  at  which  he  aims,  rendera 
his  character  possibly  more  unsymmetrical  and  unlovely  than  before  he 
attempted  the  improvement.  Thus  it  was  not  with  Dr.  Nevins.  While  ha 
ehastened  his  imagination  into  a  servant  of  the  higher  intellectual  powers, 
he  did  not  drive  it  into  exile,  or  do  any  thing  to  cripple  its  energies — ow 
the  contrary,  he  let  it  perform  its  appropriate  work ;  and  it  gave  additional: 
impressivencss  to  every  sermon  that  he  preached.  Nor  did  he  feel  con- 
strained to  suppress  entirely  his  never  failing  fund  of  good-humour  and 
vivacity.  He  was  aware,  indeed,  that  this  was  a  point  at  which  he  was 
specially  in  danger ;  and  he  exercised  a  scrupulous  vigilance  in  regard  to  it, 
lest  his  innocent  cheerfulness  should  degenerate  into  unbecoming  leVity : 
still,  he  did  not  believe  that  he  was  called  upon  to  work  himself  into  arti- 
ficial or  sanctimonious  attitudes,  or  to  refrain  from  cheerful,  or  as  the  case 
might  be,  even  playfal,  intercourse  with  his  friends.  £very  one  who  was 
much  in  his  company,  saw  that  his  constitutional  tendencies  were  regulated, 
and  in  some  degree  repressed,  by  the  influonoe  of  Christian  principle  and 
feeling;  while,  on  the  other  hand, it  was  equally  manifest  that  his  Christian 
character  was  rendered  even  more  attractive,  from  its  combination  with  his 
natural  fascinating  qualities. 

Pr.  Nevins,  in  both  his  private  and  public  relations,  evinced,  in  an  uncom- 
mon degree,  an  amiable,  benevolent  and  peaceable  spirit.  Susceptible  himself 
of  uncommonly  strong  attachments,  he  attracted  to  him  a  large  number  of 
devoted  friends.  In  his  intercourse  with  them,  and  indeed  in  all  his  inter- 
eourse,  he  manifested  not  only  the  most  cordial  good- will,  but  the  most  deli- 
cate consideration.  His  heart  was  open  as  Heaven  to  all  the  wants  and 
woes  of  humanity ;  and  he  cheerfully  lent  the  influence  of  his  character, 
his  eloquence,  his  pecuniary  means,  to  every  good  object  that  came  within 
his  range.  He  was  decided  and  earnest  in  his  convictions  of  religious  truth, 
but  he  would  not  make  a  man  an  offender  for  a  word ;  and  wherever  he 
detected  any  indications  of  the  rising  spirit  of  controversy,  unless  he 
regarded  some  important  truth  or  principle  as  involved,  the  language  both  of 
his  lips  and  his  conduct  was,  **  Peace,  be  still."  He  valued  purity  indeed 
above  peace ;  but  he  would  sacrifice  peace  to  nothing  short  of  purity. 

As  a  writer,  it  may  safely  be  said  that  Dr.  Nevins — as  it  would  seem,  ' 
unconsciously  to  himself — attained  an  eminence  which  few  of  his  contem- 
poraries have  reached.  The  most  striking  characteristic  of  his  productions, 
perhaps,  is  originality.  Even  common  thoughts  could  not  pass  through  his 
uiind  without  gathering  fresh  brightness ;  and  then  many  of  his  thoughts 
were  peculiarly  his  own ;  and  it  seemed  sometimes  as  if  his  invention  were 
boundless.  There  is  wonderful  condensation  also  in  his  writing ;  and  to 
this  no  doubt  it  is  greatly  indebted  for  its  singular  power.  He  gives  us  in 
a  short  sentence  what  other  writers  would  bare  spread  over  pages, — only 


that  the  magaifieent  idea  would  probablj  never  have  oeCHired  to  them.  Ill' 
short,  in  respect  to  both  thought  and  expression,  he  combines  in  a  remark* 
able  degree  beauty  and  point ;  though  the  former  is  always  kept  subordinate 
to  the  latter.  There  is  perhaps  no  writer  whom,  in  many  respects,  he  more 
nearly  resembles  than  Cecil ;  and  yet  I  cannot  doubt  that  an  impartial 
reader  would  find  in  **  Neyins'  Remains'"  evidences  of  a  brighter  intellect 
than  in  the  **  Remains  of  Cecil."  A  higher  testimony  to  his  character  as 
an  author  none  of  his  friends  could  desire  than  was  rendered  by  the  late 
Dr.  Abercrombie,  the  celebrated  Scotch  philosopher  and  physician.  He 
asked  me  who  was  the  author  of  the  articles  signed  M.  S.  in  the  New  York 
Observer ;  and  when  I  told  him  that  it  was  Dr.  Nevins,  he  replied, — ''  He 
is  one  of  the  very  finest  writers  of  the  age.*' 

I  have  written  the  above  concerning  Dr.  Nevins  without  any  doubt  or 
misgiving ;  as  I  have  testified  from  an  intimate  personal  knowledge.  We 
were  members  of  Yale  College  together  for  three  years,  though  I  knew 
little  of  him  till  a  few  months  before  my  graduation,  when  he  passed  sud- 
denly from  the  ranks  of  the  gay  and  thoughtless  into  the  bosom  of  Christian 
society.  His  conversion,  during  a  revival  of  religion,  awakened  great 
interest,  as  well  from  the  strongly  marked  character  which  it  assumed,  as 
from  his  naturally  attractive  qualities,  and  the  high  intellectual  promise 
which  he  had  previously  given.  In  the  autumn  of  1816,  we  met  as  class 
mates  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  where  we  were  in  close 
relations  nearly  three  years ;  and  my  intimacy  with  him  was  never  inter- 
rupted till  his  death.  In  the  autumn  of  1827,  I  passed  a  Sabbath  in  his 
family  at  Baltimore,  and  heard  him  preach  one  sermon.  Though  I  recog* 
nised  in  him  all  those  qualities  which  had  been  so  prominent  at  an  earlier 
period,  some  of  them  appeared  in  a  subdued  and  chastened  form,  and  his 
character,  on  the  whole,  had  manifestly  undergone  a  great  improvement. 
The  sermon  which  I  heard  from  him  bore  the  marks  of  extraordinary  genius, 
while  it  was  delivered  in  a  manner,  which  left  no  one  at  his  option  whether 
or  not  to  be  an  attentive  listener.  The  last  letter  I  had  from  him,  which 
was  not  very  long  before  his  death,  showed  that  his  mind  was  intensely 
fastened  upon  the  interests  of  Christ's  Kingdom,  while  it  showed  also,  by 
its  playful  allusions,  that  his  relish  for  the  ludicrous  still  lingered. 

FROM  STEPHEN  COLLINS,  M.  D. 

Baltimobb,  March  6, 1856. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Nevins  began  at  the  time  he  com- 
menced his  theological  studies  at  Princeton,  and  continued  during  the  two  years 
I  remained  in  connection  with  the  College.  After  his  settlement,  I  heard  him 
preach  in  Washington  city  where  I  then  had  my  residence;  and  also  when  I 
made  visits  to  Baltimore.  On  these  occasions,  I  was  often  privil<^ed  to  see  hini 
in  his  domestic  circle.  Some  years  before  the  close  of  his  ministry,  I  removed  to 
Baltimore,  and  became  a  member  of  his  church. 

The  reputation  of  Dr.  Nevins  as  a  writer,  and  a  man  of  attainments,  placed 
him  among  the  first  in  the  Seminary.  This  reputation  was  increased  after  his 
engagement  in  pastoral  duties.  Imagination  vivid  and  inventive,  Judgment 
remarkably  matured  for  his  age,  correct  taste,  rhetorical — perhaps  rather  too 
ornate*— style  of  composition,  with  a  delivery  natural,  earnest,  animated  and 
forcible,  made  his  sermons  very  attractive.  I  have  seldom  known  a  writer  far* 
ther  from  being  diffuse  or  common-place.    He  had  something  to  say,  and  he  said 


VILLI  AX  MKraB\/^ ,  ^  637/ 

!t--ter9e]y  and  ooacifelj.  Wh«n  the  thought  wm  faj^^o^sented,  hftsfMssed 
on  to  the  next  in  succession;  and  thus  avoided  the  too  common  fault  of  causing 
weariness  by  repetition.  His  mind  did  not  work  with  rapidity,  and  he  required 
time  for  preparation.  This  absence  of  high  sunceptibility  of  intellectual  emotion 
did  not  allow-  him  to  become  an  effective  extempore  speaker;  and  hence,  as  far 
as  I  am  informed,  he  never  aspired  to  prominence  in  the  judicatories  of  the 
Church.  In  the  last  years  of  his  ministry,  his  style  of  preaching  was  essentially 
changed — less  rhetorical  and  more  practical.  lie  gave  much  more  of  his  time 
to  pastoral  visitation.  Not  long  before  his  death,  he  said, — *'  I  have  sacrificed 
my  reputation  as  a  preacher,  that  I  might  have  time  to  visit  the  poor,  the  sick 
and  the  dying."  With  men  of  this  world  it  is  true  that  **  the  love  of  fame  is  an 
honourable  impulse,  and  the  keenest  stimulant  to  great  exertions."  But  he  had 
a  far  more  honourable  impulse,  and  a  much  more  efficient  stimulant,  in  a  holy 
desire  for  the  salvation  of  men. 

In  the  dischai^ge  of  more  strictly  pastoral  duties  he  was  very  faithful.  For 
this,  his  energy  and  decision  of  character,  tempered  by  amiability  and  gentleness, 
rendered  him  peculiarly  fitted.  In  taste  and  manners  he  was  very  refined; 
and  in  these  respects  attained  the  common  standard  to  which  intellect  always 
aspires.  Ilis  simplicity  of  manners  —  without  assumption  yet  always  with 
dignity — ^made  his  social  intercourse  very  attractive.  Whatever  acerbities  may 
have  belonged  to  his  disposition,  were  subdued  by  the  influence  which  Lactantius 
said  changed  a  lion  into  a  lamb— a  more  efficient  power  than  the  philosophy  by 
which  Socrates  told  his  disciples  he  had  overcome  his  tendencies  to  evil.  The 
expression  of  his  countenance  was  sometimes  almost  melancholy;  but  always 
benevolent  and  calm  like  real  goodness.  In  the  correct  sense  of  the  word,  he 
had  sympathy  for  the  afflicted — he  suffered  with  them.  Hence  it  will  readily 
be  inferred  that  he  was  greatly  beloved  by  his  people;  and  that,  after  twenty 
years  have  passed,  he  is  fresh  in  their  memory,  and  green  in  their  affections. 
They  loved  him  while  he  lived;  and  when  he  died  they  mourned  for  pastor, 
brother,  friend.  The  tolling  of  the  church  bell  which  announced  his  departure, 
excited  sorrowful  emotions  in  many  bereaved  hearts. 

MuUis  UU  bonU  JUUlie  oecidit. 

An  incident  will  illustrate  his  pastoral  faithfulness.  Shortly  after  my  removal 
to  this  city,  I  attended  a  social  evening  party,  without  having  been  previ- 
ously informed  as  to  the  character  of  the  amusements.  I  had  not  long  been 
present  before  I  discovered  that  duty  forbade  me  to  be  there;  but  previous 
arrangements  prevented  my  departure  before  an  appointed  hour.  My  mind  dwelt 
on  the  question  to  the  Prophet, — "  What  doest  thou  here,  Elijah?  "  I  imme- 
diately resolved  to  decline  future  invitations  to  such  scenes;  and  carried  the  reso* 
lution  into  effect  before  the  close  of  the  evening.  A  member  of  the  Church, 
without  having  sought  from  me  an  explanation  of  the  circumstances,  reported 
the  case  to  Dr.  Nevins.  He  wrote  me  a  most  kind  note  expressing  surprise  and 
sorrow — concluding  with,  Ta  quoque,  Brute!  I  called  on  him,  and  explained 
to  his  entire  satisfaction.  In  all  his  relations  to  the  transgressor,  he  was  careful 
not  to  incur  the  penalty, — **  His  blood  will  I  require  at  thine  hand." 

The  increase  of  his  piety  in  the  last  years  of  his  life  was  very  apparent.  The 
traveller  who 

**  IhBga  ftt  eaeh  remove  %  lengthening  ehnin," 

as  he  increases  the  distance  from  friends  and  home, — approaches  the  land  which 
holds  all  he  loves  on  earth  with  impatient  affection;  and  in  imagination  gees  the 
dwelling  and  the  inmates,  and  hears  their  voices.  So  the  Christian,  as  he  draws 
near  to  the  New  Jerusalem,  turns  his  eyes  towards  her  walls  of  jasper,  her  gates 
of  pearls,  and  her  street  of  gold;  and  almost  hears  *'  the  voice  of  harpers  har|>- 
ing  with  their  harps."    Persona]  and  domestic  afflictiona  pressed  heavily  upon 


Igjg  PBBBYfftftlAirk 

hiin;  yet  no  oompUininf^  word  was  spoken.  He  seemed  to  aim  sfter  that  most 
difficult  attainment  in  Ghristwn  experienoe — snbmission  to  the  will  of  God;  in 
imitation  of  the  faith  of  Abraham,  who,  when  he  received  the  command  to  offer 
in  sacrifice  the  child  of  promise  on  a  mountain  of  Moriah,  "  rose  np  earlj  in  the 
morniDg,"  without  complaint  or  inquiry,  to  present  the  sacrifice,  ''accoiin(ist<; 
that  God  was  able  to  raise  him  up,  even  from  the  dead."  As  fire  gives  visibility 
to  sympathetic  ink,  so  his  faith,  when  ''  tried  with  fire,"  appeared  "  more  pre- 
cious than  gold."  He  did  not  look  for  earthly  support,  as  he  felt  that  in  death 
man  rests  on  his  individuality;  but  turned  his  eyes  to  the  Cross.  lie  did  nat 
adopt  the  Catonic  sentiment,  *'  The  contempt  of  death  is  the  beginning  of  vir- 
tue; "  but  looked  at  death  as  the  entrance  into  a  better  state.  This  was  indi- 
cated by  his  last  words:  ''Death;  death;  now;  come  Lord  Jesus;  dear 
Saviour." 

In  1826,  there  was  a  general  awakening  in  the  Northern  Churches;  at  whidi 
time  Dr.  Nettle  ton  particularly  exercised  his  ministry  in  Connecticut  and  the 
State  of  New  York.  The  report  of  these  revivals  incited  Christians  in  other 
portions  of  the  country,  and  especially  in  Washington  and  Baltimore.  The 
heart  of  Dr.  Nevins  received  a  new  unction;  and  his  efibrts  were  aided  by  Dr. 
John  Breckenridgc.  They  established  a  union  Bible  class,  which  was  conducted 
by  them  on  alternate  weeks.  Early  in  March,  1827,  Dr.  Nevins  preached  a  very 
pungent  and  practical  sermon  from — "How  shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  so 
great  salvation.^"  In  the  afternoon  many  cases  of  religious  impressions  were 
found  in  the  Sabbath  School ;  and,  on  the  succeeding  day,  he  was  greatly  delighted 
to  discover,  during  pastoral  visitation,  that  there  was  evident  seriousness  among 
his  people.  The  result  was  a  revival,  very  marked  in  its  features,  abiding  in  its 
results,  and  which  added  largely  to  the  membership  of  the  Church.  Many  of 
the  most  precious  fruits  of  that  revival  were  found  in  the  union  Bible  class. 
About  this  period  the  sainted  Summerfield  was  induced,  by  the  instrumentality 
of  Dr.  Nevins,  to  visit  Baltimore;  and  by  his  eloquence  of  the  heart — the  ora- 
tory of  nature;  by  his  prayers  marked  with  humility  so  unaffected,  importunity 
so  earnest,  intercession  so  urgent,  and  adoration  so  profound,  produced  such 
remarkable  impressions  on  enraptured  audiences. 

In  1829,  there  was  another  revival,  but  not  so  marked  or  general  as  that  which 
preceded;  and  Dr.  Nevins  says  in  his  Diary  under  date  May  12,  1831:  "  Some 
drops  of  mercy  have  fallen.  Some  dozen  souls,  I  hope,  have  recently  been  con- 
verted to  God.     Glory  to  Him  for  this.     But  is  this  all.^ " 

The  character  of  Dr.  Nevins  was  beautifully  manifested  in  his  domestic  rela- 
tions. He  married  one  who  possessed  womanly  graces  and  accomplishments; 
and  his  attachment  was  proportioned  to  her  worth.  His  intercourse  with  his 
children  secured  affection,  while  it  enforced  obedience.  Friends  who  entered  that 
circle  found  him  all  that  would  be  expected  from  a  man  so  refined  in  mind  and 
manners,  and  from  a  Christian  so  meek  and  gentle.  After  twelve  years  of  this 
happy  domestic  life,  he  was  deprived  of  her  to  whom  he  had  been 

''  Her  more  than  brother,  and  her  next  to  God." 
He  bowed  to  this  dispensation  with  the  submission  of  a  Christian,  but  cherished 
her  memory  with  all  the  fondness  of  manly  love.  The  early  close  of  his  mortal 
life  did  not  allow  "  Time  the  Comforter  " — in  commemoration  of  whose  power 
to  console  the  mourner,  a  French  philosopher  proposed  to  erect  a  monument — to 
heal  the  wound  of  his  bruised  spirit.  At  his  death  he  had  attained  but  littU 
mure  than  half  the  period  allotted  to  man.  But  the  life  of  man  is  measured  not 
by  yearsy  bat  by  deeds — 

Non  annis,  ndfuHf,  vivunt  mortaUf. 

With  great  regard,  T  am,  deaf  Sir, 

Faithfullv  yours, 

S.  COLLINS, 


wiLUAH  nfivns.  sso 


FROM  THB  REV.  JOHN  H.  CAMPBELL,  D.  IX 

AlbanYj  July  25,  1867. 

My  dear  Doctor :  My  first  interview  with  Nevins  occurred,  I  think,  not  long 
after  his  settlement  at  Baltimore,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  a  warm  friendship 
on  my  part,  which  was  confirmed  and  augmented  hy  all  my  subsequent  inter- 
course with  him.  He  was  to  me  very  attractive, — his  nature  so  frank  and  genial, 
with  a  strong  dash  of  humour  breaking  forth  all  the  while, — his  manner  so  kind 
and  cordial,  of  such  unaffected  modesty,  and  such  genuine  and  unostentatious 
piety.  You  know,  for  I  have  often  told  you,  how  truly  I  loved  and  respected 
him. 

Your  own  early,  long  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Nevins  qualifies  you, 
better  perhaps  than  any  one  else,  to  prepare  such  a  sketch  of  his  character  and 
life  as  shall  be  appropriate  for  your  "Annals."  You  do  not,  therefore,  I  am  sure, 
expect  or  desire  me  to  attempt  any  extended  notice  of  either.  I  propose  merely 
to  relate  some  incidents  that  occurred  during  the  period  of  our  acquaintance,  and 
to  give  an  extract  from  one -of  his  letters,  in  the  hope  that  they  may  prove  not 
uninteresting  additions  to  your  own  account  of  him. 

I  never  heard  Dr.  Nevins  preach  except  once,  and  that  some  years  after  my 
first  acquaintance  with  him.  It  always  happened,  except  on  this  occasion,  that 
when  I  visited  Baltimore,  which  I  did  nearly  every  year,  during  the  whole  period 
of  his  residence  in  that  city,  I  could  not  resist  his  urgency  to  occupy  his  pulpit 
for  him.  On  the  occasion  I  speak  of,  however,  I  steadfastly  refused  to  do  more 
than  perform  the  service  of  the  morning, — my  private  reason  being  that  I  might 
hear  him  in  the  afternoon.  I  went  over  on  the  morning  of  the  Sabbath,  after 
breakfast,  from  my  lodgings  to  his  house,  that  I  might  use  his  study  in  the  prepa- 
ration I  had  yet  to  make.  I  had  been  sitting  there  about  half  an  hour,  when 
Nevins  entered  hastily,  and  asked  me  to  step  into  another  room,  and  leave  him  in 
his  study.  The  explanation  of  this  sudden  movement  was,  that  he  had  expected 
to  procure  some  one  else  to  preach  in  the  afternoon,  as  I  would  not, — but,  being 
disappointed  in  his  expectation,  it  became  necessary  that  he  should  occupy  the 
pulpit  himself,  and,  as  he  told  me,  he  had  but  a  half-written  sermon.  I  left  him, 
and  he  finished  his  discourse  before  we  went  to  the  church,  and  after  dinner,  and 
before  the  bell  rang  for  service,  he  committed  it  to  memory  so  perfectly  as  to 
deliver  it  with  the  utmost  fluency,  and  without  the  slightest  hesitation.  The  dis- 
course was  full  of  his  peculiarities,  and,  though  so  rapidly  written,  was  admira- 
bly arranged,  and  was  a  most  pungent,  affectionate  and  impressive  exhibition  of 
Divine  truth. 

I  was  with  Nevins  once  after  his  health  began  to  fail,  and  he  had  for  some  time 
been  unable  to  discharge  any  of  the  active  duties  of  the  ministry.  It  was  a 
Communion  occasion,  and  I  preached  for  him.  He  said, — *'  I  will  go  with  you  to 
church,  and  serve  the  second  table."  When  the  moment  came,  he  rose  and  looked 
round,  was  evidently  profoundly  moved,  stood  for  a  little  while,  and  then  dropped 
into  a  chair.  He  said  to  me  in  a  whisper, — **  I  cannot — it  is  too  much  for  me." 
I  was  greatly  disappointed,  for  I  felt  sure  that,  in  the  peculiar  circumstances  of 
the  occasion, — his  illness,  which,  as  he  thought,  and  his  friends  feared,  was  to  be 
his  last,  his  reappearance  among  his  people,  his  earnest  desire  to  address  them 
once,  and  the  solemnities  in  which  we  were  engaged,  no  ordinary  thoughts  would 
be  uttered  by  such  a  man  as  our  friend.  Yet,  after  all,  his  manner,  his  look, 
his  evident  emotion  while  he  struggled  in  vain  to  speak,  were  perhaps  more 
eloquent  than  any  words  he  could  have  spoken.  The  people  were  greatly  moved, 
and  for  my  own  part,  it  was  with  difficulty  I  proceeded  with  the  service. 

Dr.  Nevins  was  remarkable  for  his  fidelity  as  a  Pastor,  as  I  had  occasion 
to  know  in  more  than  one  instance;  but  one  came  within  my  knowledge,  which 


34Q  namnmsuv. 

WW  pecaliarly  striking,  and  now  that  both  parties  hare  been  called  to  their  rest, 
it  may  perhaps  be  mentioned  without  indelicacy.  In  the  year  1831,  Mr.  Wirt 
proposed  to  make  a  public  profession  of  religion  by  uniting  with  Dr.  Nevins' 
church.  Knowing  my  intimacy  with  Mr.  W.,  and  the  deep  interest  1  felt  for  him, 
Nevins  wrote  to  me  soon  after  that  event,  and  in  the  letter,  now  before  me,  gave 
me  the  substance  of  his  conversation  with  Mr.  WTon  that  occasion.  It  is  very 
interesting,  and  honourable  alike  to  Nevins  as  a  wise,  judicious  and  most  faithful 
Pastor,  and  to  Mr.  W.  as  a  sincere  and  humble  Christian.  His  solicitude  that 
Mr.  W.  should  be  *'  decided,"  as  he  expressed  it,  amidst  the  peculiar  tempta- 
tions of  his  position,  is  earnestly  and  beautifully  manifested,  and  he  urges  roe,  in 
my  correspondence  with  him,  to  "  regard  him  as  a  Christian,  and  tell  how  much 
I  expect  from  him  as  such.*' 

In  this  connection  an  incident  occurred  which  may  be  not  without  its  interest. 
The  fact  that  Mr.  Wirt  had  made  a  public  profession  of  his  faith  found  its  way 
into  the  papers,  greatly  to  the  annoyance  of  Dr.  Nevins.  It  annoyed  Mr.  W.  no 
less — ^these  are  his  own  words  in  speaking  of  it:  "I  am  grieved  to  learn  that  my 
having  gone  to  the  Lord's  table  has  got  into  the  papers.  It  is  no  fit  subject  for 
a  paper.  Of  what  consequence  is  it  to  the  cause  of  Christ  that  such  a  poor 
reptile  as  myself  should  have  acknowledged  Him  before  other  worms  of  the  dust 
like  myself.     I  feel  humbled  and  startled  at  such  an  annunciation." 

You  will  take  occasion,  no  doubt,  in  your  notice  of  our  friend  to  speak  of  his 
deepest  sorrow, — the  death  of  his  beloved  and  truly  lovely  wife.  I  will  close 
this  communication  by  an  extract  from  a  letter  he  addressed  to  me  with  reference 
to  that  affliction.     The  letter  is  dated  November  29,  1834.     He  says — 

'* My  dear  Campbell:  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  remembrance  of  me  in  my 
sorrows,  and  for  your  letter  of  condolence.  It  is  no  dream — I  wish  it  was, 
though  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  say  so — it  is  a  sad  reality  that  I  am  a  poor  deso- 
late loidower.  I  always  had  a  horror  of  the  word,  and  now  it  is  fastened  on 
me.  I  mean  not  to  complain — I  do  not  complain  of  God.  What  am  I,  that  I 
should  sit  in  judgment  on  his  acts.^  What  lie  has  done  is  right;  and  if  it  were 
mere  justice,  what  right  should  I  have  to  complain,  who  deserve  his  wrath.^  But 
how  know  I  that  there  is  not  more  of  mercy  in  it  than  of  justice?  There  may 
be — I  will  believe  that  there  is.  And  perhaps  the  manner  was  merciful,  as  well 
as  the  thing  itself.  It  was  short,  it  was  easy;  it  was  without  ache,  anguish,  or 
dread.  Yet  my  wish  would  have  been  for  a  longer  illness,  and  another  dis 
ease.  But  I  am  not  qualified  to  choose.  Let  God  have  his  way,  though  it  be  in 
the  sea — I  have  been  supported,  composed,  comforted — yet  suffer  indescribably — 
unlike  what  I  have  ever  done  before.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  all  previous  sorrow 
had  been  joy,  in  comparison  with  this.  I  have  the  best  reason  to  believe  that 
my  precious  wife  is  with  Jesus — with  that  I  ought  to  be  satisfied.  My  judg- 
ment is — but  my  heart  is  not  so  easily  brought  to  repose.  There  has  been  but 
little  cholera  here,  though  much  alarm.  Only  seventy-one  deaths  have  been 
reported  to  the  Board  of  Health — and  to  think  that  my  wife  was  one  of  that 
small  number!  ♦  •  •  •  Remember  me  to  your  dear  wife — I  have  no  longer 
one  to  send  the  message  of  love.  How  strange  it  seems  to  me  when  I  come  to 
the  close  of  a  letter." 

Dear  Nevins!    His  work  was  soon  done  and  well  done. 

Very  truly  yours, 

J.  N.  CAMPBELL. 


WILLIAM  ASHMEAD.  $41 


WILLIAM  ASHMEAD  * 

.    1820—1829. 

William  Ashmead,  &  son  of  William  and  Margaret  Ashmead,  was 
born  in  Philadelphia  in  the  year  1798.  His  grandfather,  though  a  sea-faring 
man,  had  considerable  taste  for  literature,  and  wrote  his  own  epitaph  in 
Terse,  in  which  he  beautifully  alludes  to  the  remarkable  fact  of  hb  having 
completed  one  hundred  voyages,  in  connection  with  the  hope  which  he  cher- 
bhed  of  reaching  the  haven  of  eternal  rest.  The  subject  of  this  sketch, 
from  his  early  childhood,  discovered  a  great  fondness  for  books,  and  a  pro- 
portional disrelish  for  youthful  amm^ements.  Pr.  Rush,  who  was  a  frequent 
visiter  at  his  grandfather's,  is  said  to  have  had  his  attention  drawn  to  him 
as  a  boy  of  remarkable  promise.  At  the  age  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  he 
became  a  clerk  in  a  bookstore,  where  he  industriously  devoted  his  leisure  to 
reading ;  and,  as  the  books  which  he  read  were  chosen  without  any  regard 
to  system  or  method,  he  afterwards  considered  this  exercise  of  his  faculties 
as  having  contributed  little  to  his  substantial  intellectual  growth. 

Having  gone  through  the  studies  preparatory  to  entering  College,  he 
became  a  member  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  where  he  had  a  high 
standing  as  a  scholar  through  his  whole  course,  and  graduated  in  the 
class  of  1818.  He  determined  to  devote  himself  to  the  Gospel  ministry, 
and  with  a  view  to  this  put  himself  under  the  theological  instruction  of  the 
late  Rev.  Dr.  James  P.  Wilson,  of  Philadelphia, — eminent  alike  for  his 
logical  power  and  his  extensive  erudition ;  but,  as  he  was  at  this  time  with- 
out the  means  of  support,  he  was  compelled  to  resort  to  the  business  of 
teaching  in  order  to  defray  his  expenses.  The  labours  of  the  day  in  supers 
intending  his  classes,  and  the  labours  of  the  night  in  prosecuting  his  studies, 
proved  too  much  for  his  constitution ;  and  his  pallid  countenance,  and  fre- 
quent headaches,  and  shattered  nerves,  soon  admonished  him  of  the  necessity 
of  relaxing  from  the  severity  of  his  intellectual  toil. 

In  1819,  he  was  married  to  Clara  Forrester  of  Lancaster  County,  Pa. 

In  the  spring  of  1820,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of 
Philadelphia ;  and  his  first  efforts  in  the  pulpit  were  received  with  high 
approbation,  and  were  considered  as  giving  promise,  if  his  life  should  be 
spared,  of  eminence  in  his  profession.  His  youthful  appearance,  his  benig- 
nant countenance,  his  persuasive  manner,  quickly  rendered  him  a  favourite^, 
wherever  he  was  known. 

Shortly  after  he  was  licensed,  he  made  a  journey  on  horseback  into  the* 
mountainous  region  of  Northumberland  and  Sunbury,  chiefly  for  the  benefit 
of  his  health.  On  his  return,  he  preached  with  great  acceptance  in  Nevr 
Brunswick,  N.  J.,  and  was  afterwards  requested  to  allow  himself  to  bo; 
considered  as  a  candidate  for  settlement ;  but,  as  a  portion  of  the  congrega^ 
tion,  on  account  of  his  extreme  youth,  doubted  the  expediency  of  the 
measure,  he  declined  the  application.  About  this  time,  he  was  ioyited  ta 
take  charge  of  the  Congregation  in  Sunbury, — ^a  small  towB  on  ike  Susque- 
hanna, which  he  had  visited  a  few  months  before;  and  this  invitation  ha 
would  probably  have  accepted,  but  that  a  call  now  reaehed  him  from  the- 

•Ifemolr  pnflxed  to  his  Bfrmonf.— Chr.  Adv.*  1830.— MS.  from  Rer.  Dr.  J.  P.  IfOMa. 
Vol.  IV.  81 


^42  PBuaTTBtfAir, 

Presbyterian  Okaroh  in  Lancaster,  Pa.,  which  he  jntly  regarded  as  open- 
ing a  wider  field  of  ministerial  usefalness.  Accordingly,  he  accepted  this 
latter  call,  and  for  upwards  of  eight  years  served  that  highly  inflncBtial 
church  with  great  ability  and  fidelity.  He  exerted  an  important  inflnenoe 
here,  as  well  upon  the  intellectual  as  the  religious  interests  of  the  commu- 
nity, and  especially  in  establishing  an  Academy,  in  aid  of  which,  after  aome 
difficulty,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  donation  from  the  Legislature.  In 
1824,  he  received  a  unanimous  call  from  the  Ohurch  in  New  Brunswick,  to 
which  he  had  preached  two  years  bef«)re,  to  become  their  Pastor ;  but  his 
congregation  earnestly  resbted  the  application,  and  his  answer  was  in  accord- 
ance with  their  wishes. 

In  consequence  of  an  impaired  state  of  health,  induced  by  ezcemivo 
labour  in  connection  with  a  sedentary  habit,  he  journeyed  to  the  South  in  the 
autumn  of  1828,  in  the  hope  that  change  of  climate,  and'  a  few  months' 
relaxation  from  professional  cares,  might  restore  to  him  his  accustomed  vig- 
our.    And  the  desired  effect  seemed  in  a  good  degre^  to  be  realised.     He 
j^assed  some  time  in  Charleston,  S.  C,  where  he  preached  occasionally,  and 
with  great  acceptance.     Whilst  at  Washington,  in  the  winter  of  1829,  on 
his  return  to  Lancaster,  he  received  a  unanimous  call  from  the  Second  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  Charleston,  which  had  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  his  occa- 
sional services  during  his  visit  there,  to  become  its  Pastor.     Mr.  Ashmead, 
convinced  that  he  could  not  long  endare  the  climate  of  Lancaster,  and  that 
the  more  genial  climate  of  Charleston  would  in  all  probability  be  the  means 
of  protracting  both  his  usefulness  and  his  life,  regarded  this  as  a  call  of 
Providence  which  he  had  no  right  to  decline ;  and,  accordingly,  he  resigned 
his  charge  at  Lancaster,  and  reached  Charleston, — the  scene,  as  he  suppo- 
sed,  of  his  future  labours,  on  the  25th  of  April.     Here  he  was  received 
with  every  expression  of  the  most  cordial  regard,  and  was  installed  Pastor 
of  the  Church,  May  17,  1829.     About  five  weeks  after  his  installation,  he 
returned  to  Pennsylvania,   with  a  view  to  make  arrangements   for  the 
removal  of  his  femily.     He  had  a  serious  attack  of  bilious  fever   before 
leaving  Charleston,  and  another  shortly  after  his  arrival  at  Lancaster ;  from 
both  of  which  he  slowly  recovered.     While  he  was  waiting  with  his  fiimily 
at  Philadelphia  to  take  passage  for  Charleston,  the  fever  again  returned 
upon  him,  though  apparently  in  a  mitigated  form ;  and  at  the  end  of  two 
weeks,  his  physicians  declared  that  it  was  subdued.     It  was  a  sore  disap- 
pointment to  him  that  he  was  not  able  to  return  to  his  people  at  the  time 
appointed,  and  he  requested  that  they  should  be  apprized  of  the  cause,  and 
of  the  changes  that  occurred  in  his  situation  from  time  to  time.     Shortly 
after  this,  he  seems  to  have  had  little  hope  of  recovery,  though  his  friends 
did  not  despair  concerning  him  till  a  very  short  time  befoi'e  his  death.     He 
spoke  of  an  inward  feeling  which  admonished  him  that  his  disease  would  be 
fatal.     At  first  he  seemed  to  cling  to  life  with  some  tenacity:  he  said,  **0 
my  God,  spare  me  to  praise  thee,  and  serve  thee  with  more  ardour  than  I 
ever  have !     Spare  me  to  my  dear  wife  and  children.     I  trust  it  is  not 

inconsistent  for  me  to  desire  to  live.     Dr. ,  who  is  a  holy  man  and  lives 

near  to  Qod,  once  reproved  me  on  that  subject,  after  I  had  preached  a  ser* 
men,  in  which  I  had  painted  in  glowing  colours  the  desire  of  the  righteous 
man  to  die,  and  the  triumphs  of  a  death-bed.  I  believe  there  have  been  a 
few  good  men  who  have  desired  to  die, — such  as  Brainerd,  Bdwarda,  and 
Baxter, — but  in  general  there  b  no  instinct  so  strong  as  thi^.  with  which,  mo 


WlULJiMM  JUaOUtkD.  AAA 


0lu%  tc^ltfb.  Bnt,'^  lieiHU«dr*«ifIttm  to^M  fttthii  tive,  dyinj^  grM« 
Will  be  given  •  Hie.  God  can  make  me-  wiUing  to  leare  all.*"  And  tUs 
remark  was  delightfully  verified.  His  last  days  furnished  a  most  edifying' 
exhibition  of  Christian  faith,  humility,  and  triumph.  A  few  moments, 
before  he  ceased  to  breathe,  he  saSd  to  his  wife, — ''You  can  oome  to  me, 
though  I  cannot  return  to  you."  He  then  desired  that  his  head  should  be 
raised,  and  the  moment  it  was  done,  the  conflict  was  over,  and  the  spirit 
had  gone  to  its  rest.  He  died  after  an  illness  of  six  weeks,  December  2, 
1829,  in  his  thirty-second  year,  leaving  a  widow,  and  six  children  all  under 
ten  years  of  age. 

Mr.  Ash  mead,  considering  his  age,  wis  an  aeoomplished  and  thoroni^' 
scholar.  He  read  with  ease  the  French,  Spanish  and  liaUamlaBguages,) 
and  had  made  some  profietenoy  in  the  Gterman  also,  when  his  deelmng  health 
obliged  him  to  relinquish  it.  In  the  winter  of  18fi5,  he  eommoiifced  a  trans^ 
lation  of  Satirin's  Historical,  Critical  and  Theological  Discourses;  but  In 
this  labour  also,  aft^r  he  had  made  considerable  progress,  he  was  arrested 
by  ill  health.  He  was  alive  to  the  beauties  of  poetry,  though  it  is  not 
known  that  he  ever  attempted  that  kind  of  composition.  He  was  also 
fiimiliar  with  the  different  systems  of  moral  science  and  metaphysics ;  but 
the  longer  he  lived,  the  more  the  sacred  volume  became  endeared  to  him 
above  all  other  books*  He  read  the  Scriptures  daily  in  the  original  lan- 
guages,  and  found  in  them  beauties  which  he  looked  for  in  vain  m  the  most 
perfect  of  uninspired  productions. 

In  1826,  he  publifllied  an  Bssay  on  Pauperism,  addressed  to  the  Legis* 
lature  of  Pennsylvania  then  in  session,  in  which  was  displayed  great  inge«  * 
nuity  and  power  of  argument.  Besides  nearly  two  hundred  sermons  neatlj 
written  out,  he  left  several  Taluable  manuscripts  of  a  miscellaneous  kind, 
which  have  never  been  given  to  the  public.  Some  of  these  are  theological, 
some  moral,  and  some  strictly  literary.  It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that 
the  only  unfinished  sermon  among  his  manuscripts,  and  the  last  probably 
that  he  ever  attempted,  breaks  off  abruptly,  with  these  words,  which  seem 
to  have  been  prophetic:  ''Then,  when  this  corruptible  shall  put  on  inoor- 
ruption,  and  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality,  shall  be  brought  to  paae 
the  saying  that  is  written,  death  is  swallowed  op  in  victory." 

Mr.  Ashmead  published  the  Sermon  which  he  delivered  on  asavrntng  the 
pastoral  charge  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Ohureh  4n  Charleston,  1829; 
The  next  year  after  his  death,  a  selection  from  his  manuscript  sermons  was 
published  in  ootinection  with  a  brief  Memoir  of  his  Life,  in  an  octavo  vol** 
ume, — dedicated  to  his  two  congregations,  in  Lancaster  and  Charleston. 

FROM  SAMUBL  HBKRT  DIGK80K,  M.  D., 
norssfOB  im  the  xsdioal  DipAancBHTOt  ths  unvtasiTT  or  tbs  oirr  or  jrawToax. 

Nsw  York,  December  28, 1848. 

Dear  Sir:  In  fulfilling  the  promise  I  made  to  you  some  time  since,  I  am  sur- 
prised and  a  little  mortified  to  find  how  indefinite  and  vague  are  my  reminiscen- 
ces of  Mr.  Ashmead.  Yet  it  is  many  years  since  his  death,  and  during  the 
interval  I  have  been  occupied  with  much  care,  and  gone  through  great  suffering 
both  of  mind  and  body. 

My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Ashmead  was  not  of  long  duration,  but  his  charac- 
ter was  so  frank  and  open  that  I  have  always  felt  nevertheless  that  I  knew  him 


144  FiBSBrmujr; 

a 

well.    Oar  intercourse,  |p»d««Uj  beeoming  more  tntiniaie,  wm,  I  believe, 
ripening  into  friendeiiip:  its  alMrapt  termination  by  his  deeply  lamented  death,  I 
trust,  is  not  final. 

He  was  born  to  be  loved  and  esteemed,  respected  and  confided  in.  With  great 
clearness  and  force  of  expression,  in  the  utterance  of  his  thoughts  he  always 
mingled  much  courtesy  and  forbearance.  Yet  he  was  occasionally  warm  and 
enthusiastic,  giving  abundant  proof  of  an  ardent  sincerity.  With  every  gentle- 
manly anxiety  to  avoid  offence,  he  was  incapable  of  sacrificing  an  iota  of  princi- 
ple, tenacious  of  opinions  carefully  formed,  and  prompt  at  all  hazards  to  main- 
tain whatever  he  believed  to  be  right. 

I  remember  a  striking  incident  which  occurred  during  his  brief  pastorship  in 
Ofaarleston,  and  which,  if  I  can  relate  it  correctly,  at  this  distance  of  time,  will, 
I  think,  exhibit  some  of  the  traits  to  which  I  have  alluded. 

It  was  the  custom  in  the  church  over  which  he  was  minister,  that  persons, 
when  about  to  commune  for  the  first  time,  should  make  a  solemn  profession, 
standing  in  the  broad  aisle,  before  the  attentive  and  silent  congregation.  Any 
ooe  might  be  excused  for  regarding  this  species  of  notoriety  with  anxiety  and 
apprehension ;  but  to  a  modest  and  retiring  woman,  or  a  bashful  girl,  it  must 
needs  haye  been  a  sore  trial,— enough  to  arouse  the  strongest  sympathy  and 
pity.     It  was  always  a  scene  painful  to  me  to  witness. 

On  the  occasion  of  which  I  am  writing,  there  was  but  one  candidate  for 
admission  to  church  privileges, — ^a  tall,  graceful,  accomplished  and  modest  young 
lady,  who  has  since  become  the  wife  of  a  distinguished  clergyman.  Her  hands 
dasped  before  her,  her  cheeks  crimsoned,  her  eyes  suffhsed  with  tears,  she  stood 
trembling  and  alone,  fronting  the  pulpit  with  the  devouring  gase  of  the  Assem- 
bly fixed  upon  her.  The  usual  formula  of  question  ai^d  mute  reply  being  con- 
cluded, she  retired  to  her  father's  pew,  with  a  dignified  effort  to  recover  herself, 
but  evidently  profoundly  overcome.  Then  Mr.  Ashmead,  lifting  up  his  head, 
which  had  been  bent  down  towards  the  catechumen,  and  raising  his  voice  hitherto 
softened  by  his  emotion,  declared  warmly  his  repugnance  to  the  whole  ceremony, 
denouncing  it  as  obsolete  aiid  unadapted  to  time  and  circumstances;  and  pro- 
claimed with  some  vehemence  his  fixed  resolution  never  again  to  take  any  part  in 
its  performance.  He  ended  by  presenting  in  strong  and  condensed  language  a 
view  of  the  reasons  of  his  repugnance  and  dislike  to  it. 

It  soon  became  known  that  he  had  yielded  in  this  matter,  very  reluctantly 
and  under  protest,  to  the  strong  will  and  determined  purpose  of  one  or  more  of 
the  elders  of  the  church,  whose  inflexible  adherence  to  all  ancient  usages  had 
long  been  matter  of  remark  and  annoyance.  The  severe  censure  of  these  influ- 
eittial  persons  was  unavoidably  incurred  by  the  step  he  had  taken,  and  he  was 
destined,  if  he  had  lived,  to  pay  a  heary  penalty  for  having  opposed  their  wishes. 
Of  this  he  was  fully  aware;  but  howerer  painful  the  anticipation,  his  sense  of 
duty  did  not  permit  him  to  shrink  from  the  consequences  of  the  coarse  of  con- 
duct which  seemed  to  him  to  be  the  proper  one. 

I  fear  you  may  think  this  incident  of  too  little  interest  to  be  of  any  avail  in 
your  proposed  sketch.  In  the  absence  of  any  thing  of  more  importance,  how* 
eyer,  I  put  it  at  your  disposal,  and  remain. 

Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  seryant, 

SAMUEL  HENRY  DICKSOK. 


JOHH  BSIGKSKBIDOE.  44§ 


JOHN  BRECKENRIDGE,  D.  D  * 

1822—1841. 

John  Breckenridoe  was  born  at  Cabeira  Dale,  on  Norlh  Elkhoro, 
Ky.,  July  4,  1797.  His  father  was  the  Hon.  John  Breckenridge,  Attornej 
General  of  the  United  States  under  the  administration  of  Jefferson.  His 
mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Cabell,  was  a  lady  of  high  intelleofeual  and 
moral  qualities,  and  belonged  to  one  of  the  most  respeotable  families  i^ 
Virginia. 

The  subject  of  this  sketch  lost  his  father  when  he  was  nine  years  old , 
and  from  that  time  he  was  reared  under  the  care  of  his  widowed  molher, 
and  of  an  elder  brother  who  was  appointed  his  guardian.  Having  enjoyed^ 
during  his  childhood  and  early  youth,  the  advantages  of  the  best  schools  im 
fiLentucky,'he  entered  Princeton  College  at  an  advanced  standing  in  1815, 
and  graduated  with  high  honour  in  the  autumn  of  1818,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-one.  His  family  had  designed  him  for  the  profession  of  the  Law ; 
but,  during  his  residence  at  Princeton,  his  mind  received  a  decidedly 
religious  direction,  and  he  became  a  member  of  the  Presbyterian  Church; 
in  consequence  of  which  he  resolved,  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  his  own 
immediate  family, — not  one  of  whom,  at  that  time,  was  a  professor  of 
religion, — to  devote  himself  to  the  Gospel  ministry. 

In  1820  and  1821,  he  was  a  Tutor  in  Princeton  College,  and  at  the  same 
time  was  prosecuting  the  study  of  Divinity,  in  the  Theologieal  Seroinary* 
He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick,  August 
1,  1822.  He  served  as  Chaplain  of  the  House  of  Representatives  of  the 
Congress  of  the  United  States,  during  the  session  of  1822-23.  On  the 
22d  of  May,  1828,  he  was  received  from  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick^ 
as  a  member  of  the  Presbytery  of  West  Lexington,  Ky.,  and  on  the  10th 
of  September  following,  was  ordained  by  the  latter  Body  to  the  work  of 
the  ministry,  and  installed  pastor  of  the  M*Chord  Church  in  Lexington, 
Here  he  made  a  vigorous  stand  against  the  influence  of  Dr.  HoUey,  thca 
President  of  the  Transylvania  University,  and  of  the  party  by  which  he 
was  sustained ;  and  with  a  special  view  to  this  controversy,  he  established 
the  well  known  periodical  called  the  '*  Western  Luminary."  In  1826,  he 
removed  to  Baltimore,  and  became  associated  with  the  Bev,  Dr.  Glendy  in  the 
pastoral  charge  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in  that  city.  In  1831, 
he  took  up  his  residence  in  Philadelphia,  as  Secretary  and  General  Ageni 
of  the  Board  of  Education  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  In  1886,  he  was 
appointed,  by  the  General  Assembly,  a  Professor  in  the  Theological  Seminary 
at  Princeton.  He  accepted  the  appointment,  and  held  the  office  until  1838, 
when,  upon  the  organization  of  the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  he  wae 
elected  its  Secretary  and  General  Agent.  This  appointment  abo  he 
accepted  ;  and  continued  at  the  head  of  the  operations  of  that  Board  from 
1838  to  1840.  At  the  period  of  his  death,  he  was  the  Pastor  Eleet  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church  in  New  Orleans,  and  the  President  Eleot  of  Ogle- 
thorpe University  in  Geoi^ia. 

•  Spirit  of  the  KineteeDth  Centuij,  1841.— Davidaon^f  Hitt.  Presb.  Ch.  Kj.— MS.  from  Hon. 
Henry  Qaxi 


He  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Union  College  in 
1835. 

Dr.  Breokenridge's.  kealiili  iMd  been  grftdiwlly  deolining  under  the  weight 
of  hiA  multiplied  cares  and  labours,  for  a  considerable  time  previous  to  his 
death.  At  the  time  his  death  took  place,  he  was  on  a  visit  to  his  friends  in 
Kentucky ;  and  he  died  August  4,  1841,  on  the  spot  where  he  was  born, — 
htmng  just  completed  his  forty -fourth  year.  One  of  the  last  sentences 
that  he'nMered  was-^-^  I  am  a  poor  sinner  who  have  worked  hard,  and  had 
eonstatitly  before  my  mind  one  great  object — the  conversion  of  the  world." 

fie  was  married '  in  January,  1823-,  to  Margaret,  daughter  of  the  Rev. 
Dr.  MiHer  of  Princeton,  who  died  in  1838,  leaving  three  children.  In 
1840,  he  was  married  a  second  time  to  a  daughter  of  Colonel  Babcock  of 
Stonington,  Conn.,  who,  with  one  child,  survived  him. 

The  following  are  Dr.  Breckinridge's  publications : — A  Sermon  preached 
•t  Harrisburg  before  the  Synod,  of  Philadelphia,  1827.  An  Address  before 
the  Literary  Societies  in  the  New  York  University,  1836.  Controversy 
with  Bishop  Hughes,  1836.     Memorial  of  Mrs.  Breckenridge,  1839. 

Dr.  Brockenridge's  collegiate  course  at  Princeton  was  contemporaneous 
with  my  own  theological  course  there ;  and  it  was  then  and  there  that  my 
aeqniuntanee  with  him  commenced.  I  think  the  first  time  I  over  spoke 
with  him  was  while  he  was  bowed  like  a  bulrush  under  a  sense  of  his  own 
sinftilness,  and  before  the  first  ray  of  hope  had  dawned  upon  his  troubled 
spiriti  It  was  deeply  interesting  to  mark  the  struggles  of  a  mind  of  so 
much  capacity  and  power,— ^naturally  lofty  in  its  impulses  and  ambitious  in 
{is  aspirations, — while  it  was  groping  its  way  in  thick  darkness  in  search  of 
the  Cross.  And  it  was  still  more  interesting,  at  a  subsequent  period,  to 
observe  the  vigorous  and  strongly  marked  exercises  of  the  spiritual  man, — 
modified  as  they  were  by  a  natural  nobility  of  mind  and  heart,  as  rare  as  it 
was  attractive.  For  a  few  years  after  I  lefi  the  Seminary,  my  intercourse 
with  him  was  interrupted ;  but  after  I  became  connected,  as  a  minister, 
with  the  Presbyterian  Church,  it  was  i^enewed,  and  led,  I  think  I  may  say» 
to  a  strong  mutual  friendship.  He  preached  several  times  in  my  pulpit, 
presenting  different  objects  of  benevolence,  and  while  his  efforts,  when  I 
beard-  him,  were  always  remarkable,  I  think,  in  one  instance,  it  wsa 
Uniformly  conceded  that  he  attained  to  the  highest  effect  of  pulpit  eloquence. 
His  presence  in  the  fiimily  was  always  a  bright  sunshine,  that  cheered 
every  one -that  came  within  its  influence.  Even  the  little  children  anticipa- 
ted his  visit  as  a  jubilee ;  and  it  was  hard  for  any  of  us  to  say  whether  we 
loved  or  admired  him  the  more.  Once  and  but  once  I  saw  him  when  his 
spirit  was  greatly  ruffled  ;  and  he  spoke  sharp  and  scathing  words,  when  a 
milder  tone  would  have  suited  me  better ;  but  it  was  in  defence  of  what  he 
believed  to  be  truth  and  right,  and  he,  unconsciously  to  himself,  passed  the 
boundary,  which  his  own  sober  judgment  would  have  fixed.  He  was  a  fine 
apeoimen  of  a  devout  and  eartiest  Christian,  engrafted  upon  a  splendUd  man, 
and  a  noble-spirited  Kentuckian. 


j(am  mmcwmmmQE.  547 


FBOM  THE  HON.  HEKRY  CLAY. 

BEOKXTAKT  OF  8TATB,  AC,  *0. 

Y      AMBLXui>f  July  14. 1848. 

Dear  Sir:  I  reoeirad  your  favoar  of  reeeat  date  requesting  from  me  some 
•zi»reBsio»  in  regard  to  the  character  of  the  kte  Rey.  Dr.  John  Breckenridge, 
with  reterenoe  to  a  work  which  yoa  are  engaged  in  preparing  for  the  press. 

Although  I  was  aoquaioted  with  Dr.  Breekenridge  from  an  early  period  of  his 
life,  and  with  his  family  before  him,  oar  spheres  of  actSon  wero  so  diffarent  and 
often  so  distant,  that  I  had  not  the  happiness  of  moeh  personal  intercourse  with 
him,  or  of  often  hearing  him  in  the  pulpit.  He  has>  however,  left  on  my  mind 
impressions  of  his  piety,  his  seal,  his  great  powers  of  persaasive  eloquence,  and 
of  his  blandnees  and  sweetness  of  disposition,  that  will  never  be  effaced.  I 
deeply  regret  that  my  knowledge  of  him  does  not  allow  me  to  bear  a  more  ample 
and  extended  testimony  to  his  great  worth  and  high  merits. 

I  am,  with  great  respect. 

Your  obedient  servant, 

H.  CLAY. 

PROM  THE  REV.  JOHN  M.  KREBS,  D.  D. 

Mbw  Yokk,  March  18, 1862. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  I  fear  that  you  have  overrated  my  opportunities  of  ititer- 
ootirse  with  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  John  Breekenridge.  The  few  remarks  I  made  to 
you  orally  in  regard  to  his  charactcRras  a  man  and  a  preacher,  and  which,  at  your 
request,  I  shaH  now  put  to  paper  for  you,  were  the  recollections  of  occasional 
interviews,  some  of  which  were  official,  and  others  simply  social,  but  occurring 
during  a  space  of  fifteen  years  or  more,  although  always  characterized  by  a  good 
degree  of  friendly  intimacy. 

My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Breekenridge  began  at  his  own  house  in  Baltimore, 
while  I  was  yet  a  student  in  College.  Being  on  a  visit  to  that  city,  I  called  upon 
him,  with  the  friend  who  introduced  me,  to  pay  our  respects.  I  could  not  fail 
to  be  impressed  with  his  engaging  aspect, — T  might  say,  indeed,  the  manly 
beauty  of  his  countenance;  an  impression  never  lost,  and  still  justified  by  the 
aoeurale  engrwved  portrait  in  my  possession.  There  was  a  combination  of 
dijgnity  anfd  gentleness,  of  purity  and  candour,  intellect  and  firmness,  mingled 
with  all  a  wosKan's  tenderness  and  sympathy,  that  played  upon  his  speaking 
face,  which,  added  to  his  gracious  condescension — utterly  remote  from  the 
slightest  air  of  patronising — ^to  two  mere  lads,  instantly  won  upon  my  heart,  as 
it  did  on  many  others  that  cherish  his  memory  with  fond  affection.  There  was 
notiring' austere  and  ungonial  about  htm,  and  certainly  nothing  merely  put  on. 
You  were  attracted  as  to  a  man,  but  to  a  holy  and  a  good  man.  I  always  felt 
myself,  wlien  with  him,  in  the  presence  of  a  man  of  God,  and  one  whom  I  could 
love  as  a  filther  or  an  eMer  brother. 

Tn  person,  he  was  of  medium  height,  lithe  and  active,  but  apparently  not  of 
robust  frame:  there  was  nevertheless  thftt  vital  energy  about  him,  which 
pMbf/bb^  And  sustained  abundant  labours,  until  it  prematurely  exhausted  and 
wore  oat  his  strength  and  life. 

Hiff  temper  was  ardent,|^neroUs  and  frank;  his  manners  refined  and  polished, 
psTtaidngamd'^eitpreBShig  the  noble  courteousness  of  his  nature,  the  suavity  and 
diiistt^  oonsiderateness  of  a  Christian  gentleman.  If  you  have  ever  seen  that 
liiw  <wtuwitn<sriyo«  <ttie  thfrtemith  chapter  of  the  first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians, 
wMch  f«iwd»  It  Mtlvs  portraiture  of  a  true  gentleman,  lam  sure  that  you  will 
appfecifto'tlis  MHiMite  w%ieh  leadM  rae  spontaneously  to  associate  it  with  Dr. 


648 

BreckenriUge.  InJeed,  thb  trait  was  so  wdl  known,  at  laasi  in  iU  oatward 
expressions,  that  even  where  partisan  prgudicas  transtered  their  hostility  to  the 
persons  whose  principles  they  opposed,  they  nevertheless  implied  an  aduiow-* 
ledgment  of  it.  A  person  who  was  strongly  prejudiced  against  that  party  in  the 
Church  with  which  Dt,  B.  was  identified,  speaking  with  some  disapprobation  of 
his  position  and  deportment  in  the  controversy,  and  comparing  him  with  another 
minister,  equally  distinguished  and  no  less  agreeable  in  private  life,  yet  thrown 
more  prominently  into  the  front  of  the  conflict,  and  more  obnoxious  on  account 
of  a  ceriain  pointed  invective  in  debate,  said,  too  energetically  for  her  sex,  that 
for  her  part  she  had  as  lief  be  beheaded  with  the  broad  axe  of  the  one,  as  have 
her  throat  gently  cut  by  the  smooth,  keen  razor  of  the  other. 

As  might  be  inferred  fh»n  what  I  have  said  of  him  above,  he  was  a  very  hospi- 
table man;  and  his  hospitality  was,  like  himself,  frank  and  unostentatious.  It 
was  not  from  any  thing  he  said,  but  from  all  the  cordiality  and  kindness  of  his 
reception,  the  evident  enjoyment  he  took  in  the  society  he  welcomed  to  his  roof 
and  table,  that  you  felt  yourself  at  once  at  home  and  at  ease.  In  this  respect, 
it  was  like  that  fine  and  unaffected  welcome  you  meet  in  the  best  homes  of  the 
South  and  West,  in  which  the  guest  is  made  to  feel  himself  more  an  obliger  than 
obliged. 

In  the  controversies  within  the  Presbyterian  Church,  he  took  a  decided  and 
earnest  stand  with  the  Old  School.  All  his  sympathies  led  him  that  way.  In 
the  darkest  periods  of  the  great  conflict,  he  shrunk  not,  neither  was  he  disheart- 
ened.  Sink  or  swim,  he  periled  reputation  and  position  in  the  issue,  and  erer 
stood  firm  to  his  convictions.  This  is  not  the  place  to*  discuss  or  to  assume  the 
merits  of  that  controversy;  but  it  is  due  to  the  truth  and  history  of  the  case  to 
state  the  estimate  of  his  position  in  it,  which  was  formed  by  those  who  were 
associated  with  him  in  the  conferences  and  consultations  of  that  momentous 
time. 

Notwithstanding  the  vehemence  with  which  the  debates  of  that  period  were 
conducted,  and, — making  all  due  allowance  for  the  imperfections  of  the  best 
men,  and  for  the  infirmities  that  appear  in  the  arena  of  fervent  controversy, — I 
cannot  recall  an  instance  in  which  ho  ever  forgot  the  amenities  of  the  occasion, 
or  lost  his  self-possession.  I  remember  one  occasion,  indeed,  which,  at  the  time, 
and  to  one  unacquainted  with  him  and  with  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  might 
have  appeared  like  a  display  of  unduly  excited  feeling;  though  it  really  was  not 
so.  Without  attempting  to  describe  the  scene,  I  will  only  say  that  it  reminded 
me  of  one,  in  which,  some  years  before,  another  minister  from  the  same  State 
figured.  After  an  ardent  debate,  on  an  ecclesiastical  trial,  in  which  he  had  taken 
part,  he  overheard,  but  mistook  the  purport  of,  some  angry  threats  of  certain 
friends  of  the  party  arraigned.  Supposing,  however,  that  these  persons  were, 
as  if  in  sympathy  with  himself,  meditating  injury  to  one,  who,  in  the  debate, 
had  dealt  him  some  unkind  reproaches,  he  interposed,  saying, — "  (Gentlemen,  I 
beg  you  to  forbear;  I  feel  no  ill-will  to  those  persons,  and  have  no  wrongs  to  be 
avenged;  I  am  a  Kentuckian,  indeed,  but  I  am  a  Christian  too/*  But  he  was 
speedily  undeceived,  and  found  himself  to  be  the  object  of  their  purpose; — ^whea 
he  rejoined, — '*  Gentlemen,  I  beg  you  to  beware;  it  is  true,  I  trust  I  am  a  Chris 
tian,  but  you  must  remember,  that  i  am  also  a  Kentuckian!*' 

His  intrepidity  of  character  needs  no  special  illustration.  It  was  a  part  of 
himself,  and  he  would  not  have  been  himself  without  it.  He  never  feared  the 
face  of  man,  and  as  a  bold  and  uncompromising  advocate  of  what  he  believed  to 
be  truth,  he  exhibited  not  only  the  «iMOt/cr  in  moio,  but  the  JbvtU^r  in  rt. 
Once,  when  he  was  making  a  speech  at  an  Anniversary  of  the  ColouiiatioB  Hoei- 
ety,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the  stancheat  friends,  at  a  time  when  the  publil 
meetings  in  this  city  were  often  the  scene  of  great  excitement,  some  of  Ui 
remarks  on  the  subject,  in  its  relation  to  slavery,  were  reoeived  with  peeulisr 


«spi«Mkm8  of  dtMifprob*tioii>  by  the  opponenta  of  that  soboino  who  wore  present. 
The  speftker  was  assailed  with  hisses;  angry  looks  and  gestures  menaced  him  ; 
and  he  was  interrupted  for  a  moment  by  the  outcries  and  the  confusion  that 
reigned  in  the  audience.  Drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  he  cast  around 
him  a  look  of  undaunted  firmness,  while  a  slight  flush  sufifused  his  countenance, 
and  even  a  smile  played  around  his  mouth,  and  said, — **  I  am  not  to  be  put  down 
by  hisses  or  by  threats.  I  was  cradled  where  the  Indian  war-whoop  yet  min- 
gled with  the  infont's  lullaby,  and  trained  by  a  mother  whose  earliest  lessons 
taught  me,  next  to  the  fear  of  God,  not  to  be  afraid  of  any  body."  The  effect 
of  this  speech,  uttered  with  such  serene  composure  and  heroic  dignity,  was  elec- 
tric. The  audience  subsided  into  perfect  calm,  and  he  finished  his  address  with- 
out further  interruption,  than  that  of  enthusiastic  api^ause.  On  another  occasion, 
in  making  the  annual  Address  before  the  literary  societies  of  the  University, 
speaking  from  short  notes, — a  usual  practice  with  him, — ^he  advanced  some  sen- 
timents which  were  not  well  suited  to  the  popular  sympathies  of  the  time.  A 
slight  buzzing  in  the  audience  attracted  his  attention,  and  recognising  in  it  a 
dissent  from  his  opinions,  he  paused,  then  uttered  with  majestic  calmness  these 
words — **  I  was  born  a  freeman,  and  by  the  grace  of  God,  T  mean  to  live  and  die 
one."  The  assembly  was  hushed  in  a  moment  to  audible  silence,  but  then  there 
arose  such  a  thunder  of  applause  as  overwhelmingly  indicated  its  sympathy  with 
the  manly  sentiment  and  avowal  of  a  freeman's  right  to  speak  all  his  thoughts. 
It  was  as  when  a  Koman  theatre  received  that  utterance  which  spoke  to  the 
heart  of  humanity, — '*  I  am  a  man,  and  nothing  that  concerns  man  is  alien  to 
ne." 

Quick  in  repartee,  he  was  often  very  happy, — still  so  bland  and  courteous  that 
he  did  not  give  offence.  One  day  on  the  street,  he  was  met  by  a  lady  and  gen- 
tleman, the  latter  of  whom  dissented  strongly  firom  Dr.  B.'s  Oalvinistic  senti- 
ments, while  he  yet  greatly  admired  his  character  and  talents^  He  introduced 
the  lady  as  his  wife,  adding  sportively, — '*  Dr.  B.,  my  wife  is  just  one  of  your 
sort  of  folks.  She  believes  that  what  is  to  be,  will  be."  "Ah,**  said  he,  "  and 
I  suppose  I  am  to  understand  that  you  are  one  of  the  sort  which  believe  that 
what  is  to  be,  won't  be."    It  was  a  poser. 

Devoted  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  he  was  their  uncompro- 
misingexpounder  and  advocate.  His  influence  was  visible  in  the  greatly  improved 
tone  of  piety  attained  by  his  Congregation  in  Baltimore,  and  in  the  happy 
results  of  his  ministry,  ooteraporary  and  affiliated  with  the  excellent  Kevins  in 
that  city.  His  memory  is  cherished  there  to  this  day.  His  people  were  trained, 
and  instructed,  and  of  one  mind  with  him.  I  once  heard  a  distinguished  person, 
whose  ecclesiastical  politics  were  opposed  to  Dr.  B.'s,  say  that  he  had  so  thor- 
oughly imbued  his  people  with  his  views,  that,  even  some  years  after  he  had  left 
them,  (at  a  time  when  it  was  desired  and  hoped  that  they  might  be  enlisted  in 
an  opposite  interest,)  not  the  least  impression  could  be  made  upon  them. 

As  a  debater  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts,  or  on  the  platform,  he  always  spoke 
without  any  notes,  and  apparently  without  studied  preparation.  On  these 
oooasions,  he  was  sometimes  discursive,  yet  he  never  abandoned  his  point.  And 
there  were  times  when  lofty  bursts  of  eloquence  told  with  flne  effect  on  the 
delighted  hearers.  I  think  I  may  apply  to  him  what  has  been  lately  written  of 
Thomas  Lord  Lyttleton  as  a  Senator,  though  alas!  of  him  only  as  a  parliament- 
ary orator.*  *'  Ills  tone  in  the  Senate  had  been  pure,  moral  and  high-princi- 
pled.  Even  his  opponents  acknowledged  the  harmony  of  his  periods,  the  force 
of  his  declamations,  and  the  ingenuity  of  his  arguments."  He  was  often  in 
request  for  public  occasions.  And  there  are  those  who  still  remember  his  mas- 
terly dissection,  at  an  Anniversary  of  the  American  Tract  Society,  of  €Kbbon'ft 

•  LondsD  Qaarlerly  Rerlew,  Jaaistjy  IStt. 
Vol.  IV.  82 


6M 

iMtiiow  Imfr  sifihktaML'SxpkiiwtMB  «f  Hie  mu9B  of  <iie  wwtiiiliUi  iiiiimJ  <if 
Chrietianitf  in.'  ita  primttiTe^ period;  And  the  splendid  pererataon,  wherein, 
deecribing  the  Begnifioent  enterpriie  which  he  oommended  to  the  Society,  evea 
at  the  risk  of  feilare,  he  coneluded  in  worde  like  theee:--^''  Let  the  spot  b» 
marked  with  endiuing  stene,  bearing  this  svggestiTe  and  neisorable  inscription-— 
^  Mere  feU^he  Jfmerican  Tract  SocieUfy  m  atUmpHnfg  to  oMeme  the  rnnmersiom 
of  the  world !'  " 

In  the  p«lpit,  he  was  distiiiguished  eqnailj  for  eopieiisness  and  Mcity.  H« 
never  read  his  semoiiSy  and  I  beliere  he  tery  seldom  wvote  them.  I  have  known, 
him  to  be  called  npon  to  preach  without  any  opportunity  for  pteparation.  Som«- 
times  his  mind  n^dly  chose  his  theme,  and  arranged  his  thoi^;his.  around  it, 
and  he  tiien  spoke  with  great  point,  clearMss,  and  force.  At  other  times  I  hare 
heard  him,  when  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  started  with  some  inkling  of  a  point 
which  eluded  him,  so  thatheooold  not  yet  seise  it^  and  lor  a  while  he  exempli-* 
fied  what,  upon  snch  ao  occasion,  was  very  pertinently  said  of  him  by  a  loving 
relative,  that  '*  Mr.  B.  appeared  to  be  hunting  something."  But  when  he  caught 
the  theme,  his  form  dilated,  his  eye  kindled,  and  his  eloquent  features  all  aglow, 
he  would  pour  out  a  strain  of  admirable  argument  and  burning  illustration. 
Sometimes  he  wrote,  and  then  curiously  enough.  Even  for  a  special  occasion  I 
once  knew  him,  after  being  much  engaged  otherwise  up  to  his  departure  for  tho 
place  where  he  was  to  speak,  attend  to  the  completion  of  his  preparations  for  it 
while  OH  the  way,  occupying  the  intervals  of  his  journey  when  the  coach  stopped 
for  meals  or  for  the  night,  by  retiring  to  his  room  and  writing  out  his  discourse. 
There  are  few  men,  however  well-furnished,  who  could  or  ought  to  venture^oa 
ezpcrimonts  like  these.  But  commonly  hepreadied  from  a  *' brief,"  carefully 
arranged,  and  the  construction  and  management  of  this  was  something  of  a 
curiosity.  His  lilabit  may  be  learned  from  my  first  observation  of  him  in  this 
respect,  when  I  regarded  his  proceedings,  as  I  sat  with  him  in  my  own  pulpit, 
not  without  some  wonder.  Drawing  forth  a  small  packet  of  what  I  supposed 
to  be  "  skeletons,"  he  selected  some  three  slips  of  paper,  not  written  precisely 
like  the  prophet's  rolL  '*  within  and  without."  These  were  quarters  of  sheets, 
of  letter-size  apparently,  folded  lengthvrise  so  as  to  make  four  pages.  The  inside 
pages  were  blanks  while  one  or  both,  as  he  might  need,  of  the  outside  pages 
were  covered  with  his  bo}d  and  careless  manuscript.  Next  he  prodoeed  ftrthin, 
round,  pocketpin-enshion,  well  filled.  Then,  selecting  one  of  the  slips,  he  pinned 
it  so  as  to  lap  the  leaf  on  which  bis  text  was,  so  that  when  the  first  page  should 
be  exhausted,  he  might  turn  tlie  leaf  of  the  Bible,  and  prooesd  with  the  second. 
Carefully  selecting  quite  anotlier  place  in  the  Bible,  he  there. pinned  another 
paper  in  like  manner;  and  soon  with  the  third.  Eacii  of  these  slips,  I  after- 
wards learned,  as  it  was  not  difScult  to  guess,  contained  a  distinot  head  of 
remark,  with  brief  hints  to  be  filled  up  in  speaking,  and  concluded  with  a  refer- 
ence to  a  topic  that  required  the  use  of  a  text  elsewhere;  and  following  the  r^fep* 
ence,  he  turned  over  to  the  page  thus  indicated,  where  he  found  his  ftirther  hints 
and  prooeeded  as  before.  My  old  pulpit  Bible  bears  many  a  mark  of  these  per* 
forations.  This  peculiar  method  was  suggested  solely  by  regard  for  his  own 
convenienoe,  and -was  l^  no  means  intended  to  **  blind  the  eyes  of  galling  critics;" 
for  the  aggregate  of  all  that  was  thus  written  might  easily  have  been  read  off  in 
less  than  five  minutes. 

His  style  and  delivery  were  sometimes  very  grand,  flashing  with  intellect  and 
power;  and  then  again  he  changed  to  the  tender  and  melting  mood.  Though 
not  unmethodical,  nor  talking  against  time,  or  for  talk's  sake,  he  wne -often- 
ezeursive  and  epinotficali^-Hnore  so  perhaps  than  in  extempore  debate— 4Br 
W^hereas  there,  he  rose  to  speak  under  the  impuLae  of  some  thought  that  struggled 
for  utterance,  and  revolved  around  some  single  point,— in  the  pulpit  there  was 
more  of  previous  leisuzdy  intentionv  and  the  calmness  that  is  not  stimulated  by 


JOHV/BBIfKnrWlGE.         I  sgSk 


Unpted  bj  his  vwy*  fidites4, -lift  poured  oviiich  ittores^of  •tiMVgbt  and  mu^imH''^ 
tion,  till  the  ezhjunted  hour  required  him  to  stop,*— not-  without  disuppointment 
to  the  hearers,  both  for  the  balldng  of  their  willingness  for  more,  and  for  the 
brief  treatment  of  the  latter  points  announced  in  his  plan, — ^leaving  in  some  cases 
the  impression  of  incompleteness.  But  his  manner  was  chaste,  and  his  fine 
imagination  was  not  undisciplined.  Tou  saw  no  rant,  nor  start  theatric;  you' 
heard  no  thunder  let  off  to  make  people  stare;  no  trickery  to  please  gaping' sides 
and  benches.    You  would  not  say  of  him  exactly 

"  Though  deep,  yet  clear,  though  gentle,  yet  not  dull, 
"  Strong  without  rage,  without  overflowing,  ftill:" 

For  he  was  not  always  ''calm,"  but  on  the  contrary  impassioned  and  sublime. 
And  he  did  sometimes  "oyerfiow:"  but  it  is  no  disparagement  of  the  Missis^ 
sipipl  to  say  it  is  not  in  all  respects  like  the  Thames. 

You  may  think  I  have  written  herein  with  too  strong  partialities  of  friendship 
on  me.  But  I  stand  not  alone  in  my  estimate.  And  I  could  not  write  other- 
wise and  write  truly.  Would  it  weate  worthi^  of  a  man  whom  liying,  I  was 
happy  in  numbering  among  my  Iriends,  and  dying,  I  lamented  with  no  affected 
grief. 

I  cannot  foiget  that  when  I  was  almost  overwhelmed  with  sudden  and  sore 
trial,  he  wrote  and  he  came  to  me,  with  counsels  most  judicious,  comforting  and 
salutary.  It  was  not  long  afterwards  that  I  was  called  upon  to  requite,  by. 
reminding  him  of  timely  consolations  he  had  ministered  to  me.  I  remember 
how  he  bore  sorrow  like  a  man  of  grace  and  faith.  Yet  afflictions  and  labours 
wore  him  out,  and  too  soon  for  the  Church  he  loved  and  served  so  well,lie  entered 
peacefully  into  rest.    I  was  his  friend,  and  I  am 

Affectionately  yours, 

JOHN  M.  KKEBS. 


■♦♦- 


ALEXANDER  AUGUSTUS  CAMPBELL  * 

1822—1846. 

Alexander  Augustus  Campbell,  a  son  of  Captain  Francis  and 
Nancy  ()3arnet)  Campbell,  was  bom  in  Amherst  County,  Ya.,  December 
30,  1789.  He  spent  his  early  years  at  home,  and  had  only  the  advantages 
for  edaoation  furnished  by  the  oommon  schools  of  that  day,  until,  at  the 
age  of  about  eighteen  or  nineteen,  he  commenced  the  study  of  medicine. 
Having  studied  for  some  time  under  the  direction  of  Dr.  Patton  of  Danville, 
Ya.,  he  went  to  Philadelphia,  and  completed  his  studies  at  the  Medical 
School  in  that  city,  where  he  graduated  in  the  year  1811. 

In  his  boyhood  he  was,  at  one  time,  much  oonoemed  in  regard  to  his 
eternal  interests  ;  but,  while  he  was  studying  with  a  view  to  his  profession, 
he  became  sceptical,  and  tried  hard  to  divest  himself  of  a  belief  of  the 
Divine  existence.  While  attending  the  Lectures  at  Philadelphia,  he  was 
attacked  with  the  yellow  fever,  and  his  case,  even  in  the  judgment  of  his 
physicians,  became  hopeless.  Of  his  experience  at  that  time,  he  has  left  in. 
manuscript  the  following  remarkable  record  : — 

•  »  MB.  Aon  Rev.  B.  8.  ObmpbeQ.  > 


'*  I  knew  froiB  «Terj  sjittptoni  under  wUA  I  Ubmmii  ihst  I  wart  dfo  ; 
for,  from  ike  first  attack  of  tlie  diMase,  I  never  had  my  mind  to  tdear  and 
oomprehensiYe  before  or  since.  All  natnre  appeared  within  my  grasp.  I 
disposed  of  my  affairs,  and  gave  such  direction  to  my  friends  as  I  wished, 
and  gave  my  body  to  my  room-mates  to  dissect  after  death,  requesting  them 
to  examine  particular  parts  that  I  supposed  were  diseased.  My  friend,  Dr. 
Bush,  having  asked  me  if  I  was  prepared  to  die,  and  having  received  an 
affirmative  answer,  had  left  me,  as  he  supposed,  for  the  last  time.  I  had 
indeed  no  fear  of  death,  and  was  perfectly  willing  to  die  any  moment.  At 
this  juncture,  when  1  expected  that  every  breath  would  be  my  last,  I  placed 
myself  in  a  posture  to  be  laid  out,  thinking  thus  to  give  my  friends  as  little 
trouble  as  possible.  I  waited  impatiently  to  stop  breathing.  In  this  situa- 
tion, the  remark  of  Dr.  Bush  came  to  my  mind,  as  well  as  the  name  of 
Sydenham,  and  others  eminent  for  piety ;  and  I  could  not  but  ask  myself 
whether,  if  these  truly  great  men  believed  in  a  Ood,  it  was  not  the  height 
of  presumption  in  me, — a  mere  stripling,  to  disbelieve.  But  then  I  con- 
cluded that  the  mind  of  man  only  possessed  a  certain  degree  of  excitability 
or  power  to  be  acted  on ;  and  if  it  was  greatly  improved  at  one  point,  it  was 
proportionally  weakened  at  another  ;  and,  therefore,  though  these  were  great 
men,  and  had  advanced  far  in  science,  it  was  a  necessary  consequence  that 
in  the  same  ratio  their  power  of  appreciating  moral  truth  was  weakened,  and 
of  course  they  must  be  mere  fools  in  respect  to  religion.  After  many  reflec- 
tions upon  my  situation,  I  came  to  this  conclusion  with  great  seriousness 
and  solemnity — that,  as  it  was  then  too  late  to  turn  to  God,  if  there  was 
one,  I  would  make  the  best  of  my  old  theory, — it  being  all  I  had  to  depend 
upon  ;  but  that,  if  I  should  recover,  I  would  abandon  my  principles,  for  I 
should  feel  assured  that  nothing  but  a  Divine  power  could  restore  me.  At  the 
same  time,  I  solemnly  lifted  up  my  soul  to  Heaven  in  an  earnest  prayer 
that,  if  I  was  in  an  error,  God  would  be  pleased  to  make  it  manifest  to  me 
by  restoring  me  again  to  health,  and  then  I  would  serve  Him  during  the  rest 
of  my  days.  No  sooner  was  this  resolution  made  than  I  began  to  amend, 
and  in  a  short  time  it  became  manifest  to  all  that  I  was  on  the  reoovery.  I 
soon  wrote  to  my  infidel  friend,  who  had  been  instrumental  in  leading  me 
astray,  that  I  had  abjured  my  principles,  and  had  become  satisfied  that 
religion  was  a  reality.'*  After  a  long  period  of  trial  and  conflict,  during  a 
part  of  which  he  imagined  that  he  had  committed  the  unpardonable  sin,  he 
was  enabled  to  repose  in  the  gracious  promises  of  the  Gospel,  and  made  a 
public  profession  of  his  faith. 

On  his  return  from  Philadelphia  in  1811,  he  settled  as  a  medical  practi- 
tioner in  Leakesville,  N.  C;  but  in  1814,  he  removed  back  to  Virginia,  and 
settled  in  Goochland  County,  where  he  remained  between  two  and  three 
years.     In  1817,  he  removed  to  Huntsville,  Ala. 

As  he  grew  in  Christian  knowledge  and  spirituality,  he  began  to  cherish 
the  desire,  and  ultimately  formed  the  purpose,  to  devote  himself  to  the  min- 
istry of  the  Gospel.  He  at  length  abandoned  the  practice  of  medicine  as  a 
profession,  studied  Theology  under  the  Bev.  Gideon  Blackburn,  and  was 
licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  North  Alabama,  on  the  2d  of  April, 
1822.  He  was  erdained  by  the  same  Presbytery,  as  an  Evangelist,  on  the 
29th  of  September,  182B. 

Mr.  Campbell  performed  his  earliest  labours  in  the  ministry  as  an  itine- 
rant ;  bat  in  1824,  he  removed  to  Tuscambia,  Ala.,  and  officiated  as  a  stated 


ALEXAKDBR  XtPSfOWOS  CAMPBELL.  %^ 

nafflj  nk  Aat  plaoa  aad  At  BiUMNiDtyiUe,  for  nhwmi  f<ntr  yoftts.  In  1828,  h« 
waa  tBTited  to  take  akarge  of  the  Obareh  at  Floreaoe,  Ala.,  bat  doclinad  the 
call  on  the  ground  that  the  salary  that  was  ofFerod  him  waa  inadequate  to  the 
support  of  his  fiimily ;  and  besides,  he  had  already  made  arrangements  to 
remove  to  the  Western  District  of  Tennessee,  where  he  had  actually  pur- 
chased lands,  and  made  preparations  for  opening  a  farm.  He«  however, 
remained  two  years  at  Florence,  and  his  labours  there  were  greatly  blessed, 
not  only  in  restoring  harmony  to  a  distracted  church,  but  in  bringing  about 
a  revival  of  religion  by  means  of  which  the  church  waa  not  a  little  strong^- 
ened, — ^forty  persons  being  added  to  it  in  two  months.  He  left  Florence  in 
the  winter  of  1829-80,  and  removed  to  Haywood  County,  in  Western  Ten- 
nessee, where  he  preached  as  a  missionary,  traversing  almost  the  whole 
District,  organising  dmrches,  and  sowing  seed  which  has  since  yielded  a  rich 
harvest. 

'  In  the  autumn  of  1882,  he  was  invited  to  take  charge  of  the  Church  in 
Jackson,  Tenn.  He  accepted  the  invitation,  removed  thither,  and  \siia 
installed  Pastor  of  the  Church  on  the  3d  of  October,  1888.  Here  be 
remained  labouring  most  diligently  and  faithfully,  until  his  ministrations 
were  suddenly  broken  off  by  death.  During  this  period,  he  not  only 
preached  twice,  and  often  three  times,  on  the  Sabbath,  and  lectured  in  the 
week,  but  edited  a  newspaper,  (the  Jackson  Protestant,)  and  attended  con- 
siderably to  the  practice  of  medicine.  He  rarely  retired  to  rest  until  the 
clock  was  at  least  near  striking  the  small  hours.  Ho  paid  frequent  visits, 
as  a  physician,  to  the  missionaries  at  Creek  Path  in  the  Cherokee  nation,  as 
well  as  those  in  the  Creek  nation ;  and  while  these  visits  had  more  particu- 
lar reference  to  the  health  of  the  body,  they  contributed  not  a  little  to 
encourage  and  help  forward  the  missionaries  in  their  self-denying  work. 

Mr.  Campbell's  last  illness  was  sadden  and  brief.  About  the  middle  of 
May,  1846,  he  was  violently  attacked  with  malignant  erysipelas  in  a  masked 
form.  His  sufferings  from  the  commencement  were  excruciating,  but  he 
bore  them  with  great  fortitude  and  submission.  He  conversed  freely  with 
his  friends  who  called  to  see  him,  expressing  his  full  confidence  in  the  Master 
whom  he  had  served,  and  leaving  a  cheerful  and  earnest  testimony  to  his 
all-sustaining  grace.  About  twelve  hours  before  his  death,  an  anodyne  was 
administered  to  him  with  a  view  to  alleviate  his  sufferings;  and  under  its 
influence  he  fell  into  a  sleep  from  which  he  passed,  as  was  confidently 
believed,  to  a  better  world.  He  died  on  the  27th  of  May,  1846,  in  the  fifty- 
seventh  year  of  his  age. 

Mr.  Campbell  wrote  thus  in  his  diary  under  date  of  December  80, 
1828:— 

"  This  day  brings  me  to  my  thirty-ninth  year ;  and  how  have  these  yean 
been  spent  ?  Twelve  of  them  in  childhood ;  five  of  them  in  resting  on  my 
own  self-righteousness ;  four  in  open  infidelity  ;  two  in  serving  Ood  in  my 
own  strength ;  six  in  horrid  despair  from  believing  that  I  had  committed  the 
unpardonable  sin,  in  openly  opposing  Ood  and  religion,  contrary  to  n)y  con- 
science ;  and  since  I  have  been  brought  to  rely  on  Jesus  for  salvation,  what 
an  unprofitable  servant  have  I  been  !  " 

On  the  12th  of  December,  1812,  he  was  married  to  Sarah,  daughter  of 
Daniel  and  Margaret  Boyce.  They  had  seven  children, — five  sons  and  two 
daughters ;— all  of  whom  he  liTcd  to  see  in  the  Coamunton  of  the  Chnreh. 
Two  of  hit  sens  beoaafte  tttmateM  of  the  OoepeL    The  elder  is  bow  (185T) 


1 


Alexander^  was  bora  Jvly  27,  1M4,  at  ToMmnibia,  AUl;  was  gnduited  at 
West  Tennessee  Oellege,  Jsi^on ;  was  licensed  to  preaoli  bj  the  Presbjtery 
of  the  Western  District  of  Tennessee,  July,  1853;  and  died  of  a  pfulmonary 
affection  on  the  27th  of  May,  1855.  He  was  a  young  man  of  lovely  char« 
acter  and  high  promise.  Mr.  Campbell's  widow  still  sarrives,  and  lendM 
in  Jaokson,  Tenn. 

Mr.  Campbell  pnUisked  a  Tract  on  the  design  and  use  of  Baptiran;  and 
another  work  on  the  same  snbjeot^  entitled  «*  Seriptnre  Baptinn,"  I844L 


FROM  THE  REV.  JAKES  HOLMEBi  D.  D., 
pEOFXsiOB.  u  Tjsx  WIST  tsmsaua  oou^a* 

Jacksov,  Tenn.,  April  18,  1867. 

My  dear  Sir:  On  account  of  my  long  and  intimate  acquMntanee  with  oar 
deceased  ft-iend,  Rer.  A.  A.  Campbell,  I  hare  been  requested  to  oommunicate  to 
yon  some  of  my  recollections  illustrative  of  his  character. 

On  the  first  Monday  eyening  in  November  of  1824, 1  approached  his  dwelling 
in  Tuscumbia,  Ala.,  assured  of  a  cordial  welcome.  Por  weeks  I  had  been  prose- 
cuting my  tedious  journey  from  the  Theological  Seminary  in  Princeton  to  my 
missionary  field  among  the  Chick asaws,  meeting  with  few  comparatively  whc 
cared  for  the  souls  of  the  Heathen.  How  rejoiced  I  was,  therefore,  to  learn  Irom 
my  new  acquaintance,  a  few  minutes  after  my  arrival,  that  the  hour  for  the 
Monthly  Concert  of  Prayer  had  come.  We  went  together  to  the  log  school-house 
and  church,  and  I  soon  discovered  that  I  had  met  with  one  who  cordially  sym- 
pathised with  the  missionary.  Before  we  parted,  he  kindly  proffered  his  ser- 
vices as  a  physician,  if,  at  any  time,  they  should  be  needed:  of  which  we  availed 
ourselves  on  several  occasions,  especially  in  1829,  when  he  spent  nearly  three 
weeks  in  my  family,  travelling  alone  through  the  wilderness,  about  two  hundred 
and  thirty  miles,  in  going  and  returning.  During  this  visit,  he  preached  the  Gos- 
pel to  our  Indians  with  great  fervency,  and  from  day  to  day  he  visited  among 
them,  embracing  every  opportunity  to  instruct  them  in  the  way  of  life.  His  was 
truly  a  missionary  spirit,  as  all  can  testify,  who  were  favoured  with  his  intimate 
acquaintance. 

The  injunction, — "Use  hospitality,"  exerted  its  full  force  in  our  deceased 
friend.  He  was  emphatically  a  lover  of  good  men,  and  his  house  and  heart  were 
ever  open  for  their  ^tertainment.  In  several  tours  for  missionary  purposes, 
embracing  many  thousand  miles,  and  affording  ample  opportunities  of  witness- 
ing the  development  of  this  principle  In  the  various  latitudes  of  our  country,  I 
am  free  to  say  that  its  brightest  illustration  I  found  beneath  his  roof.  Catharine 
Brown, — the  Cherokee  convert,  sp^ut  the  last  four  months  pf  her  life  in  his 
ikmily. 

Gentleness  and  decision  were  combined  in  an  eminent  degree  in  his  character. 
His  countenance  usually  exhibited  the  benignant  smile;  and  yet  when  vice 
was  to  be  reproved,  or  principle  defended,  sternness  marked  his  every  feature. 
His  personal  appearance  was  dignified,  and  his  manners  conciliatory.  In  eccle- 
siastical and  other  assemblies,  he  was  always  listened  to  with  marked  attention. 
Strength,  rather  than  accuracy,  characterized  his  diction. 

Owing  to  sparseness  of  population,  and  other  causes  existing  in  a  newly  settfed 
country,  camp-meetings  were  frequent  among  Presbyterians;  and  here  his  pre- 
senoe  was  earnestly  sought,  aad  his  most  effective  pulpit  efforts  exerted.  Revi- 
vals of  religion*  were  the  joy  of  his  hearty  and  in  such  seasons  be  was  peculiarly 
jadieiouB.  He  was  onooC  (he  pioaeen  of  omr  Chan^  im  the  Western  District 
of  Temiessee ;  many  of  4l|e  cbtwdbes* weta  esgwiiwd  >y  Vm^  Md  \mbaA  tlia  priri 


ALBZAITDSE.  JjmUMUB  CAMPBELL.  ^0 


p  LH(a  Mrery  man  of  dectaioii  and  earnesteiesi,  bo  had  .some  enemiefli  daring  hia 

I  lifetime;  but  this  feeling  was  hushed  at  his  death,,  and  hia  loss  is  deeplj  mpurnfi4 

hy  a  farge  circle  of  acquaintance. 

Yours  with  great  respect, 
^  JAMES  HOLMES. 


-♦•- 


JOSEPH  SANFORR* 

1828—1831. 

Joseph  Sanford,  the  3'oungest  child  of  Joseph  and  Achsa  Sanford^ 
was  born  in  Vernon,  Vt.,  February  6,  1797.  His  parents  were  originally 
from  Southbury,  Conn.,  but  removed  to  Vermont  shortly  after  their  mar- 
riage. Soon  after  the  birth  of  this  son,  they  transferred  their  residence  to 
Galvvay,  Saratoga  County,  N.  Y.,  where  they  remained  till  the  summer  of 
1816,  when  they  made  another  remove,  and  settled  in  Cayuga  County  in 
the  same  State.  They  were  both  persons  of  exemplary  religious  character, 
and  were  careful  to  train  up  their  children  in  the  way  they  should  go.  His 
fathef  died  in  the  year  1826  ;  his  mother  about  the  year  1847. 

The  subject  of  this  sketch,  ftrom  his  earliest  mental  developments,  mani- 
fested great  susceptibility  to  the  influence  of  religious  truth  ;  and  it  is 
supposed  that  when  he  was  not  more  than  eight  years  old,  his  mind  had 
received  a  permanently  serious  and  pious  direction.  At  the  age  of  thirteen, 
he  became  a  communicant  in  the  church,  and  evinced  ever  afterward  a 
strength  of  religious  principle  and  feeling,  which  would  have  been  worthy 
of  the  most  advanced  stage  of  Christian  experience.  At  fourteen  he  was 
the  teacher  of  a  district  school,  in  which  he  acquitted  himself  with  much 
honour,  and  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  his  employers. 

From  an  early  period  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  his  heart  was  fixed 
upon  the  ministry  as  his  ultimate  profession.  When  he  was  eighteen  or 
nineteen  years  old,  he  commenced  his  classical  studies  with  a  view  to  enter- 
ing College.  Part  of  his  preparatory  course  was  at  Granville,  Washington 
County,  and  part  of  it  at  Ballston,  Saratoga  County :  Iq  both  places  his 
diligence  was  most  exemplary,  and  his  success  fully  answered  to  his  dili- 
gence. He  was  also  earnestly  engaged,  not  only  in  the  cultivation  of  per- 
sonal piety,  but  in  the  promotion  of  religion  in  the  hearts  of  those  around 
him ;  and  though  there  was  nothing  in  his  deportment  that  approached  to 
ostentation  or  extravagance,  he  always  stood  ready  to  lend  a  quiet  but 
efficient  aid  to  every  good  work  that  might  solicit  his  regard. 

He  became  a  member  of  the  Sophomore  class  in  Union  College  in  Sep- 
tember, 1817.  It  was  during  his  college  course  that  the  memorable  revival 
occurred  in  the  County  of  Saratoga,  and  some  adjoining  towns,  in  which  the 
labours  of  Mr.  Nettleton,  Dr.  Nott,  Dr.  Macauley,  and  others,  were  so 
prominent.  Sanford  drank  deeply  into  the  spirit  of  the  work ;  mingled  with 
those  who  were  trembling  with  apprehension,  and  those  who  were  rejoicing 
in  hope,  ad  he  had  opportunity ;  and  not  a  few  were  supposed  to  have  been 

•liNMir«riitoII*.--Mi*flMi]te.0MilM.  ' 


056  PBESBrrxKiAir* 

permuieiiily  benefitted  by  bis  fervid  and  impreanve  addrefliee.    His  college 

oourae  was  somewhat  embarrassed  by  feeble  health,  and  by  one  or  two 
somewhat  protracted  seasons  of  absenee  in  conseqaenoe  of  it ;  neyertheless, 
bis  standing  for  scholarship  was  highly  respectable,  and  his  conduct  in  his 
relations  to  both  officers  and  students  was  most  fitting  and  exemplary.  He 
graduated  at  the  Commencement  in  1820. 

In  the  early  part  of  November  succeeding  his  graduation,  he  joined 
the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  where  he  passed  the  next  three 
years  in  immediate  preparation  for  the  duties  of  his  profession.  Hu  course 
here,  as  in  College,  was  marked  by  a  most  diligent  and  conscientious  dis- 
charge of  all  his  duties.  He  was  greatly  respected  for  his  intellectual 
powers  and  acquisitions,  but  his  high  moral  qualities,  especially  his  earnest 
and  devoted  piety,  constituted  his  more  important  distinction. 

In  April,  1823,  Mr.  Sanford  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of 
New  York.  Immediately  after  this,  he  went  to  Montreal,  L.  C,  and  for 
several  weeks  supplied  the  American  Presbyterian  Church  in  that  city. 
Here  his  services  were  received  with  the  warmest  testimonies  of  approba- 
tion, and  vigorous  efforts  were  made  by  the  congregation  to  procure  his 
permanent  settlement  among  them.  But,  though  the  call  which  they  gave 
him  was  entirely  unanimous,  and  in  the  highest  degree  cordial,  he  felt  him- 
self coDstrained,  after  much  deliberation  and  inquiry  concerning  his  duty, 
to  decline  it.  He  returned  from  Montreal  to  Princeton,  about  the  last  of 
June,  where  he  remained  till  September,  when  his  connection  with  the 
Seqninary  ceased. 

A  call  from  the  new  Presbyterian  (now  the  First)  Church  of  Brooklyn 
was  before  him,  at  the  same  time  with  that  from  Montreal ;  and  both  were 
urged  with  so  much  importunity,  and  both  presented  such  strong  claims 
upon  his  regard,  that  his  mind  was,  for  a  long  time,  in  a  stat^e  of  painful 
perplexity.  He  decided,  however,  at  length,  in  favour  of  Brooklyn,  and 
was  ordaioed  and  installed  Pastor  of  that  Church  on  the  16th  of  October. 

In  the  interval  between  leaving  the  Seminary  and  commencing  his  pas- 
toral duties  at  Brooklyn,  he  was  married  to  Anna  Jackson,  then  of  Phila- 
delphia, but  formerly  of  Trenton,  N.  J., — a  lady  distinguished  alike  for 
natural  loveliness  and  devoted  piety.  It  turned  out,  however,  in  the  mys- 
terious providence  of  God,  that  the  union  was  only  for  a  few  weeks.  An 
insidious  disease  had  been  at  work  for  some  time  in  her  system,  on  account 
of  which  it  was  thought  proper  that  she  should  submit  to  a  surgical  opera- 
tion; but,  to  the  utter  consternation  of  all  her  friends,  it  issued  fittally. 
She  died  on  the  6th  of  December.  Mr.  Sanford's  diary,  during  this  period 
of  overwhelming  affliction,  as  well  as  the  testimony  of  many  of  his  friends, 
proves  that,  while  his  heart  was  deeply  bruised  by  the  rod,  he  felt  the 
quiet  submission  of  a  child,  and  his  Christian  graces  shone  out  with  a 
greatly  increased  lustre. 

The  Congregation  in  Montreal,  being  unwilling  to  relinquish  the  idea  of 
having  him  for  their  Pastor,  and  hoping  that  perhaps  someUiing  might  have 
wrought  a  change  in  his  mind  in  their  favour,  presented  him  with  another 
call  towards  the  close  of  this  year,  (1823,)  accompanied  with  letters  from 
several  most  respectable  individuals,  designed,  if  possible,  to  secure  his 
acceptance  of  it.  He  felt  obliged,  however,  again  to  return  a  negative 
answer, — ^being  oonvinoed  that  the  plaoe  in  which  Providenoe  had  already 
fixed  him,  was,  on  the  whole,  a  field  for  more  extensive  usefdlness. 


JOSEPH  SANFOBD.  Q57 

Mr.  Sanford  continaed  to  labour  with  great  aoceptanoe, — his  ohorcli  and 
congregation  both  rapidly  increasing  under  his  ministry, — till  October,  1828, 
when  he  received  a  call  from  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in  Philadel- 
phia. The  question  that  now  presented  itself  to  him  was  one  of  great 
difficulty  ; — the  Church  at  Philadelphia  being  acknowledged  to  be  one  of  the 
most  important  in  the  United  States,  while  the  ties  which  bound  him  to  the 
Church  of  which  he  was  then  Pastor,  were  of  the  strongest  kind,  as  it  had 
risen,  under  his  ministry,  from  a  mere  handful  to  a  large  and  respectable 
body.  And  what  added  to  his  embarrassment  was,  that,  about  the  same 
time,  his  friends  in  Montreal, — nothing  discouraged  by  previous  refusals, 
renewed  their  application  to  him,  enforced  by  the  judgment  of  some  men 
of  distinguished  name,  particularly  his  friend,  President  Nott. 

On  the  6th  of  November  of  this  year,  he  was  united  in  marriage  with 
Margaret  H.  Boardman,  then  of  Albany,  daughter  of  the  Bev.  William 
Boardman,*  formerly  a  Presbyterian  clergyman  at  Newtown,  L.  I.  As  she 
still  survives,  it  would  be  indelicate  to  bear  what  would  otherwise  be  an 
appropriate  testimony  to  her  character ;  but  it  may  be  pardonable  at  least 
to  say  that  he  himself  speaks  of  her  in  his  journal  as  a  **  friend  congenial* 
sympathizing,  and  suitable  to  be  the  companion  of  a  minister  of  Jesus 
Christ." 

The  question  of  his  removal  was  before  him  for  about  three  months, 
before  it  was  finally  settled.  His  own  judgment  was  in  favour  of  an  accept- 
ance of  the  call ;  and  though  his  brethren  of  the  Presbytery  were  generally 
of  a  different  opinion,  they  finally  yielded  to  his  wishes,  and,  on  the  30th 
of  December,  he  was  allowed  to  resign  his  pastoral  charge.  On  the  11th 
of  January,  he  took  leave  of  his  people  in  a  discourse  of  great  pathos, 
evincing  the  most  affectionate  solicitude  for  their  spiritual  interests.  It  was 
published.  His  installation  at  Philadelphia  took  place  January  21,  1829. 
He  was  received  by  his  new  charge  with  every  expression  of  good*will, 
and  entered  at  once  with  great  leal  upon  the  discharge  of  his  appropriate 
duties. 

In  May,  1831,  Mr.  Sanford  received  a  call  from  the  M'Chord  Church, 
Lexington,  Ky.  He  felt  that  there  were  imperative  reasons  forbidding  his 
acceptance  of  it;  and,  accordingly,  without  much  delay,  returned  to  it  a 
negative  answer. 

During  the  succeeding  summer,  he  was  absent  a  good  deal  from  his  con- 
gregation on  account  of  the  illness  of  his  only  child,  and  his  mind,  from, 
various  causes,  was  subjected  to  great  anxiety.  Indeed  his  own  health, 
from  the  time  of  his  settlement  in  Philadelphia,  was  so  much  impaired  that 
he  was  but  ill  fitted  to  bear  the  burden  of  responsibility  and  care  that  rested 
upon  him.  About  the  middle  of  December,  he  took  a  violent  cold,  which 
was  followed  almost  immediately  by  a  yet  more  violent  fever.  The  best 
medical  skill  was  put  in  requisition,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  His  disease  was 
attended  with  great  bodily  suffering,  and,  during  a  considerable  part  of  the 
time,  with  delirium  also ;  but  in  every  lucid  interval,  it  was  manifest  that 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  was  pouring  beams  of  joy  into  his  soul.     He  died 

*  William  Boabdmak  wm  born  in  WlUiamstown,  Umm.,  In  178S;  wm  gndii»t«d  at  WU- 
lUms  College  in  17y9;  wm  lioenwd  to  preneh  the  Goepel  In  1803;  wm  tettted  In  the  minifHv 
•iieeeeriv-elj  at  Duaoetbnrg  and  Sandy  Hill,  N.  Y.,  and  wat  initalled  as  Paitor  of  the  Chnxeh 
at  Newtown,  L.  I.,  In  October,  1811,  where  he  died  Maroh  4,  1818,  In  the  thirtj-serenth  year 
«r  hit  MO.  Dr.  Prime,  IbUs  Bifltevjof  LoagUUHid»Mjt  erUasy— <*Ha  maaaiaaof  aitel 
and  aot^e  piety,  and  died  deeply  regretted." 

ToL  IV.  83 


ggg  PRESBTTEEIAN. 

on  the  25tb  of  December,  1831 ;  and  the  Funeral  aolemniiies  were  performed 
on  the  28th.  The  Kev.  Dr.  Macauloj  preached  on  the  occasion  from  Reve- 
lation xiv.  13.  His  corpse  was  deposited  in  the  vault  of  Alexander  Henrjr^ 
Esq.,  but  was  subsequently  removed  to  Brooklyn,  and  buried  beside  the 
grave  of  his  first  wife. 

The  only  publication  of  Mr.  Sanford  was  his  Farewell  Sermon  delivered 
at  Brooklyn  in  1829. 

The  first  time  I  ever  saw  Mr.  Sanford  was  in  September,  1824,  on  the 
occasion  of  his  coming  to  Springfield,  Mass.,  to  represent  the  American 
Bible  Society  at  the  Anniversary  of  the  several  Benevolent  Associations  in 
Hampden  County.  As  he  was  to  pass  the  preceding  Sabbath  in  that  neigh- 
bourhood, I  asked  him  to  occupy  my  pulpit  in  the  afternoon,  and  he  con- 
sented to  do  so.  I  had  never  heard  him  spoken  of  as  an  eloquent  man, 
and  was  not  looking  for  any  thing  from  him  particularly  exciting  or  attract- 
ive. He  laid  his  manuscript  sermon  before  him,  and  read  with  sufficient 
freedom  for  about  half  an  hour;  and  if  he  had  stopped  then,  I  should  have 
said  that  the  performance  was  just  iibout  equal  to  my  expectations.  But 
though  he  had  got  to  the  end  of  his  manuscript,  he  had,  by  no  means,  fin- 
ished his  sermon ;  and  the  part  that  remained  made  all  that  had  gone  before 
seem  tame  and  frigid.  The  change  that  came  over  the  preacher  was  like  a 
transfiguration — from  reading  with  no  remarkable  animation,  though  with 
great  propriety,  he  passed,  by  an  almost  instantaneous  transition,  to  the 
most  impassioned  style  of  extemporaneous  address ;  and  his  splendid  diction 
and  impressive  appeals,  taken  in  connection  with  the  fervour  of  his  manner, 
were  quite  irresistible.  I  afterwards  heard  him  deliver  an  extemporaneous 
address  in  his  own  church ;  but  it  left  me  with  the  impression,  which  was 
confirmed  by  some  of  his  stated  hearers,  that  there  was  great  inequality  in 
hb  off-hand  efforts. 

At  the  time  of  the  visit  to  which  I  have  referred,  Mr.  Sanford  was  a 
deep  mourner  for  the  then  recent  death  of  his  wife ;  and,  though  he  was 
exceedingly  interesting  in  private  as  well  as  in  public,  his  whole  appear- 
ance and  manner  showed  that  there  was  a  heavy  burden  upon  his  spirit. 
During  his  brief  stay  with  me,  he  was  placed  in  circumstances  that  seemed 
to  render  it  almost  necessary  that  he  should  be  present  at  a  wedding.  He 
did  not  decline,  but  I  saw  him  turn  away  from  the  joyous  scene,  looking  as 
if  his  heart  would  break.  He  talked  of  his  bereavement  in  a  manner  that 
seemed  to  me  to  evince  an  extraordinary  depth  of  sensibility.  I  never  had 
many  opportunities  of  seeing  him,  but  that  one  visit  to  West  Springfield  left 
upon  my  mind  an  enduring  impression. 

FROM  THE  REV.  J.  B.  WATERBURT,  D.  D. 

BosTOK,  May  9,  1848. 
My  dear  Sir:  There  are  some  faces  which  painters  tell  us  it  Is  almost  impossi- 
ble to  sketch.  The  reason  is  that  the  countenance  in  repose  is  so  unlike  the 
same  countenance  in  its  more  excited  and  expressive  aspects.  To  exhibit  such, 
the  artist  must  have  a  skill  like  that  which  paints  the  lightning  in  its  nimble 
flight,  or  its  blinding  oorruscations.  So,  in  a  moral  sketch,  there  are  characters 
which  it  seems  to  me  we  can  never  truly  delineate.  The  lights  and  shades  are 
so  intermingled  as  to  defy  the  powers  of  the  most  graphic  pen.  Such  I  am 
inclined  to  think  is  the  case  with  my  much  esteemed,  but  now  departed,  friend, 
Joseph  Sanford. 


JOSEPH  SAKFOBD.  g59 

l%ere  was  nothing  very  striking  about  him;  nothing  that  would  catch  and 
detain  the  eye  of  a  stranger.  He  would  have  passed  almost  unobseryed  among 
the  crowd.  Surrey  his  exterior.  You  behold  a  frame  somewhat  large,  but 
loosely  joined,  and  ill-suited  to  great  muscular  effort;  a  countenance  of  marble 
palenesss,  but  expressive,  I  may  say,  of  almost  heavenly  purity.  Look  again, 
and  in  that  &ce,  especially  in  that  eye,  you  will  discern  an  intellect,  not  indeed 
of  colossal  dimensions,  but  well  balanced,  thoroughly  equipped  for  action,  and 
ready  to  move  at  the  bidding  of  the  highest  moral  impulses.  You  will  observe 
also  a  scrupulous  neatness  of  the  outward  man,  in  perfect  keeping  with  his  pro- 
fession and  his  character.  Whiteflcld  used  to  say, — *'  First  holiness,  then  neat- 
ness.'* The  inner  and  the  outer  man  should  in  this  respect  present  no  incon- 
gruity. Cowper  talks  of  the  **  heavenly  mind's  being  indifferent  to  its  house  of 
clay."  /think  differently;  and  cannot  but  regret  that  he  ever  wrote  that  line; 
for  where  it  has  reformed  one  clerical  dandy,  it  has  encouraged  and  confirmed  in 
their  habits  a  dozen  clerical  slovens.  How  can  one  who  wears  the  linen  ephod, 
and  who  may  be  snpposed  to  be  familiar  with  the  symbols  of  moral  purity, 
applied  in  the  Bible  to  his  official  character,  be  '*  indifferent  to  "  even  his  "  house 
of  clay?  '*  I  always  admired  the  exact  and  admirable  dress  of  my  friend  San- 
ford;  on  whose  garments,  as  well  as  on  whose  character,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
find  a  speck. 

In  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  where  I  first  became  acquainted 
with  him,  he  led  a  very  retired  life.  His  habits  were  almost  those  of  a  recluse, — 
probably  from  an  instinctive  love  of  retirement  in  part;  and  in  part  from  the  fact 
that  his  social  affections  found  scope  enough  in  a  correspondence,  where  the  heart 
was  at  least  as  much  concerned  as  the  intellect.  Alas!  the  early  spring  time  of 
nature's  affections  was  destined  soon  to  feel  the  chilling  blast  of  death.  All  who 
knew  him  in  the  Seminary,  however,  will  bear  witness  to  his  calm  and  heavenly 
demeanour,  and  will  remember  especially  his  devotional  exercises, — ^those  ardent 
prayers  in  which  his  own  soul,  taking  wing,  would  bear  us  along  with  him  in  his 
upward  flight. 

His  early  settlement  at  Brooklyn  I  have  always  regarded  as  unfortunate  for 
him;  as  I  think  he  should  have  taken  time  for  a  larger  survey  of  the  field  of  cleri- 
cal labour,  and  for  more  extensive  intercourse  with  the  business  world.  He 
needed,  as  appears  to  me,  an  interval  of  rest  from  study,  and  an  opportunity  of 
social  contact  with  the  scenes  of  active  life,  ere  the  duties  of  the  pastorate  wore 
entered  upon.  But,  considering  the  call  as  one  from  Heaven,  he  accepted  it,  and 
entered  at  once  upon  liis  ministerial  labours. 

It  was  an  auspicious  period  for  the  infant  church,  then  the  only  one  of  that 
denomination  in  what  is  now  called  *'  the  City  of  Churches."  The  Congregation 
grew  rapidly  by  accessions  from  the  neighbouring  city,  of  infiuential  church  mem* 
hers  who  came  to  reside  on  the  beautiful  *'  heights,"  and  also  by  the  blessing  of 
God  on  his  labours  as  a  Pastor  in  the  immediate  vicinity.  The  place  at  length 
became  too  strait  for  them;  and  to  accommodate  the  increasing  congregation  they 
were  obliged  to  enlarge  the  church  edifice. 

His  marriage,  which  occurred  shortly  after  he  left  the  Seminary,  was  an  event 
which  gave  promise  of  the  highest  earthly  enjoyment.  The  lady  was  every 
way  fitted  to  grace  the  new  station  which  she  seemed  destined  to  occupy.  Her 
character,  as  represented  by  those  who  knew  her,  was  a  model  of  excellence; 
especially  of  that  excellence  requisite  in  the  wife  of  a  clergyman.  But  alas !  there 
was  a  worm  at  the  root  of  this  prospective  bliss.  Scarcely  had  the  nuptial 
wreath  been  placed  upon  her  brow,  ere  it  was  exchanged  for  the  fillet  of  death. 
Poor  Sanford  was  smitten  as  by  a  thunderbolt.  All  his  visions  of  happiness  for 
this  world  seemed,  for  the  time,  to  vanish  with  her  expiring  breath.  For  a  long 
time  after,  deep  sadness  rested  upon  his  brow;  and  though,  for  a  moment,  the 
shadow  might  be  chased  away , yet  it  would  quickly  gather  again  and  settle  there, — 


QQQ  PSESBTTERIAV. 

the  enduring  signature  of  blasted  hopes  and  lacerated  affections.  With  a  tempera- 
ment such  as  he  possessed,  and  with  sensibilities  so  keen,  nothing  less  than  the 
power  of  Divine  grace  could  have  sustained  him.  But  terrible  as  the  blow  was, 
his  fliith  Aiiled  not;  and  the  event  that  severed  his  heart  from  earth,  sealed  it 
dear  to  Heaven.  He  rose  from  the  pressure  to  an  elevation  of  purpose  and  a 
purity  of  life,  such  as  one  might  covet,  even  at  so  great  an  expense  of  suffering 
as  that  by  which,  in  his  ease,  they  were  purchased. 

-It  was  after  this  sad  event  that  circumstances  brought  me  into  more  intimate 
fellowship  with  this  excellent  man.  The  friendship  which  began  between  us  was 
founded  on  a  basis  that  promised  not  only  endurance,  but  the  purest  enjoyment. 
Similarity  of  tastes  made  us  brothers  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term.  The 
social  element  I  found  to  be  warm  in  his  breast.  As  if  forbidden  by  the  sacred 
recollections  of  the  past  to  allow  his  affections  for  years  to  fix  upon  one  of  the  other 
sex,  he  seemed  to  feel  at  liberty  to  indulge  this  new  formed  friendship,  which, 
though  no  compensation  for  his  loss,  was  at  least  some  alleviation  under  it. 

Mr.  Sanford's  separation  from  his  people  at  Brooklyn  was  as  sore  a  trial  to 
him  as  it  could  have  been  to  them.  For  never  was  a  pastor  more  beioved,  nor  a 
place  more  consecrated  by  past  recollections,  both  painful  and  pleasing.  On  this, 
as  on  other  important  occasions,  he  acted,  I  have  no  doubt,  from  a  high  and 
solemn  sense  of  duty. 

Many  are  ready  with  their  censures,  and  even  their  suspicions  of  sinister 
motives,  when  a  minister  accepts  a  call  from  another  congregation.  Especially 
is  this  the  case,  when  the  trsnslation  is  to  a  higher  station,  and  the  compensation 
for  his  services  is  relatively  greater.  As  ministers  are  not  angels  in  the  sense  of 
absolute  sinlessness  or  pure  spirituality,  they  may  possibly  sometimes  be  influ- 
enced by  motives  which  ordinarily  influence  the  rest  of  mankind.  I  am  not  sure 
that  it  would  be  an  unpardonable  sin  in  a  minister,  other  things  being  equal,  to 
accept  a  station  which  could  place  his  family  in  more  eligible  circumstances,  or 
afibrd  to  himself  additional  intellectual  stimulus. 

But  Mr.  Sanford's  removal  to  Philadelphia  could  scarcely  have  been  occasioned 
by  either  of  the  above  inducements.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  parHcular 
considerations  that  influenced  him,  he,  or  rather  they,  (for  by  this  time  he  was 
married  to  his  second  wife,)  seem  to  have  made  the  change  with  reasonable  hopes 
of  usefulness  and  happiness.  But  there  was  a  "  crook  in  the  lot."  Some  things 
between  himself  and  a  portion  of  his  congregation  occurred,  that  served  to 
depress  his  spirits;  and  just  at  this  critical  juncture,  death  came  to  translate  him 
to  a  better  world.  I  am  not  sufficiently  informed  to  say  much  concerning  his 
last  hours;  nor  is  it  material, — since  his  life,  the  best  eriterion  of  Christian  char- 
acter, was  so  luminous.  Such  was  the  brief  career  of  a  man  who  made  little 
noise  in  the  world;  who  never  spread  his  sails  to  catch  the  popular  breeze;  who 
was  characteristically  modest,  even  retiring;  but  who  nevertheless  had  a  vein  of 
moral  and  mental  excellence,  the  purity  and  richness  of  which  none  could  know, 
who  did  not  go  beneath  its  surfkce  to  discover  it. 

He  was,  in  my  opinion,  a  model  pastor.  His  appearand,  without  being 
stiffly  clerical,  impressed  you  with  the  idea  of  a  pure  and  elevated  character. 
His  manners  were  kind  and  conciliatory.  When  he  spoke,  his  countenance  would 
naturally  brighten  into  a  smile;  and  yet  there  was  nothing  like  affectation  or 
levity.  His  chastened  aspect  forbade  all  undue  familiarity;  but  he  was  neither 
harsh  nor  repulsive.  Men  would  approach  him  with  respect;  and  upon  a  more 
intimate  acquaintance,  that  respect  would  be  very  apt  to  grow  into  admiration. 
His  intellect  partook  more  perhaps  of  the  imaginative,  than  the  logical; — a  trait 
the  more  valuable  in  a  minister,  when  we  recollect  that  ordinarily  it  is  accompa* 
nied  with  deep  feeling  and  earnestness.  The  gigantic  intellect,  like  that  of  Hall, 
or  Chalmers,  or  Bfason,  may  daxzle  and  enrapture;  but  in  general,  the  mind  that 
assimilates  more  nearly  with  our  own,  is  best  adapted  to  impart  permanent  edifl- 


JQfiBPH  aAHFOAD.  <B€1 

cation.  We  want  some  sort  of  sympathy  eyen  in  the  inidket  of  a  |»a8tor.  I 
uiaiiitain,  therefore,  that  congregations,  even  our  city  congregations,  are  not 
al^'ays  wise  in  seeking  some  great  intellect  that  shall  minister  as  much  to  their 
pride  as  to  their  improvement.  The  pulpit  may  be  well  sustained,  and  for  years 
has  been,  where  there  was  neither  great  depth  of  learning,  nor  brilliancy  of 
genius. 

Mr.  Sanford  had  an  ardent  mind,— one  that  took  fire  by  its  own  action;  com- 
municating warmth  and  light  to  the  congregation,  and  ever  and  anon  flashing 
upon  them  some  brilliant  thought  or  some  burning  sentence.  His  method  of  pre- 
paration for  the  pulpit,  I  understood  him  to  eay,  was  to  write  out  the  body  of 
his  discourse.  He  then  made  himself  master  of  the  ideas,  and  trusted  to  the 
suggestive  principle  for  language.  There  was  thus  a  freedom  and  warmth  in  his 
delivery,  which  a  servile  adherence  to  a  manuscript  does  not  admit  of.  By  this 
method  also,  he  had  his  bett  and  toorst  aspect  as  a  preacher.  Sometimes  the 
mind  would  be  at  fault,  and  not  answer  to  the  wishes  of  the  speaker,  or  the 
expectations  of  the  audience.  In  such  a  case,  the  struggle  would  be  apparent  in 
a  vain  endeavour  to  waken  the  sympathies  of  his  hearers.  The  people  are  very 
apt  to  know  when  a  minister  fails,  and  when  he  succeeds.  But  at  other  times, 
his  whole  soul, — intellect,  heart,  and  fancy,  would  move  in  a  path  of  light,  aa 
if  he  had  borrowed  the  strong  wing  of  a  seraph,  and  meant  to  bear  us  away  to 
his  bright  abode.  He  had  unction, — a  word  expressive  of  strong  natural  sensi- 
bility allied  to  a  manner  that  gives  it  electrical  effect.  He  spoke  from  the  heart, 
and  to  the  heart.  Beginning  in  a  serious  but  earnest  strain, — generally  in  the 
way  of  exposition,  he  would  wax  warm  with  his  subject;  and  ere  long  his  soul 
would  begin  to  overflow  upon  the  people,  until,  as  he  approached  the  close,  he 
would  rise  into  what  I  should  term  a  radiant  atmosphere;  and  then  he  began  to 
shine.  Every  individual  felt,  in  the  plosing  appeal,  that  there  stood  before  him 
an  ambassador  of  Qod.  What  heart  could  steel  itself  against  the  tender  and 
startling  appeals  which  then  burst  upon  the  ear?  In  the  application  be  was  pow- 
erful,— a  point  as  truly  indicative  of  excellence  in  the  preacher,  as  it  is  rare  in 
the  exemplification. 

But  his  prayers,  if  the  comparison  be  not  out  of  place,  were  better  than  his 
preaching.  Rarely,  if  ever,  have  I  heard  in  the  pulpit  more  appropriate,  fervent 
and  affecting  prayers; — prayers  that  seemed  so  to  take  hold  of  the  very  gates  of 
Heaven,  and  struggle  to  open  them.  Here  was  seen  the  man  of  God, — one  who 
lived  on  the  mount,  ''  seeing  God  face  to  face." 

This  good  man  had  pastoral  talents  of  the  highest  order.  In  the  hour  of  afflic- 
tion, at  the  bed  of  death,  who  could  speak  appropriately,  if  he  could  not?  Greatly 
in  this  respect  did  he  endear  himself  to  his  people.  But  I  am  running  on  with 
the  ardour  of  an  admirer  and  friend,  and  in  a  strain  which  to  some  may  savour 
of  exaggerated  eulogy.  If  so,  let  them  pardon  something  to  the  spirit  of  friend- 
ship. I  am  not  conscious,  however,  of  exalting  too  highly  the  virtues  of  ray 
friend.  I  am  glad,  moreover,  to  have  had  the  opportunity  to  join  you  in  an  effort 
to  rescue  from  forgetfulness  a  character,  which  ought  never  to  be  forgotten  in  a 
world  where  modest  merit  has  so  little  chance  for  immortality. 

Yours  truly, 

J.  B.  WATEBBUBY. 


%Q2  PRESBTTERIAK. 


JOSEPH  STIBBS  CHRISTMAS  * 

1824—1830. 

Joseph  Stibbs  Christmas,  a  son  of  John  and  Elizabeth  Christmas, 
was  born  in  Georgetown,  Beaycr  County,  Pa.,  April  10, 1803.  His  parents 
had  thirteen  children,  of  whom  he  was  the  eighth.  His  father,  who  was 
descended  from  an  ancient  family  in  the  North  of  England,  removed  to  this 
country  and  settled  in  Pennsylvania,  shortly  after  the  close  of  the  war  of 
the  Kevolution.  His  maternal  grandfather,  Joseph  Stibbs,  emigrated  from 
London,  and  settled  in  Virginia,  at  a  still  earlier  pefiod. 

His  early  years  were  marked  by  decisive  indications  of  a  beautiful  and 
versatile  mind.  He  had  an  uncommon  taste  for  rural  scenery,  and  delighted 
greatly  in  drawing  and  painting,  and  oocasionally  exercised  himself  very 
successfully  in  writing  poetry.  Having  gone  through  his  preparatory  course 
at  an  Academy  in  Beavertown,  Pa.,  he  became,  in  1815,  a  member  of 
Washington  College,  in  the  same  State,  where  he  maintained  the  highest 
standing  as  a  scholar,  though  he  still  indulged  his  passion  for  the  fine  arts, 
and  intended  then  to  devote  his  life  to  them.  In  the  summer  of  1819, 
however,  his  mind  became  deeply  impressed  with  religious  truth,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  death  of  two  of  his  fellow-students;  and,  after  a  somewliat 
protracted  season  of  reflection  and  anxiety,  he  was  enabled,  as  he  believed, 
to  consecrate  himself  to  the  service  and  glory  of  his  Kedeemer.  He  grad- 
uated, with  the  highest  honours  of  his  class,  in  September;  and,  immedi- 
ately after,  returned  home  to  Georgetown,  and  thence  removed  with  the 
family  to  Wooster,  Wayne  County,  0.  There  he  commenced  the  study  of 
medicine ;  for,  though  his  own  feelings  were  strongly  in  favour  of  entering 
the  ministry,  yet  there  were  obstacles  then  in  the  way  of  it,  to  which  he 
thought  it  his  duty  to  yield ;  and  it  was  not  till  the  spring  of  1821,  that 
the  way  was  made  clear  for  him  to  engage  in  the  study  of  Theology.  It 
was  in  May  of  this  year,  shortly  after  he  had  relinquished  the  study  of 
medicine,  that  he  made  a  public  profession  of  his  faith,  and  was  received 
into  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Wooster,  under  the  pastoral  care  of  the 
Bev.  Thomas  Barr.     He  was  now  a  little  more  than  eighteen  years  of  a^e. 

Shortly  after  this,  he  went  to  Princeton,  and  became  a  member  of  the 
Theological  Seminary.  Here  he  continued  during  the  usual  period  of  three 
years,  acquitting  himself  most  creditably  in  the  various  departments  of 
study,  and  availing  himself  of  the  many  opportunities  for  usefulness  which 
his  situation  presented.  During  his  connection  with  the  Seminary  he  became 
deeply  interested  in  the  state  of  the  Protestant  Churches  in  France  and  the 
Tallies  of  Piedmont,  and  had  resolved  to  devote  his  life  to  a  mission  among 
them.  But  immediately  after  his  licensure  by  the  Presbytery  of  Philadel* 
phia,  in  April,  1824, — a  messenger  from  the  then  new  church  in  Montreal 
came  to  him,  with  a  view  to  secure  his  services  in  that  important  position. 
Though  he  was  exceedingly  reluctant  to  listen  to  the  proposal, — Shaving 
previously  made  up  hb  mind  in  favour  of  another  field  of  labour,  yet  suoh 
were  the  arguments  by  which  the  application  was  enforced,  and  so  unani- 
mous were  his  brethren  in  advising  him  to  yield  to  it,  that  he  finally  deter* 

*  Memoir  by  Eleaiar  Lord,  Eiq. — MSS.  from  Mr.  Lord|  and  Mr.  ChziitmM'  family. 


JOSEPH  STIBBS  CHRISTMAS.  ggg 

mioed  to  proceed  to  Montreal,  that  he  might  be  able  to  form  a  more  intelli- 
gent judgment  in  respect  to  his  duty.  Ho  reached  there  on  the  5th  of 
May ;  and  at  the  end  of  three  weeks  the  Congregation  gave  him  a  unani- 
uious  call.  He  accepted  the  call,  and,  having  become  a  member  of  the 
Presbytery  of  New  York,  was  ordained  and  installed  by  a  committee  of 
that  Body,  on  the  Ist  of  August.  Here  he  entered  a  field  of  labour  to 
which  his  health  was  very  inadequate ;  though  the  strength  of  his  resolu- 
tion and  the  vigour  of  his  good  affections,  achieved,  for  a  time,  no  inconsid- 
erable triumph  over  his  bodily  infirmities. 

In  June,  1825,  he  was  married  to  Louisa,  daughter  of  Perez  Jones,  of 
the  city  of  New  York, — a  lady  cmiuently  qualified  to  occupy  with  dignity 
and  usefulness  the  situation  to  which  her  marriage  introduced  her. 

Mr.  Christmas  remained  in  Montreal  a  little  more  than  four  years ;  during 
which  time  he  not  only  discharged  with  great  fidelity  his  duties  as  a  Pastor, 
but  engaged  in  many  other  important  services  having  a  bearing  on  the  cause 
of  Clirist.  In  1827,  a  revival  of  religion  took  place  under  his  ministry,  in 
the  issue  of  which  about  one  hundred  were  added  to  the  church.  Ho  made 
a  number  of  vigorous  and  well  directed  efforts  through  the  press,  which 
exerted  an  important  influence  in  favour  of  both  piety  and  morality. 

Early  in  the  summer  of  1828,  he  left  Montreal,  with  his  health  greatly 
reduced,  though  not  without  some  hope  that  it  might  be  restored ;  but,  find- 
ing himself  little  benefitted  by  travel,  he  felt  constrained  to  ask  for  a  disso- 
lution of  his  pastoral  relation ;  and  his  congregation,  though  devotedly 
attached  to  him,  were  so  well  persuaded  that  his  removal  was  probably 
essential  to  the  continuance  of  his  life,  that  they  could  not  oppose  the 
measure.  The  Presbytery  accordingly  released  him  from  his  charge  in 
October ;  and,  immediately  after,  he  and  his  family  took  up  their  residence 
in  the  house  of  his  wife's  father,  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

In  December,  he  made  his  arrangements  for  a  voyage,  as  Chaplain  of  one 
of  the  public  ships,  in  the  hope  that  his  health  might  thereby  be  improved. 
But,  in  consequence  of  the  unexpected  delay  of  the  vessel  in  which  he  had 
intended  to  sail,  he  took  passage,  early  in  January,  1829,  for  New  Orleans, 
as  Agent  for  the  American  Bible  Society.  Finding,  on  his  arrival  there, 
that  he  was  unfavourably  affected  by  the  climate,  and  too  feeble  to  prose- 
cute his  Agency  to  advantage,  he  returned  almost  immediately  to  New  York. 
On  reaching  his  family,  he  found  that  his  youngest  daughter,  an  infant  six 
months  old,  had  been  dangerously  ill  during  his  absence,  and  was  then 
apparently  near  the  close  of  life.  She  died  on  the  7th  of  April ;  and  a  few 
days  after,  the  other  daughter,  and  only  remaining  child,  nearly  three  years 
old,  was  taken  ill,  and  was  also  removed  by  death  on  the  3d  of  May.  The 
health  of  Mrs.  Christmas  had  become  seriously  affected  by  the  fatigue  and 
anxiety  incident  to  her  repeated  bereavements ;  and  partly  from  the  hope 
(hat  she  might  experience  benefit  from  breathing  a  different  air,  and  ming- 
ling in  new  scenes,  he  accepted  an  invitation  from  his  friend,  S.  Y.  S. 
Wilder,  Esq.,  to  pass  the  summer  at  his  residence  in  Bolton,  Mass.  There 
hifl  own  health  was  considerably  recruited,  and  he  preached  to  a  newly 
formed  congregation  in  that  place,  and  was  invited  to  take  the  pastoral 
charge  of  it.  Mrs.  Christmas,  however,  was  steadily  declining  under  a 
pulmonary  disease ;  and,  after  a  few  weeks,  little  hope  was  entertained  of 
her  recovery.  They  returned  to  New  York  early  in  July ;  and  on  the  9th 
of  August  she  died  in  the  exercise  of  a  triumphant  faith. 


gg4  PRESBTTERIAK. 

With  such  ezquiflite  sensibilities  as  Mr.  Obristmas  possessed,  nothing  less 
could  be  expected  than  that  he  shonld  feel  most  deeply  this  desolating 
stroke ;  but,  instead  of  allowing  himself  to  become  paraljEed  with  sorrow, 
and  to  sink  into  a  state  of  hopeless  inactivity^  he  girded  himself  anew  for 
his  work,  resolved  to  devote  to  the  service  of  Ood  whatever  of  life  and 
strength  might  still  remain  to  him. 

About  the  beginning  of  October,  he  aeoepted  a  unanimous  call  from  the 
Bowery  Congregation,  New  York,  to  become  their  Pastor;  and  his  installa- 
tion took  place  a  week  or  two  afterwards.  His  health  had  now  considerably 
improved,  and  strong  hopes  were  entertained  that  it  might  be  permanently 
established;  but  scarcely  had  he  entered  his  new  field,  before  death  ter- 
minated his  earthly  career.  He  died  after  a  brief  illness,  and  in  the  confident 
and  joyful  hope  of  a  glorious  reward,  on  Sunday  morning,  March  14, 1830, 
aged  twenty-seven  years,  wanting  one  month.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was 
preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Spring,  and  was  published. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Mr.  Christmas'  publications,  exclusive  of  his 
contributions  to  periodicals : — A  Poem,  in  two  Cantos,  entitled  **  the  Artist," 
1819.  Report  of  the  Montreal  Bible  Society,  1826.  Tract  on  Repent- 
ance :  No.  183  of  the  American  Tract  Society,  1826.  A  pamphlet  on 
Romanism.  A  Discourse  on  the  nature  of  that  Inability  which  prevents 
the  Sinner  from  embracing  the  Gospel,  1827.  An  Appeal  to  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Lower  Canada  on  the  disuse  of  ardent  spirits,  1828.  A  Tract  pub- 
lished by  the  American  Tract  Society,  entitled  **Mary  Le  Fleur."  A 
Farewell  Letter  to  the  American  Presbyterian  Society  at  Montreal,  1828. 
An  Address  to  Physicians  on  Temperance,  1829.  An  Appeal  to  Grocers 
on  the  same  subject,  1829. 

A  Memoir  of  Mr.  Christmas,  by  Eleazar  Lord,  Esq.,  was  published  in 
1831,  to  which  are  appended  some  of  the  more  important  of  his  writings. 

FROM  THE  REV.  EDWARD  N.  KIRK,  D.  D. 

BosioWi  December  27, 1848. 

Dear  Sir:  My  recollections  and  impressions  of  Mr.  Christmas  are  summarilj- 
these: — 

He  was  more  than  ordinarily  beautiful  in  complexion  and  expression;  bat 
of  only  medium  stature.  The  beauty  of  his  face  would  have  been  of  feminine 
softness,  but  for  the  manliness  of  the  intellect  and  sentiment  which  redeemed  it. 
His  understanding  was  penetrating,  clear  and  sound.  His  memory  was  uncom* 
monly  retentive.  His  social  qualities  were  of  a  high  order;  a  constant  sunshine 
of  cheerfulness  accompanied  htm;  a  meek  and  unambitious  spirit  allied  to  greet 
firmness  formed  the  basis  of  his  character.  He  was  one  of  a  little  group  of 
twelve  in  the  Seminary,  who  together  practised  extemporaneous  debating  on  the 
profounder  questions  of  Theology  and  Metaphysics.  His  rank  among  us  there 
was  high.  Of  his  religious  character  I  retain  no  other  recollections  than  that  I 
always  regarded  him  as  a  peculiarly  spiritual  man. 

I  am  sorry  to  have  reached  so  meagre  a  result  in  answer  to  your  inqwiies 
concerning  my  old  friend. 

I  am  yours  most  affectionately, 

EDWABD  K.  KIRK. 


JOSEPH  STIBBS  CHRISTMAS.  Qgg 


PROM  THE  REV.  HENRY  WILKES,  D.  D. 

Montreal,  L.  C,  December  10, 1848. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  To  note  down  some  recollections  of  the  gifted  and  now 
sainted  Christmas,  is  a  task  atfecting,  yet  pleasant.  It  is  fitting  that  your  forth- 
coming work  should  contain  a  sketch  of  the  character  and  course  of  this  young 
American  clergyman,  who,  though  early  removed  to  his  reward,  was  distin- 
guished by  no  ordinary  qualities,  and  was  favoured  with  more  than  usual  success 
during  his  brief  ministry.  Lovely  in  his  life,  his  memory  is  still  fragrant  after 
the  lapse  of  eighteen  years.  One  loves  to  recall  his  dignified  and  graceful  mien, 
his  blameless  life,  his  power  Ail  utterance  of  the  truths  of  God,  and  his  untiring, 
earnest  consecration  of  all  his  faculties  to  the  one  object  of  his  life, — the  glory 
of  Christ  in  the  salvation  of  souls.  .  Most  profitable  is  such  an  exercise  of  the 
memory,  too  often  encumbered  with  things  of  little  value.  It  is  refreshing  to 
dwell  awhile  on  one  *^  who  feared  God  above  many,"  and  who  has  left  behind 
him  a  bright  example  of  devotedness  to  Christ's  cause. 

A  calm  review,  at  this  distance  of  time,  gives  rise  to  the  conviction  that  his 
was  a  special  mission  to  this  Northern  frontier  of  American  Christendom, — 
designed  to  begin  a  work  of  spiritual  amelioration,  which,  receiving  then  an 
impulse  and  an  impression,  has  steadily  advanced  until  this  present,  through 
various  channels,  and  in  quarters,  and  by  instruments,  then  unlocked  for.  A 
quarter  of  a  century  has  passed  away  since  that  mission  was  introduced,  and 
truly  wonderful  have  been  the  results.  As  your  space  will  not  admit  of  enlarge- 
ment on  a  merely  collateral  topic,  it  may  suffice  to  notice  that  there  were  then 
only  four  Protestant  places  of  worship  in  the  city,  and  that  the  aggregate  number 
of  those  who  *'  loved  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity,"  was  lamentably  small. 
There  are  now  nearly  twenty  Protestant  houses  of  prayer.  In  most  of  these 
there  is  an  intelligent  and  earnest  ministry,  while  the  aggregate  of  those  who 
"know  the  truth  in  the  love  of  it,"  is  large.  It  is  not  my  purpose  to  trace  the 
influence  of  the  short  ministry  of  my  loved  friend,  as  giving  impulse  and  impress 
to  this  movement^-/ A<tf  would  be  to  write  the  history  of  religion  in  Montreal 
during  the  last  twenty-five  years;  but  the  opmion  may  be  recorded  that  He 
who  orders  all  things  well,  and  who  knows  the  end  from  the  beginning,  has 
made  use  of  that  ministry  in  a  very  marked  manner  in  the  achievement  of  the 
progress,  imperfect  as  it  still  is,  over  which  we  now  rejoice. 

Mr.  Christmas  was  the  first  pastor  of  a  small  church,  formed  of  individuals 
who  had  been  connected  with  a  congregation,  gathered  by  a  clergyman  from 
Scotland,  belonging  there  to  a  Dissenting  Presbyterian  Body,  whose  place  of 
worship  in  Montreal  had  been  erected  chiefly  by  pecuniary  aid  from  the  United 
States.  On  the  demise  of  that  clergyman,  a  bare  majority  of  the  owners  of 
pews  determined  to  become  identified  with  the  Established  Church  of  Scotland, 
mad,  as  a  consequence,  the  above  mentioned  persons, — chiefly  natives  of  the 
United  States,  seceded,  and  formed  themselves  into  a  Church  and  Society,  hav- 
ing at  length  the  corporate  designation  of  *'  the  American  Presbyterian  Church." 
This  infant  body  had  enjoyed  the  temporary  services  of  several  able  young  cler- 
gymen, but  at  length  received  the  pastoral  labours  of  the  subject  of  this  notice. 
Not  personally  identified  at  the  time  with  the  church,  I  have  yet  a  distinct  recol- 
lection of  his  first  appearance  in  this  sphere  of  labour,  and  of  the  attractiveness  of 
bis  ministry,  notwithstanding  the  absurd  prejudice  which  then  existed  in  the 
minds  of  the  English-speaking  people  generally  against  every  thing  and  every 
body  not  of  British  origin.  My  impressions  are  of  his  personal  gracefulness  and 
manly  beauty,  as  he  appeared  in  the  pulpit,  attired  in  clerical  vestments, — as  also 
of  the  finished  style  and  forcible  character  of  his  discourses.  Quite  young,  he  was 
yet  manifestly  '*  a  scribe  well-instructed," — a  workman  who  "  rightly  divided  ths 


ToL.  IV.  84 


^gg  PRS8BYTBRIAN. 

word  of  truth."  His  literary  and  theological  adYantages,  which  had  been  great, 
he  had  used  to  good  purpose,  so  that  he  appeared  on  all  occasions  '^  thoroughljr 
furnished." 

The  people  of  his  immediate  charge,  not  having  yet  completed  the  erection  of 
their  place  of  worship,  were  indebted  to  other  congregations  for  the  use  of  theirs*, 
at  hours  during  which  they  did  not  occupy  them.  This  was  in  some  respects  a 
disadvantage  in  the  work  of  organization;  yet  it  had  the  effect  of  bringing  the 
young  minister  to  the  notice  of  man}',  who  might  otherwise  have  never  heard 
him.  There  were  at  the  time  scattered  through  the  other  churches,  certain 
well-instructed  and  devout  adherents  of  several  of  the  Dissenting  Churches  in 
England  and  Scotland,  of  which  there  were  no  representatives  here.  There  were 
Baptists,  Independents,  and  Presbyterians  not  of  the  Church  of  Scotland — men 
and  women  of  intelligence  and  piety.  Some  of  these  were  drawn  around  Mr. 
Christmas,  because  of  sympathy  with  his  doctrinal  views,  and  with  the  forms  of 
Divine  worship  adopted, — ^as,  for  instance,  the  use  of  Dr.  Watts'  Psalms  and 
Hymns.  Part  of  them  united  with  the  church,  while  others  merely  became 
identified  with  the  congregation.  With  much  that  was  excellent  and  effectiye, 
however,  this  was  not  the  characteristic  period  of  our  friend's  ministry.  It  was 
the  Lord's  purpose  ere  long  to  vouchsafe  to  him  a  fresh  baptism  of  the  Hoi 3' 
Spirit. 

You  arc  doubtless  informed  from  other  sources  of  the  fact  that,  after  labour- 
ing a  number  of  months,  it  became  needful  that  he  should  visit  the  neighbouring 
States,  and  his  own  native  region,  partly  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  aid  in  the 
erection  of  the  large  place  of  worship  in  which  he  was  to  minister;  and  that, 
during  this  visit,  he  met  the  late  Dr.  Ncttletou,  and  enjoyed  the  unspeakable 
advantage  of  beholding  one  of  those  wonderful  works  of  grace  by  which  the 
ministry  of  that  remarkable  man  was  at  this  period  attended.  During  his 
absence,  the  little  flock  was  much  in  prayer,  while  the  Sabbath  School  was 
maintained  with  unwonted  vigour.  By  uniting  with  that  institution  as  a  teacher, 
I  became,  at  this  time,  connected  with  the  congregation,  and  was  also,  I  humbly 
hope,  **  found  "  by  that  Good  Shepherd  who  seeketh  and  saveth  the  lost. 

Unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken,  Mr.  Christmas  returned  to  his  charge  under  the 
influence  of  what  might  perhaps  be  denominated,  not  inappropriately,  a  second 
conversion.     Truly  has  the  German  poet  sung 

"  Earnestness  is  life." 

And  it  has  been  recently  well  said  by  a  Quarterly  Reviewer, — **  The  acorn  is  a 
quiet  little  nut;  but  let  it  be  nourished  in  the  bosom  of  its  mother  earth,  silently 
building  up  its  massive  trunk  amid  the  passing  generations  of  trees  and  of  wood* 
men,  and  you  behold  the  living  oak  that  wrestles  stoutly  with  the  storm.  The 
lion's  whelp,  reposing  in  his  lair,  is  a  gentle  creature :  but  give  him  time,  and  he  will 
show  3'ou  what  is  in  him.  Tlie  lightning  sleeps  in  the  thunder-cloud,  but  when 
it  tears  its  prison,  how  it  scathes  and  blasts  the  works  of  nature  and  of  man! 
How  cold  a  thing  is  gunpowder, — only  let  the  gpark  touch  it!  Even  so  is  it  in 
the  world  of  mind.  Let  a  man's  soul  be  quickened,  called  forth  by  some  great 
principle,  some  grand  ambition,  and  up  to  the  measure  of  his  strength,  and 
according  to  the  fashion  of  his  inward  thought,  what  deeds  will  he  not  do,  for 
good  or  for  evil,  just  because  he  is  in  earnest,  believing  strongly,  and  so  acting 
out  what  he  believes."*  This  ''great  principle,"  this  ''grand  ambition,"  this 
master  passion,  in  Mr.  Christmas,  was  henceforth  the  conversion  of  sinners,  and 
the  advancement  of  our  Lord's  Kingdom.  Devout  before,  and  devoted,  he  had 
served  the  Lord  in  a  manner  superior  to  many  of  his  contemporaries;  but  now 
it  was  absorption:  "  this  one  thing  I  do  "  was  his  practical  motto;  and  every* 
thing  was  subordinate  to  this  great  object.    In  him  "earnestness  was  life,"  and 

•  Britiih  Quarterly  Review,  No.  XI.,  p.  244. 


JOSEPH  STIBBS  GHBISTHAS.  657 

a  noble  life  did  it  proye.    Would  that  such  impulses  quiokened  us  all — how 
great  then  our  effectiveness ! 

My  impressions  are  distinct  of  the  unwonted  solemnity  and  power  of  his  pul- 
pit exercises.  His  preaching  was  doctrinal  for  purposes  of  instruction,  and  occa- 
sionally controversial  for  the  important  end  of  discrimination.  He  ''chose 
aooeptable  words,"  and  handled  the  weapons  of  this  warfieire  with  the  skill  of  a 
master.  I  have  sketches  of  many  of  his  discourses  taken  down  at  the  time: 
they  bear  the  marks  of  adaptation  to  the  existing  wants  of  the  people,  as  well  as 
of  much  beauty  and  force.  Usefulness  is  obviously  the  design  according  to  which 
they  were  composed.  Some  of  the  practical  appeals  are  remarkably  pungent  and 
searching;  others  are  full  of  earnest  tenderness.  He  understood  the  sentiment 
iu  its  highest  sense, — ''Omnia  vincit  amor."  And  yet  I  recollect  one  or  more 
instances  of  individuals  becoming  so  infuriated  by  the  scorching  discrimination 
of  some  of  his  sermons,  that,  as  confessed  afterwards,  temptation  was  felt  to 
shoot  the  preacher.  I  do  not  remember  ever  leaving  the  house  of  prayer,  with 
the  impressions,  in  some  quarters  so  common,  which  suggest  the  remarks, — 
''that  was  a  well  written  sermon  " — *' there  was  much  originality  of  thought  in 
that  discourse  " — "  that  minister's  style  is  very  chaste."  No.  It  was  all  home 
work — ^the  preacher  was  forgotten  in  the  truth,  and  so  earnest  was  he  that  peo- 
ple should  hear  and  feel  that,  that  he  stood  modestly  behind  it,  not  desirous  of 
himself  being  noticed. 

Yet  his  style  was  easy  and  graceful,  and  frequently  of  a  high  character.  I  think 
you  will  agree  in  the  opinion  that  "Valedictory  Admonitions," — a  pamphlet 
of  thirty-six  pages,  octavo,  is  beautifully  and  vigorously  written,  and,  so  far 
as  I  recollect,  such  was  his  accustomed  style.  Many  of  his  discourses  were 
written  fully  out,  but  he  never  read  them  in  the  pulpit.  He  appeared  there 
usually,  and  I  think  uniformly,  without  notes.  His  delivery  was  chaste  and 
very  solemn;  but  too  unimpa.ssioned  for  the  higher  flights  of  oratory.  His  public 
prayers  were  quite  remarkable  for  scriptural  phrases  happily  introduced,  as 
also  for  fervour  and  solemnity.  I  never  heard  him  use  a  coarse,  or  familiar,  or 
slang,  expression  in  prayer.  My  impression  is  that  he  frequently  composed 
prayers  in  order  to  improvement  in  this  part  of  public  worship.  Occasionally, 
after  the  introductory  devotional  exercises,  he  would  pronounce  the  text  of  his 
discourse,  and  then  pause,  saying, — "Christians,  I  am  about  to  address  the  uncon- 
cerned (or  some  other  class)  from  these  words;  it  will  be  in  vain  without  the 
Divine  blessing — let  us  spend  a  minute  in  united,  silent  prayer."  That  minute  or 
two  of  stillness,  only  here  and  there  broken  by  the  sigh  of  the  earnest  petitioners, 
was  an  affecting  preparative  for  a  discourse  full  of  "  Christ  and  Him  crucified." 
Truly  did  he  say  in  "  Valedictory  Admonitions," — "  During  four  years,  I  have 
testified  to  you  the  Qospel  of  the  grace  of  God.  I  have  sedulously  avoided  all 
curious  questions,  doubtful  disputations,  and  every  subject  whose  radiations 
do  not  branch  into  the  very  heart  of  Christianity.  The  Heart-searcher  is  witness 
that  I  have  been  anxious  to  engrave  such  truths  upon  your  mind,  as  it  were 
worthy  an  immortal  spirit  to  bear  recorded  on  the  tablets  of  the  heart,  and  such 
as  I  knew  must  one  day  be  exhibited  as  evidence  of  what  was  written  on  my 
own."  "  When  I  think  that  perhaps  a  little  more  pains-taking  on  my  part,  a 
little  more  travail  of  the  heart  in  prayer,  a  little  more  labour  of  the  intellect  in 
the  presentation  of  motives,  a  little  more  toil  of  the  body  in  following  you  with 
entreaties  of  solicitude  to  your  dwellings,  might  possibly  have  saved  some  one, 
I  feel  that  there  may  be  a  propriety  in  adopting  the  Psalmist's  petition, — '  Deliver 
me  from  bhod-guUtiness,  O  God,  thou  God  of  my  tahation.*  **  What  earnest- 
ness! 

His  character  was  simple,  childlike,  spotless.  He  knew  comparatively  little 
of  the  world— occasionally  this  was  a  disadvantage  in  the  midst  of  a  mixed  and 
busy  population  like  ours.    Still,  whatever  observers  or  opponents  may  have  said 


fjfil^  nMBBTOBlAJL 

of  his  enthaaiMm,  or  erea  of  his  fanaticism,  thej  could  not  question  the  sin- 
oerity  and  consistency  of  his  godliness.  Into  the  details  of  the  blessed  rsfvivab 
of  religion  which  occurred  here  and  in  the  neighbouring  toim  of  St.  Andrews, 
your  limits  will  not  permit  me  to  enter.  But  it  may  be  noted  with  respect  to  his 
own  course,  that  while  he  laboured  untiringly  and  to  exhaustion,  he  also  found 
employment  for  others.  Christians  were  instructed  in  their  responsibility  as 
stewards,  and  they  were  earnestly  enjoined  to  be  faithful.  Although  a  personal 
matter,  it  may  not  be  without  interest  for  me  to  state  that,  haying  united  with 
the  church  some  months  after  Mr.  C.'s  return  from  the  visit  to  the  United  States 
above  alluded  to,  he  ere  long  kindly  but  solemnly  called  my  attention  to  the 
Christian  ministry.  He  was  only  two  years  my  senior,  but  I  well  recollect  the 
impression  his  appeal  produced  upon  my  mind.  At  the  time,  I  did  not  yield, 
having  doubts  as  to  the  matter  of  duty.  It  may  be  well  to  state,  however,  for 
the  purpose  of  exciting  others  to  *'  go  and  do  likewise,"  that  he  was  authorised 
by  a  gentleman  in  Philadelphia  of  whose  name  I  was  then  and  still  remain  igno- 
rant, to  offer  me  the  needful  pecuniary  advances  in  the  way  of  loan  or  otherwise. 
At  the  time,  I  was  just  entering  into  new  commercial  relations.  But  the  su^es- 
tion  of  my  beloved  friend  never  left  me;  the  path  of  duty  gradnally  opened  to 
my  own  mind;  and,  having  acquired  sufficient  pecuniary  means  in  business  to 
pay  my  own  expenses  through  a  course  of  study,  Mr.  Christmas  had  the  gratifi- 
cation of  seeing  me  abandon  profitable  commercial  engagements  for  that  higher 
work  to  which  he  had  been  the  first  to  direct  my  attention.  You  will  pardon 
this  allusion  to  a  personal  affair — it  is  made  in  order  to  illustrate  the  fact  that 
the  subject  of  this  notice  endeavoured  to  press  all  into  that  department  of  the 
Lord's  service,  for  which  he  supposed  them  respectively  qualified. 
.  I  have  already  exceeded  your  limits,  and  must  not  extend  my  remarks.  It  is 
now  more  than  twenty  years  since  we  parted,  to  meet  no  more,  until  the  Father's 
house  is  opened  not  for  one  only,  but,  if  it  may  be,  through  grace,  for  both. 
He,  prostrated  in  health,  and  compelled  to  relinquish  his  charge,  was  on  the  eve 
of  returning  to  his  native  South — I,  on  the  eve  of  sailing  to  my  native  E^t  on  the 
other  side  the  Atlantic,  there  to  pursue  literary  and  theological  studies.  In  two 
years  more,  after  laying  his  lovely  babes  and  his  admirable  wife  in  the  grave,  this 
gifted,  useful  servant  of  Christ  was  called  home  to  his  rest  and  reward.  But  he 
lived  much  and  long  in  a  short  time,  if  life  is  to  be  measured  by  effective  service. 
Some  of  us  would  joyously  hail  the  comforting  assurance,  could  we  know  that 
as  much  hath  been  done  for  Christ's  glory  in  the  salvation  of  men,  during  a  min- 
istry of  three  or  four  times  the  length  of  his,  as  he  was  honoured  to  achieve  in  a 
very  few  years.  The  Lord  make  us  faithful;  and  the  results  may  be  safely  left 
with  Him. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir,  yours  faithfully, 

HENRY  WILKE& 


JOUFH  lYBS  SOOT.  0^0 


JOSEPH  IVES  FOOT,  D.  D  * 

1824—1840. 

Joseph  Iyes  Foot,  the  eldest  child  of  Joseph  and  Abigail  (Baldwin) 
Foot,  was  born  at  Watertown,  Conn.,  November  17,  1796.  Hb  parents, 
who  made  a  profession  of  religion  shortly  after  his  birth,  maintained  a  con- 
sistent Christian  character,  and  conducted  the  education  of  their  children 
with  religious  care  and  fidelity.  When  he  was  about  four  years  old,  the 
family  removed  to  Goshen,  Litchfield  County ;  and  shortly  after,  he  went 
to  reside  at  Washington  with  his  maternal  grandfather,  who  lived  under  the 
pastoral  care  of  the  Rev.  Ebenezer  Porter,  afterwards  Professor  in  the 
Andover  Theological  Seminary.  At  a  very  early  period  he  had  committed 
to  memory  the  whole  of  the  Assembly's  Catechism;  and  this  was  the 
formula  of  doctrine  which,  in  riper  years,  and  on  mature  reflection,  ho 
heartily  accepted. 

At  the  age  of  about  fourteen,  he  went  with  his  parents  to  live  at  West 
Oranville,  Mass.  In  the  year  1815,  an  extensive  revival  of  religion  took 
placo  in  that  parish,  of  which  young  Foot  was  reckoned  among  the  first 
Bubjecls.  He  soon  determined  to  acquire  a  collegiate  education,  with  a  view 
to  becoming  a  minister  of  the  Gospel ;  and,  accordingly,  commenced  a  oourso 
of  study  preparatory  to  entering  College  under  the  Rev.  Timothy  Mather 
Cooley,  D.  D.,  the  minister  of  the  neighbouring  parish  of  East  Granville. 
After  remaining  here  about  six  months,  he  entered  Phillips  Academy  at 
Andover,  where  he  continued  a  year,  and  then  returned  to  Granville  and 
resumed  his  studies  under  Dr.  Cooley.  In  the  autumn  of  1817,  he  became 
a  member  of  Union  College.  Here  he  maintained  a  high  standing  for  talents, 
diligence,  and  success  in  the  various  branches  of  study,  and  graduated  in 
July,  1821,  with  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  best  scholars  in  his 
class.  In  1819-20,  a  powerful  revival  of  religion  took  place  in  the  College, 
which  greatly  quickened  his  religious  afiections,  and  called  forth  his  most 
vigorous  efibrts  for  its  promotion.  During  the  last  year  of  his  college 
course,  he  was  interrupted  for  some  time  in  his  studies  by  a  severe  illness, 
which  gave  a  shock  to  his  constitution,  from  which  it  never  fully  recovered. 

In  the  autumn  of  1821,  he  became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Semi- 
nary at  Andover,  where  he  passed  through  the  usual  course  preparatory  to 
entering  the  ministry.  Here  he  had  a  high  standing  as  a  scholar,  and 
during  his  first  year  read  through  the  Hebrew  Bible.  In  consequence  of 
his  great  proficiency  in  Oriental  literature,  the  Prudential  Committee  of  the 
American  Board  of  Missions  proposed  to  him  to  engage  in  a  mission  to 
Jerusalem  ;  but,  after  giving  to  the  subject  mature  reflection,  he  declined, — 
chiefly,  however,  on  account  of  the  uncertain  state  of  his  health. 

Having  been  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Hartford  North  Association  in 
the  spring  of  1824,  and  been  ordained  as  an  Evangelist,  he  went  to  South 
Carolina,  and  for  eight  or  ten  months  laboured  very  acceptably  and  usefully 
at  a  place  called  Barnwell  Court  House.  He  returned  to  New  England 
with  his  health  not  materially  improved,  but  continued  to  preach,  and  for 
several  montlis  laboured  chiefly  in  Boston.    About  this  time,  he  declined 

*  Memoir  bj  hit  Vrotli«rf-<-B«T.  0«orge  Foot,  pireflxed  to  hli  Sormoni. — ^M 8.  tnm  the  mno. 


070  PBESBTTERIAN. 

an  inTiUtion  to  settle  oyer  the  Church  at  Epping,  N.  H. ;  and,  at  a  littie 
later  period,  was  called  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Church  in  West  Brook- 
field,  Mass.  This  latter  call  he  accepted ;  and  his  installation  took  place 
in  October,  1826.  In  the  same  month,  he  was  married  to  Louisa,  youngest 
daughter  of  Ebenezer  Battelle,  of  Boston.     They  had  no  children. 

Not  long  after  Mr.  Foot's  settlement,  an  extensiye  revival  of  religion 
took  place  among  his  people,  which  brought  a  large  number  into  the  church, 
some  of  whom  became  not  only  ministers,  but  missionaries  to  the  heathen. 

In  the  summer  of  1831,  Mr.  Foot  journeyed  into  the  Western  part  of 
New  York  for  the  benefit  of  his  health ;  but,  as  he  returned  without  any 
perceptible  improvement,  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  resign  his  pastoral  charge. 
As,  however,  this  proposal  found  little  favour  with  his  people,  he  consented, 
by  their  request,  to  try  the  effect  of  another  journey  to  the  South.  On  reach- 
ing New  York,  he  was  attacked  with  a  fever,  which  confined  him  to  his  bed 
for  seven  weeks,  and  during  part  of  the  time  his  recovery  was  regarded  as 
well  nigh  hopeless.  He  was  able,  after  a  while,  to  return  to  his  people, 
but  was  prevented  from  performing  any  pastoral  labour  for  nearly  seven 
months. 

About  this  time,  some  difficulties  arose  in  his  congregation,  which,  in 
connection  with  his  enfeebled  health,  led  him  to  ask  and  obtain  a  dismission 
from  his  charge.  The  next  year  he  spent  chiefly  in  travelling;  and,  in  the 
summer  of  1833,  he  received  a  call  from  the  congregation  in  Salina,  N.  Y., 
where  he  continued  to  labour  for  two  years, — until  the  cholera  had  cut 
down,  or  driven  from  the  place,  so  many,  that  they  were  unable  to  sustain 
the  ministry.  Under  these  circumstances,  he  accepted  a  call  from  Cortland, 
a  village  about  thirty  miles  distant,  and  entered  upon  this  new  field  of 
labour  in  June,  1835. 

Mr.  Foot's  ministry  at  Salina  was  not  a  little  embarrassed  by  the  preva- 
lence of  the  system  commonly  known  as  Perfectionism^  which  seems  to 
have  taken  on  its  grossest  and  most  fanatical  form.  This  system  he  met 
with  great  firmness  and  ability,  particularly  by  publishing  three  elaborate 
discourses  on  the  subject,  in  pamphlet  form,  and  two  exceedingly  well  writ- 
ten articles  in  the  Literary  and  Theological  Review. 

After  the  meeting  of  the  General  Assembly  in  1837,  he  resigned  his 
charge  in  Cortland,  and  removed  to  Westport,  Conn.,  to  which  place  he  was 
called.  In  the  course  of  the  following  year,  he  received  calls  from  several 
other  places;  but  eventually  accepted  one  from  Knoxville,  Tcnn.,  where  he 
entered  on  his  duties  in  May,  1839.  While  at  Westport,  he  united  with 
the  Presbytery  of  Bedford,  N.  Y.,  by  examination,  and  continued  in  con- 
nection with  the  Old  School  branch  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  till  the 
close  of  his  life.  During  his  residence  in  Western  New  York,  he  was  con- 
nected with  the  Presbytery  of  Geneva;  and  the  change  in  his  relation  is 
understood  to  have  taken  place  in  consequence  of  his  aversion  to  certain 
doctrines  and  measures  with  which  he  had  been  more  or  less  brought  in 
contact. 

Within  two  months  after  he  commenced  his  labours  at  Knoxville,  he  was 
unanimously  elected  to  the  Presidency  of  Washington  College  in  the  same 
State.  This  occasioned  him  great  solicitude  for  some  time ;  but,  after  giv- 
ing to  the  subject  mature  consideration,  and  consulting  some  of  his  most 
judicious  friends,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  his  duty  to  accept 
the  appointment ;  and  he  signified  his  acceptance  of  it  accordingly. 


JOSEPH  IVES  FOOT.  671 

In  March,  1840,  the  College,  over  which  he  had  heen  called  to  preside, 
coufcrred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity. 

On  the  9th  of  April  following,  he  left  Knoxville  for  the  purpose  of  visiting 
the  institution  wiih  which  ho  expected  shortly  to  become  connected.  At 
llogersvillc  he  attended  a  Sacramental  meeting,  and  preached  on  the  Sab- 
bath from  the  words, — **  The  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost  be  with  you." 
Oil  the  next  Sabbath,  he  preached  at  New  Providence  from  the  words, — 
"The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you  all."  In  this  sermon, 
which  proved  to  be  his  last,  ho  unconsciously  pronounced  his  farewell 
address  to  his  Christian  brethren,  and  to  several  of  the  Trustees  and  Pro- 
fessors of  the  College,  of  which  he  supposed  himself  just  about  to  take  the 
charge. 

Of  the  sad  termination  of  Dr.  Foot^s  career,  the  following  account  is 

taken  from  one  of  the  Knoxville  papers : — 

*'  On  Monday,  20th  inat^  Dr.  Foot  left  New  Providence,  thirteen  miles  above 
Kogersville,  on  his  way  to  Washington  College,  with  the  expectation  of  being  inaugu- 
rated its  President  the  next  Wednesday.  He  crossed  Bay's  Mountain  through 
M'Fhuater's  Gap, — a  rugged  and  lonely  way.  After  sunset,  he  was  passing  the  house  of 
Mr.  Thomas  M'Adams,  about  three  miles  from'  Leesburg,  which  he  expected  to  reach 
that  evening.  As  he  was  approaching  the  house,  which  was  on  the  hill  above  him,  a 
large  dog  dashed  through  a  pair  of  bars,  making  a  great  noise.  The  horse  took  fright, 
and  wheeled  suddenly  around,  running  with  great  rapidity  down  the  hill,  a  little  out 
of  the  road,  and  was  about  to  plunge  among  rocks  and  into  a  ditch,  which,  in  order  to 
avoid,  he  made  a  slight  turn  in  his  course,  and  just  at  that  moment  stumbled  and  fell, 
dashing  Dr.  Foot,  who  was  a  heavy  man,  with  great  violence  against  a  rock.  lie  fell 
on  his  right  side  and  back.  The  force  of  the  fall  precipitated  him  a  few  feet  beyond 
the  rock  into  a  ditch.  Uelp  was  immediately  obtained,  and  he  was  taken  to  the  house. 
Medical  aid  was  procured  as  soon  as  possible.  It  was  found  by  examination  that  two 
orthree  of  his  ribs  were  broken  and  splintered,  and  that  his  lungs  were  pierced  by  the 
broken  splinters  of  the  ribs.  Ue  remained  at  this  place  until  the  next  day,  when,  in 
consequence  of  the  smallness  of  the  apartment  where  he  lay,  he  was  removed  on  a 
litter  to  the  house  of  John  Stephenson,  Esq.,  about  one  mile  distant  from  the  place 
where  he  fell.  In  the  course  of  one  or  two  hours  after  he  arrived  at  this  place,  be 
breathed  his  last.  II is  death  no  doubt  proceeded  from  suffocation, — the  unavoidable 
result  of  the  mangled  and  inflated  condition  of  the  lungs  and  adjoining  parts.  He 
expired  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  in  twenty-two  hours  after  his  fall.  He 
was  buried  on  the  next  Thursday  at  Washington  College,  by  the  side  of  the  Uev.  Doc- 
tors Doak  the  former  Presidents  of  Washington  College.  •  •  •  •  He  suffered 
immensely  during  the  short  space  allowed  him,  from  his  fall  until  his  death;  but  he 
bore  it  with  the  utmost  patience — ^he  was  not  heard  to  utter  a  single  groan,  or  give 
place  to  a  single  murmur.'' 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Foot's  publications: — Two  Sermons  on 
Intemperance,  1828.  The  prominent  Trait  in  Teachers  of  false  religion, 
1828.  An  Historical  Discourse  delivered  on  the  day  of  the  Annual  Thanks- 
giving, 1828.  A  Sermon  at  the  Installation  of  the  Rev.  Lucius  W.  Clark, 
North  Wilbraham,  Mass.,  1830.  A  Sermon  at  the  Ordination  of  William 
Wolcott,  at  Petersham,  1830.  A  Sermon  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Church, 
and  the  Ordination  of  Orson  Cowles,  at  North  Woodstock,  Conn.,  1832. 
Three  Sermons  on  Perfectionism,  1834.  Besides  these,  he  contributed  to 
various  periodicals,  especially  the  Literary  and  Theological  Review.  His 
Inaugural  Address,  which  he  was  on  his  way  to  deliver,  when  he  was  so 
suddenly  arrested  by  death,  was  afterwards  published  at  Knoxville.  In 
1841,  a  selection  from  his  manuscript  Sermons,  together  with  a  brief  Memoir 
of  his  Life  by  his  brother,  the  Rev.  George  Foot,  were  published  in  an 
octavo  volume. 


((72  FSISBTTmtlAlf. 


FROM  THE  REV,  T.  M.  COOLEY,  D.  D. 

GsAiTYiLLE,  May  8, 1854. 

My  dear  Brother:  I  know  Mr.  (afterwards  Dr.)  Foot  first  about  the  year 
1815,  when  he  came  to  me  in  a  state  of  deep  concern  respecting  his  immortal 
interests.  Uis  home  was  in  a  neighbouring  parish;  but  for  some  reason,  he 
selected  me  to  be  his  Christian  counsellor.  He  afterwards  lived  in  my  house, 
and  was  under  my  instruction  during  a  part  of  the  time  that  he  was  preparing 
for  College.  I  was  always  on  intimate  terms  with  him  during  the  remainder  of 
his  life.  I  was  a  member  of  the  Council  that  ordained  him  at  Brookfield,  on 
which  occasion  1  delivered  the  Charge. 

He  was  fully  of  the  middle  stature,  rather  inclined  to  be  stout;  was  of  a  dark 
complexion,  and  had  a  face  indicative  of  more  than  ordinary  strength  of  char- 
acter.  His  resolution  and  perseverance  were  most  indomitable.  His  tempera- 
ment was  sanguine,  and  he  saw  every  subject  that  was  presented  to  him  in  a 
strong  light.  He  was  always  a  diligent  student,  and  his  knowledge  was  exten- 
sive and  varied,  and  was  perfectly  at  command.  I  remember  to  have  heard  a 
lady  who  had  an  uncommon  discernment  of  character,  remark  concerning  him, 
that  ''he  knew  every  thing  and  talked  every  thing."  His  freedom  in  conversa- 
tion was  no  doubt  sometimes  excessive;  and  this,  under  some  circumstances, 
exposed  him  to  needless  prejudice,  and  led  to  a  misconstruction  of  his  motives. 
He  was  highly  entertaining  as  a  companion,  as  well  on  account  of  his  exhaust- 
less  store  of  valuable  information,  as  the  ready  and  agreeable  manner  in  which 
he  communicated  it* 

In  the  pulpit,  Dr.  Foot  maintained  a  highly  respectable  rank  among  the 
better  class  of  preachers.  I  cannot  say  that  his  manner  was  particularly  attract- 
ive, and  yet  it  w^as  not  particularly  otherwise — it  was  rather  fi-ee  and  strong 
than  graceful.  His  voice  was  good,  and  his  enunciation  clear,  but,  if  I  remember 
right,  his  intonations  were  not  greatly  varied.  His  discourses  were  carefully 
written,  and  contained  much  judicious  and  appropriate  thought.  His  st3''le  was 
perspicuous  and  forcible,  without  being  ornate  or  imaginative.  He  was  fond  of 
argumentative  preaching;  and  in  that  he  particularly  excelled.  He  was  a  fluent 
extemporaneous  speaker,  and  could  speak  on  any  subject  or  any  occasion  with 
little  previous  notice,  or  no  notice  at  all.  In  his  theological  views,  he  was 
strongly  of  the  Old  New  England  School,  and  after  ho  went  to  live  within  the 
limits  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  he  sympathized  fully  with  the  Old  School 
party  in  that  Body. 

It  was  a  dark  dispensation  of  providence  by  which  Dr.  Foot's  purposes  were 
broken,  just  at  his  entrance  upon  a  new  and  highly  promising  field  of  labour. 
He  had  gone  to  make  his  home  in  the  distant  Southwest,  and  had  consented  to 
become  the  head  of  an  institution  which  he  regarded  as  peculiarly  identified  with 
the  intellectual,  moral  and  religious  interests  of  that  part  of  the  country,  when, 
by  a  most  distressing  casualty,  his  earthly  labours  were  suddenly  terminated. 
He  had  many  admirable  qualifications,  beside  his  glowing  enthusiasm  for  the 
place  to  which  he  had  been  chosen;  and  if  his  life  had  been  spared,  I  doubt  not 
that  he  would  have  exerted  an  influence  that  would  have  placed  his  name  high 
on  the  list  of  public  benefactors. 

Your  affectionate  friend. 

And  brother  in  Christ  Jesus, 

TIMOTHY  MATHER  COOLEY. 


STEPHSK  TATLOB  073 


STEPHEN  TAYLOR,  D.  D  * 

1824—1853. 

Stephen  Tayloe  was  born  in  Tyringbam,  Berksbire  County,  Mass., 
on  the  26tb  of  February,  1796.  His  early  years  were  cbaracterized  by  a 
ratber  sedate  babit,  and  a  more  than  ordinary  degree  of  intellectual  activity. 
His  mind  is  said  to  have  become  permanently  impressed  with  religious 
truth,  during  an  extensive  revival  which  occurred  in  bis  native  place  in  the 
year  1808, — when  he  was  in  his  fourteenth  year ;  but  it  was  not  till  a  short 
time  before  the  close  of  his  college  course  that  he  made  a  public  profession 
of'  his  faith.  Having  gone  through  his  preparatory  studies  at  Lenox 
Academy,  he  became  a  member  of  Williams  College,  where  he  graduated 
with  the  highest  honour,  in  1 816.  In  a  powerful  revival  which  took  place 
in  College  during  the  latter  part  of  his  course,  he  received  a  fresh  baptism 
of  the  Christian  spirit,  and  from  that  time  engaged  with  great  alacrity  and 
earnestness  for  the  promotion  of  religion,  wherever  he  had  opportunity.  He 
was  a  universal  favourite  in  College, — both  with  the  Faculty  and  with  his 
fellow-students. 

Immediately  after  his  graduation,  he  became  Preceptor  of  the  Academy 
at  Westfield,  Mass.,  and  held  the  place  for  one  year.  In  the  autumn  of 
1817,  he  returned  to  Williams  College  as  Tutor,  and  officiated  in  that  capa- 
city, for  two  years,  with  uncommon  acceptance  and  success.  He  then  went 
to  study  at  the  Theological  Seminary  at  And  over ;  but,  as  his  health 
obliged  him  to  escape  from  the  severity  of  a  Northern  climate,  he  directed 
his  course  to  Virginia,  and  was,  for  some  time,  engaged  in  teaching  an 
Academy  at  Boydton,  Mecklenburg  County.  Having  regained  his  health, 
he  returned  to  Massachusetts,  and  completed  his  theological  course  under 
the  direction  of  Dr.  Griffin,  who  had  then  become  President  of  Williams 
College. 

Mr.  Taylor's  residence  in  Virginia  had  proved  so  agreeable  to  him,  and 
the  prospect  of  usefulness  in  that  part  of  the  country  seemed  so  promising, 
that  he  resolved  to  return  thither  to  find  a  permanent  home.  He  was 
accordingly  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Hanover  Presbytery  in  1824,  and 
shortly  after  became  Pastor  of  a  Church  in  Halifax  County,  where  he 
was  eminently  useful  and  greatly  beloved.  In  1826,  he  was  called  to 
the  Shockoe  Hill  Church,  Bichmond,  then  vacant  by  the  death  of  the 
eloquent  and  lamented  John  B.  Hoge.  Having  laboured  here  about  nine 
years,  with  great  fidelity  and  acceptance,  he  was  appointed,  in  1835,  to 
the  Professorship  of  Ecclesiastical  History  in  the  Union  Theological  Sem- 
inary in  Prince  Edward  County ;  and  he  accepted  the  appointment,  much 
to  the  regret  of  his  warmly  attached  congregation.  In  consequence  of 
action  taken  by  the  Board  of  the  Seminary  in  the  spring  of  1838,  in 
reference  to  the  Acts  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  preceding  year, — 
from  which  Professor  Taylor  felt  constrained  to  dissent,  he  resigned  his 
place  in  the  Institution,  and  shortly  after  became  Pastor  of  a  Church  in 
Abingdon,  Va.     He  was  then  associated  for  a  year  with  the  Bev.  E.  Ballan- 

•  RcT.  C.  H.  Reftd'f  Fan.  Serm.— MSS.  from  Rev.  G.  Dwfee,  B«v.  S.  Ba11miUd6,  B«v. 
H*  Bingham,  Hn.  Dr.  J.  H.  Rioe,  Mn.  Dr.  W.  J.  Armttrong,  and  J.  B.  MMrUn*  Eaq. 

Vol.  IV.  85 


074  PRESBTTfiBIAK. 

tine,  in  Prince  Edward  County,  in  conducting  a  clasBical  and  mathematical 
school,  and  in  the  instruction  of  one  or  two  classes  in  Theology.  Thence, 
in  1843,  he  went  to  Petersburg,  where  he  took  the  pastoral  charge  of  the 
High  Street  Church  ;  and,  after  a  residence  there  of  between  three  and  four 
years,  returned  to  Richmond,  iu  1847.  In  this  year,  he  was  honoured  with 
the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Emery  and  Henry  College,  Va. 

On  returning  to  Kichmond,  he  engaged  first  in  teaching,  though  he  was 
always  ready  to  preach  the  Gospel  as  opportunity  offered.  In  1850,  he 
was  elected  Pastor  of  the  Duval  Street  Church,  (Richmond,)  and  continued 
in  charge  of  it  until  his  death.  He  was  suddenly  arrested,  in  the  midst  of 
his  labours,  with  symptoms  of  alarming  disease,  on  the  26th  of  February, 
1853,  and,  after  suffering  intense  pain  during  a  part  of  his  illness,  from 
a  combined  attack  of  pneumonia  and  pleurisy,  he  died  in  perfoct  peace 
on  the  4th  of  March  following,  having  just  completed  fifty-seven  years. 
He  declined  all  opiates  when  he  saw  death  approaching,  lest  they  should 
serve  to  becloud  his  mind,  which  he  wished  to  have  perfectly  clear  when 
he  passed  through  the  dark  valley.  In  some  of  his  last  hours,  he  dwelt 
most  gratefully  on  the  mercy  of  God  as  having  crowned  his  whole  life, 
and  remarked  that  the  Saviour  had  folded  him  like  a  lamb  in  his  bosom. 
A  Sermon  on  the  occasion  of  his  death  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Charles 
H.  Read,  Pastor  of  the  United  Presbyterian  Church,  Richmond,  which  was 
afterwards  published. 

Mr.  Taylor  was  married  in  Virginia,  on  the  18th  of  January,  1824,  to 
Elizabeth  Morse,  of  Westfield,  Mass.,  who  had  gone  to  the  South  in  the 
capacity  of  a  teacher.  They  had  a  daughter,  —  aa  only  child,  who  was 
married  and  became  a  mother,  but  died,  with  her  infant,  shortly  after.  Mrs. 
Taylor  survived  her  husband  less  than  a  year.  She  died  at  New  Haven, 
Conn.,  November  5,  1853,  and  her  remains  were  taken  to  Richmond,  where 
the  little  family  are  now  all  resting  together  in  hope. 

FROM  THE  REV.  HIRAM  P.  GOODRICH,  D.  D. 

St.  Louis,  Mo.,  May  18,  1857. 

Dear  Sir:  Your  letter  making  inquiry  concerning  my  lamented  and  excellent 
friend,  the  Rev.  Stephen  Taylor,  D.  D.,  demands  a  more  full  and  nyature  answer 
than  I  am  able  now  to  give.  I  knew  him  first,  soon  after  his  marriage,  while 
he  was  a  pastor  in  Halifax  County,  Va.,  and  we  were  afterwards  associated  as 
Professors  in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary  in  Prince  Edward  County, — he, 
in  the  chair  of  Church  History, — I,  in  that  of  Oriental  Languages.  Here  we 
were  in  habits  of  almost  daily  official  and  personal  intercourse  for  several  years. 

^Ir.  Taylor,  while  he  had  the  charge  of  a  congregation  in  Halifax,  won  the 
reputation  of  being  one  of  the  best  pastors  who  had  lived  in  that  whole  range  of 
country.  When  he  was  called  thence  to  the  Professor's  chair,  it  was  not  so 
much  for  any  eminence  he  had  attained  in  Church  History,  as  for  his  ability  to 
excel  in  any  branch  of  learning,  and  mainly  because  he  was  so  faultless  a  model  of 
both  a  Preacher  and  a  Pastor.  In  his  department,  he  was  a  patient  investigator 
of  truth,  but  only  when  and  where  he  could  discover  some  important  practical 
bearing.  Historic  lore,  for  its  own  sake,  or  for  the  sake  of  rendering  himself 
learned  where  others  were  ignorant,  had  no  charm  for  him.  He  was  a  highly 
acceptable  Professor,  until  circumstances  connected  with  the  division  of  the 
Church  led  him  to  tender  the  resignation  of  his  office. 

As  a  Preacher  he  was  instructive,  practical,  direct  and  earnest.  He  always 
Uft  the  impression  that  he  was  intent  upon  accomplishing  the  great  ends  of  ib» 


STBPHEK  TAYLOR.  676 

ministry,  and  that  be  utterly  ignored  all  considerations  of  personal  popularity. 
Svery  thing  in  both  the  manner  and  matter  of  his  discourses  showed  that  he 
possessed  the  true  spirit  of  an  ambassador  of  the  Son  of  God. 

Professor  Taylor  was  highly  favoured  in  his  personal  appearance.  He  was  rather 
tall,  of  a  slender  and  graceful  form,  and  had  a  fine  intellectual  forehead,  with 
clusters  of  glossy,  curling,  black  hair,  and  a  dark  eye,— expressive  of  great  ten- 
derness, but  still  very  bright  and  piercing.  He  was  lame  in  one  ankle,  but  his 
movements  were  easy  and  unembarrassed  notwithstanding.  His  dress  was 
remarkably  neat,  and  his  manners  those  of  a  polished  Christian  gentleman. 

There  was  much  of  sadness  pertaining  to  his  domestic  history;  though  the 
saddest  scenes  evidently  helped  to  mature  as  well  as  illustrate  his  Christian 
character.  He  had  an  only  daughter, — amiable,  elegant,  highly  educated,  loving 
all  good  and  loved  by  all  the  good, — ^in  whom  his  heart  was  evidently  bound  up. 
But  death  claimed  her  in  the  bloom  of  early  womanhood.  Her  portrait  was 
ever  afterwards  borne  upon  his  bosom,  and  it  was  probably  one  of  the  last 
objects  upon  which  his  eye  rested  before  it  was  closed  in  the  final  slumber. 

I  remain  yours  with  high  regard, 

HIRAM  P.  GOODRICH. 

FROM  THE  REV.  HALSEY  DUNNING. 

Baltimore,  Md.,  July  27, 1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  My  personal  acquaintance  with  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Taylor 
extended  through  only  the  last  three  or  four  years  of  his  life;  and  though  living 
in  the  same  city,  yet,  because  of  our  constantly  pressing  duties  in  our  respective 
fields,  in  opposite  extremes  of  that  city,  that  acquaintance  was  less  intimate  than 
I  could  wish  it  had  been.  I  first  met  that  excellent  man  shortly  after  my  set- 
tlement in  Richmond,  ^hile  he  was  yet  Pastor  of  the  High  Street  Church  in 
Petersburg.  He  had  come  to  Richmond  to  secure  the  aid  of  his  friends  in  an 
efibrt  then  being  made  to  remove  a  debt  still  remaining  upon  his  church  edifice. 
He  did  not  meet  with  quite  the  required  success,  or  perhaps  with  what  he  anti- 
cipated; and,  soon  after  he  returned  home,  much  to  the  surprise  of  his  friends,  he 
resigned  his  charge  and  removed  to  Richmond.  The  amount  required  to  com- 
plete the  subscription  was  not  large,  and  a  little  further  effort  would  probably 
have  secured  the  whole.  But  Father  Taylor  had  now  reached  that  period  of  life 
when  men  are  not  as  hopeful  as  when  the  blood  flows  more  freely,  and  an  enter- 
prise, by  no  means  hopeless,  was  thus  abandoned.  I  mention  this  fact  as  one 
among  others,  which  it  is  not  necessary  to  mention,  to  illustrate  a  trait  which 
was  now  developing  almost  to  a  fault  in  his  otherwise  singularly  excellent  and 
well-balanced  character.  It  was  not  failure  in  past  life,  either  as  Pastor,  Pro- 
fessor, or  Teacher,  that  had  induced  this  peculiar  state  of  mind ;  but,  as  I  appre- 
hend, the  failure  rather  of  those  vital  forces  which  seem  necessary  to  that  hopefiil 
view  of  things  which  stimulates  to  high  enterprise  in  the  Church  and  in  the 
world. 

Removing  to  Richmond,  the  scene  of  his  former  successful  labours  as  a  Pas- 
tor, and  where  he  had  many  warm  and  faithful  friends,  he  engaged  in  teaching 
for  a  >ear  or  more,  when,  upon  the  removal  of  the  Rev.  J.  P.  Hovey  to  New 
York  City,  he  was  invited  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Duval  Street  Church, 
which  position  he  held  until  his  death.  It  seemed  to  him  a  great  joy  to  be  able 
to  resume  the  public  duties  of  the  ministry.-  Here,  in  the  missionary  field  occu- 
pied by  the  Church  to  which  he  ministered,  he  devoted  the  remainder  of  his 
days  to  that  work,  in  which,  in  former  life,  he  had  been  most  successful.  As  a 
Pastor,  he  was  eminently  laborious  and  faithful.  Called  to  labour  especially 
among  the  poor  within  the  bounds  of  his  field,  he  sought  them  out,  and  with 
the  affection  of  a  father,  instructed,  warned  and  eounselled  them.    Nor  did  he 


976  PBESBTTEfilAK. 

bestow  his  ciire  und  Taboar  upon  those  only  vho  were  more  immediately 
the  bounds  of  his  own  parish — he  freqoentij  visited  the  public  institutions  of  the 
city, — the  Almshouse,  the  State  Penitentiary,  and  the  Orphan  Asylum, — where 
be,  who  had  held  honourable  position  in  one  of  the  Theological  Seminaries  of  our 
land,  was  now  familiarly  known,  and  greatly  revered,  as  ''  Father  Taylor." 

Dr.  Taylor  was  never  much  of  a  party  man.  His  character,  singularly  simple 
and  pure,  could  not  take  on  a  strongly  partisan  form.  And  hence,  though  his 
opinions,  as  a  New  School  Presbyterian,  were  well  known,  his  services  were 
often  sought  by  those  with  whom  he  was  known  to  differ;  and  so  liberal  was  he 
that  those  of  the  more  rigid  cast,  with  whom  he  harmonized  in  sentiment  aDd 
action,  used  to  say  of  him,  that  **  he  was  too  good  to  do  right;" — that  is  to  say, 
according  to  their  more  rigid  party  notions.  He  at  least  has  this  testimony- 
abiding  in  the  consciousness  of  all  who  knew  him  intimately, — ^that  he  loved  the 
Church  of  Christ  well;  that  he  loved  the  Presbyterian  Church  well;  and  that 
be  loved  Denominational  Presbyterianism — New  School  or  Old,  as  such,  with  a 
very  moderate  degree  of  affection.  "  I  will  never  permit  Denomi nationalism,  as 
such,"  said  he,  *'  to  prevent  my  preaching  Christ  to  a  dying  world;  " — in  which 
saying,  much  of  the  real  character  of  the  man  comes  out.  No  ism  oould  separate 
him  from  Christ,  or  the  Great  Body  of  Christ,  with  whose  catholic  heart  his 
heart  beat  in  happy  accord.  For  him  to  live  was  Christ,  and  to  preach  was 
equally  Christ;  and  it  seemed  indeed  the  controlling  desire  of  his  heart  that,  by 
life  or  by  death,  Christ  should  be  glorified.  The  period  of  my  acquaintance  with 
him  may  be  very  properly  characterized  by  the  text,  whKh  was,  with  striking 
appropriateness,  chosen  by  the  Rev.  Charles  H.  Read,  on  the  occasion  of  his 
Funeral  services — *'  Stephen,  a  man  full  of  faith  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  He 
was  a  man  of  faith — of  that  personal,  practical  faith  which  marks  the  wann- 
hearted,  devoted  Christian,  in  bis  sphere  of  personal  relation  and  daily  duty, 
rather  than  —  I  must  in  justice  say— of  that  which  conceives  and  accom- 
plishes boldly  and  grandly  for  the  Church  of  God.  His  was  not  that  heroic 
faith  which  works  mighty  revolutions  among  men,  but  that  which  purifies  the 
heart,  works  by  love,  and  overcomes  the  world,  in  the  relations  of  one's  personal 
sphere  of  influence.  Being  full  of  faith,  he  was,  therefore,  full  of  the  Holy 
Qhost.  This  was  specially  manifest  during  the  last  months  of  his  life.  No  one 
capable  of  spiritual  discernment  could  be  in  his  company,  and  not  perceive  that 
God  was  with  him  of  a  truth.  This  hallowed  light  of  the  indwelling  Spirit  fell 
like  a  blessed  radiance  upon  his  whole  character,  especially  after  the  death  of  hia 
beloved  daughter,— his  only  child.  The  circumstances  of  this  death  were  exceed- 
ingly touching,  and  the  whole  affliction  served  to  illustrate  to  all  who  were  in 
daily  intercourse  with  him,  the  beautiful  harmony  of  his  character  with  the 
description  of  that  of  the  proto-martyr  to  which  I  have  just  referred.  It  was 
evident  that  death,  in  removing  the  daughter,  had  sundered  the  strongest  bead 
that  held  the  parents  to  earth;  and  it  was  not  long  ere  the  whole  fiimily  were 
removed,  where  separations,  if  they  take  place,  are  never  painful. 

The  final  illness  of  Father  Taylor,  though  not  of  long  duration,  was  severe. 
Here  it  was  that  the  true  elevation  of  his  character  appeared.  Trial  developed 
the  inner  man.  Though  suffering  extremely,  he  suffered  with  a  dignity  and 
serenity  that  seemed  almost  superhuman.  His  views  of  the  Divine  goodness 
were  most  intense  and  exalted.  ''Oh,"  said  he,  during  one  of  those  severe 
paroxysms  that  preceded  his  death, — *'  Oh,  my  brother,  I  am  suffering  exces- 
sively— almost  beyond  the  endurance  of  nature;  but  thanks  be  to  God,  his  love 
Buperaboundsl  Oh,  the  precious  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ!  Preach 
Christ,  my  brother,  preach  Christ!  "  With  this  last  word  to  me  still  sounding 
in  my  ear,-^the  sentences  broken  with  the  groans  of  dissolution, — ^I  may  indeed 
say  of  him, — living  or  dying,  Christ  wob  hia  Life,  I  know  not  how  better,  in 
a  word,  to  chanucterize  the  man.     He  was  one  of  those  who  could  never  have  an 


StranXN  TAXLQR.  If^ff 

'enemy — ooe  whom  every  body  mast  respect  for  his  simpliciiy,  sinoerity,  and 

goodness,  and  whom  all  who  knew  him  intimately  most  love.  To  show  that  he 
was  not  perfect,  I  have  hinted  at  a  fault,  or  rather  failing,  or  two,  in  his  general 
character;  but  these  were  of  such  a  nature  as  to  make  no  one  love  or  respect  him 
the  less;  and  they  served  perhaps  rather  as  encouragements  to  us,  his  less 
favoured  and  faithful  brethren,  by  showing  us  that  so  much  excellence  could 
consist  with,  and  attach  to,  a  nature  not  yet  perfectly  sanctified. 

Most  faithfully  your  brother  in  Christ, 

H.  DUNNING. 


-♦♦• 


DAVID  NELSON,  M.  D  * 

1825—1844. 

David  Nelson,  a  son  of  Henry  and  Anna  (Kelsey)  Nelson,  was  born 
near  Jonesborough,  in  East  Tennessee,  on  the  24th  of  September,  1793b 
His  father  was  of  English,  his  mother  of  Scotch,  descent ;  and  both  were 
natives  of  Rockbridge  Coanty,  Ya.  His  father  was  an  elder  in  the  Pres^ 
byterian  Church,  and  his  mother  was  remarkable  for  strength  of  mind  and 
ardent  piety.  The  spot  on  which  he  was  born  was  within  two  miles  of  the 
Nolachuky,  a  beautiful  and  brilliant  stream  that  rises  on  the  West  of  the 
Blue  Ridge ;  and  when  he  was  taken  there  at  the  age  of  three  years,  he 
seemed  almost  entranced  in  looking  at  the  cliffs  and  evergreens  upon  its 
banks ; — the  first  development  of  that  enthusiastic  admiration  for  natural 
scenery  for  which  he  was  remarkable  in  after  life.  As  his  father's  residence 
was  but  two  miles  from  Washington  College, — an  institution  founded,  and 
for  many  years  presided  over,  by  the  Rev.  Samuel  Doak,  D.  D.,  it  was  here 
that  he  was  sent  for  his  education.  Having  completed  his  college  course  at 
the  early  age  of  sixteen,  he  commenced  the  study  of  medicine  under  the 
direction  of  Dr.  Ephraim  McDowell,  son-in-law  of  Governor  Shelby,  at 
Danville,  Ky.  Here  he  remained  for  some  time,  and  then  went  to  Phila* 
delphia  to  avail  himself  of  the  superior  advantages  for  medical  education  in 
that  city.  He  returned  to  Kentucky  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  and  had  but 
just  entered  on  the  practice  of  medicine,  when — the  war  with  Great  Britain 
having  commenced — he  joined  a  Kentucky  regiment  as  a  Surgeon,  and  pro- 
oeeded  to  Canada. 

During  this  expedition,  (which  was  in  1812,)  Dr.  Nelson  was  subjected 
to  deprivations  and  sufferings  which  had  well-nigh  cost  him  his  life.  He 
often  made  his  bed  in  snow,  and  subsisted  on  frozen  fat  pork,  and  water, 
without  bread.  On  his  return  through  a  wild  Indian  country,  overcome  by 
fiitigue,  cold,  and  hunger,  he  despaired  of  advancing  any  farther,  and  lay 
down  in  the  snow,  fully  resolved  to  die  there.  But  Providence  kindly 
interposed  for  his  deliverance.  His  friend  and  relative,  the  brave  Colon^ 
Allen,  a  distinguished  lawyer  as  well  as  military  man,  who  afterwards  fell 
at  the  River  Raisin,  was  instrumental  in  saving  his  life.  Having  missed 
young  Nelson  from  the  company,  he  returned  in  search  of  him,  and  found 
hini  just  in  time  to  save  him  from  death  ;  he  lifted  him  upon  his  own  pow- 

•  1IS8.  from  hli  fiwnily,  J.  A.  JMobfy  Eiq.,  Hon.  C.  S.  Todd,  and  Rot.  E.  S.  Elj,  P.  D. 


578  FBSSBYT8BIAK. 

eifttl  hone,  and  thug  earned  him  on  his  way,  encoaraging  hifl  hopes,  and 
administering  to  his  wants,  until  he  finally  reached  the  end  of  his  journey 
in  safety. 

On  hb  return  from  this  expedition,  he  settled  as  a  medical  practitioner 
in  Joneshorough,  with  yery  promising  prospects.  But  it  was  not  long 
before  he  was  again  summoned  by  Generals  Jackson  and  Coffe  into  the 
service,  and  he  accordingly  rejoined  the  army  as  a  Surgeon,  and  went  South 
to  Alabama  and  Florida.  In  the  wilderness  of  Alabama  he  was  seized  with 
a  violent  fever,  to  which  he  had  well-nigh  fallen  a  victim.  In  consequence 
of  the  great  rains,  the  country  was  almost  inundated;  and  the  water  was 
constantly  rushing  into  his  tent.  For  about  three  weeks,  all  who  saw  him 
supposed  that  his  death  was  inevitable ;  though  he  himself,  when  at  the 
lowest  point,  had  the  utmost  confidence  that  he  should  recover; — and  his 
expectation  was  not  disappointed.  The  news  of  Peace  reached  him  while 
he  was  at  Mobile, — the  very  day  before  an  expected  battle ;  and  in  conse- 
quence of  this,  he  returned  to  Joneshorough,  and  resumed  his  medical 
practice. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-two,  he  formed  a  matrimonial  connection  with  a 
daughter  of  David  Deaderick,  a  highly  respectable  merchant  of  East  Ten- 
nessee.  They  had  twelve  children, — six  sons  and  six  daughters ;  all  of 
whom,  with  the  exception  of  one  son,  survived  him.  The  eleven  children, 
with  their  mother,  still  (1857)  survive. 

Though  Dr.  Nelson  had  in  very  early  life  made  a  profession  of  religion, 
his  serious  impressions  gradually  wore  away,  and  he  became  at  length  an 
open  advocate  of  infidelity.  This  change  occurred  in  consequence  of  some 
unfortunate  associations  which  he  formed  while  residing  as  a  physician  at 
Danville ;  and  neither  his  creed  nor  his  character  was  improved  by  his  sub- 
sequent connection  with  the  army.  But,  though  he  was  avowedly  infidel  in 
his  opinions,  he  had  not  been  able  to  escape  from  all  the  influences  of  an 
early  Christian  education  and  profession.  He  at  length  became  deeply 
impressed  by  the  fact  that  the  most  distinguished  infidel  writers  had  greatly 
misquoted  and  perverted  the  Scriptures,  as  well  as  misrepresented  history ; 
and  he  became  satisfied  that  justice  to  himself,  as  well  as  to  Christianity, 
demanded  that  his  reading  should  not  be  all  on  one  side.  He  began  now  to 
read  books  illustrating  the  truth  and  power  of  the  Gospel ;  and  it  was  but 
a  short  time  before  his  scepticism  all  gave  way.  and  he  was  led  to  embrace 
Christianity,  not  only  as  bearing  the  stamp  of  Divine  authority,  but  as  the 
only  foundation  of  his  own  personal  hopes.  Religion  now  became  with  him 
the  all-engrossing  subject ;  and  it  was  manifest  to  all  that  his  ruling  passion 
was  to  do  good,  especially  to  the  souls  of  his  fellow*men.  His  profession, 
while  he  continued  in  it,  he  made  auxiliary  to  the  spiritual  interests 
of  those  among  whom  he  was  thrown;  not  only  administering  Christian 
instruction  and  counsel,  but  distributing  tracts  and  books  on  Practical 
and  Experimental  Religion,  as  occasion  or  opportunity  offered.  He  found 
it  exceedingly  difficult  at  first,  by  reason  of  constitutional  diffidence,  to  lead 
the  devotions  of  even  the  smallest  congregation ;  but  he  felt  constrained  to 
persevere  in  his  efforts  in  this  way,  until,  at  no  distant  period,  under  the 
influence  of  a  strong  conviction  of  duty,  and  an  unusual  fervour  of  religious 
feeling,  he  could  conduct  such  a  service  in  the  most  composed  and  edifying 
manner. 


DAVID  NELSOV.  ^79i 

Dr.  Nebon's  sifciutMm  and  prospects  as  a  physioian  were  in  every  reepeot 
what  he  could  have  desired.  He  was  highly  popular  as  a  man,  and  had  an 
extensive  practice,  which  gave  him  an  annual  income  of  not  less  than  three 
thousand  dollars.  But  his  heart  glowed  with  the  desire  to  preach  that  Gospel 
which  had  now  become  so  dear  to  him;  and  this  desire  was  not  a  little 
strengthened  by  a  sormon  on  missions  which  he  heard  about  this  time,  and 
which  served  to  bring  his  spirit  into  the  most  intense  sympathy  with  the 
missionary  cause.  He  accordingly  conceived  and  matured  the  purpose  of 
entering  the  ministry*  In  due  time  he  placed  himself  under  the  care  of 
the  Abingdon  Presbytery,  Ya.,  and  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  in 
April,  1826. 

He  preached  for  nearly  three  years  in  different  places  in  Tennessee,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  was  associated  with  one  or  two  other  ministers  in  conduct* 
ing  a  periodical  work,  published  at  Rogersville,  entitled  ''The  Calvinistie 
Magazine.''  In  1828,  he  removed  to  Kentucky,  and  became  Pastor  of 
the  church  in  Danville,  which  had  been  rendered  vacant  by  the  death  of 
his  brother  Samuel,  the  preceding  year.  He  also,  about  this  time,  travelled 
somewhat  extensively  in  Kentucky,  as  Agent  of  the  American  Education 
Society.  In  1830,  being  deeply  impressed  with  the  importance  of  increas- 
ing the  means  of  education  in  the  far  West,  he  removed  to  the  State  of 
Missouri,  and  was  chiefly  instrumental  in  establishing  a  College  in  Marion 
County,  to  which  was  given  the  name  of  Marion  College, — twelve  miles 
from  Palmyra.  Of  this  institution  he  became  the  first  President.  He 
visited  New  York,  New  England,  and  various  other  parts  of  the  country, 
with  a  view  to  secure  the  requisite  means  for  carrying  forward  this  enter- 
prise ;  and,  wherever  he  went,  left  the  impression  that  he  was  a  man  of 
extraordinary  faith  and  power.  The  most  distinctive  feature  of  the  institu* 
tion  was  that  the  students  were  to  support  themselves  by  occupying  part  of 
their  time  in  manual  labour.  But  though  it  brought  together  a  large  num- 
ber of  young  men,  he  seems  to  have  been  disappointed  in  the  workings  of 
it;  and  in  1836,  owing  to  a  difficulty  which  is  more  particularly  referred  to 
in  one  of  the  letters  appended  to  this  narrative,  he  removed  to  the  State  of 
Illinois,  and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Quincy  established  an  Institute  for 
the  education  of  young  men,  especially  for  missionary  life.  Here  he 
exhausted  his  pecuniary  means;  and  here,  after  a  brief  period,  ended  his 
days. 

The  latter  part  of  Dr.  Nelson's  life  was  rendered  sad  from  his  becoming 
the  victim  of  epilepsy.  That  fearful  malady  fastened  itself  upon  him,  and 
proved  an  overmatch  for  medical  skill.  His  strong  appetite  for  food  he 
resisted  continually  from  a  conviction  that  indulgence  would  hasten  the 
progress  of  his  disease;  but,  however  that  may  have  been,  abstinence  did 
nothing  to  remove  it.  It  advanced  by  slow  but  certain  steps,  gradually 
impairing  his  noble  faculties,  disappointing  his  hopes  of  continued  useful- 
ness, and  finally  terminating  his  earthly  career.  He  was  not,  however, 
intellectually  reduced  to  a  wreck ;  nor  was  his  mind  at  all  embarrassed  in 
its  spiritual  and  devout  exercises.  Toward  hb  family,  and  other  near 
friends,  it  was  remarked  that  he  became  constantly  more  tender  and  loving, 
as  he  approached  the  point  at  which  he  must  leave  them.  When  he  became 
satisfied  that  his  end  was  near,  ho  called  his  wife  and  children  around  him, 
and  said, — **  My  Master  calls — I  am  going  home — kiss  me,  my  children* 
and  take  your  last  farewell,  for  I  shall  soon  be  in  a  state  of  insensibility^ 


^g0  nBSBTmuAir, 

and  flliall  not  know  j<mi."  To  the  qnettkii, — why  1m  felt  sure  thai  lus  end 
was  near, — ^as  he  did  not  seem  more  ^  than  he  had  often  done  before,  be 
laconioally  answered, — ^*  Extreme  debility.*'  He  then  addressed  most 
tenderly  and  iropressiTely  one  of  his  children ,  who,  he  feared,  had  not 
entered  on  the  religious  life,  and,  on  the  promise  to  serve  the  Lord  being 
given,  he  turned  over,  and  said, — ^'It  is  well;*'  and  these  were  his  last 
words.  He  died  at  Oakland,  five  miles  East  of  Quincy,  on  the  17  ih 
of  October,  1844,  aged  fifty-one  years.  His  remains  rest  in  the  cemetery 
of  Woodland,  near  Quincy, — a  beautiful  bluff  overlooking  the  Mississippi, 
where  there  is  a  fine  marble  monument  to  his  memory,  erected  by  some  of 
his  friends  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

Dr.  Nelson's  highest  and  most  enduring  fame  no  doubt  is  connected  with 
his  well  known  work  entitled,  **  Cause  and  Cure  of  Infidelity."  Most  of 
this  was  written  in  a  few  weeks,  in  the  summer  of  1886,  in  his  garden,  and 
under  clumps  of  tall  oaks,  at  Oakland.  It  has  already  passed  through 
many  editions,  and  has  taken  a  high  place  in  the  standard  religious  litera- 
ture of  the  age.  Dr.  Nelson  wrote  another  work  entitled  **  Wealth  and 
Honour,"  designed  for  publication,  but  the  manuscript  was  unfortunately 
lost  after  it  had  passed  from  his  hands,  and  has  never  been  recovered.  He 
also  wrote  many  articles  on  Education,  Baptism,  Missions,  and  other 
subjects,  which  appeared  in  the  New  York  Observer,  and  other  papers  of 
the  day.  A  few  of  his  poetical  effusions  also  have  appeared  in  print,  showing 
that  he  had  a  talent  which  might,  by  due  cultivation,  have  given  him  a  place 
among  the  distinguished  poets  of  his  time. 

FROM  THE  REV.  FREDERICK  A.  ROSS,  D.  D. 

HuNTSviLLE,  Ala.,  Feb.  4, 1867. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  intimacy  with  Dr.  David  Nelson  was,  in  some  regards, 
greater  than  with  Mr.  Gallaher.  For  a  time,  indeed,  we  three  were  one— as 
Editors  of  the  Calvinistic  Magazine,  and  in  other  influences.  No  three  men 
could  have  been  much  more  affectionately  united.  We  were  about  the  same 
age.  Gallaher  was  the  oldest,  Nelson  next,  I  was  the  youngest.  Gallaher 
was,  as  I  have  said,  my  spiritual  father.  Nelson,  led  me  into  the  ministry — 
after  this  wise : — 

My  religious  change  occarred,  at  one  of  our  old-fashioned  four  days'  Sacra- 
mental occasions,  then,  and  no^',  so  common  in  East  Tennessee, — beginning  ou 
Friday,  and  terminating,  usually,  with  a  sermon,  Monday  morning.  It  was 
Gallaher's  Monday  sermon  which  brought  me  to  decision.  It  so  happened  that 
there  was  to  be  another  similar  series  of  days  of  preaching,  connected  with  the 
Supper,  at  Jonesborough,  about  twenty-five  miles  from  Kingsport,  near  which 
I  resided.  Gallaher,  and  another  friend,  Robert  Glenn,  to  whom  I  owe  eternal 
gratitude  for  his  religious  influence  at  that  time,  and  before, — were  solicitons 
that  I  should  go  over  to  Jonesborough,  and  with  some  others,  (who,  like  myself, 
felt  satisfied,  that  Monday  morning,)  add  thereby  to  the  good  impressions  hoped 
for. 

I  went, — and  found  there  Dr.  David  Nelson.  He  had  recently  renewed,  after 
years  of  relapse  even  into  infidelity,  his  very  early  profession  of  Christ.  He  had 
been  a  physician,  in  the  army  of  General  Jackson, — for  that  was  his  Dr.  and  not 
D.  D.  He  fell  into  many  army  habits — returned  to  Jonesborough, — a  great, 
over-six-feet,  barley,  drinking,  card-playing,  leader  of  fun,  in  then  one  of  the 
most  dissipated  villages  in  the  West, — now  most  remarkable  for  its  piety.  He 
ran  away  with  the  amalleBt  girl  you  ever  saw.    She  looked  more  like  a  fairy 


.BAYiD  JIXLSOll^  Sgl 


ikfku  a  woman.  Her  &iiiiljr  wm  one  •f  tlie  most  raapaelable  in  the  State,  and, 
they  thought  all  was  ruin  to  Iheir  daughter.  For,  although  Nelson's  social  posi- 
tion was  equally  good,  his  habits,  as  said,  were,  of  oourse,  such  as  to  forbid  all 
parental  encouragtiment.  His  wife,  however,  often  told  me,  she  knew  the  genius, 
and  the  goodness,  and  greatness,  there  was  in  lAm.  Well,  he  ran  away  with  this 
little  creature — beautiful  in  the  extreme — and  elegantly  educated  in  Philadelphia. 
He  soon  returned  to  Jonesborough,  and  boarded,  (ere  the  reconciliation,)  in  the 
house  of  my,  after,  father-in-law. 

He  was  an  admirable  physician,  and  much  beloved,  as  such  dashing  men 
often  are,  if  full  of  genius,  amiable,  and  withal  eccentric,  as  he  was,  to  a  high 
degree,  till  he  died. 

He  one  day  took  ^up  Doddridge's  Rise  and  Progress — ^some  word  arrested  his 
mind.  He  read  the  work, — and  like  the  look  of  Christ  on  Peter,  that  word  led 
Kelson  to  go  out  and  weep  bitterly. 

When,  therefore,  Iwent  to  Jonesborough,  where  I  was  an  entire  stranger, 
the  latter  part  of  September,  1823,  Nelson  had,  a  very  short  time  before, 
re-entered  the  church  with  his  wife. 

During  that  Sacramental  occasion,  he,  in  the  fulness  of  his  renewed  love, 
sought  me.  We  were  very  kindred  spirits,  at  least  in  our  former  habits,  except 
the  infidelity.  I  never  doubted  the  Bible,  and  have  defended  it,  even  at  the  card- 
table,  piled  with  money.  Our  intimacy  began  instantly.  We  were  fascinated 
with  each  other, — both  about  twenty-seven  years  of  age.  He,  a  great  lump  of  a 
man, — I,  a  little  fellow,  never  weighing  over  one  hundred  and  thirty-five;  but 
we  both  were  enthusiastic,  and  of  yery  similar  literary,  among  our  other  and 
formerly  worse,  tastes.  I  had  no  special  eccentricities,  but  I  was  greatly  taken 
with  his.     His  wife  was  am  generis  too. 

It  so  happened  that,  at  that  meeting,  I  was  called  on,  Sunday  night,  to  lead 
in  prayer — that  prayer  struck  Nelson^s  fancy.  He  had,  it  seems,  been  turning 
his  mind  to  the  ministry;  for  he  was  of  an  eminently  holy  family.  His  father 
was  a  ruling  elder.  His  mother  one  of  the  very  Scotch-Irish  of  the  earth.  His 
brother  an  esteemed  preacher  in  Danville,  Ky.  That  prayer  had  some  important 
results. 

In  providence  it  so  turned  up,  that,  at  this  same  Sacramental  ocoasion,  I  saw 
the  lady,  whom  I  married  a  few  months  thereafter, — the  intimate  of  Nelson's 
wife.     So,  I  was  often  in  Jonesborough,  and  with  Nelson,  a  great  deal. 

A  very  short  time  after  this  last  event,  he  wrote  to  me,  giving  his  turn  of  oon-> 
viction  as  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and  inviting  me  to  direct  my  thoughts  to 
the  same  obligation.  It  resulted  in  our  both  putting  ourselves  under  the  care  of 
Abingdon  Presbytery,  April,  1824,  at  Kingsport,  near  my  home.  We  then 
studied  theology,  &c.,  at  our  own  firesides,  under  some  care  of  Rev.  Robert 
Glenn.  In  April,  1825,  he  and  I  were  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel,  in  a  log 
church.  Glade  Spring  Congregation,  Washington  County,  Ya.,  and  it  so  occurred 
that  we  were  ordained  on  the  same  day,  six  months  afterwards,  (as  Evangelists,) 
in  Rogersville,  East  Tennessee,  one  of  Mr.  Gallaher's  places  of  labour. 

You  perceive,  then,  there  was  more  in  my  relations  to  Nelson,  to  make  ns 
know  each  other,  than  even  in  my  connection  with  Gallaher.  Indeed  those 
years  were  the  most  attractive  of  my  ministerial  life— -as  they  dwell  in  my 
thoughts.  Nelson  was  one  of  the  most  lovely  of  human  characters, — with  a 
charm  about  him,  which,  like  all  charms,  can  be  understood  only  by  those  on 
whom  the  spell  has  fallen.  Gallaher  had  much  of  that  power;  but  it  was  difibr- 
ent  in  type.  Nelson  was  the  most  fascinating  preacher  I  ever  heard.  His 
simple  train  of  argument, — his  combination  of  thought,  so  original, — ^his  exqui- 
site illustrations,  inexhaustible, — his  strange  unearthly  voice, — ^his  noble  fkce,— 
his  sweet  smile,  which  made  you  feel  the  light  and  love  of  Heaven, — made  him 
the  object  of  undying  afiection  in  tyery  heart  which  knew  him.    There  were,  yoa. 

Vol.  IV.       86 


((g2  FBISBYTBBIiJI. 

see,  manj  things  to  make  ma  love  htm  Irnng,  and  remeaber  him  as  he  was,  m9 
*'  very  pleasant  unto  me."  And  I  weep  now,  although  sixty  yean  of  age,  like  s 
woman,  as  I  see  him  and  hear  him,  in  his  pUoe,  speaking  for  God,  or  in  familiar 
talk  by  the  way. 

Poor  fellow,  he  died  of  the  efllcts  of  epileptic  fits,  before  his  eye  would  have 
been  dim,  or  his  natural  force  abated.  His  sun  was  going  down  when  he  was  in 
Albany — clear  and  beautiful,  but  not  in  the  greatness  of  its  strength. 

He  was  very  curious  and  ridiculous  in  his  notions  about  dress,  and  he  would 
have  been  worse  but  for  me.  What  you  say,  however,  evinces  the  correctness 
of  somebody's  remark, — that  the  minister,  when  he  preaches  in  the  country, 
must  give  his  best  sermon;  when  he  enters  the  city  pulpit,  he  must  wear  his  best 
coat.*  Your  Albany  people,  shrewd  as  they  are,  were  caught  napping  that  time. 
Nelson  was  a  most  refined  and  accomplished  gentleman.  His  social  position, 
aside  from  his  ministerial,  was  equal  to  any,  in  the  United  States.  And  he 
was  esteemed  meet  companion  for  the  Clay,  and  the  Crittenden,  of  Kentucky — 
where  his  brother  was  the  son-in-law  of  the  great  Shelby  of  King's  Mountain.  I 
told  him  once,  when  I  found  him  building  a  house — a  cottage,  unlike  anybody's, 
with  the  stump  of  a  tree  left  in  the  middle  of  the  parlor,  as  a  centre  table — I 
told  him  I  thought  it  might  be  well  enough  in  him  to  dress  as  he  did, — ^for  it 
obtained  for  him  all  the  more  attention  from  refined  people.  "  How  is  that,'' 
he  said,  sitting  down  upon  the  stump — ''  Why,"  I  replied — *'  you  preached 
lately  in  Washington,  and  the  President  invited  you  to  dinner.  You  preached 
such  a  sermon  as  he  never  heard  in  his  life;  and  then,  I  have  no  doubt,  he  paid 
you  extra  attentions,  lest  you  might  think  he  felt  contempt  for  you,  on  account 
of  your  clothes."  This  hit  did  him  some  good.  He  tied  his  shoes  afterwards, 
and  wore  a  better  hat. 

After  a  few  years  in  the  ministry,  he  left  East  Tennessee,  in  obedience  to  the 
call  of  the  Church  in  Danville,  Ky.,  which  had  been  liis  brother  Kelsey's  chaige. 
But  he  remained  no  great  while.  Like  Gallaher,  he  had  no  pastoral  qualifica- 
tions. He  went  to  the  extreme,  then,  of  Missouri;  in  part,  to  have  as  many 
strawberries  as  he  wanted,  and  the  freedom  of  the  prairie. 

He  was  poor.  But  his  faith  was  great, — and,  strangely,  to  the  world,  was  it 
answered,  in  anecdotes  of  providence,  curious  and  touching.  Once  he  had  no 
meal  in  his  barrel,  and  said  to  his  wife,  he  would  go  and  see  if  the  miller  would 
trust  him.  On  the  way,  a  boy  met  him  with  a  letter  from  a  lady  living  at  a 
distance,  containing  a  piece  of  gold,  &c.,  &c. 

My  dear  Sir — I  have  just  written  on,  intending,  when  I  began,  only  to  say  I 
might  some  day  give  you  a  line  about  Nelson,  and  one  word  has  followed  another 
to  the  seventh  page  of  this  hasty  reply  to  your  kind  favour  of  .26th  January. 

Yours  very  truly  and  affectionately, 

F.  A.  ROSS. 

FROM  J.  A.  JACOBS,  ESQ. 

Danville,  Ky.,  January  81,  1857. 
My  dear  Sir :  I  was  much  pleased  to  learn  that  you  design  to  include  a  notice 
of  my  lamented  friend,  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  David  Nelson,  in  your  work  commemo- 
rative of  the  distinguished  clergymen  of  this  country.  The  omission  of  it  would, 
in  my  opinion,  be  the  absence  of  one  of  the  brightest  stars  in  the  constellation 
of  ministerial  piety  and  worth,  that  have  shone,  at  least  in  the  West.  He  was  a 
man  not  only  of  eminent  piety,  but  of  remarkable  genius,  distinguished  by  pecu- 
liarities and  eccentricities  of  thought,  manner,  and  conduct,  which  would  have 

*  An  alluBion  to  the  fact  that  Dr.  Kelson^s  old  linsey-woolsoy  ooat,  and  other  thiogt  in  keep- 
leg,  when  he  preached  in  Albany,  blinded  the  people  somewhat  to  the  aabetantial  merits  of  fail 


DAVID  KELSOV*  ggg 


him  "  the  dbserred  of  all  obasrrtrs  "  in  any  profession  or  walk  of  life.  His 
genius,  sanctified  and  sublimated  by  religion,  rendered  him  no  unapt  representa- 
ti?e  of  an  ancient  prophet,  rapt  in  Divine  inspiration,  and  of  whom  the  world  was 
not  worthy.  His  life,  if  correctly  portrayed  by  the  hand  of  a  master,  which  it 
richly  deserres  to  be,  would  be  a  valuable  inheHtance  to  the  Church,  to  wliioh, 
being  dead,  he  would  continue  to  speak  with  that  strange  and  peculiar  power 
with  which,  when  alive  and  in  the  vigour  of  his  strength,  he  captivated  and 
entranced  his  hearers. 

There  was  something  strangely — almost  preternaturally-— unique  in  his  man** 
ner.  You  listened  as  if  to  a  being  who  lived  in  a  world  of  thought  and  feeling, 
entirely  different  from  the  ordinary  children  of  men — with  a  genius  bold  and 
perfectly  original,  ranging  with  burning  zest  through  every  field  of  imagination, 
and  pouring  forth  thoughts  that  breathe  and  words  that  burn  with  the  power  of 
the  true  orator  and  inspired  bard.  His  eloquence  was  not  the  cold  argumenta- 
tions of  logic,  but  a  succession  of  fervid,  powerful  and  picturesque  appeals, 
equally  concise  and  vigorous  in  expression,  and  bold  and  original  in  sentiment. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  sentence  I  heard  the  Doctor  utter  in  the  pulpit. 
It  was  in  the  month  of  September,  1827,  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  in  this  town» 
of  which  he  shortly  after  became  the  pastor,  and  continued  to  be  for  several 
years.  He  had  made  a  visit  to  the  wife  and  family  of  his  recently  deceased 
brother,  the  Rev.  Samuel  K.  Nelson. 

It  was  a  bright  and  beautiful  Sabbath  morning — the  pulpit  was  shrouded  in 
black,  and  the  church  was  crowded  to  hear  the  brother  of  the  late  minister,  the 
fame  of  whose  eloquence  and  eccentricities  had  preceded  him.  He  had  lived  in 
the  neighbourhood  when  quite  a  young  man,  and  some  few  of  the  congregation 
recollected  him,  when  he  was  a  wild  and  reckless  youth,  and  actually  professed 
that  infidelity  of  which  he  has  so  ably  written  the  '*  Cause  •and  Cure." 

His  appearance  was  any  thing  but  cUrical.  He  had  on  an  old  rusty  black 
cloth  coat,  badly  made  and  fitted,  and  his  vest  and  pantaloons  were  no  better— 
as  he  rose  he  hitched  up  the  latter,  as  if  he  wore  no  suspenders;  and  to  make  his 
garb  as  unministerial  as  possible,  he  had,  for  a  cravat,  a  red  bandana  handker- 
chief. It  is  proper  here  to  remark,  that  there  was  nothing  in  this  garb  inten- 
tionally eccentric.  The  Doctor  was  as  far  from  affectation  as  a  man  could  be.  It 
was  the  result  partly  of  a  slovenly  carelessness,  and  total  inattention  to,  and 
forgetfulness  of,  external  appearances,  and  partly  of  a  conscientious  and  mis- 
taken disregard  for  them.  With  his  large  and  ungainly  figure — with  strong  but 
harsh  features,  and  totally  destitute  of  all  grace  of  manner,  and  thinking  and 
caring  nothing  whatever  about  appearances,  he  made  certainly  a  most  odd  look- 
ing occupant  of  a  pulpit.  His  appearance  and  manner  are  now  fully  in  my  mind's 
eye,  and  his  first  sentence  still  vibrates  on  my  ear.  It  was  abrupt  and  enigmati- 
cal— *'  Tether  a  horse  to  a  stake  in  a  rich  meadow,  and  h%  is  perfectly  satis- 
fied,''— ^laying  a  strong  emphasis  on  the  word  perfectly,  in  his  peculiar  intonation. 
What  to  make  of  this  singular  and  startling  exordium  to  a  sermon,  the  congre- 
gation hardly  knew ;  but  they  were  not  long  in  suspense.  The  Doctor  proceeded 
in  his  concise,  forcible  and  picturesque  language,  glowing  with  thoughts  full  of 
beauty  and  power,  to  illustrate  the  impossibility  of  satisfying  the  immortal  soul 
of  man  with  earthly  things.  The  brute  was  entirely  contented  if  its  bodily 
wants  were  supplied;  but  not  so  the  human  soul.  Restless,  dissatisfied  and 
unhappy,  though  possessed  of  every  earthly  good,  it  longed  for  immortality — a 
proof  that  it  was  made  for  the  future,  and  of  the  duty  of  seeking  our  chief  good 
in  the  present  service  and  future  enjoyment  of  God." 

Dr.  Nelson  was  then,  and  for  several  years  after,  in  the  prime  and. vigour  of 
his  intellect.  The  sermons  that  he  preached  in  this  place,  which  were  written 
and  delivered  memoriter,  and  which  he  usually  carried  in  the  crown  of  his  hat, 
if  they  could  be  recovered  and  publishod»  would  form  a  volume  of  ecoentrio,  but 


M4  nx8 

singaUriy  powerfal,  sterad  etoquenee.    I  anxiously  applied  to  hia  wfdoi 

ago,  to  know  if  the  manuscripU  were  in  existence.     She  informed  me  tliat  tliey 

ooald  not  be  found. 

In  after  years,  he  probably  lost,  perhaps  destroyed,  them»  under  the  oooacien- 
tious  feeling  that  the  literary  labour  he  had  bestowed  upon  them  sprung  frcmi. 
▼anity,  and  was  sinful.  Some  years  after  he  had  left  Danville,  his  intellect 
became  impaired  fVom  disease.  He  became  eztemporaneous,  and  rather  tedious 
and  rambling,  in  his  discourses.  It  was  painful  to  be  witnessed  by  those  that 
knew  him  in  his  prime.  Samson,  shorn  of  his  hair  and  strength,  was  hardly- 
more  changed.  But  his  piety  burned  with  a  more  intense  and  unearthly  glov 
to  the  last.  One  of  his  daughters,  who  possessed  a  good  deal  of  her  father^ 
wild  and  thoughtless  character  when  young,  half  seriously  and  half  jocularly 
said  that>  when  travelling  alone  with  her  father,  she  sometimes  feared  he  would 
ascend  to  Heaven,  and  leave  her  alone  on  the  uninhabited  prairie. 

His  soul  seemed  absorbed  in  spiritual  realities — he  was  almost  utterly  care- 
less of  earthly  affairs — made  no  provision  for  himself,  and  little  for  his  family, 
leaving  them  as  well  as  himself  to  Him  who  cares  for  the  lilies  of  the  field  and 
the  birds  of  the  air.  This  did  not  spring  from  indolence;  but  partly  from  an 
almost  total  absorption  of  soul  in  religion,  and  partly  from  mistaken  notions 
about  the  duty  of  devoting  all  our  time  and  means  to  God's  service,  to  the  disre- 
gard of  earthly  interests,  enjoyments,  and  appearances.  In  his  latter  years,  he 
oonscientiously  wore  a  wool  hat  and  the  coarsest  clothing.  Had  all  men  adopted 
his  extreme  notions,  manufactures  would  have  ceased,  civilization  would  have 
retrograded,  and  pious  people  would  have  possessed  but  little  to  consecrate  to 
their  Master's  service. 

Yet  Providence  did  not  fail  to  provide  for  his  faithfUl  and  trusting  servant. 
Besides  the  attention  to  his  wants  given  by  his  friends,  his  nephew,  the  son 
of  his  brother  Samuel,  died  early,  and  left  a  large  estate,  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  which  fell  to  the  Doctor,  and  administered  to  his  and  his  fitmily's  wants 
for  several  years. 

Not  doubting  that  you  will  gather  from  other  sources  whatever  may  be  neces- 
sary to  illustrate  the  character  of  my  friend,  I  will  only  add  that 

I  am  very  sincerely  yours, 

J.  A.  JACOBS. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  S.  POTTS,  D.  D. 

Mackihao,  Mich.,  July  27, 1848. 

My  dear  Sir:  Yours  of  the  17th  ult.  was  received  in  St.  Louis,  and  I  have 
deferred  compliance  with  your  request  until  I  could  obtain  some  relaxation  from 
the  press  of  cares  and  engagements  incident  to  my  calling.  I  came  to  this  island 
with  my  family  a  few  days  since,  and  will  now  endeavour  to  call  up  my  remem- 
brances of  Dr.  Nelson. 

My  first  acquaintance  with  him  was  in  St.  Louis,  in  the  summer  of  1828  or 
*29.  He  was  then  on  a  visit  to  the  State,  with  a  view  to  the  purchase  of  land 
preparatory  to  the  removal  of  his  family  from  Kentucky.  I  found  him,  when 
introduced,  a  man  of  about  middle  age,  prepossessing  in  his  appearance,  with  a 
smile  on  his  countenance,  and  very  cheerful  in  his  intercourse,  but  always  directing 
the  conversation  to  some  subject  of  Theology  or  practical  Christian  duty,  or  to 
the  condition  and  prospects  of  the  Church.  I  had  occasion  to  observe  one  of  hk 
peculiarities  during  his  visit.  I  invited  him  to  preach  for  me  on  Sabbath  morn- 
ing. A  large  congregation  were  in  attendance.  He  took  his  text,  stated  his 
divisions,  which  were  three,  and  proceeded  in  a  plain,  practical  discussion  of  his 
subject  for  about  twenty  minutes, — when,  having  disposed  of  the  first  and  second 
heads  of  his  discourse,  he  abruptly  ooncluded.     Upon  leaving  the  house,  I 


DAVID  NSLaim.  $g9 


I 


tefwred  what  had  become  of  the  tbird  bead  of  hk  eennon*  He  vas  verj 
\  tfaoBghiM,  and  merely  remarked, — '*  I  would  not  preach  to  your  congregation 

again  for  a  thousand  dollars.  He  gave  no  reason  other  than  that  every  thing 
was  so  orderly  and  precise  about  the  whole  appearance  of  the  congregation  that 
he  could  not  preach.  The  difficulty  I  have  no  douht  was,  that  there  was  no 
emotion  or  visible  indication  of  the  Spirit's  presence  amongst  the  people;  for,  in 
my  subsequent  acquaintance  and  labours  with  him,  I  observed  frequently  the 
same  thing,  even  during  a  revival  of  religion. 

The  following  year,  he  removed  to  the  State  and  settled  in  Marion  County, 
about  eighteen  miles  from  the  Mississippi  River.  His  attention  was  directed 
immediately  to  the  establishment  of  a  school  in  his  own  neighbourhood.  A  log 
school  house  was  erected,  and  he  invited  the  neighbours  to  send  their  sons  and 
daughters,  of  all  ages.  His  mode  of  teaching  was  unique.  After  prayer,  and 
some  brief  exercises  in  reading,  he  sat  down  and  talked  to  the  pupils  on  subjects 
of  history  and  science,  producing  endless  illustrations,  and  giving  much  infor- 
mation in  a  most  captivating  form.  But,  so  frequent  calls  were  made  upon  his 
time,  to  preach,  to  administer  to  the  sick,  and  to  attend  to  his  own  fiirm,  it  was 
not  unusual,  when  he  was  tired  of  talking,  to  leave  the  school  to  take  care  of 
itself,  and  apply  himself  to  some  other  work  for  hours.  In  this  desultory  way, 
no  systematic  instruction  could  be  given,  and  there  was  danger  of  rearing  his 
pupils  with  as  little  method  as  ho  had  himself;  yet  a  spirit  of  inquiry  and  desire 
for  education  was  communicated  to  the  families  around  him,  which  subsequently 
exhibited  itself  in  the  attempt  to  establish  a  permanent  collegiate  institution  in 
his  vicinity. 

Marion  College  owed  its  origin  to  Dr.  Nelson.  Upon  the  same  ground  where 
his  sohool  house  was  built,  other  buildings  for  dormitories,  recitation  rooms, 
and  boarding  bouse,  were  from  time  to  time  erected.  Pupils  were  called  from 
a  distance,  teachers  were  obtained,  and  in  1832  a  Charter  was  granted  by  the 
State,  and  Dr.  Nelson  became  the  President.  The  principal  object  of  the  founder 
was  to  raise  up  young  men  for  the  ministry  in  the  West,  and  for  heathen  countries. 
Nine  of  these  are  now  known  to  be  labouring  in  the  West,  and  one  has  been  for  many 
years  in  a  foreign  land.  The  wild,  extravagant  and  speculating  notions,  which 
afterwards  ruined  this  institution,  were  not,  in  any  degree,  attributable  to  him. 
Plain  to  an  excess  in  his  own  notions  of  living,  he  had  no  idea  of  expending 
money  on  mere  brick  and  mortar  to  accommodate  the  bodies  of  the  students, 
without  permanent  provision  for  their  intellectual  wants. 

Whilst  these  educational  projects  were  in  progress,  Dr.  Nelson  was  occupied 
mainly  in  preaching  the  Gospel  in  the  Northern  portions  of  the  State.  In  this 
work  he  was  greatly  honoured  by  the  Head  of  the  Church.  Hundreds  crowded 
to  his  ministry,  and  very  many  returned  to  bless  their  households,  who  bad 
previously  lived  in  ignorance  and  infidelity.  The  country  was  at  that  time 
without  houses  for  worship,  and  this  difficulty  was  obviated  in  a  way  of  his  own. 
He  made  known  everywhere  that  he  would  hold  a  protracted  meeting  in  any 
settlement  where  the  people  would  erect  a  shed,  consisting  of  a  rude  clap-board 
roof,  supported  by  hewn  pillars,  and  provided  with  seats.  Around  these  sheds 
the  people  erected  tents,  or  clap-board  shanties,  in  which  they  slept,  and 
thus  two  or  three  hundred  people  could  be  kept  together  for  several  days  under 
the  instructive  and  pungent  ministry  of  this  man  of  God.  The  converts  were, 
at  the  close  of  the  meeting,  examined  by  such  ministers  and  ruling  elders  as 
were  upon  the  ground,  and  received  by  baptism  into  the  Church  of  Christ.  It 
was  left  to  the  particular  churches  within  whose  bounds  they  resided,  subse- 
quently to  examine  and  deal  with  them  as  they  pleased.  Where  it  seemed 
expedient,  a  church  was  organized  on  the  ground,  and  the  converts,  living  in 
the  neighbourhood,  received  into  it. 


ggg  PBSSBTTEBIAK. 

In  1836,  a  difficulty  occurred  in  the  county  betveen  1>r.  Nebonand  a  portion  «f 
the  inhabitants,  which  led  to  his  remoTal  to  the  State  of  Illinois.  The  reflec- 
tions of  the  Doctor,  aided  by  his  frequent  visits  to,  and  preaching  amongst,  the 
more  earnest  opposers  of  slavery,  led  him,  during  the  latter  part  of  his  stay  in 
the  State,  to  take  higher  and  higher  ground  on  that  delicate  and  agitating  sub- 
ject. Before  he  came  to  Missouri,  he  had  set  his  own  slaves  at  liberty,  and  in 
his  social  intercourse  with  his  friends,  pleasantly  argued  against  the  institution, 
and  condemned  it  as  an  evil  in  the  land.  In  1835,  he  had  so  far  adopted  the  abo- 
lition doctrine,  that  he  accounted  slaveholding  a  sin,  and  refused  to  sit  at  the 
Communion  table  with  those  who  held  slaves,  although  they  had  been  brought  into 
the  Church  under  his  own  ministry.  In  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  whilst 
preaching  his  Farewell  Sermon  to  the  Greenfield  Church,  which  he  had  organ- 
ized, and  served  for  several  years,  a  member  of  the  church  requested  him 
to  read  a  paper  to  the  cofigregation,  which  proposed  opening  a  subscription  to 
redeem  slaves,  by  paying  the  price  at  which  their  owners  held  them,  with  a  view 
to  their  being  colonized.  A  great  excitement  occurred,  and  an  influential  citizen 
was  stabbed  by  the  person  proposing  the  project.  The  Doctor  was  hurried  from 
the  ground  by  his  friends.  Mob  law  prevailed  for  several  days,  and  he  lay  con- 
cealed in  the  brush  in  the  vicinity  of  his  own  house,  until  opportunity  occurred 
to  retire  to  Illinois.  It  is  said  that,  during  the  time  of  his  concealment  in  this 
thicket,  he  projected  and  commenced  his  work — '*  The  Causes  and  Cure  of  Infi- 
delity." 

Dr.  Nelson  was,  when  under  the  excitement  of  a  revival,  a  most  thrilling  and 
powerful  preacher.  There  was  little  apparent  arrangement  in  his  discourses. 
They  were  almost  w^holly  made  up  of  illustrations  and  historical  facts,  and  the 
other  matter  was  used  only  to  tie  his  illustrations  and  facts  together.  He  was 
a  man  of  much  prayer,  and  lived  as  nearly  with  a  single  eye  to  the  glory  of  God 
as  any  one  I  ever  knew.  He  looked  upon  this  world  as  a  field  for  working,  and 
rejoiced  in  the  marks  of  approaching  age  and  of  final  dissolution. 

On  the  whole,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  assigning  to  Dr.  Nelson  a  place  among 
the  remarkable  men  of  the  age.  With  as  much  of  native  intellectual  and  moral 
nobility  as  is  often  seen  in  connection  with  our  fallen  humanity,  and  with  a  desire 
to  serve  God  in  promoting  the  spiritual  welfare  of  men,  that  every  body  saw  had 
all  the  strength  of  a  ruling  passion,  he  combined  strongly  marked  eccentricities, 
which  the  essential  grandeur  of  his  character  served  only  to  render  more  con- 
spicuous. But,  however  these  eccentricities  might  blind  some  to  his  substantial 
excellence,  and  even  interfere,  to  some  extent,  with  his  usefulness,  it  was  impos- 
sible but  that  persons  of  intelligence  and  discernment  should  very  quickly  dis- 
cover his  remarkable  piety  and  power;  and  it  was  equally  impossible  for  any 
one  to  be  long  in  contact  with  him,  and  be  insensible  to  his  influence.  Hence 
his  career  as  a  Christian  minister  was  signalized  in  an  unusual  d^ree  by  the 
triumphs  of  Divine  grace;  and  wherever  he  went,  he  seemed  to  be  constantly 
gathering  jewels  to  his  immortal  crown.  He  moved  about  in  the  most  unosten- 
tatious manner;  and  though  he  did  not  literally  have  '*  his  raiment  of  camel's 
hair,  and  a  leathern  girdle  about  his  loins,"  yet  he  never  appeared — at  least  in 
his  latter  years — but  in  the  coarsest  attire;  and  those  who  did  not  penetrate 
beneath  the  exterior,  took  knowledge  of  him  only  as  a  person  of  the  most  negli- 
gent and  slovenly  habits.  But  sadly  were  they  deceived,  who  reached  sUch  a  con- 
clusion. Beneath  that  veil  which  false  conceptions  of  Christian  duty  had  drawn 
around  him,  there  were  the  workings  of  a  mind,  which  always  moved  in  a  path 
of  light,  and  which  was  capable  of  some  of  the  grandest  achievements  to  which 
the  human  intellect  ever  attains.  He  was,  in  the  most  humble,  yet  efficient  man- 
ner, performing  a  mission  of  benevolence  among  his  fellow  men,  the  importance 
of  which,  I  doubt  not,  will  be  attested  by  the  praises  of  multitudes  whom  he 
was  instrumental  of  turning  to  righteousness.    But  it  was  the  ordinance  of  God 


DATID  NBLSOV.  ^gf 

tliAt  his  great  mind  should  saifer  an  eclipse,  before  going  to  mingle  in  higher  and 
brighter  scenes; — ^thos  completing  the  discipline  hj  which  he  was  prepared  for  the 
glorious  change,  and  illustrating,  in  one  of  its  aspects,  the  humiliating  truth, 
that  **  man,  at  his  best  estate,  is  altogether  vanity." 

Very  truly  yours, 

W.  S.  POTTS. 


FROM  THE  REV.  R.  J.  BREGKEN  RIDGE,  D.  D* 

Danville,  August  81, 1857. 

My  dear  Sir :  Your  request  for  my  recollections  of  Dr.  Nelson  has  found  me 
in  the  midst  of  many  pressing  engagements;  but  I  will  endeavour  to  meet  it  as 
far  as  my  limited  time  will  allow. 

Ho  was  a  man  of  very  large  frame — not  tall,  nor  fat,  but  powerfully  built, 
lie  had  a  very  full  suit  of  rough,  black  hair,  clear  blue  eyes,  a  Roman  physiog- 
nomy, and  swarthy  complexion.  Ilis  manners  were  grave,  silent,  but  most 
gentle  and  sincere.  He  took  no  interest  in  general  conversation,  and  ordinarily 
refused  to  hold  protracted  discourse  except  on  some  subject  directly  involving  the 
salvation  of  souls.  But  nothing  could  be  more  tender,  earnest  and  striking  than 
his  private  conversation  on  all  subjects  of  that  kind.  On  one  occasion  of  his  cross- 
ing the  mountains  from  one  of  the  Eastern  cities  to  Pittsburg,  in  a  stage  full  of 
people, — after  remaining  profoundly  silent  for  several  days  and  nights,  just 
before  the  journey  closed,  he  said  abruptly — **I  have  listened  to  all  of  you 
patiently  during  two  days  and  nights, — now  may  I  speak  to  you  for  half 
an  hour?"  This  wholly  unexpected  remark,  with  his  singular  and  striking 
appearance,  secured  the  attention  of  the  passengers :  and  he  proceeded  with  the 
utmost  tenderness  and  pathos  to  plead  with  them  about  their  souls.  One,  who 
"was  present,  told  me,  years  afterward,  that  he  dated  his  own  conversion  from 
that  talk,  and  that  no  member  of  the  party  seemed  unmoved.  This  is  a  speci- 
men of  hundreds  of  anecdotes  told  of  him. 

Two  things  were  very  noticeable  about  him,  both  of  which  struck  every  one 
at  once.  One  was  his  remarkable  appearance,  augmented  by  the  singularly 
mean,  slovenly,  coarse,  and  often  dirty,  apparel  which  he  habitually  wore,  and 
steadily  refused  to  amend.  The  other  was  the  most  touching  and  penetrating 
voice  that  was  almost  ever  heard.  Whoever  saw  him,  paused  to  look  at  him — 
whoever  heard  him,  felt  his  voice  at  his  heart.  I  may  add  that  he  was  most 
singularly  careless  about  all  temporal  matters — ^utterly  indifferent  to  his  own 
wants  and  interests,  and  as  profusely  generous  to  all  that  he  had  the  means  of 
aiding.  As  a  sample  of  both  peculiarities— on  one  occasion,  while  he  was  Pas- 
tor of  the  Church  at  Danville,  the  late  Judge  John  Green,  an  elder  of  that 
Church,  met  him  going  out  of  the  town,  on  a  trip  that  would  occupy  him  several 
ireeks,  and  knowing  his  habits,  asked  him  if  he  had  any  money, — and  forced 
about  fifty  dollars  on  him  to  bear  his  expenses.  It  was  afterwards  ascertained 
that  ho  had  giveathe  whole  of  it  away  before  night. 

There  was  perhaps  nothing  more  wonderful  about  this  man  than  his  fervent 
and  overpowering  love  for  Christ.  To  say  that  he  was  a  most  engaged,  earnest, 
devout  Christian,  does  not  convey  the  idea.  It  was,  that  he  seemed  to  be  con- 
sumed with  a  tender,  ardent,  solemn  and  unquenchable  love  for  Christ  Himself. 
Nothing  was  hard  to  him,  if  he  could  please  or  honour  his  Saviour — nothing  had 
any  relish  for  him,  if  it  was  irrespective  of  his  Divine  Master.  Nay,  he  never 
mentioned  the  name  of  Christ  without  visible  emotion,  manifest  in  a  tremor  of 
his  voice,  tears  in  his  eyes,  or  a  flush  upon  his  noble  and  manly  features! 

As  a  preacher,  I,  who  have  hoard  most  of  the  great  preachers  of  America, 
Britain,  and  France,  of  this  age, — can  truly  say  his  power  in  the  pulpit  exceeded 
all  I  ever  witnessed.    I  have  spoken  of  his  voice  and  appearance — his  manner 


Q08t  PRBSBYTBBlAlf. 

was  childliko  in  its  perfect  simplieitj  and  naturalaeM.  H4  spoke  extempoM 
always;  but  the  pathos,  the  unction,  the  impression,  of  his  preaching  were  amus- 
ing. His  matter  was  compact;  his  words  as  few  as  could  express  what  h« 
meant;  his  tones  low  rather  than  high;  and  he  could  hardly  be  said  to  have 
any  action.  But  such  word-pictures  were  hardly  ever  surpassed  by  man — such 
insight  into  man  and  into  Divine  things — ^such  love  and  pity  for  lost  men — such 
conviction  of  eternal  realities — such  sublime  exhibitions  of  a  Gospel  able  to  save 
sinners,  and  of  a  Saviour  who  had  given  Himself  for  them! 

When  Nelson  entered  the  ministry,  he  has  told  me  that  all  his  friends  derided 
him  for  thinking  of  preaching, — believing  he  had  not  a  single  qualification  for 
the  work.  And  that  the  Presbytery,  which  licensed  him,  viewed  the  matter 
as  so  singular,  that  all  the  examination  they  made  of  him  was  to  ask  him  to 
read  a  chapter  of  the  Greek  Testament  to  them;  after  hearing  which,  and  ask- 
ing him  a  few  questions,  they  licensed  him  on  the  spot;  their  notion  seeming  to 
be,  that  he  would  continue  the  practice  of  medicine,  and  merely  preach  once  in  a 
while.     Yet  he  became  one  of  the  greatest  preachers  on  earth ! 

His  labours  in  the  ministry  covered  an  immense  field,  and  were  attended  every- 
where with  the  mighty  power  of  God.  Tennesse,  Kentucky,  Missouri,  Ohio, 
Illinois, — nearly  all  the  great  Eastern  cities — most  especially,  perhaps,  Balti- 
more— witnessed  as  glorious  and  as  repeated  revivals  of  religion  in  connection 
with  his  labours  as  have  been  vouchsafed  by  God  to  any  minister  of  his  day. 

I  knew  this  man  as  well  as  I  ever  knew  any  one,  out  of  my  immediate  family; 
and  that  for  a  period  of  nearly  twenty  3''ears;  and  I  can  truly  say  I  never  Jcnew 
a  more  godly  man,  a  more  noble  gentleman,  or  a  more  illustrious  example  of  a 
great  pulpit  orator.  All  this  did  not  prevent  him  from  having  eccentricities, 
and  from  falling  into  errors  and  mistakes,  and  from  being  misled  by  persons  far 
inferior  to  himself ;  and  what  is  worst  of  all  by  far,  from  despising  the  Gospel, 
and  deriding  Christ,  for  the  first  half  of  his  life.  But,  oh!  he  was  a  living 
monument  of  Divine  grace! 

In  great  haste. 

Your  brother  in  Christ, 

R.  J.  BRECKENRIDGE 


-♦«- 


JOHN  WATSON  ADAMS,  D.  D  * 

1825—1860. 

John  Watson  Adams,  a  son  of  the  Rey.  Roger  Adams,  was  bom  in 
Simsbnry,  Conn.,  December  6,  1796.  When  he  was  five  or  six  years  of 
age,  his  father  removed  with  his  family  from  Sirasbury  to  Granville,  Mass. 
In  1805,  he  removed  to  Sherburne,  Chenango  County,  N.  Y.;  in  1810,  to 
Lenox,  Madison  County ;  and  the  year  following  to  Sullivan,  near  the  Oneida 
Lake.  In  this  latter  place  they  remained  till  after  Mr.  Adams  was  settled 
in  the  ministry. 

In  the  spring  of  1816,  he  became  deeply  and  permanently  interested  in 
the  subject  of  religion,  and  shortly  after  made  a  public  profession  of  his 
faith  in  Christ.  In  May,  1817,  when  he  had  nearly  reached  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  he  commenced  a  course  of  classical  study  with  a  view  to  enter 
College.     In  dne  time  he  joined  Hamilton  College,  where  he  was  grad- 

•  Memoir  by  Jo«l  Fmtkw,  D.  D.— MSS.  from  R«v.  Daniel  Walde^  and  Rev.  E.  D.  MMtih^ 


JOHK  VTATSOS  ADAMS.  6Sd 

waled  in  1822.  Duriiig  his  eoUegiato  course,  he  deyeloped  a  character, 
both  intellectaal  and  moral,  of  rare  excellence ;  und  when  he  graduated,  he 
delirered  an  Oration  on  **  Dignity  of  Character,'*  that  was  received  with 
general  admiration. 

On  leaving  College,  he  beoame  the  teacher  of  a  select  school  in  Manlius, 
N.  Y.  At  the  close  of  this  engagement,  he  went  to  the  city  of  New  York, 
and  commenced  his  professional  studies,  availing  himself  of  the  instruction 
of  Dr.  Spring,  and  two  or  three  other  Presbyterian  clergymen  of  the  city. 
Here  he  profited  by  the  opportunities  which  his  residence  furnished  of  list- 
ening to  many  of  the  prominent  preachers  of  the  day ;  and  Bome  notes  that 
be  has  left  make  it  evident  that  he  heard  with  much  discrimination  and  to 
excellent  purpose.  After  a  residence  of  somewhat  more  than  eight  months 
in  the  city,  he  returned  to  his  friends  in  Lenox,  and  shortly  after  joined 
the  Middle  class  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Auburn.  Here  he  took 
the  first  rank  for  talents,  and  diligent  and  successful  study;  though  his 
naturally  contemplative  turn  of  mind  and  retiring  habit  rendered  him  less 
active  than  some  of  his  fellow-students,  in  endeavouring  to  promote  the 
interests  of  religion  in  the  surrounding  country. 

In  the  middle  of  his  Senior  year,  the  Second  Church  of  Rochester,  on 
the  recommendation  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lansing,  at  that  time  a  Professor  in 
the  Seminary,  invited  him  to  preach  as  a  candidate  for  settlement.  Having 
previously  received  license  from  the  Presbytery,  he  complied  with  this 
request,  and  preached  at  Rochester  the  first  two  Sabbaths  in  the  year  1826; 
after  which,  he  returned  to  the  Seminary.  He  subsequently  spent  four 
Sabbaths  in  Syracuse;  and  then,  agreeably  to  a  previous  engagement, 
returned  and  spent  five  Sabbaths  in  Rochester ;  after  which,  he  received  a 
call  from  each  place.  Notwithstanding  the  salary  offered  him  at  Rochester 
was  larger,  and  the  prospects  in  some  other  regards  more  promising,  than 
in  Syracuse,  his  preference  was  for  the  latter ;  chiefly,  it  would  seem,  on 
the  ground  that  his  modesty  led  him  to  shrink  from  what  he  considered  the 
more  prominent  station.  He  was  accordingly  ordained  and  installed  Pastor 
of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Syracuse,  on  the  28th  of  June,  1826. 
He  continued  in  this  relation  till  the  close  of  his  life. 

Mr.  Adams  was  married  on  the  3d  of  May,  1826,  to  Mary,  daughter  of 
Col.  Thomas  W.  Phelps  of  Lenox,  N.  Y.  They  had  two  children,  (both 
daughters,)  who,  with  their  mother,  still  (1853)  survive. 

In  1840,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  by 
Columbia  College,  New  York.  In  1841,  he  was  chosen  a  member  of  the 
Board  of  Overseers  of  Hamilton  College,  and  continued  to  hold  the  office 
till  his  death. 

Dr.  Adams,  though  seldom  taken  from  his  labours  by  ill  health,  was  yet 

subject  to  some  bodily  affections  incident  to  a  bilious  temperament,  that 

rendered  his  labours  somewhat  burdensome  to  him.     In  the  spring  of  1849, 

his  health  began  decidedly  to  fail,   insomuch  that  he  realized  a  sensible 

diminution  of  ability  to  discharge  his  professional  duties.     He,  however, 

remained  at  home  during  the  summer,  performing  as  much  service  for  his 

people  as  he  could;  but,  as  the  autumn  approached,  it  became  apparent  that 

the  state  of  his  health  was  such  as  to  require  at  least  a  suspension  of  his 

public  labours.     He  preached  for  the  last  time  to  his  own  congregation  on 

one  of  the  Sabbaths  in  September ;  though  he  preached  once  afterwards,  by 

urgent  request,  while  on  a  Tiait  to  his  friends  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Vol..  IV.  87 


090  FBESBYTBRIAK. 

Boehest^r.  In  tike  course  of  the  autamn,  he  beeame  an  inmate  of  Um 
Water* Cure  establishment  at  Graeffenburgh,  near  Utioa,  and  remained  there 
until  the  last  of  January.  He  returned  then  to  Syracuse ;  but  shortly 
aft^r  went  to  another  similar  establishment  at  Glen  Haven.  Here  his  health 
declined  more  rapidly,  and,  towards  the  close  of  March,  it  was  manifest 
that  he  was  fast  approaching  his  end.  The  melancholy  tidings  reached  his 
people,  when  they  were  assembled  for  the  usual  service  on  Friday  evening, 
preparatory  to  the  Communion ;  and  he  became  at  once  the  subject  of  their 
special  prayers,  while  the  occasion  seemed  inyested  with  an  almost  funereal 
gloom.  On  the  28th  of  March,  he  was  removed  from  Glen  Haven  to  Syra- 
cuse, to  die  in  the  bosom  of  his  beloved  flock.  He  lived  nine  days  after 
his  return,  and,  during  this  time,  (as  indeed  he  had  been  during  his  whole 
illness,)  was  a  most  edifying  example  of  Christian  resignation  and  compo- 
sare.  He  died  on  the  6th  of  April,  1850.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was 
preached  by  the  Rev.  E.  D.  Maltbie. 

Dr.  Adams  published  a  Discourse  delivered  June  18,  1835,  at  the  inaa- 
guration  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  H.  Cox,  D.  D.,  as  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhet- 
oric and  Pastoral  Theology  in  the  Auburn  Theological  Seminary ;  and  a 
Sermon  entitled  '*The  Crisis,"  preached  July  22,  1832,  during  a  time  of 
extraordinary  commotion  in  the  Old  World,  and  the  prevalence  of  Asiatic 
cholera.  After  his  death,  there  was  published  a  duodecimo  volume  of  his 
Discourses,  including  those  just  mentioned,  in  connection  with  a  Memoir  of 
his  life  and  character  by  the  Rey.  Joel  Parker,  D.  D. 


FROM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  W.  CONDIT,  D.  D. 

OswBGO,  2d  Augnst,  1852. 

My  dear  Sir:  Doctor  Adams  of  Syracuse  and  myself  were  in  intimate  rela- 
tions, living  in  the  same  neighbourhood,,  and  often  meeting  both  in  public  and  in 
private,  from  1831  till  the  close  of  his  life, — a  period  of  nearly  twenty  3*ears. 
As  I  knew  him  well,  so  I  esteemed  him  highly,  and  am  glad  of  an  opportunity 
to  bear  my  testimony  to  his  excellent  character  and  useful  life. 

He  was  rather  a  tall  person,  of  a  sedate  expression  of  countenance,  without 
much  vivacity  of  manner,  and  somewhat  deliberate  in  both  his  conversation  and 
his  movements.  But  the  moment  he  opened  his  lips,  you  saw  that  he  was  a 
sensible  and  well-informed  man.  He  always  spoke  intelligently  and  to  the  pur- 
pose; indicating,  at  once,  a  sound  judgment  and  a  quick  moral  discernment. 
He  was  modest  perhaps  to  a  fault,— even  diffident;  was  always  disposed  to  retire 
from  public  observation  rather  than  put  himself  forward;  and  it  may  be  doubted 
whether,  if  he  had  had  less  of  this  spirit,  his  usefulness  would  not  have  been 
greater.  He  was  one  of  the  most  unambitious  men  whom  I  have  ever  known  in 
the  ministry:  he  was  indeed  ambitious  to  do  good,  and  promote  the  honour  of 
his  Master,  but  for  the  applauses  of  men  I  never  could  see  that  he  cared  a  rush. 
He  had  a  remarkably  affectionate  temper;  and  though  he  was  inclined  to  be 
taciturn  with  strangers,  yet,  to  his  particular  friends  he  unbosomed  himself 
with  a  degree  of  confidence  and  freedom  that  was  truly  delightful. 

As  a  preacher,  he  had  deservedly  a  high  reputation.  He  could  not  be  consid- 
ered as  eminently  popular,  but  his  sermons  were  always  rich  in  evangelical  truth; 
and  written  in  a  style  of  great  perspicuity  and  precision;  so  that  it  was  the  fault 
of  the  hearer  if  he  was  not  profited.  His  discourses  were  generally  short;  and 
yet  you  always  felt,  when  he  came  to  a  close,  that  he  had  done,  and  well  done, 
what  he  had  undertaken.  His  manner  was  almost  entirely  without  passion; 
but  its  great  propriety  and  solemnity  could  not  (kil  to  impress  you. 


JOHH  WATSOH  ADAMS.  g9X> 

.I>r.  Adams  was  a  gi^t  &vottrHa  with  his  people,  both  as  a  minister  and  $t 
man;  and  they  used  sometimes  to  complain  of  the  infrequency  of  his  visits 
among  them,  and  of  the  frequeney  with  which  he  introduced  other  men  into  his 
pulpit.  Indeed  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  these  were  the  two  most  vulnerable 
points  in  his  ministerial  character.  It  was,  however,  doubtless  to  be  accounted 
for  very  much  from  the  fact  that  he  was  almost  always  an  invalid,  and  was  really 
unable  to  perform  the  full  amount  of  service  which  would  have  satisfied  his  own 
aspirations,  or  the  wishes  of  his  people.  But,  notwithstanding  this,  his  general 
influence  was  felt  in  great  power,  but*  in  a  quiet  and  sileht  way,  not  only 
through  his  own  congregation,  but  through  the  entire  surrounding  community. 

He  had  little  taste,  and  perhaps  I  may  say,  as  little  tact,  for  mingling  in 
deliberative  bodies  or  Church  Courts.  His  great  modesty  led  him  to  shrink 
iBstinctively  from  every  thing  of  this  kind;  while  yet  he  was  not  wanting  \» 
▼igour  or  firmness,  when  he  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  any  great  principles  in  dan- 
ger of  being  sacrificed. 

The  volume  of  Dr.  Adams'  Sermons,  published  since  his  death,  is  highly 
creditable,  not  only  to  his  talents  as  a  preacher,  but  to  the  American  pulpit. 
They  are  written  with  great  purity  and  precision  of  style,  and  though  not  remark- 
able for  any  dazzling  or  startling  qualities,  cannot  fail  to  be  read  by  intelligent 
Christians  with  high  interest. 

Very  faithfully  yours, 

R.  W.  CONDIT. 


-••^ 


HENRY  WHITE,  D.  D  * 

1820—1850. 

Hbnry  White,  a  son  of  Jeremiah  and  Matilda  (Howard)  White,  was 
born  in  Durham,  Greene  County,  N.  Y".,  June  19,  1800.  His  earliest  years 
were  spent  partly  in  labouring  on  his  father's  farm,  and  partly  in  attending  a 
district  school;  but  after  he  had  reached  the  age  of  about  seventeen,  his  win- 
ters were  occupied  chiefly  in  teaching.  In  the  winter  of  1818-19,  he  became 
deeply  concerned  in  respect  to  his  spiritual  interests,  and,  after  a  se<ason  of 
intense  anxiety,  was  brought,  as  he  believed,  to  a  cordial  acquiescence  in 
the  Gospel  plan  of  salvation.  Shortly  after  this,  he  made  a  public  profen- 
sion  of  his  faith,  and  united  with  the  Presbyterian  Ghuroh  in  Cairo,  a  few 
miles  from  his  native  place. 

He  was  fitted  for  College  in  the  Academy  at  Greencastle,  N,  Y.,  under 
the  instruction  of  Mr.  Andrew  Huntington,  a  graduate  of  Yale  College  in 
1815,  and  joined  the  Junior  class  in  Union  College  in  1822.  While  a  mem- 
ber of  College,  he  was  engaged  for  some  time  in  teaching  a  school  at  Cox- 
sackie.  He  graduated  with  high  honour  in  1824,  having  been  especially 
distinguished,  during  his  college  course,  in  the  departments  of  Mathematics 
and  Philosophy.  He  entered  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton  the 
same  year  that  he  graduated,  and  continued  his  connection  with  it  two  years. 
He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Columbia  in  1826 ;  and 
almost  immediately  after,  entered  upon  an  agency  for  the  American  Bible 
Society, — ^his  field  of  labour  being  in  the  Southern  States.     He  continued 

•  Dt*  Smith't  Fan.  8nm.—MB.  tkom  Ma  wD}  Bev.  T.  F.  While. 


102  rBlSBTTIBIAK. 

to  be  tbas  employed  about  ove  year ;  aid  ihen  supplied,  for  eome  oioi 
a  Presbyterian  Oharoh  in  Newark,  N.  J.  In  the  coarse  of  the  winter  of 
1827-28,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Allen  Street  Church,  New  York,  and 
was  installed  as  its  Pastor.  Here  he  continued  in  the  laborious  and  accepta* 
ble  discharge  of  his  ministerial  duties,  until  the  establishment  of  the  Union 
Theological  Seminary  in  the  city  of  New  York,  in  1836,  when  he  was  elected 
to  the  Professorship  of  Theology  in  that  institution.  He  accepted  the  office^ 
and  continued  to  hold  it  till  his  death. 

In  the  year  1838,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  DlTinitj 
from  the  University  of  New  York. 

Dr.  White  possessed  naturally  a  vigorous  constitution,  but  it  was  not  s 
Uitle  impaired  by  the  intensity  of  his  early  studies,  and  his  n^leet  of 
bodily  ezeroise.  The  consequence  of  this  oourse  was,  that  he  contracted 
an  obstinate  dyspepsia,  with  which  he  had  to  contend  till  the  close  of  his 
life.  Nevertheless,  he  was  abundant  in  his  labours,  and  was  rarely  so 
seriously  indisposed  as  to  be  obliged  to  intermit  them  for  any  length  of 
time.  His  last  illness  was  originally  a  bilious  attack, — which,  however, 
ultimately  assumed  a  typhoid  character ;  and,  after  eight  or  ten  days,  during 
which  his  case  had  at  no  time  been  considered  alarming,  he  was  regarded 
as  decidedly  convalescent.  These  flattering  appearances,  however,  continued 
but  a  day  or  two,  when  a  violent  hemorrhage  commenced,  which  terminated 
his  life  in  a  few  hours.  He  died  on  the  25th  of  August,  1850,  continuing 
perfectly  self-possessed  and  peaceful  to  the  last  moment.  Dr.  Erskine 
Mason  was  appointed  to  preach  his  Funeral  Sermon  ;  but,  on  account  of  his 
own  illness,  was  unable  to  fulfil  the  appointment.  Dr.  Asa  D.  Smith,  a  few 
weeks  after,  took  suitable  notice  of  the  event,  in  a  Sermon  addressed  to  his 
own  people. 

Dr.  White  was  married  in  September,  1829,  to  Esther,  daughter  of 
Ebenezcr  Brackett, — a  native  of  the  same  place  with  himself.  They  had 
four  children, — two  sons  and  two  daughters.  Both  the  sons  have  been  gradu- 
ated at  the  University  of  New  York,  and  one  of  them,  Theodore  Freling' 
huysen^  is  a  minister  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

Dr.  White  published  a  Sermon  on  the  death  of  John  Nitchie,  1838  ;  and 
a  Sermon  on  the  Abrahamic  Covenant,  preached  before  the  Synod  of  New 
York  and  New  Jersey,  1846. 

FROM  THE  BEY.  ASA  D.  SMITH,  D.  D. 

Ksw  York,  October  29,  1850. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  Your  note  respecting  the  late  Dr.  White  awakens,  as  I  read 
it,  a  multitude  of  touching  recollections.  For  more  than  fifteen  years  I  was  inti- 
mately associated  with  him.  At  first,  as  a  co-presbyter,  and  one  of  his  nearest 
ministerial  neighbours,  and  much  of  the  time  afterwards,  as  one  of  the  Directors 
of  the  Seminary  in  which  he  attained  such  eminence  as  a  Theological  Teacher. 
During  most  of  the  last  year  of  his  life,  my  relations  to  him  were  still  more 
peculiar, — almost  those  of  a  co-pastor.  I  knew  him  well,  and  sorowfully  feel 
that  while  I  had  few  such  friends  to  lose,  there  remain  to  the  Church  few  such 
men  in  the  list  of  her  public  servants.  What  I  say  of  him  may  be  modified  aad 
tinged  by  strong  personal  regards,  yet  I  trust  it  will  not  be  exaggerated. 

As  to  his  personal  appearance,  Dr.  White  was  of  medium  height,  and  of  rather 
spare  form.  He  had  a  very  keen  eye,  a  lofty,  expansive  forehead,  and  in  all  res- 
pects a  contour  and  cast  of  oonatenaaoe  indieatiTe  of  intellect  and  energy  of 


HEURT  WHITE.  ^gj 

chftfMler.  The  furrows  of  thought  uid  care  in  his  face,  and  the  premature  and 
unusual  whiteness  of  his  hair  made  him  appear  much  older  than  he  really  was^. 
Though  hut  fifty  at  his  death,  a  stranger,  judging  from  the  yeneraUe  aspect  he 
presented  in  the  pulpit,  would  have  pronounced  him  at  least  tixty.  His  personal 
habits  and  manners  were  marked  by  great  plainness  and  simplicity;  yet  ho  was 
ever  affable  and  courteous.  He  had  naturally  a  strong,  discriminating  mind, 
well  balanced  and  abounding  in  practical  wisdom.  He  was  not  of  that  class, 
who,  however  profound  in  professional  matters,  as  to  all  common  things  are  mere 
children,  and  need  to  be  kept  in  some  sort  of  leading  strings.  A  rare  counsellor 
he  was,  as  well  in  regard  to  life's  minor  matters  as  to  its  weightier  concernment. 
He  was  a  man  of  groat  decision — not  hasty  in  laying  his  plans,  but  wiien 
they  were  once  adopted,  steadfast  and  immovable.  I  have  seldom  met  with 
a  man  who  held  to  deliberately  formed  purposes  with  so  tenacious  a  grasp. 
He  had  great  directness  and  transparency  of  character;  he  was  at  a  grea4 
remove  from  low  intrigue,  from  disingenuous  and  dishonest  management. 
Sagacious  he  was  indeed,  skilled  in  men  as  well  as  books;  he  knew  better  than 
most  how  to  approach  most  felicitously  our  many-sided  humanity — he  knew 
what  a  Roman  poet  has  called  the  **  tempera  mollia  fandi;"  but  he  had  nothing 
of  tliat  low  cunning  which  is  overwise,  and  which  almost  always  reacts  againsi 
itself.  He  was  in  all  points  reliable.  Tou  knew  not  only  where  to  find 
him,  but  where  he  would  remain.  Whoever  else  might  waver,  or  prove  false  in 
time  of  trial,  he  was  ever  unfaltering.  Obvious  to  all  who  knew  him  waa 
his  disinterestedness,  his  real,  hearty  devotedness  to  the  public  good.  Alas, 
but  for  the  excess  of  that  virtue,  he  might  haye  been  spared  to  us  still  !  **  I 
am  a  victim,"  he  said  on  his  dying  bed,  "  to  oTerwork."  Of  every  species  of 
ckarlatanry,  as  well  in  character  as  in  both  secular  and  sacred  science,  he  had  a 
profound  abhorrence.  If  ever  the  habitual  kindness  of  his  disposition  gave 
place  to  a  severity  bordering  on  harshness,  it  was  when  something  of  that  sort 
crossed  his  path. 

He  was  an  eminently  conscientious  man — no  earthly  motive  could  turn  hina 
aside  fVom  the  path  of  known  duty.  Yet  he  Judged  himself  severely,  and  loved 
in  brokenness  of  heart  to  lie  at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  not  finical,  not  studious  of  the  glitter  which,  though  it 

pleases  the  fancy,  moves  not  the  heart.     But  he  was  eminently  thoughtful,  clear, 

convincing  and  pungent.     It  was  scarce  possible  that  a  hearer  should  fail  to 

apprehend  his  meaning.    Never  did  the  Gospel  trumpet,  as  blown  by  him,  give 

**  an  uncertain  sound."    His  discourses  were  eminently  spiritual,  full  of  the 

marrow  and  fatness  of  the  Gospel.    Utterly  did  he  eschew  that  secularizing  of 

the  pulpit,  to  which  there  has  been  of  late  so  strong  a  tendency.    Professor  of 

Theology  though  he  was,  deeply  versed  in  metaphysic  subtleties,  yet  all  wh* 

were  accustomed  to  hear  him,  can  bear  witness  how  plain  and  scriptural,  how 

suited  to  minister  not  to  "  vain  jangling  "  but  "  godly  edifying,"  were  his  topics 

and  his  treatment  of  them.    To  few  men  was  that  language  of  Oowper  mora 

applicable: — 

"  I  would  express  him,  simple,  grave,  sincere, 
**  In  doctrine  uncorrupt,  in  languaae  plain, 
"  And  plain  in  manner;  decent,  solemn,  chaste, 
"  And  natural  in  gesture :  much  Impressed 
"  Himself  as  conscious  of  his  awfhl  charge, 
*^  And  anxious  mainly  that  the  flock  he  feeds 
"  May  feel  it  too." 

nera  was  one  class  of  topics, — that  relating  to  the  guilty  and  lost  condition  oi 
the  sinner,  and  his  obligation  to  immediate  repentance,  in  the  handling  of  whiek 
he  had,  in  my  judgment,  few  living  equals.  I  have  heard  strains  of  discourse 
from  him,  which  seemed  to  me,  in  their  awful,  overwhelming  impressiveness, 
nore  like  that  iironderfnl  sermon  of  President  Edwards  on  **  the  Justice  of  Go4 


^   I 


094  PBBSBTTERIAK. 

in  the  Bamnationof  Sinners,"  than  aught  I  rememher  to  hare  heard  firom 
the  lips  of  man.  As  might  be  expected,  hitf  career  as  a  pastor  was  a  yer  j  success- 
fill  one.  With  the  tenderest  interest  do  the  members  of  the  Allen  Street  Presbj- 
ierian  Church  still  recur  to  the  scenes  of  his  ministry  among  them.  They  dwell 
arith  delight  on  the  fidelity  as  well  of  his  private  as  his  public  labours.  They  call 
to  miud  that  soundness  of  judgment,  mingled  with  kindness  and  condescension, 
which  made  him  at  once  so  endeared  a  counsellor  to  the  individuals  of  his  flock,  and 
so  safe  and  influential  an  overseer  of  its  public  afiairs.  They  muse  with  thanks- 
giving to  God  on  those  years  of  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High,  so  obviouslj 
connected  with  his  faithfulness,  of  the  fruit  of  which,  though  not  a  little  has  been 
gathered  into  the  garner  of  God  above,  much  still  remains  to  bless  the  world. 
As  nearly  as  I  am  able  to  ascertain,  not  far  from  four  hundred  persons  were, 
during  the  eight  years  of  his  pastorship,  received  into  the  Church, — about  one 
hundred  and  ninety  of  them  on  profession  of  their  fkith. 

As  a  teacher  of  Theology,  Dr.  White  had  peculiar  and  almost  unrivalled  exoel- 
fence.  His  system  was  eclectic,-^not  in  the  sense  of  being  a  mere  collection  of 
shreds  and  patches,  a  jumble  of  borrowed  and  heterogeneous  fragments,  but  in 
that  it  was  original  and  independent, — ^the  result  of  his  own  careful  examination 
and  profound  analysis.  Above  most  men,  he  thought  for  himself.  He  was  a 
reader,  but  he  was  more  a  thinker.  He  found  indeed,  that  it  was  only  by  severe 
and  independent  thought  he  could  meet  the  difficulties  that  must  be  met,  and 
frame  a  consistent  and  satisfactory  system.  "  I  find  help  enough,"  he  said  to 
me,  somewhat  early  in  his  course  as  a  Theological  Professor,  "  in  all  the  easy 
places."  The  hard  places — a  common  experience  to  all  profound  inquirers, — he 
was  obliged  to  explore  for  himself.  Yet,  though  independent  in  his  investiga- 
tions and  conclusions,  never  would  he  have  become  the  head  of  a  new  theological 
party.  Both  his  mind  and  his  system  were  too  well  balanced  for  that.  There 
was  nothing  in  his  creed  or  his  philosophy  to  make  a  wonder  of.  There  was  too 
little  of  mist  about  him  for  those  optical  illusions  which  so  enchant  men; — too 
little  of  transcendentalism  to  suit  those  who  are  tired  of  walking  on  terra  Jirma. 
He  had  no  affinity  for  those  dreamy  speculations  which  at  once  scorn  and  elude 
all  the  forms  of  logic.  He  held  them  in  utter  abhorrence — ho  did  terrible 
vengeance  on  them  often  in  the  lecture  room.  He  loved  the  old  paths  of  God's 
word — on  these  he  shed  a  clear  and  steady  light,  leaving  those  who  would,  to 
lure  the  unwary  by  the  ignis  faluvks  of  a  bold  but  erring  fancy  into  gloomy 
fens  and  perilous  wildernesses  of  error.  He  had  too  much  of  simplicity,  and 
common  sense,  and  scriptural ness,  and  symmetry,  to  add  to  the  schisms  and 
debates  which  already  too  much  perplex  the  Christian  world.  Though  he  called 
ho  man  master,  his  system  was  Calvinistic  in  its  great  outlines;  yet  to  him  it 
was  greater  praise  to  call  it  Biblical.  And  eminently  skilled  was  he  in  unfolding 
it  to  his  pupils.  Remarkable  especially  was  his  tact  in  setting  their  own  minds 
tt  work,  and  then  meeting  by  a  single  condensed  statement,  by  a  simple  but 
clear  distinction,  by  a  familiar  hut  luminous  illustration,  whatever  difficulty 
their  awakened  intellects  might  be  troubled  with.  Great  and  almost  irreparable 
is  his  loss  to  our  Seminary.  He  was  its  first  Professor — ^he  began  with  its 
beginning — he  had  personal  experience  of  all  its  trials;  and  it  is  no  disparage- 
ment of  the  other  learned  and  excellent  Professors  to  say  that  the  point  of  pros- 
perity which  the  institution  has  in  so  short  a  time  reached,  is  in  no  small  degree 
ascribable  to  his  great  ability,  his  unwearied  labours,  and  ready  and  ample 
sacrifices.  As  children  for  a  father,  so  mourn  the  students  for  him.  To  the 
dignity  of  the  learned  teacher,  he  added,  in  his  intercourse  with  them,  all  a 
father's  kindness  and  usefulness. 

.  But  my  feelings  carry  me  too  far.  I  must  hasten  to  the  close  of  that  life,  in 
expatiating  on  which  I  scarce  know  where  to  end.  I  have  a  strong  impression, 
^s  I  review  n^  intercourse  with  Dr.  White  for  several  years  preceding  his  death. 


HEKRY  WHITE.  g9g 

tbftt  he  was  fast  ripening  for  Heaven.  I  infer  it  from  the  interest  with  which  he 
conversed  on  the  most  spiritual  topics.  I  gather  it  from  particular  rciuarks  and 
conversations.  Never  shall  I  forget  a  certain  discourse  of  his  in  a  private  minis- 
terial circle,  not  very  long  before  he  left  us.  The  suhject  of  our  conference  was 
Christian  experience.  Uis  turn  to  speak  came,  and  in  connection  with  other 
remarks,  in  the  simplest  manner,  and  without  the  slightest  appearance  of 
egotism,  he  gave  us  a  sketch,  in  a  particular  aspect,  of  his  own  experience.  It  was 
substantially  the  outline  of  his  progress  from  a  more  legal  to  a  more  evangelical 
frame  of  mind — just  that  progress  of  which  every  growing  Christian  has  more 
or  less  knowledge.  I  can  only  give  you,  and  that  imperfectly,  his  leading  ideas. 
'^  Once,"  he  said,  ''  when  conscious  of  sin,  I  felt  that  I  must  undergo  a  sort  of 
refined  penance.  I  must  subject  myself,  before  peace  of  mind  could  be  recovered, 
to  a  species  of  self-torture.  I  must  lacerate  my  soul  with  sorrow.  I  must 
laboriously^  prepare  myself  to  receive  pardon.  I  must,  in  the  agonies  of  my 
spirit,  make  a  sort  of  compensation  for  the  sin  I  mourned.  It  would  not  answer, 
I  felt,  to  come  at  once  to  the  Cross  of  Christ.  But  I  have  come  to  entertain  differ, 
ent  views.  I  trust  I  do  not  hate  sin  less  than  before;  yet  am  I  differently  affected 
by  it.  When  a  sense  of  it  oppresses  me,  I  wait  not  to  become  better, — to  make 
any  atonement — I  go  just  as  I  am  to  Christ,  a  poor,  guilty,  helpless  creature. 
I  cast  myself  at  his  feet.  I  commit  the  whole  case  to  Him.  I  look  to  Him  to  do 
all  for  me, — to  pardon,  cleanse^  enlighten  me.  As  to  motives,"  he  added,  with 
touching  lowliness  of  mind,  **  I  never  feel  quite  sure  that  I  have  a  singlegood  one, 
but  I  propose  to  myself  sometliing  good,  and  trusting  in  Christ,  press  toward  it. 
Thus  I  live,  and  thus  I  expect  to  die, — having  nothing  good  in  myself,  but  going 
out  of  myself  to  Christ, — resting  upon  Him  alone."  A  severe  and  perilous 
illness  of  his  eldest  son,  but  a  few  months  before  his  death,  was  made,  I  have  been 
led  to  believe,  the  occasion  of  furthering  his  preparation  for  a  better  world.  In 
speaking  to  me  of  the  crisis  of  that  case,  he  said,  for  substance, — *'  I  went  into 
my  closet,  and  if  ever  I  took  hold  upon  God, — if  ever  I  cast  my  burden  upon 
Him,  it  was  then."  I  cannot  doubt  that  then  and  there  was  a  very  peculiar 
exercise  of  faith, — one  that  sent  forward  its  influence  to  his  dying  bed.  Nor 
can  I  forbear  to  recall  another  emphatic  expression  of  his  in  one  of  my  last 
conversations  with  him.  We  had  been  freely  conferring  about  certain  matters 
which  had  been  not  a  little  annoying  to  him.  "  I  am  desirous,"  he  said,  '*  to  be 
free  from  things  of  this  sort.  I  like  not  to  have  my  mind  harassed  by  them.  / 
tDont  to  he  getting  ready  for  Heaven,"  He  spoke  as  one  who  felt  that  this  must 
be  the  chief  business  of  his  remaining  days.  For  a  large  part  of  the  last  year 
of  his  life,  he  supplied  the  pulpit  of  the  Sixth  Street  Presbyterian  Church.  His 
old  pastoral  sympathies  seemed  to  be  revived.  Not  only  were  souls  committed 
to  him,  but  among  them  were  his  own  unconverted  children.  He  recurred  to 
the  topics  of  discourse  which  God  had  blessed  in  his  former  ministry.  His 
preaching  was  eminently  spiritual,  direct  and  awakening.  He  saw  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  descend  as  he  ministered.  Souls  were  bom  again.  Yea,  the  grace  of 
God  was  revealed  in  his  own  family.  He  rejoiced  with  great  joy;  and  in  the 
exercises  of  that  season,  in  the  agonies  of  his  solicitude,  and  in  the  refreshings  of 
his  soul,  I  see  again,  what  none  of  us  saw  then, — that  God  was  preparing  his 
servant  for  his  approaching  transition  to  glory. 

The  last  scene  came.  After  an  illness  of  about  a  fortnight,  in  the  progress  of 
which  no  great  apprehension  had  been  felt,  on  the  morning  of  the  last  Sabbath 
in  August,  an  internal  hemorrhage  took  place,  of  a  most  alarming  character.  On 
perceiving  this  new  development,  he  said  at  once, — "  That  tells  the  story — I  shall 
die.  My  work  is  done !"  He  felt  that  what  of  life  remained,  was  measured  not  by 
days  hot  hours;  and  with  the  most  perfect  calmness,  and  with  characteristic  good 
judgment  and  forethought,  he  proceeded  to  make  his  last  communications.  "Tt 
18  the  Sabbath,  is  it  not?"  he  said  to  a  friend  by  his  bed.    On  being  answered  in 


000  PBSSBTmOAll. 

the  affirmatiTe,  he  added, — '*  I  have  always  ravweooed  tlus  day.  Do  yoa  tidnk 
it  would  be  wrong  for  me,  as  this  is  my  last  day,  to  do  a  little  worldly  basineas?** 
On  being  assured  it  would  not,  as  it  would  be  a  work  of  both  neoessttj  and 
mercy,  he  reflected  a  moment  and  said, — "It  would  not  be  sin."  His  will  was 
made,  but  he  had  a  few  directions  to  add  respecting  his  affairs.  These  he  gave 
in  a  concise  and  collected  manner,  and  then  concentrated  his  thoughts  upon 
spiritual  and  eternal  things.  He  said  his  removal  was  a  mysterious  providence- 
he  could  have  desired  to  be  useful  here  a  little  longer — ^but  it  toos  aU  right.  His 
physician  said  to  him, — '*  You  have  long  preached  the  doctrines  of  the  Cross;  do 
you  get  any  new  views?"  He  answered, — "Brighter  and  brighter!"  Then 
added,  "  Oh,  the  unspeakable  preciousness  of  the  atonement  by  the  blood  of 
Christ  1  I  have  preached  it  for  years,  and  taught  others  to  preach  it,  and  now  I 
know  its  worth."    A  friend  repeated  to  him  the  line, 

*'  Thine  earthly  Sabbaths  Lord  we  love."  * 

He  responded,— 

*'  Bat  there's  a  nobler  rest  above;* 

and,  pointing  his  finger  upward,  added, — "There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
and  the  weary  are  at  rest."  His  second  son,  who  had  just  arrived  from  the 
country,  told  him  for  the  first  time,  that  he  trusted  he  had  recently  consecrated 
himself  to  Christ.  "  That  is  enough,"  cried  the  dying  father.  To  a  friend  who 
came  in,  he  said, — "  This  boy  has  brought  me  good  news.  The  last  of  my  children 
is  brought  in."  He  sent  messages  to  two  of  his  children  who  were  absent.  That 
to  his  daughter,  who  had  recently  made  a  profession  of  religion,  I  cannot 
forbear  to  repeat.  "  Tell  her,"  he  said,  "  to  live  near  her  Saviour — to  adorn  her 
profession,  and  to  beware  of  the  temptations  of  the  world."  Referring  to  her 
parting  kiss,  when  he  left  her  in  the  country, — "  tell  her,"  he  said,  "I  remember 
that  last  kiss — it  was  sweet — but  it  will  be  sweeter  to  embrace  her  on  the  other 
side  of  Jordan."  As  his  voice  was  failing,  he  begged  a  friend  to  give  bis  dying 
message  of  love  to  the  students  of  the  Seminary.     "  Tell  them,"  he  said,  "that 

1  part  with  them  as  from  my  own  children.  I  love  them  all,  and  would  love  to 
give  them  the  parting  hand,  but  cannot."  As  the  work  of  death  went  on,  he 
calmly  watched  its  progi'ess.  Moving  his  hand  circularly  over  the  vital  organs, 
he  remarked, — "The  circle  grows  less  and  less;"  and  he  was  heard  to  say 
repeatedly, — "passing  away!"  After  the  power  of  utterance  was  gone,  he 
looked  a  loving  and  earnest  farewell  to  those  who  stood  around  his  bed,  occa- 
sionally giving  them  a  parting  grasp  of  the  hand.  Life  ebbed  gradually  away, 
his  expressive  eye  retaining  its  brightness  almost  to  the  last.  In  less  than  five 
hours  from  the  discovery  of  the  fatal  hemorrhage,  perceiving  that  his  end  hod 
come,  he  slowly  folded  his  hands  across  his  breast,  and  reclining  his  bead  back 
upon  his  pillow,  sunk  away  like  one  falling  asleep.  "  Precious  in  the  sight  of 
the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his  saints!" 

Yours  in  the  bonds  of  the  Qospel, 

ASA  D.  SMITH. 


DAKIBL  LYHM  CaEBQLL.  '    ^    iS9T 


DANIEL  LYNN  CARROLL,  D.  D  * 

1826—1851. 

Daniel  Lynn  Cabboll  was  born  in  Fayette  County,  Pft.,  May  10, 
1797.  He  was  a  son  of  William  and  Mary  (Lynn)  Carroll,  and  was  one 
of  twelve  children.  His  parents  both  emigrated  from  Ireland  in  early  life; 
his  mother,  when  she  was  aboat  ten ;  and  his  father,  when  he  was  less  than 
twenty.  His  father  was  educated  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  but  seems 
to  have  had  no  very  strong  attachment  either  to  its  forms  or  its  doctrines. 
He  was,  during  the  earlier  part  of  his  life,  devoted  to  worldly  amusements, 
and  gave  himself  little  trouble  about  religion  in  any  way.  His  wife  being 
a  Scotch  Presbyterian,  he  used  often  to  attend  church  with  her;  and  about 
the  year  1804,  during  the  great  revival  that  attracted  so  much  attention 
through  the  West  and  South,  he  became  the  subject  of  a  hopeful  conversion, 
and  joined  a  Presbyterian  Church  near  Uniontown,  Pa.  He  was  a  plain 
man, — a  farmer  in  moderate  but  comfortable  circumstances,  and  was  among 
the  early  settlers  of  the  region  in  which  he  lived.  He  subsequently  became 
much  reduced,  and  had  great  difficulty  in  supporting  his  numerous  and 
dependant  family. 

The  subject  of  this  sketch,  spent  his  earliest  years  at  work  on  his  father's 

farm,  attending  school  at  intervals  as  he  had  opportunity.     He  seems  to 

have  had  high  intellectual  aspirations  from  the  first  opening  of  his  faculties ; 

and  he  could  scarcely  remember  the  time  when  it  was  not  the  height  of  his 

ambition  to  figure  in  the  pulpit.     Though  he  had  a  religious  education,  his 

mind  was  never  earnestly  and  decisively  directed  to  religious  things,  till  he 

I         was  between  nineteen  and  twenty  years  of  age  \  and  then,  not  in  conse- 

\         qnence  of  any  particular  dispensation  of   Providence,  or  of  any  special 

I         efforts  that  were  used  with  him,  but  of  his  own  unaided  reflection  on  Divine 

I         troth.     Shortly  after,  he  joined  the  Presbyterian  Church  under  the  pastoral 

t         care  of  the  Rev.  William  Wylie.     His  fsEither's  pecuniary  embarrassments 

'         occurred  just  at  the  time  when  he  was  about  to  commence  his  preparation 

^         for  College ;  and,  in  consequence  of  this  unexpected  reverse,  he  relinquished 

I  the  purpose  of  entering  immediately  on  his  course  of  preparatory  study, 

,  that  he  might  aid  in  the  support  of  the  family ;  but  he  considered  his  reso- 

I         lution  to  obtain  an  education,  not  as  abandoned,  but  only  postponed  till 

circumstances  should  become  more  propitious.    Besides  labouring  on  a  farm, 

he  superintended  a  department  of  an  iron  factory,  and  for  some  time  alao 

taught  music,  giving  all  his  earnings  into  the  common  household  stock. 

After  attaining  to  the  age  of  twenty-one,  he  spent  a  year  and  a  half  in 

teaching  school,  and  at  the  same  time  perfecting  himself  in  elementary 

studies ;  and  having  thus  procured,  to  some  extent,  the  means  of  defraying 

the  expense  of  his  education,  he  entered  the  preparatory  department  of 

Jefferson  College,  and,  after  studying  eight  months,  was  admitted,  in  1820, 

to  the  Freshman  class  of  that  institution.     He  graduated  in  1823,  having 

saved  some  time  by  carrying  forward  contemporaneonsly  the  stadies  of  two 

different  classes. 

*  Coammnicatioiis  firom  hlinself  and  hli  flHailj,  sad  Hon.  J.  A.  Qiaagw. 
Vol.  IV.  88 


(jfg  PBESBTnuajor. 

In  conseqaenee  of  his  intenBe  applioation  to  stody,  during  his  college 
course,  his  health  became  greatly  impaired,  and  he  retired  and  passed  & 
winter  with  a  friend  of  his,  who  lived  on  a  farm,  with  a  Tiew  to  give  hie 
system  an  opportunity  to  recover  its  accustomed  energy. 

In  the  succeeding  spring,  (1824,)  he  entered  the  Theological  Seminary  at 
Princeton,  and  remaiued  there  during  the  whole  course,  and  six  months  in 
addition.     He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick, 
October  6,  1826,  and  was  immediately  employed  by  the  Missionary  Society 
of  New  Jersey,  to  supply  the  Churches  of  Shrewsbury  and  Middletown 
Point,  during  the  autumnal  vacation  in  the  Seminary.     Having  fulfilled 
thb  appointment,  he  returned  to  the  Seminary,  and  passed  the  winter  as  s 
resident  licentiate.     The  succeeding  spring  vacation  he  determined  to  spend 
in  New  England,  and,   by  recommendation  of    Dr.  Alexander,  he   went 
to  New  bury  port  to  supply  the  pulpit  then  vacant  by  the  death  of  the  Rer* 
S.  P.  Williams;  but,  after  preaching  two  Sabbaths,  he  found  the  climate 
so  unfavourable  to  his  health  that  he  was  obliged  to  leave.     After  this, 
upon  the  recommendation  of  Dr.  Miller  to  the  late  Judge  Tallmadge,  he  was 
applied  to,  to  preach  as  a  candidate  at  Litchfield,  Conn.;  and,  after  preach- 
ing there  four  or  five  Sabbaths,  he  received  a  unanimous  call  to  settle. 
Notwithstanding  he  felt  an  entire  conviction  that  his  health  would  not 
endure  the  rigours  of  a  climate  so  far  £ast,  yet  the  great  unanimity  and 
earnest  wishes  of  the  congregation,  after  a  protracted  season  of  division 
and  alienation,  led  him  to  conclude  that  it  might  perhaps  be  his  duty  at 
least  to  make  the  experiment;  and,  accordingly,  he  accepted  the  call,  and  was 
ordained  and  installed  in  October,  1827, — the  Rev.  B.  F.  Stanton  of  Betb- 
lem  preaching  the  Sermon. 

His  apprehensions  in  regard  to  the  effect  of  the  climate  were  fully  realized. 
He  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  South  the  first  winter  after  his  installation,  and 
as  there  was  now  no  longer  any  doubt  that  a  removal  was  necessary  to  the 
preservation  of  his  life,  he  asked  a  dismission  from  his  charge,  and  reocivci 
it  amidst  many  regrets,  on  the  4th  of  March,  1829. 

Immediately  after  leaving  Litchfield,  he  was  called  to  the  First  Presby- 
terian Church  in  Brooklyn,  then  vacant  by  the  removal  of  the  Rev.  Joseph 
Sanford  to  Philadelphia.  He  accepted  the  call,  and  continued  labouring 
here  with  great  acceptance  and  usefulness  from  March,  1829,  till  June, 
1835,  at  which  time,  in  consequence  of  a  threatening  affection  of  his  throat, 
he  resigned  his  pastoral  charge.  Having  taken  two  or  three  months  to 
recruit  his  health,  he  was  called  to  the  Presidency  of  Hampden  Sidney 
College,  and,  by  the  advice  of  Dr.  Alexander,  he  accepted  the  appointment, 
and  entered  on  the  duties  of  his  office  in  September,  1835.  About  this  time, 
he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  University  of  the 
city  of  New  York.  His  connection  with  the  College  continued  three  years, — 
till  the  autumn  of  1838,  when,  in  consequence  chiefly  of  his  ecclesiastical 
sympathies,  in  referenoe  to  the  then  existing  controversy  in  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  being  with  the  New  School,  and  diverse  from  those  of  most  of  his 
brethren  around  him,  he  resigned  his  office.  The  College  prospered  under 
his  administration,  and  dl  concurred  in  the  opinion  that  he  discharged  the 
dntaes  of  the  station  with  fidelity  and  efficiency. 

On  retiring  from  the  Presidency  of  the*  College,  he  was  immediately 
called  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  North- 
em  Liberties  in  Philadelphia.     He  accepted  the  oallj  and  remained  there 


DAirijBL  LYNH  CABnOLL.  gSg 

i         ftom  the  aalnmft  of  1888,  till  Febraary,  1844;  when  hk  health  had  so  far 
I  declined  that  he  found  it  impossible  any  longer  to  fulfil  the  duties  of  his 

,         office.     He,  accordingly,  resigned  his  charge,  and  became  Secretary  of  the 
Colonization  Society  of  the  State  of  New  York.     This  office  he  held,  labour- 
r         ing,  under  much  infirmity,  and  yet  with  great  zeal  and  success,  from  Fcbru- 
I  ary,  1844,  till  November,  1845,  when  he  was  laid  aside  from  all  active 

I  service.      The  winter  of  1845-46  he  spent  at  Savannah,  and  in  the  spring 

I  of  the  same  year  removed  his  family  to  the  village  of  Newark,  De.,  with 

I  a  view  to  educate  his  children.     Here  he  remained  three  years, — passing 

I  each  winter  chiefly  at  Savannah,  and  in  February,  1849,  removed  to  Phila- 

I  delphia. 

The  residue  of  Dr.  Carroll's  life  was  a  scene  of  slow  but  constantly  pro- 
gressive bodily  decay.     He  was  able  to  walk  and  ride  out,  and  occasionally 
to  take  a  journey,  until  about  five  months  before  his  death,  when  he  became - 
wholly  confined  to  his  house.     He  marked  the  gradual  approach  of  death 
I  with  the  utmost  serenity,  and  when  the  last  hour  actually  came,  he  was 

I  ready  to  put  off  his  earthly  tabernacle.     The  night  before  he  died,  his  physi- 

cian Laving  informed  him  that  he  could  continue  but  a  short  time,  he  called 
>  for  a  paper  containing  a  covenant  with  God,  which  he  wrote  and  signed  in  his 

youth.    But  as  it  could  not  be  found  at  the  moment,  he  repeated  it  from  mem- 
ory, and  then  prayed  for  nearly  half  an  hour  with  great  fervour  and  com« 
I  prchensiveness.     He  died  the  next  morningi  (Sunday,)  November  23,  1851, 

iu  the  fifty-fifth  year  of  his  age.     His  Funeral  was  attended,  first  at  his 
own  dwelling  in  Philadelphia;   and  afterwards  in  his  former  Church  at 
,  Brooklyn,  to  which  his  remains  were  removed  on  the  way  to  their  final  rest- 

ing place  in  the  Greenwood  Cemetery. 
.  Dr.  Carroll  was  married  September  25,  1827,  to  Anna  T.,  daughter  of 

■  Joseph  L.  Halsted  of  New  York.     They  had  six  children, — three  sons  and 

three  daughters.  One  of  the  sons,  Joseph  if.,  has  been  graduated  at  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania,  and  is  now  (1856,)  a  Presbyterian  clergyman 
in  James  burg,  N.  J.  Another  son,  David  JS.,  a  young  man  of  high  pro- 
mise, who  was  on  the  eve  of  entering  the  medical  profession,  died  in  the 
exercise  of  a  triumphant  faith,  about  one  year  previous  to  the  death  of  his 
\  father. 

Dr.  Carroll  published  two  volumes  (12mo.)  of  Sermons, — one  in  1846, 
the  other  in  1847.  Besides  these,  his  publications  are  a  Sermon  on  the 
death  of  the  Rev.  Joseph  Sanford,  1882 ;  an  Inaugural  Address  at  Hamp- 
den Sidney  College,  1885;  an  Argument  on  the  Church  Question,  1837; 
au  Address  before  the  Franklin  Literary  Society  of  Randolph  Marion  Col- 
lege, Virginia,  1837 ;  an  Address  before  the  Literary  Societies  of  Delaware 
College,  1842;  a  Tract  entitled  *^  A  Plea  in  behalf  of  the  coloured  man,'* 
1844.  A  Sermon  on  the  **  Power  of  the  Sabbath  School,"  published  in  the 
Philadelphia  Christian  Observer,  (posthumous.) 

FROM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  BAIRD,  D.  D. 

Nbw  Yoek,  December  16, 1861. 
My  dear  Sir:  The  Rev.  Dr.  Carroll,  concerning  whom  you  ask  for  my  recollec- 
tions, was  one  of  the  friends  of  my  early  life.     We  were  born  within  a  few  miles 
of  each  other,  and  I  knew  him  well  from  the  time  that  he  was  seventeen  or' 
eighteen  years  old  till  the  close  of  his  life.     I  know  not  that  I  have  any  incidents 


700  fiutSBrp«KiAv. 

that  would  serve  strfldng^j  to  iBastnte  lik  chartfeter,  and  yet  I  think  I  sludl 
find  no  difficulty  in  conveying  to  you  my  own  impreestons  concerning  him. 

In  his  person  and  manners  he  possessed  some  peculiar  advantages.  He  iras 
tall,  slender,  yet  very  symmetrically  formed;  of  rather  dark  complexion,  with  a 
line  expressive  eye,  and  a  countenance  that  easily  took  on  a  winning  smile,  <m* 
hrightened  into  a  glow  of  animation.  His  movements  were  naturally  quick,  and 
gave  you  the  idea  of  a  man  who  felt  that  he  had  no  time  to  lose.  His  manoers 
were  uncommonly  bland,  graceful,  and  even  fascinating.  This  was  the  more 
noticeable,  as  he  had  spent  his  early  years  among  plain  people,  and  in  the  humble 
walks  of  life;  but  if  he  had  been  educated  in  the  very  highest  circles  of  society, 
I  can  hardly  imagine  that  he  could  have  been  in  all  respects  a  more  polished 
gentleman.  He  had  the  rare  faculty  of  making  himself  equally  acceptable  to 
people  of  all  classes  and  all  ages.  The  most  accomplished  person  and  the  most 
uncultivated,  the  man  of  advanced  years  and  the  little  child,  were  equally  at  ease 
in  his  company,  and  equally  delighted  by  his  conversation. 

And  this  leads  me  to  say  that  his  powers  of  conversation  were  much  beyond  the 
ordinary  mark.  Though  his  early  advantages  were  limited,  his  subsequent 
opportunities  of  observation  were  very  considerable;  and  the  results  of  his  obser- 
vation, and  indeed  all  his  knowledge,  seemed  entirely  at  his  command,  and  never 
failed  to  be  put  forth  to  the  best  advantage.  He  had  a  fine  vigorous  imagination; 
and  though  he  never  intended  to  be  otherwise  than  exact  in  all  his  statements,  I 
have  sometimes  had  occasion  to  smile  at  the  graceful  embellishment  which  be 
would  give  to  a  story,  which,  if  told  in  an  ordinary  prosy  way,  would  have  had 
very  little  interest.  He  was  gifted  with  a  very  considerable  share  of  keen  Irish 
wit.     He  was  ^ery  apt  to  be  the  life  of  any  company  into  which  he  was  thrown. 

Dr.  Carroll  was  probably  most  distinguished  as  a  popular  preacher.  He  bad 
natural  and  acquired  qualifications  for  the  pulpit,  which  few  possess.  His  fine 
person  and  expressive  countenance,  together  with  a  voice  of  great  compass  and 
melody,  modulated  to  admiration,  and  his  gesture  characterized  alike  by  grace 
and  power,  went  far  to  render  him  irresistible  as  a  speaker;  but,  in  addition  to 
these  advantages,  his  discourses  were  wrought  with  no  inconsiderable  skill;  the 
truth  was  clearly  and  often  pungently  stated;  and  there  were  occasional  flashes 
of  imagination  and  appeals  to  the  conscience,  which  would  excite  strong  emotion, 
and  could  hardly  fiiil  to  be  remembered.  In  his  extemporaneous  efibrts  he  was 
ready  and  often  extremely  felicitous.  He  was  not  so  much  distinguished  for 
abstract  reasoning,  or  for  bringing  forth  thoiights  or  trains  of  thought  which  had 
been  the  result  of  great  elaboration,  as  for  presenting  familiar  truths  or  facts  in 
a  manner  to  impress  most  strongly  the  popular  mind.  You  might  call  upon  him 
on  an  emergency  to  make  a  speech  for  the  Bible,  Tract,  or  Colonization  cause, 
and  he  would  be  sure  to  rivet  attention,  if  he  did  not  astonish  and  electrify. 

Dr.  Carroll,  I  have  reason  to  believe,  was  an  excellent  pastor.  He  had  strong 
sympathies,  and  his  heart  instantly  responded  to  the  tale  of  suffering.  He  was 
earnestly  devoted  to  his  work  as  a  minister,  and  by  his  fine  social  and  Christian 
qualities,  strongly  attached  to  him  those  who  were  under  his  pastoral  care.  His 
labours  in  the  different  congregations  with  which  he  was  connected  were  appa- 
rently attended  with  a  rich  blessing. 

I  think  I  may  say  that  Dr.  Carroll's' education  was  after  the  most  rigid  t3*pe 
of  Calvinism.  And  I  am  not  aware  that  his  views  underwent  any  change,  pre- 
vious to  his  entering  the  ministry.  Afterwards,  however,  I  think  he  adopted 
what  might  be  called  a  somewhat  milder  form  of  the  same  system,  though  still 
adhering  to  all  the  leading  doctrines  of  his  original  faith.  I  should  think  it 
probable  that  he  would  agree  in  nearly  every  particular  with  President  D wight. 

Dr.  Carroll  was  naturally  a  cheer fbl  man,  and  he  did  not  lose  his  cheerftilneM 
aven  after  he  had  become  the  victim  of  a  lingering  and  fatal  malady.    He  had 


DANIIL  LTMK  OABBOLL.  30i| 

strong  fiJib  in  the  promisos  of  the  Qospel,  and  it  snstaiiMd  him  to  the  last.    I 
think  of  him  as  a  fine  example  of  a  man  and  a  Christian. 

I  am,  as  ever, 

Your  friend  and  brother, 

K.  BAIRD. 

FROM  THE  REY.  D.  H.  RIDDLE,  D.  D. 

FinsBuao,  Pa.,  March  18, 1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  My  recollections  of  Dr.  Carroll  go  back  to  the  spring  of 
1822 — at  Jeffe.'son  College,  Cannonsburg,  Pa.  lie  was  considerably  my  senior 
in  years,  having  begun  his  studies  at  a  comparatively  late  period.  11  is  earlier 
life  was  one  of  incessant  toil.  Yet  even  then,  he  had  an  unquenchable  thirst  for 
knowledge,  and  earnest  aspirations  for  mental  improvement.  After  the  labours 
of  the  day,  he  would  lie  for  hours  at  night  before  a  fire,  poring  over  a  book 
recently  procured,  or  endeavouring  to  attain  the  elements  of  classical  learning. 
When  we  met,  he  had  been  fitted  for  College,  and  was  in  his  Junior  year.  We 
became  friends,  at  first  sight  almost.  Brought  up  in  difierent  regions;  dissimi- 
lar in  age  and  character;  he  a  Christian  professor,  and  I  a  thoughtless,  ambitious 
youth;  our  friendship,  then  commenced,  continued  unbroken  through  all  subse* 
quent  changes,  and  was  suspended  only  by  his  death.  A  peculiar  tie  bound  our 
hearts.  lie  selected  me  from  among  a  circle  of  thoughtless  young  men,  as  the 
object  of  special  prayer  and  effort,  which  God  was  pleased  to  own  and  bless. 
This  hallowed  and  endeared  our  friendship,  the  memory  of  which  is  still  so  fra* 
grant.  At  College,  we  were  class  mates  and  associates  in  study  till  our  graduar 
tion  in  1823.  Subsequently  we  were  occupants  of  the  same  room,  at  Princeton, 
and  sat  two  years  at  the  same  board,  and  were  daily  companions  in  our  walks, 
till  his  marriage  and  settlement  at  Litchfield,  Conn.,  in  1827.  From  that  time 
till  his  death,  we  were  constant  correspondents;  friends  like  David  and  Jona- 
than, though  our  paths  widely  diverged,  and  we  only  occasionally  met  each  other. 
'*  I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my  brother!  Very  pleasant  wast  thou  unto  me.  Thy 
love  to  me  was  wonderful,  passing  the  love  of  women." 

At  your  request,  I  will  try  to  give  "  the  salient  points  "  of  my  friend's  char- 
acter. I  knew  him  as  well,  probably,  as  one  human  being  can  know  another; 
for  in  all  our  personal  intercourse  and  long  correspondence,  he  revealed  himself 
as  to  few  others;  unbosomed  the  very  secrets  of  his  soul.  My  chief  fear  of  not 
presenting  his  character  accurately,  would  be  from  the  influence  of  a  partiality 
so  natural  in  the  circumstances,  and  which  I  am  willing  to  acknowledge.  I  may 
be  pardoned  for  dwelling  chiefly  on  his  excellencies,  which  were  many,  and  few 
knew  so  well,  and  not  on  his  imperfections  from  which  he  was  not  free,  as  they 
are  now,  to  me,  buried  with  him  in  his  grave.  One  of  his  obvious  characteristics 
was  ixquisite  tasU,  This  was  seen  in  every  thing,  and  in  every  period,  from  his 
life  at  College,  till  the  day  of  his  death.  He  had  love  of  the  beautiful  in  nature 
and  art;  enthusiastic  delight  in  scenery;  a  perfect  passion  for  music;  an  artist's 
eye  for  painting  and  sculpture — in  a  word,  a  high  degree  of  the  poetic  element. 
This  influenced  his  feelings,  enlarged  the  sphere  of  his  enjoyments;  gave  shapa 
to  his  character  and  a  charm  to  his  conversation.  It  pervaded  his  compositions, 
imparted  rhythm  to  his  sentences  and  glow  to  his  illustrations.  One  of  the  first 
things  that  attracted  my  attention,  was  that  he  studied  with  the  wild  tones  of  a 
rudely  constructed  .^olian  harp,  singing  through  his  room.  I  often  realized  the 
expressions,— '''silent  awe,"  ''speechless  rapture,"  in  witnessing  his  gaze  on 
magnificent  scenery,  or  his  intoxication  with  sweet  sounds,  vocal  or  instrumen- 
tal; or,  at  the  recitation  of  some  favourite  passage,  or  the  pronunciation  of  some 
word,  fraught  with  associations  of  the  past.  Many  such  are  yet  Tivldly  in  mj 
memory.  * 


702  pusBTaftiAH. 

This  refinement  of  taste  aocounted  for  some  of  his  oteeirable  pecttliarities — 
the  scrupulous  neatness  of  his  personal  appearance,  fof  example.  He  was  uni- 
formly attentive  to  the  congruities  of  taste,  in  dress  and  personal  arrangement. 
Some  wore  disposed  to  think  this  a  weakness.  Like  his  ear  for  music,  and  hiis 
eye  for  the  beautiful,  however,  it  was  natural  as  it  was  characteristic.  It  mig^ht 
seem  morbid,  but  without  it,  he  would  not  have  been  himself,  lie  carried  it  with 
him  through  life.  It  did  not  forsake  him  when  lying  on  the  bed  of  hopeless  dis- 
ease. It  affected  the  directions  he  gave  for  his  Funeral,  even  to  his  habiliments 
and  position  in  his  coffin.  To  the  last  he  revelled  in  the  beauty  and  fragrance 
of  a  bouquet — as  really  as  he  enjoyed  the  voice  of  prayer.  Ilis  eye  wonld  flash 
at  a  beautiful  sentiment,  even  on  the  verge  of  Jordan,  as  vividly  as  it  peered  into 
the  mysteries  of  the  invisible!  There  are  souls  to  whom  this  whole  character- 
istic was  unintelligible,  and  its  manifestations,  unwelcome.  But  there  are  others, 
to  whom  these  recollections  are  exceediogly  pleasant,  and  who  feel  that,  without 
giving  it  a  prominent  place,  his  portrait  would  be  incomplete  and  unworthy. 
Among  **  the  green  spots  "  of  the  past,  I  shall  ever  cherish  the  memories  of  some 
of  our  communings,  when  we  met  "inter  sylvas  Academias  quaerere  verum*' — or 
when  Providence  permitted  us  an  occasional  privilege  of  recalling  together  the 
waymarks  of  the  journey  of  Life.  I  may  be  allowed  to  adopt  from  Ossian  a 
phrase  so  naturally  suggested  by  similarity  of  name, — "  The  music  of  Caryl» 
Bweet  and  mournful  to  the  soul!  *' 

The  80cial  eharacteristiea  of  Dr.  Carroll  were  such  as  greatly  endeared  him  to 
his  friends.  He  had  eminently  a  genial  soul,  with  those  of  congenial  temper  and 
oharacter.  He  was  afiectionate  in  his  disposition;  ardent  and  even  enthusiastic 
in  his  attachments.  A  highly  strung  nervous  organization  made  him  thrillingly 
sensitive  in  emotion,  and,  therefore,  liable  to  antipathies  to  persons  and  opinions, 
which  he  expressed  with  great  decision,  sometimes  a  severity,  which  seemed 
uncharitable  or  impatient.  "  In  his  eyes  a  vile  person  was  contemned.''  He 
abhorred  meanness.  He  had  no  patieoce  with  petty  envyings,  and  jealousies,  and 
ecclesiastical  manoeuvres,  when  he  witnessed  them,  and  when  he  thought  (rightly 
or  wrongly)  he  was  their  object.  He  deeply  felt  slights,  and  sorrowed  over  false 
professions  of  friendship,  and  all  forms  of  selfishness.  Yet  he  had  an  almost 
feminine  tenderness  towards  his  friends,  the  manifestations  of  which,  to  a  cold 
observer,  would  have  seemed  well  nigh  ludicrous.  In  him,  they  were  genuine 
and  spontaneous.  He  had  also  a  wonderful  versatility  of  feeling;  a  singular 
capacit}*^  of  transition  "  from  grave  to  gay," — ^from  the  strongest  religious  emo- 
tion to  joyous  hilarity, — from  the  deepest  pathos  to  the  full  tide  of  mirthful- 
ness.  This  was  often  to  me  a  mystery;  but  still  it  was  not  less  a  fact,  as  many 
could  testify. 

Among  the  fine  social  traits  of  Dr.  Carroll,  was  a  lively  perception  and 
appreciation  of  the  ludicrous,  and  a  decided  love  of  humour.  I  would  gladly 
transfer  to  this  page  some  illustrations.  I  shall  never  forget  how  boisterously 
he  was  afiected,  by  a  spectacle  of  '*  gratuitous  wrath,"  as  he  termed  it,  in  a  pub- 
lican in  New  Brunswick,  N.  J.,  on  one  occasion  when  we  were  travelling;  how 
inimitably  he  would  afterwards  take  off  the  Boniface,  "  drest  in  brief  authority," 
and  what  a  perfect  storm  of  hilarity,  even  to  his  last  days,  the  yery  terra, 
associating  the  scene,  would  reproduce!  He  believed  in  laughter,  "the  merry 
heart,  that  doeth  good  as  a  medicine,"  as  he  often  said,  and  loathed  the  ctmtf 
where  the  bosom  "owned  no  throb,  the  heart  no  thrill,"  with  genuine  pleas- 
antry. To  this  peculiarity  he  was  much  indebted  for  his  rapid  resiliency  from 
fits  of  despondency.  His  friends  will  recall  readily  his  peculiar,  arch  smile, 
the  play  of  good-humour,  and  a  characteristic  placing  of  his  hand  to  bis  face, 
when  he  was  uttering  himself,  or  awaited  from  others,  the  sallies  of  mirthful- 
i^ess,  which  he  ei^oyed  so  unfeignedly.  He  was  unselfish  in  the  acknowledgment 
of  the  excellencies  of  others,  and  even  the  superiority  of  his  friends;  frank  in 


DANXSL  LYKK  OABBOLL .  70S 

ftdoiiratioa  of  real  worth,  as  lie  was  uaequivocal  in  deteaUUon  and  denunciation 
of  pretence  and  obtrusive  shallowne88.  I  have  had  frequent  occasions  of  wit- 
nesting  both. 

Along  with  this,  however,  there  was  also  a  tinge  of  melancholy  and  sadness; 
an  occasional  tendency  to  depression  and  gloom; — the  visitations  of  an  incubus 
which  began  early,  and  haunted  him  through  life.  This  was  traceable  to  physi- 
cal causes.  In  the  later  stages  of  his  collegiate  career,  from  inordinate  study, 
the  entire  change  of  his  habits,  and  from  ignorance,  at  that  period,  of  the  laws 
of  healthy  intur-action  of  luind  and  body,  like  others,  he  broke  doton  entirely. 
His  nervous  system  gave  way.  For  a  year  afterwards  he  was  incapable  of  study 
or  prolonged  mental  exertion,  and  became  the  victim  of  incurable  dyspepBta, 
The  effects  of  this  he  bore  with  him  through  life,  and  it  influenced  greatly  his 
character  and  career.  At  one  time,  he  almost  abandoned  all  thoughts  of  entering 
the  ministry.  He  was  an  invalid  most  of  his  days,  and  many  years  were  spent 
in  the  vain  pursuit  of  health.  In  his  later  years  especially,  but  even  earlier, 
he  felt  the  shadow  of  the  thought,  that  he  was  not  and  could  not  become  or 
accomplish  what  he  had  hoped.  He  spoke  often  most  emphatically  and  pensively 
of  ''the  darkened  afternoon  of  existence,"  and  of  a  sun  set  in  clouds,"  of  having 
"  the  stirrings  of  thoughts  he  could  not  express; "  *'  the  glimpse  of  principles 
he  could  not  elaborate;  **  '*  the  consciousness  of  power  never  developed;  "  that 
he  *'must  die,  when  he  should  have  been  just  fitted  to  live."  It  was  no 
wonder  that  a  dark  thread  was  intertwined  with  the  web  of  his  life,  and  it  was 
matter  of  thankfulness  that  so  much  cheerfulness  and  vivacity  continued  not- 
withstanding to  the  last.  Those  who  thought  him  impatient,  little  knew  against 
how  much  he  struggled.  Those  who  haye  no  nerves,  little  dreamed  how  much 
grace  was  required  to  keep  him  in  the  ordinary  measure  of  composure.  Those 
who  never  had  aspirations,  how  for  years  '*  he  took  up  his  cross  daily,"  in 
resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  and  freely  drank  the  cup  of  a  Father's  appointment. 
When  he  walked  ''  on  the  silent,  solemn  shore,"  and  looked  back  and  forward, 
it  was  unspeakably  touching  to  notice,  sometimes,  the  minglings  of  regret  and 
resignation;  the  traces  of  crushed  expectation  and  cheerful  hope; — a  peaceful 
expectancy,  which  disarmed  retrospection  of  its  depressing  power.  At  the  close, 
Hope  triumphed,  and  few  bid  farewell  to  life,  after  reaching  even  its  assigned 
ultimatum,  more  cheerfully  than  he  did,  when  men  usually  feel  most  intensely 
the  luxury  and  privilege  of  living.  The  gorgeous  sunsets  he  used  to  watch,  with 
such  rapture,  at  '*  old  Jefferson  "  '' giving  signs  of  a  glorious  morrow,"  not 
inaptly  symbolized  his  own  departure. 

The  intellect  of  Dr.  Carroll  I  have  always  regarded  as  of  a  high  order.  His 
perceptions  of  truth  were  quick;  his  thirst  for  it,  strong;  his  love  of  it,  deep. 
His  lack  of  early  educational  advantages,  and  the  paralyzing  effects  of  over- 
wrought exertions,  in  his  college  career,  he  felt  all  his  life.  Tet,  his  original 
powers  were  cultivated  notwithstanding,  to  a  degree  not  often  surpassed.  His 
mind  worked,  for  the  time,  with  tremendous  power.  But  for  this  early  prostra- 
tion, few  had  a  better  prospect  of  ranking  high  among  the  first  intellects  of  his 
time.  Imagination,  in  its  large  sense,  was  unquestionably  a  predominating  fea- 
ture. So  much  so,  that  many,  without  due  discrimination,  thought  it  excessive 
or  exclusive.  Some  of  his  Western  frieuds  never  accorded  him  higher  excellence, 
intellectually,  than  ''vivid  fancy,"  "a  flowery  speaker,"  "a  man  of  taste." 
But  this  was  far  firom  the  fact.  In  the  progress  of  his  ministry,  he  became  so 
jealous  of  these  early  tendencies,  that  he  adopted,  too  scrupulously  for  his  own 
good  and  true  power,  a  rigidly  logical  style  of  thinking  and  speaking,  thus  unduly 
repressing,  in  my  judgment,  one  of  the  gifts  of  Providence  and  elements  of  strength 
as  a  speaker.  His  duties,  at  one  time,  as  President  of  a  College,  developed  his 
capacities  for  metaphysical  and  moral  discrimination,  repressed  the  exuberance 
of  the  asthetic,  and  imparted  strength  to  his  mental  character.    Some  of  his 


»9 


704  PUgBTTlBIAir. 

ftnUgonisU  in  n6VB|Mip«r  diseiiSMon,  at  tlutt  period,  hftve  tmsoii  to  remember, 
that  he  had  other  powers  than  thoBe  of  imagination^  and  higher  gifte  than  paint- 
ing figures  or  telling  stories. 

His  powers  of  extern poraneons  speaking  were  quite  uncommon.  He  was  espe- 
cially felicitous  on  the  platform.  On  one  occasion,  which  many  will  recollect,  in 
Philadelphia,  he  electrified  the  audience,  and  produced  an  enthusiastic  impression, 
when  dilating  on  Home  Missions  and  the'future  destiny  of  our  country;  though 
he  occupied  the  platform  simultaneously  with  one  who  was  then  considered 
among  the  foremost  of  such  speakers  in  this  or  any  other  country.  Yet  he 
usually  elahorated  his  discourses  with  care,  and  finished  them  at  first  writing, 
80  as  to  he  ready  for  the  press.  It  was,  with  some,  a  source  of  regret,  that  he 
confined  himself,  on  principle,  so  strictly  to  his  manuscript,  when,  by  a  mere 
extemporaneous  utterance,  he  might  have  transcended  all  he  actually  attained  as 
a  speaker.  But  the  same  feeling  that  led  him  to  repress  his  imagination,  led 
him  also  to  a  close  adherence  to  thoroughly  written  discourses  in  his  ordinary 
ministrations. 

In  the  pulpit,  he  used  comparatively  little  action.  The  eye  and  countenance, 
more  than  any  thing  else,  gave  impressiveness  and  power  to  his  eloquence.  He 
was  earnest  always;  sometimes  terrible. 

He  had  a  singular  talent  for  what  may  be  called  word-patn/tng, — ^the  art  which 
one  calls  that  '*  of  doing  by  words  what  the  painter  does  by  means  of  colours. 
This  was  exemplified  in  his  graduating  speech, — **  the  Death  of  the  InfideL 
Some  of  its  paragraphs  were  afterwards  incorporated  into  a  sermon,  which  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  hearing.  In  the  opinion  of  others,  as  well  as  my  own,  this  alone 
would  have  stamped  him  as  a  true  orator.  Very  much  of  his  power  consisted  in 
concentrating  the  gist  of  all  he  had  previously  uttered  into  a  few  burning  sen- 
tences, a  few  words,  or  even  a  single  epithet,  pronounced  with  his  whole  soul, 
in  closing  his  heads  of  discourse,  or  in  the  peroration.  "  Words  "  with  him 
were  often  **  things,''  in  this  way.  His  published  discourses  are  highly  credita- 
ble to  him,  intellectually,  but  one  of  their  chief  charms  to  his  friends,  is,  that 
they  associate  what  never  can  be  transferred  to  the  printed  page.  They  recall 
the  man — the  preacher,  his  look,  the  shadows  of  thoughts  he  could  not  utter.  In 
pathosy  he  was  usually  admirable  and  appropriate;  in  sarcasm,  occasionally  keen 
as  a  razor.  He  was  chosen,  while  yet  a  student,  to  the  pulpit  once  occupied  by 
Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  and  filled  it  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  people,  while  the 
remembered  radiance  of  his  predecessor  was  fresh  in  the  hearts  of  his  flock. 
There,  and  at  Brooklyn,  and  in  Virginia,  and  amongst  his  latest  pastoral  charge 
in  Philadelphia,  as  a  Preacher,  a  Pastor,  a  President,  notwithstanding  the  per- 
petual drawbacks  of  feeble  health,  and  frequent  intermissions  in  pursuit  of  its 
restoration,  he  was  estimated  as  highly  as  any  man  could  desire,  and  is  remem- 
bered affectionately  to  this  day.  His  sermons  at  ordinations,  and  the  opening  of 
ecclesiastical  bodies.  Were  appropriate  and  instructive,  affording  a  treat  to  all  who 
could  appreciate  intellect,  earnestness,  taste,  and  eloquence.  '*  My  Father!  the 
chariots  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof !  "  It  were  vain  to  fancy  what  he 
would  have  been,  if  blest  with  vigorous  health,  and  spared  to  a  green  old  age! 

The  piety  of  Dr.  Carroll  was  deep  and  scriptural — emotional,  but  eminently 
conservative.  It  was  characteristically  free  from  cantj  which  was  contrary  to 
his  taste,  as  well  as  principles.  His  early  religious  impressions  and  exercises 
were  guided  by  one  of  the  Old  School  of  Western  Pennsylvania  Theology  and 
Oasuistry,  the  School  of  the  Westminster  Catechism,  in  the  region  of  revivals. 
These  impulses  he  never  lost,  /sms,  and  men  of  one  idea,  he  held  in  detestation. 
He  felt  strongly,  and  expressed  himself  unequivocally ,  in  regard  to  the  radicalism 
rampant  in  some  portions  of  the  Church,  during  a  period  of  his  ministry.  A 
lover  and  promoter  of  revivals,  rejoicing  in  the  success  of  his  ministry,  which 
was  decided, — ^in  many  periods,  eminently  so,  he  never  could  consent  to  forget  or 


I 


DANHEL  LTira  CARROLL.  705 

\  f«v^o  the  dignity  of  the  minister  Mid  the  Ohristtan,  in  the  ferrour  of  his  zeal, 

and  abstained  conscientiously  from  religions  mountebankism  and  buffoonery, 
used  by  some  as  **  allowable  auxiliaries  to  the  glory  of  God."  His  views  of  evan 
gelical  truth  were  eminently  clear  and  systematic, — his  Calvinism,  inwrought 
and  steadfast.  Towards  the  close  of  life,  he  gave  me  some  of  his  views  of  these 
points,  which  I  would  gladly  transcribe  for  his  reputation,  and  the  edification  of 
younger  clergymen.  He  spoke  and  wrote  to  me  often  of  the  consolatory  and 
invigorating  and  conseryative  influence  of  the  views  in  which  he  was  early  trained, 
and  which  he  first  learned  at  his  mother's  knees — a  mother  who  yet  lives  to 
remember  him  as  her  glory,  and  lament  him  as  her  idol.  Though  he  belonged, 
9n  principle,  to  a  branch  of  the  Church,  by  some  considered  lutitudinarian  in 
doctrine,  and  fanatical  formerly  in  measures,  his  theok>gy  and  his  views  of  order 
and  decorum  in  God's  house,  and  human  agencies,  were  formed  early,  cherished 
steadfastly,  and  cheered  him  to  the  end!  He  was  a  genuine  Scotch  Irish  Pres- 
byterian. 

Dr.  Carroll's  sun,  from  the  causes  adverted  to,  was  early  obscured,  and  set  too 
soon,  according  to  our  imperfect  conceptions.  The  Church  lost  the  benefit  of  his 
matured  intellect  and  ripened  piety  and  experience,  when  usually  they  are  most 
available  and  important.  And  this,  by  the  same  cause,  that  has  robbed  her 
prematurely  of  many  of  her  jewels, — not  by  a  "mysterious  providence,"  but 
from  early  and  unconscious  infraction  of  final  ordinations,  concerning  health  of 
body  and  vigour  of  mind,  and  effective,  prolonged  usefulness.  His  life  ought 
to  be  a  beacon,  as  it  might  have  been  a  greater  blessing.  But  still,  his  memory 
is  fragrant  as  a  pastor  and  a  friend,  to  many.  His  excellencies,  hallowed  by 
death,  are  a  heritage  to  his  family.  At  his  grave,  affection  and  piety  will  often 
render  a  tribute,  worthier,  but  not  more  sincere,  than  that  which,  by  your 
kindness,  here  finds  a  place  amidst  *'  The  Annals  of  the  American  Pulpit.'^ 

Yours  very  truly, 

D.  H.  RIDDLE. 


-♦♦- 


ERSKINE  MASON,  D.  D  * 

1826-1851. 

Erskine  Mason  was  the  youngest  child  of  the  Rev.  John  M.  and  Anna 
(Lefferts)  Mason,  and  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  April  16,  1805. 
He  was  named  in  honour  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Erskinc  of  Edinburgh,  froui 
whom  his  father  had  received  many  expressions  of  kindness,  while  pursuing 
his  theological  stadios  in  that  city.  His  childhood  was  marked  by  uncomr> 
mon  intelligence  and  spirit,  but  not  by  any  remarkable  sedateness  or  love 
of  study.  In  his  twelfth  year,  he  went  to  Schenectady  to  reside  in  the- 
family  of  his  brother-in-law,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Van  Vechten ;  and  there,  under 
the  instruction  of  the  Rev.  Daniel  H.  Barnes,  his  mind  rapidlf  mattrred, 
and  he  acquired  a  stability  and  sobriety  of  character,  which  gave  promise  of 
a  life  of  respectability  and  usefulness. 

When  his  father,  at  the  beginning  of  1822,  removed  to  CarlisTe,  and 
heoame  President  of  Dickinson  College,  Erskine  accompanied  him,  and 
became  a  member  of  the  College.     In  the  autumn  of  that  year^  James  Hall^ 

*  Momoir  prefixed  to  his  Bermonfl. 

Vol.  17.  Sd 


foe  PRESBTTEBIAX. 

an  elder  son  of  Pr.  Mason,  and  a  youth  ef  fine  talents  and  great  puritjaad 
elevation  of  clianicter,  who  bad  just  graduated  at  College,  was  snddenl^ 
stricken  down  by  deatb.  The  event  produced  a  great  effect  on  the  minds 
of  the  students,  and,  shortly  after,  there  was  a  very  general  attention  t^ 
religion  in  the  institution,  and  many  promising  young  men  gave  evidence  of 
being  renewed  in  the  temper  of  their  minds.  Of  this  number  was  Erskine 
Mason. 

Having  entered  College  at  an  advanced  standing,  he  graduated  in  1823. 
He  spent  a  considerable  part  of  the  next  year  at  Baltimore,  pursuing  hia 
theological  studies  under  the  direction  of  his  cousin,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Duneaiu 
In  the  summer  session  of  1825,  he  joined  the  Middle  class  of  the  Theo- 
logical Seminary  at  Prinoeton,  where  he  completed  his  professional  eda* 
cation. 

He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Second  Presbytery  of  New  York  in 
1826,  and,  on  the  20th  of  October,  of  the  same  year,  was  ordained  by  the 
same  Presbytery,  in  the  Scotch  Presbyterian  Church,  New  York.  On  the 
8d  of  May,  1827,  he  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Schenectady. 

On  the  26th  of  September,  1827,  he  was  married  by  his  father  to  Ann, 
daughter  of  Dr.  Samuel  A.  M'Coskry,  and  granddaughter  of  the  celebrated 
Dr.  Nisbet,  President  of  Dickinson  College.  Mrs.  Mason,  with  three 
daughters  and  one  son,  survive  the  husband  and  father. 

The  Congregation  at  Schenectady,  of  which  Mr.  Mason  became  Pastor, 
had  in  it  much  more  than  a  common  degree  of  intelligence,  particnl&rlj  as 
it  included  most  of  the  officers  and  students  of  the  College ;  but  his  ser- 
mons, from  the  beginning,  were  uncommonly  rich  in  thought,  were  elabo- 
rated with  great  care,  and  while  they  were  acceptable  to  all,  were  especially 
so  to  the  more  cultivated  and  reflecting  portion  of  his  hearers. 

The  Bleecker  Street  Presbyterian  Church  in  New  York  having  become 
vacant  by  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Matthias  Bruen,  at  the  close  of  1829,  Mr. 
Mason  was  unanimously  called  to  supply  this  important  vacancy ;  and 
on  the  10th  of  September,  1830,  his  installation,  as  Pastor  of  that  Church 
took  place. 

In  February,  1836,  he  accepted  the  Professorship  of  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  and  held  it  till  1842. 

When  the  division  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Ghureh 
.occurred  in  1888,  Mr.  Mason,  with  his  Presbytery,  fell  upon  the  New 
.School  side.  He  is  understood  to  have  had  a  very  strong  conviction  that 
that  was  the  right  side. 

In  1837,  he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Columbia 
College.  He  was  invited,  at  different  periods,  to  take  the  charge  of  several 
prominent  churches  in  his  denomination,  but  he  uniformly  returned  a  nega- 
tive answer. 

In  the  year  1846,  by  request  of  his  own  people,  who  felt  that  he  needed  a 
season  of  relaxation,  he  crossed  the  ocean,  and  passed  several  months  in 
travelling  in  Europe.  He  returned  much  gratified  with  his  tour,  and 
resumed  his  labours  with  invigorated  health  and  increased  alacrity.  At  this 
time,  every  thing  indicated  that  there  were  many  years  of  active  usefulness 
before  him.  And  thus  it  continued  until  within  less  than  a  year  of  his 
death.  In  August,  1850,  on  his  return  from  his  annual  visit  to  the  country, 
he  felt  an  unwonted  debility  and  prostration,  which,  though  dt  first  little 


BRSKIKB  MASON.  70"/ 

I  heeded,  soon  oecasioned  serious  alarm.     He  had,  however,  so  far  recovered 

I  before  the  close  of  the  year,  that  he  was  able  to  prepare  a  sermon  for  the 

I  New  Year,  which  proved  to  be  the  last  sermon  he  ever  preached.     He  was 

I  80  feeble,  when  he  delivered  it,  that  he  was  obliged  to  sit  daring  the  eser- 

I  cise.     His  text  was — '*  I  said,  Oh  my  God,  take  me  not  away  in  the  midst 

i  of  my  days ;"  and  the  sad  apprehensions  of  his  beloved  people  gave  to  it, 

at  the  time,  the  character  of  a  prophecy.      It  was  delivered  with  great 
I  emotion,  and  was  received  as  the  testimony  of  a  dying  pastor.     From  this 

time  it  became  but  too  apparent  that  he  was  gradaally  sinking  under  the 
,  power  of  an  insidious  disease,  and  that  nothing  remained  for  him  but  to 

glorify  his  Master  by  patient  endurance.     He  had  himself  a  strong  desire 
I  to  live,  but  it  was  rather  for  the  sake  of  his  femily,  of  the  Church,  and  the 

cause  of  truth  and  righteousness,  than  for  his  own  sake.  As  the  indica- 
tions of  his  approaching  departure  became  decisive,  his  mind  evidently 
stayed  itself  in  perfect  confidence  on  God.  When  the  last  moment  came, 
he  declared, — *'  It  is  all  bright  and  clear."  On  the  14th  of  May,  1851,  as 
he  was  sitting  in  his  chair,  he  breathed  his  last  without  a  struggle.  An 
Address  was  delivered  at  his  Funeral  by  the  Eev.  Dr.  William  Adams,  and 
a  Sermon  in  reference  to  his  death  was  subsequently  preached  by  the  Eev. 
Dr.  Cox.     Both  were  published. 

The  day  before  Dr.  Mason's  death,  he  expressed  his  regret  that  he  had 
not  selected  a  few  of  his  sermons  for  publication,  that  thus  he  might  still 
continue  to  preach  to  his  people  after  he  was  gone.  It  was  too  late  for  him 
then  even  to  make  any  suggestions  on  the  subject ;  but  a  selection  from  his 
manuscript  sermons  was  subsequently  made,  and  published  in  1853,  in  a 
volume  entitled  **  A  Pastor's  Legacy,"  to  which  is  prefixed  a  biographical 
notice  of  Dr.  Mason,  by  his  friend  the  Rev.  Dr.  Adams. 

The  following  Discourses  of  Dr.  Mason  were  published  during  his  life 
time  : — A  Sermon  on  Parental  privilege  and*^6bligation,  1834.  A  Sermon 
entitled  **A  Rebuke  to  the  worldly  ambition  of  the  present  age,"  1836.  A 
Sermon  on  the  Subject  and  Spirit  of  the  Ministry,  preached  before  the 
Synod  of  New  York,  1838.  A  New  Year's  Sermon,  published  in  the 
National  Preacher,  1846.  A  Sermon  on  Victory  over  Death  occasioned 
by  the  death  of  John  E.  Hyde,  1845.  A  New  Year's  Sermon,  published 
in  the  National  Preacher,  1848.  fA  Sermon  entitled  **An  Evangelical 
Ministry  the  security  of  a  nation,"  preached  before  the  American  Home 
Missionary  Society,  1848.  A  Sermon  entitled  "Signs  of  the  times,"  before 
the  Foreign  Missionary  Society  of  New  York  and  Brooklyn,  1850. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  ADAMS,  D.  D. 

New  York,  4th  September,  1854. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  You  have  requested  me  to  communicate  to  you  some  of 
my  personal  recollections  of  the  late  Rev.  Erskine  Mason,  D.  D.  In  another 
form  I  have  endeavoured  to  give  a  sketch  of  his  life  and  character.  I  am  greatly 
impressed  with  the  imperfections  of  that  Memoir.  How  difficult  is  it  to  embody 
in  form  that  image  of  a  friend,  which  lives  in  the  heart!  Art  has  invented  no 
process  by  which  that  memory  can  be  translated.  The  elements  which  compose 
our  estimate  of  a  friend's  character  are  too  delicate  and  subtle  to  be  analyzed 
and  separated  by  instruments  so  coarse  as  pen  and  pencil.  It  is  impossible  to 
convey  to  others,  especially  if  they  are  strangers,  a  correct  impression  of  a 
deceased  man. 


708  PRESBYTERIAN. 

Dr.  Mason,  when  I  first  saw  him,  was  in  the  twenty-ninth  year  of  his 
He  was  then  the  Pastor  of  the  Bleecker  Street  Church  in  this  city.  I  was  gre^tijr 
impressed  with  the  manliness  and  dignity  of  his  form.  It  was  in  the  street  that 
I  received  my  introduction  to  him.  I  recall,  at  this  distance  of  time,  certain 
particulars  of  dress,  manner,  and  speech,  which  conyinced  me,  on  a  first  inter- 
view, that  he  was  serious  without  being  sanctimonious,  independent  but  not 
singular, — a  vigorous  man  without  a  particle  of  affectation.  This  first  impres* 
sion  was  deepened  and  confirmed  by  an  intimacy  of  nearly  twenty  years.  As  a 
man  and  a  preacher,  there  was  such  a  purity  and  simplicity  to  his  character,  that 
the  eye  took  it  in  at  a  glance.  It  required  no  prolonged  study  to  solve  it,  like  an 
involved  equation.  He  was  a  strong,  substantial,  honest  man.  So  you  would 
have  judged,  meeting  him  in  private,  or  listening  to  him  in  the  pulpit.  There 
was  no  pretension,  no  varnish,  no  gilding,  no  attempt  to  appear  more  and  greater 
than  he  was. 

His  style  of  preaching  was  rigorously  intellectual.     Some  thought  him  inclined 
too  much  to  metaphysical  demonstration.     The  constitution  of  his  mind  made 
proof  necessary  to  himself.     It  was  his  highest  pleasure  to  acquaint  others  with 
the  processes  by  which  that  conviction  was  attained.     He  had  the  highest  ideas 
of  the  office  of  a  Christian  minister  as  a  teacher.      Numbering  among   hia 
auditors  some  of  the  most  distinguished  jurists  of  the  country,  it  was  at  once  his 
delight  and  duty  to  show  them  the  retisons  of  that  faith  which  he  preached. 
Demonstration  with  him  was  no  affectation  of  skill  and  learning.    It  was  honest, 
manly  reasoning,  by  which  he  sought  to  commend  the  truth  to  every  man's  con- 
science in  the  sight  of  Qod.     Greatly  mistaken,  however,  are  they  who  suppose 
that  the  processes  of  argument  in  which  Dr.  Mason  was  so  strong,  were  dry 
and  barren.     The  one  quality  which  characterized  his  discourse  was  reUgi€nt9 
pathos.     A  masculine  imagination  gave  a  glow  and  warmth  to  all  his  appeals. 
His  demonstrations  were  tremulous  with  emotion,  and  his  proofs  were  with 
power,  because  they  were  so  earnest  and  sincere.     Dr.  Mason  was  certainly  a 
remarkable  preacher.     It  was  never  my  privilege  to  hear  his  gifted  father.     But 
the  points  of  contrast  and  comparison,  I  should  think,  were  very  striking.     The 
discourses  of  the  son  were  written  with  the  utmost  care.     Dependant  little  upon 
the  excitements  of  occasions  and  circumstances,  they  lose  none  of  their  value 
and  force,  when  transferred  from  the  pulpit  to  the  press. 

Dignified,  courteous,  kind,  I  do  not  believe  that  Dr.  Mason  left  an  enemy.  He 
WHS  of  that  happy  organization  which  excites  admiration  without  jealousy,  and 
was  so  considerate  and  just  towards  others,  that  all  were  pleased  to  acknowledge 
what  was  due  to  himself. 

Seldom  travelling  abroad,  he  sedulously  addicted  himself  to  the  labours  of  his 
own  pulpit,  and  was  the  most  prized  by  that  congregation  in  whose  service  he 
expended  the  best  part  of  his  life.  Those  characters  are  of  the  best  quality 
which  are  the  most  esteemed  at  home.  Three  years  and  more  have  elapsed 
since  his  decease,  and  many  are  there  who  will  never  cease  to  deplore  his  early 
death,  in  the  very  vigour  of  his  manhood,  as  a  great  public  bereavement. 

Very  respectfully, 

Your  friend  and  servant, 

W.  ADAMS. 

FROM  THE  REV.  JAMES  W.  MoLANE,  D.  D. 

Brooklyn,  June  20,  1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  became  personally  acquainted  with  the  Rev.  Erskine  Mason, 

D.  D.,  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  1836.     He  had  then  been  for  some  six  years 

the  Pastor  of  the  Bleecker  Street  Presbyterian  Church.     Circumstances,  which 

need  not  be  mentioned  here,  brought  us  frequetitly  and  familiarly  together,  and 


SRSKINE  MASON.  709 

I  soon  fbnned  an  attachment  to  him,  which  constantly  grew  stronger  to  the  day 
of  his  death.  Uis  character  was  not  rendered  the  less  attractive  by  a  near 
approach,  nor  was  any  man's  esteem  for  him  diminished  by  increasing  familiarity. 
An  increase  of  knowledge  here  was  not  followed  by  an  increase  of  sorrow 
as  it  often  is. 

Objects,  I  know,  when  seen  at  a  distance,  seem  different  from  what  they  do 
upon  a  closer  inspection.  The  mountain  range  afar  off  looks  smooth,  anbroken 
by  any  chasms  or  irregularities;  but  when  viewed  from  a  nearer  position,  the 
perfect  form  disappears,  and  the  irr^ularities  become  visible.  Dr.  Mason,  like 
all  other  men,  had  bis  defects.  But  whatever  they  were,  there  was  no  gulf 
between  the  inner  and  outer  man.  He  was  found,  upon  close  acquaintance,  to 
be  what  at  first  he  appeared  to  be.  Ue  had  none  of  that  mysterious  outward 
air,  or  formal  exterior,  which  had  to  be  worn  away  by  long  and  familiar 
intercourse,  before  you  could  find  your  way  to  his  heart,  and  discover  the  high 
qualities  which  existed  there.  Uis  heart  was  in  his  face— his  meaning  in  his 
expressions.     There  was  no  guile  in  him. 

In  a  great  city,  every  pastor  has  his  trials — his  temptations.  Among  these, 
the  influence  of  wealth  is  not  the  least.  The  minister  of  the  Gospel  is  strongly 
tempted  to  discriminate  according  to  the  outward  appearance,  and  to  surround 
himself  with  those  whom  the  world  calls  great.  Dr.  Mason  exhibited  no  leaning 
in  this  direction — ^he  was  not  drawn  from  his  proper  orbit  by  this  disturbing 
influence.  Ilis  course  was  regulated  by  the  principle  upon  which  Themistocles 
acted  in 'the  advice  he  gave  his  daughter  in  reference  to.  marriage — ^he  preferred 
the  man  without  the  money,  to  the  money  without  the  man.  He  drew  around 
him  men  good  and  true — men  of  intellect  and  of  heart;  and  in  them  he  delighted. 
He  did  not  affect  notoriety,  or  seek,  in  one  way  or  another,  to  keep  himself  before 
the  public  eye.  He  never  advertised  his  own  performances,  or  tried  to  attract 
hearers  by  novelty,  either  in  his  subjects  or  his  modes  of  treating  them.  Far 
was  he  removed  from  that  class  described  by  Junius  as  the  men  whom  the 
gentle  breath  of  peace  leaves  upon  the  surface,  unknown  and  unfelt,  and  whom 
nothing  but  the  storm  brings  into  notice.  He  loved  peace.  The  quiet,  unosten> 
tatious  work  of  a  devoted  pastor  was  congenial  with  his  feelings.  He  lived  in 
the  affections  of  his  people. 

Dr.  Mason  was  a  man  of  excellent  judgment.  To  no  one  did  his  brethren  in 
the  ministry  more  generally  resort  for  counsel,  and  seldom  has  any  one  had 
reason  to  regret  having  acted  in  accordance  with  his  opinion.  During  the  fifteen 
years  of  our  intimate  acquaintance,  I  had  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing  the 
soundness  of  his  judgment  fully  tested.  During  those  years  there  were  times 
of  intense  excitement  and  of  great  extravagance  in  theological  opinion  and 
ecclesiastical  practice.  But  during  all  those  conflicts  of  sentiment  and  feeling,  Dr. 
Mason  was  always  found  the  advocate  for  doing  all  things  decently  and  in  order. 
With  him  new  things  were  not  always  true,  and  true  things  were  as  seldom  new. 
H^  believed  indeed  in  progress;  but  he  did  not  believe  that  the  true  method 
of  Advancing  was  to  forsake  the  old  landmarks,  or  discard  the  demonstrated 
wLsdom  of  other  days,  nor  did  he  dream  that  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  had 
been  discovered  in  his  own  age. 

Dr.  Mason  was  intimately  connected  with  the  origin  and  progress  of  the 
Union  Theological  Seminary  in  the  city  of  New  York.  Among  the  nine  per- 
sons,— four  ministers  and  five  laymen,  who  met  at  a  private  house  in  October, 
1835,  to  consult  in  regard  to  establishing  such  an  institution,  he  was  one.  From 
the  beginning,  his  spirit  was  fully  in  sympathy  with  the  movement.  He  was  one 
of  the  original  members  of  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  Seminary;  assisted  in 
giving  instruction;  and  I  may  add  that  the  success  which  has  attended  this 
School  of  the  Prophets  is,  in  no  small  degree,  owing  to  the  wisdom  of  his  coun- 
sels.   When  a  new  President  of  the  institution  was  to  be  chosen  in  1840,  the 


710  PBESBTTSBIAir. 

minds  of  the  Board  tnraed  with  entire  mittnimity  upon  Dr.  Mason;  and  he  would 
undoubtedly  have  been  chosen,  hot  that  he  would  not  allow  his  name  to  be  put 
in  nomination. 

As  a  preacher,  I  may  safely  say  that  he  had  few  equals.  Others  may  hare 
possessed  more  vigour  of  imagination,  and  greater  powers  of  extemporaneous 
speaking;  but  for  a  firm  grasp  of  truth,  and  the  ability  to  conduct  an  argument 
with  logical  accuracy,  and  to  throw  the  conclusion  into  the  brightest  sunlight — 
for  what  Cousin  calls  the  mathematics  of  thought,  he  had  scarcely  any  equals. 
Herein  lay  his  great  str^gth.  Men  listened  to  his  argument  as  they  would  to 
a  demonstration  in  Euclid,  or  to  an  analysis  in  Algebra,  and  were  bound  fast  by 
it.  His  sermons  were  prepared  with  great  care.  He  was  not  wont  to  bring  other 
than  beaten  oil  into  the  sanctuary.  £ven  his  weekly  lectures  were  carefully 
prepared,  and  were  usually  delivered  from  a  brief  before  him.  In  his  preaching 
he  dealt  much  with  the  conscience  of  his  hearers.  He  made  the  law  of  God 
speak  out.  Men  saw  their  obligations  and  felt  their  guilt,  and  were  thus  urged 
to  seek  a  refuge  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

The  death  of  Dr.  Mason  threw  a  general  air  of  sadness  over  the  city.  The 
feeling  was  universal  that  a  great  and  good  man  had  fallen  in  Israel,  and  &Ilea 
in  the  midst  of  his  days.  Though  the  grave  has  closed  over  him,  and  even  the 
very  sanctuary  in  which  he  ministered  has  disappeared,  and  men  lay  up  the 
treasures  of  earth  on  the  very  spot  where  this  faithful  minister  of  the  Gospel 
urged  them  to  lay  up  the  treasures  of  Heaven,  it  is  grateful  to  reflect  that  his 
powerful  ministrations, — ^his  works  of  faith,  and  labours  of  love,  are  still  silently, 
but  certainly,  accomplishing  their  end,  in  advancing  the  great  interests  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Christ. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

jr.  W.  McLANE. 


-•♦■ 


ICHABOD  SMITH  SPENCER,  D.  D  * 

1826—1864. 

IcHABOD  Smith  Spencer  was  a  descendant,  in  the  seventh  generation, 
from  Thomas  Spencer,  one  of  the  first  settlers  of  Hartford,  Conn.,  who  died 
in  1687.  The  son  of  th^s  Thomas  Spencer  settled  in  SufBeld,  in  the  same 
State,  where  the  family  resided  until  about  1786,  wben  Phineas  Spencer, 
the  father  of  the  subject  of  this  notice,  removed  to  Rupert  in  the  State  of 
Vermont.  Here  he  was  bom  on  the  23d  of  February,  1798, — the  youngest 
but  one  of  eleven  ohildren.  He  lost  his  father  when  he  was  seventeen,  but 
his  mother's  death  occurred  only  three  years  before  his  own.  His  father 
was  a  farmer  in  comfortable  circumstances,  able  and  willing,  it  would  seem, 
to  give  this  son,  whose  early  intellectual  developments  were  somewhat 
remarkable,  a  collegiate  education;  but,  for  some  reason,  he  remained  at 
home  till  after  his  father's  death,  enjoying  only  the  advantages  of  a  common 
school.  His  parents  being  neither  of  them  professors  of  religion,  though 
persons  of  exemplary  moral  habits,  little  attention  was  paid  to  his  religious 
education,  and  bis  early  years  seem  to  have  been  an  unbroken  scene  of 
thoughtlessness  and  gaiety. 

•  Memoir  by  Rev.  J.  M.  Sherwood. — MS.  firom  Mn.  Spenoer. 


ICHABOB  BKITH  SPSNGER.  72.][ 

The  death  ot  his  father,  which  ooenrred  in  1815,  marked  a  decisive  epoch 
in  the  history  of  his  life.  The  year  after  this  event,  and  in  consequence  of 
it,  he  left  home, — the  first  step,  it  would  seem,  towards  that  eminent  posi- 
tion which  he  was  destined  ultimately  to  occupy.  Providence  directed  him 
to  the  town  of  Granville,  Washington  Oounty,  N.  Y.,  where,  for  about  a 
year,  he  was  engaged  in  manual  labour.  During  his  residence  here,  he 
became  the  hopeful  subject  of  a  revival  of  religion,  and  made  a  public  pro- 
fession of  his  faith  by  joining  the  Oongregational  Church  of  Middle  Gran- 
ville, then  under  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Bev.  Nathaniel  Hall.  Being 
regarded  as  a  young  man  of  decided  talent,  and  as  giving  good  evidence  of 
piety,  it  was  strongly  recommended  to  him  to  devote  himself  to  the  ministry. 
In  pursuance  with  ihis  advice,  and  in  conformity  with  his  own  feelings  and 
convictions,  he  soon  after  entered  the  Academy  at  Salem  in  the  same  county, 
where  he  remained  until  he  was  fitted  for  College.  Here  he  profited  much 
by  the  ministry  and  friendship  of  the  venerable  Dr.  PrOudfit,  who  was  dis- 
tinguished for  the  interest  he  took  in  young  men,  struggling  with  difficulties 
in  the  effort  to  obtain  an  education.  He  sustained  himself,  while  at  the 
Academy,  partly  by  teaching.  He  also  went  through  a  course  of  medical 
reading  with  the  student  who  occupied  the  same  room  with  him  at  Salem ; 
and  this  he  was  able  to  turn  to  good  account,  in  after  life,  in  many  of  his 
visits  to  the  poor. 

He  entered  the  Sophomore  class  of  Union  College  in  1819,  and  graduated 
in  1822,  at  the  age  of  twenty- four,  with  a  high  reputation  for  both  talents 
and  scholarship.  At  this  period,  he  seems  to  have  been  somewhat 
undecided  in  regard  to  a  profession.  He  thought  seriously  of  the  Law,  and 
actually  commenced  a  course  of  study  in  that  direction ;  but,  instead  of 
continuing  it,  he  accepted  an  invitation  to  take  charge  of  the  grammar 
school  in  Schenectady.  Here  he  remained  about  three  years,  and  acquired 
great  distinction  as  a  teacher.  Having  already  given  considerable  attention 
to  Medicine  and  Law,  he  engaged  now  in  the  study  of  Theology  under  the 
direction  of  the  Eev.  Dr.  Andrew  Yates,  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  in 
Union  College ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  made  himself  quite  familiar  with 
several  of  the  Indian  dialects. 

In  the  autumn  of  1825,  he  removed  to  Canandaigna,  in  Western  New 
York,  having  been  chosen  Principal  of  the  Academy  in  that  place.  That 
institution,  though  well  endowed,  had  greatly  declined  in  prosperity ;  but, 
by  his  vigorous  and  well  directed  efforts,  he  quickly  succeeded  in  imparting 
to  it  new  life,  and  raising  it  to  a  commanding  position  among  the  primary 
educational  institutions  of  the  State.  In  connection  with  his  laborious 
duties  in  the  school,  he  continued  his  theological  studies  until  he  was  quali- 
fied to  preach  the  Gospel.  He  received  licensure  in  November,  1826,  from 
the  Presbytery  of  Geneva.  He  continued  his  connection  with  the  Academy 
nearly  two  years  afier  this,  preaching  frequently  on  the  Sabbath  in 
the  neighbouring  pulpits,  and  giving  all  the  time  be  could  spare  from  his 
engagements  in  the  school,  to  theological  study. 

In  May,  1828,  he  was  married,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  to  Hannah, 
youngest  daughter  of  John  Magoffin.  Mrs.  Spencer,  with  four  children, 
survives  her  husband. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year,  Mr.  Spencer  received  and  accepted  a  call 
from  the  Congregational  Church  in  Northampton,  Mass.  He  was  ordained 
as  Colleague   Pastor  with  the  Rev.  Solomon  Williams,  on   the   11th  of 


712  FSESBTTSBIAN. 

September  following.  Here  he  continued  laboumg  with  most  nnthing  zeal 
and  energy,  and  with  remarkable  success,  three  years  and  a  half.  Daring 
the  years  1830  and  1831,  a  very  extensive  and  powerful  revival  occurred  in 
connection  with  his  labours,  which  tasked  all  his  energies  so  intensely  and 
incessantly,  and  for  so  long  a  time,  that  he  found,  at  the  close  of  it,  that 
his  health  was  giving  way,  and  that  even  the  continuance  of  his  life 
probably  depended  on  his  taking  some  less  laborious  charge.  Accordingly, 
with  great  reluctance,  and  much  to  the  regret  of  his  people,  he  determined 
on  a  removal ;  and  he  soon  accepted  a  call  from  a  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  He  was  installed  there  on  the  23d  of  March,  1832  ;  and 
this  was  his  last  field  of  ministerial  labour. 

The  church  of  which  he  now  took  charge  was  in  its  infancy ;  but,  by  Lis 
great  wisdom,  and  energy,  and  almost  unexampled  industry,  in  connection 
with  a  rich  blessing  from  on  high,  he  succeeded  in  raising  it  into  one  of  the 
most  prosperous  and  efficient  churches  in  the  Presbyterian  denomination. 

In  1836,  he  accepted  the  Professorship  Extraordinary  of  Biblical  History 
in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary  in  the  city  of  New  York,  and  retained 
it  for  about  four  years.  He  was  one  of  the  Founders  and  original  Directora 
of  that  institution ;  though,  by  reason  of  some  considerations,  partly  of  a 
personal,  and  partly  of  a  public  nature,  ho  ultimately  resigned  the  office 
both  of  Professor  and  of  Director. 

In  the  great  controversy  which  divided  the  Presbyterian  Church  in 
1837-38,  he  held  somewhat  of  a  neutral  attitude,  not  fully  sympathizing 
with  either  party.  His  preference,  however,  on  the  whole,  was  for  the  Old 
School,  as  was  evinced  by  his  always  continuing  in  that  connection. 

In  1841,  he  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Hamilton  College. 

Though  Dr.  Spencer  suffi^rcd  not  a  little  during  his  ministry  from  physi- 
cal derangement,  and  especially  from  a  diseased 'state  of  the  nervous  system, 
his  public  labours  were  very  little  interrupted  by  sickness  until  the  last 
year  or  two  of  his  life.  In  the  spring  of  1852,  his  people,  perceiving  that 
his  health  was  seriously  impaired,  proposed  to  him  to  intermit  his  labours 
for  a  season,  and  try  the  effect  of  a  voyage  to  Europe.  But,  instead  of 
carrying  out  their  wish,  he  made  a  hasty  trip  to  Savannah,  and  in  a  few 
weeks  was  again  at  his  post,  as  laboriously  engaged  as  ever.  His  last  attack 
occurred  early  in  January,  1854 ;  and  its  severity  obliged  him  at  once  to 
suspend  all  labour.  In  May  he  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  take  a  journey 
to  the  White  Sulphur  Springs  of  Virginia,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Spencer, 
and  his  eldest  son,  who  was  also  an  invalid.  After  six  weeks,  he  returned 
so  much  improved  as  to  preach  again  to  his  people  until  the  close  of  July. 
After  that,  he  visited  Sharon  Springs,  Saratoga,  and  other  places,  in  quest 
of  health  ;  but  his  torturing  malady  yielded  to  nothing.  He  returned  home 
about  the  middle  of  October,  and  it  now  became  apparent  that  his  case  was 
beyond  the  reach  of  medical  aid.  He  went  to  his  chamber  for  the  last  time 
on  the  28th  of  that  month,  and,  after  about  four  weeks  of  the  most  intense 
bodily  anguish,  passed  away  in  perfect  peace,  and  in  the  joyful  hope  of  a 
blessed  iuunortality.  He  died  on  the  23d  of  November,  1854.  The 
Funeral  services  were  attended  at  the  Church  on  the  Sabbath  following, 
and  a  Sermon  preached  on  the  occasion  by  the  Bey.  Dr.  Spring,  of  New 
York,  which  has  been  published. 


ICHABOB  suns  SFIVCEB.  '    71$ 

The  high  esitmaie  in  which  Dr.  Spencer  was  held,  was  sufficiently  evinced 
by  the  efforts  that  were  made  to  secure  his  services  in  various  important 
fields  of  ministerial  labour.  In  18S0,  he  was  called  to  the  Presidency  of 
the  University  of  Alabama,  and  in  1832,  to  the  Presidency  of  Hamilton  Col« 
lege.  About  the  time  of  his  leaviug  Northampton,  he  received  a  call  from 
Park  Street  Church,  Boston,  and  overtures  on  the  same  subject  were  again 
made  to  him  by  the  same  Church  in  1835.  In  1833,  he  received  a  unani- 
mous call  to  the  Essex  Street  Church,  Boston.  Many  formal  calls  were 
put  into  his  hands,  and  many  overtures  made  to  him,  from  Churches  io  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  Newark,  Buffalo,  Ciucinnati,  and  various  other  impor* 
tant  places.  In  1853,  he  was  elected  to  the  Professornhip  of  Pastoral 
Theology  in  the  East  Windsor  Theological  Seminary.  None  of  these  calls 
tempted  him  away  from  his  chosen  "field, — though  they  were  unequivocal 
evidences  of  his  distinguished  worth  and  ability. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Spencer's  publications: — A  Discourse 
occasioned  by  the  Great  Fire  in  New  York,  1835.  A  Discourse  ou  the 
Claims  of  Seamen,  1836.  A  Sermon  preached  the  Sabbath  after  the  death 
of  General  Harrison,  1841.  A  Sermon  on  the  day  of  the  National  Fast, 
observed  on  account  of  the  death  of  the  President  of  the  United  States, 
1841.  A  Sermon  in  the  National  Preacher  on  Living  and  Walking  in  the 
Spirit,  1841.  A  Sermon  on  the  comparative  claims  of  Home  and  Foreign 
Missions,  1843.  A  Sermon  in  the  National  Preacher,  entitled  ''Solomon's 
experience  and  observation — Hatred  of  Life,"  1849.  A  Sermon  on  the 
Necessity  of  the  Sufferings  of  Christ.  A  Sermon  on  the  Fugitive  Slave 
Law,  1850.  A  Pastor's  Sketches,  or  Conversations  with  Anxious  Inquirers 
respecting  the  Way  of  Salvation,  1850.  A  Pastor's  Sketches,  Second 
Series,  1853.  [These  Sketches  have  been  republished  in  England,  and  have 
also  been  translated  into  the  French  language,  and  published  in  France.] 

Since  the  death  of  Dr.  Spencer,  two  volumes  of  his  Sermons  have  been 
published,  in  connection  with  a  Memoir  of  hb  life  by  the  Kev.  J.  M. 
Sherwood. 


FROM  THE  REV.  GARDINER  SPRING,  D.  D. 

Bbiok  Church  Ghapkl,  New  York,  > 
January  9, 1855.  ) 

My  dear  Brother:  It  is  a  pleasant  yet  a  painful  task,  to  comply  with  your 
request  in  regard  to  our  deceased  brother,  Spencer.  I  have  so  many  years 
enjoyed  the  privilege  of  such  fraternal  intercourse  with  him,  that  to  speak  of  him 
gratifies  me,  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  opens  the  wound  inflicted  by  his  depar- 
ture, afresh.     The  following  imperfect  sketch  is  the  best  I  can  now  furnish  you. 

It  is  characteristic  of  the  best  ministers  that  they  are  best  at  home,  and  most 
distinguished  in  their  own  pulpits.  There  was  no  *'  flourish  of  trumpets"  with 
Dr.  Spencer,  when  he  went  abroad.  He  was  not  demonstrative  in  his  nature, 
nor  eager  fur  the  praise  of  men.  He  was  emulous,  but  it  was  mainly  to  magnify 
the  truths  of  God^  and  do  good  to  the  souls  of  men.  No  man  was  less  desirous 
than  he  to  *'  create  a  sensation"  and  set  the  world  aghast  by  his  preaching.  Yet 
was  he  exclusively  devoted  to  his  work.  His  heart,  his  thoughts,  his  studies 
and  attainments,  his  time,  his  interests,  his  influence  and  his  life,  were  given  to 
the  ministry.  Few  ministers  of  the  Everlasting  Qospel,  if  any,  are  more  indus* 
trious;  and  few  have  less  occasion  to  lament  misspent  and  wasted  hours.  The 
result  was  that  he  became  one  of  the  best  and  moat  efiective  preachers  of  th& 

7ol.  IV.  90 


714    '  FRMBTTBUAK. 

age.  Few  habitiumj  «pijce  like  bim  in  diaeoarses  of  raeh  iiiBtriietivene88»  such 
attractive  persuasion,  such  withering  rebuke  of  wickedness,  or  such  bappy 
effects  upon  the  minds  of  men.  He  spake  ''the  things  which  became  sounci 
doctrine,"  and  declared  *'the  whole  counsel  of  God."  He  was  cautious  and 
wise,  but  he  was  urgent  and  in  earnest.  He  was  often  tender  to  weeping,  yet 
was  he  a  most  fearless  preacher.  There  was  a  large  commingling  of  the  "  Son 
of  Consolation"  with  the  "  Son  of  Thunder"  in  his  character.  I  have  heard 
him  say  that  he  did  not  know  what  it  was  to  be  ensnared  or  embarrassed  iri 
preaching  God's  truth,  and  that  the  thought  of  being  afraid  to  utter  it,  because  it 
was  unpopular,  never  once  entered  his  mind.  There  was  something  of  nature 
in  this,  and  more  of  grace;  he  was  fearless  of  men,  because  he  feared  God.  There 
was  great  variety  in  his  preaching ;  he  was  not  confined  to  a  few  thread-bare 
topics;  his  mind  and  heart  took  a  wide  range,  and  brought  out  of  his  treasure 
"  things  both  new  and  old."  Nor  was  he  given  to  crude  and  imperfect  prepa- 
rations for  the  pulpit :  a  volume  of  sermons  might  be  selected  from  his  mano- 
scripts,  which  would  be  a  beautiful  model  for  the  youthful  ministry,  and  a  great 
comfort  to  the  Church  of  God.  His  Sabbath  Evening  Lectures  on  the  Shorter 
Catechism,  as  well  as  portions  of  his  Lectures  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  will 
not  easily  be  forgotten  by  those  who  heard  them. 

In  his  st^'le  of  writing,  and  in  his  stylo  and  manner  of  preaching,  he  was 
manly,  strong,  and  energetic,  rather  than  rhetorical.  His  thoughts  were 
weighty;  his  imagination  rich;  but  they  were  sweet  thoughts  and  hallowed 
imaginations.  He  had  no  verbiage.  I  know  no  man  whose  piety  and  taste 
more  instinctively  revolted  from  the  ostentation  of  words:  his  words  were  sim- 
pie  and  *'  fitly  spoken,"  and  his  style  remarkably  terse  and  sententious.  There 
was  now  and  then  an  iron  nerve  about  his  discourses  and  manner,  and  a  flash 
of  thought,  that  were  startling,  and  that  broke  upon  his  hearers  like  a  voice  of 
thunder.  Yet,  with  all  this  startling  boldness,  there  was  sweetness,  humility, 
and  meekness,  and  those  deep  and  realizing  views  of  Divine  truth  which  indi- 
cated that  he  was  taught  of  God.  It  was  not  difficult  to  perceive  that  he  was  no 
stranger  to  the  duties  of  the  closet.  In  his  own  pulpit,  his  prayers  were  distin- 
guished, not  only  for  their  devotional  spirit,  but  for  their  appropriateness  and 
variety.  Those  who  have  heard  him  most  and  longest,  and  most  attentively, 
have  remarked  that  they  never  knew  any  thing  like  repetition  in  his  prayers,  and 
never  enjoyed  such  variety  of  sacred  thought  and  emotion  as  they  enjoyed  from 
his  devotional  exercises. 

He  excefled  also  as  a  preacher.  His  parochial  duties  were  his  labour  and 
delight.  There  was  great  faithfulness,  great  painstaking,  and  even  great  tad  in 
his  pastoral  services.  The  life  of  a  pastor  consists,  in  no  small  degree,  in  the 
study  of  personal  character,  and  in  the  study  and  exhibition  of  those  Divine 
truths  that  are  adapted  to  the  character  and  experience  of  those  committed  to 
his  charge.  Dr.  Spencer's  *'  Pastoral  Sketches," — ^a  work  of  great  interest  in 
itself,  and  great  value  to  ministers,  and  to  all  inquiring  minds,  illustrates  his 
great  excellence  in  this  department  of  ministerial  labour.  His  acquaintance 
with  the  spiritual  history  of  his  people  gave  him  prodigious  advantage  over  their 
minds  in  his  discourses  from  the  pulpit.  His  portraits  of  character  were  to  the 
life;  and  though  they  were  delicately  drawn,  and  without  personal  allusion, 
there  was  no  escape  from  the  grasp  of  truth,  when  he  put  the  screws  upon  the 
conscience,  and  made  the  law  and  the  Gospel  alike  utter  the  words  of  Nathan  to 
David, — '*  Thou  art  the  man."  And  the  beauty  of  the  process  was,  that  he  did 
it  with  a  tenderness  and  sympathy  that  so  linked  the  speaker  with  the  hearers, 
that  the  stout-hearted  could  not  complain,  and  the  broken-hearted  were  made 
whole.  He  had  no  theory  of  ''  revivals,"  yet  was  he  often  in  the  midst  of  them. 
God's  truth,  God's  Spirit,  and  the  prayers  of  his  people,  were  the  only  agencies 
he  relied  on,  and  he  found  them  abundantly  adequate  to  their  end.    God  gave 


ICHABOD  SMTCa  SPSKCEB.  715 

s«uU  te  his  hire«    ThiA;  is  the  nwMrd  lie  sought  'after,  and  he  enjoys  it 
now. 

I  need  not  speak  of  his  life.  He  is  the  only  man  who  ever  doubted  that  he 
was  a  man  of  genuine  piety*  '*  Whatsoever  things  are  true,  whatsoever  things 
are  honest,  whatsoever  things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever 
things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report;  if  there  be  any  virtue, 
and  if  there  be  any  praise,''  these  things  belonged  to  Dr.  Spencer.  Not  a  blot 
rests  upon  his  fair  name.  The  perplexed  will  miss  his  counsels,  the  afflicted 
will  miss  his  sympathies,  and  the  poor  of  Brooklyn  will  miss  his  laborious 
charities. 

Dr.  Spencer  was  for  years  a  great  sufferer,  and  his  sufferings  sometimes 
oppressed  his  heart,  because  they  unfitted  him  for  active  labour;  yet  I  have  seen 
him  more  depressed  when  the  sunlight  of  prosperity  shone  upon  him,  than  in 
the  dark  night  of  his  affliction.  His  graces  grew  under  the  sharpest  trials;  and 
amid  all  the  outward  darkness  with  which  he  was  so  long  enveloped,  his  path 
shone  brighter  and  brighter  unto  the  perfect  day. 

During  the  last  three  or  four  weeks  of  his  life,  so  severe  were  his  sufferings, 
that  ho  was  not  inclined  to  much  conversation.  But,  on  the  Monday  preceding 
his  death,  being  comparatively  free  from  pain,  and  perceiving  that  his  time  was 
short,  he  called  his  family  about  his  bed,  and  requested  them  to  be  so  arranged 
that  he  could  see  them  all,  and  separately  address  each  one  of  them.  He  told  them 
that  he  expected  to  die,  and  expected  to  go  to  Heaven,  and  expressed  the  hope 
that  he  should  meet  them  all  there.  In  his  own  simple  manner,  and  with  all  the 
tenderness  of  a  dying  man,  he  opened  to  them  the  way  of  life  by  Jesus  Christ, 
Qpoke  to  them  of  his  own  confidence  in  the  Saviour,  and  urged  them  to  ''cling 
to  Christ  and  the  Bible  "  as  their  only  hope. 

It  was  just  after  this  affecting  scene  that  I  knocked  at  his  door.  And  never 
was  I  more  kindly  directed  than  in  making  this  fratiernal  visit.  I  had  some  fears 
from  what  I  knew  of  his  self-scrutinizing  spirit,  that  I  might  find  him  in  a 
depressed  state  of  mind.  But  as  he  drew  near  the  close  of  his  struggles,  God 
was  kind,  and  gave  him  sweet  indications  of  his  paternal  love.  There  he  tossed, 
day  after  day,  and  night  after  night,  upon  that  couch  of  racking  pain,  with  a 
mind  as  clear  as  Newton's,  and  a  heart  as  peaceful  as  a  child  in  its  mother's 
bosom.  The  great  peculiarity  of  his  Christian  character  was  his  shrinking 
humility,  and  self-diffidence.  More  than  once  in  the  days  of  his  unbroken  vigour, 
I  have  heard  him  say, — *'I  have  mistaken  my  calling;  I  never  was  fit  for  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel."  No  one  else  thought  so;  yet  he  retained  this  self-diffi- 
dence to  the  last.  I  said  to  him, — '*  Brother  Spencer,  I  am  afraid  you  are  about 
to  leave  us."  He  replied, —  "  I  think  so."  I  took  his  hand  and  he  said, — *'  You 
see  I  am  strong;  I  may  rally,  but  it  is  more  than  probable  that  I  shall  leave  you 
by  to-morrow  morning."  **  Is  it  peact  with  you,  brother?"  His  body  was  in 
agony;  he  tossed  his  head  on  the  pillow  and  replied, — *'  It  i»  all  peace,*'  He 
pau.sed,  and  fixing  his  piercing  eye  upon  me,  said, — '*  I  am  afraid  it  is  too  much 
peace.  I  cannot  discover  in  myself  those  evidences  of  personal  godliness  which 
justify  me  in  enjoying  such  abundant  peace."  I  could  not  repress  a  smile  at 
these  sweet  words,  and  then  reminded  him  of  those  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus, 
when  he  said,  *'  I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life,  and  that  they  might  have 
it  more  abundantly,*'  He  simply  replied, — "  Pray  with  me;"  and  then  called  his 
family  around  his  bed,  where  we  knelt  and  prayed  together  for  the  last  time. 
His  sufferings  continued  without  any  abatement,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
tranquil  hours  which  he  employed  in  giving  to  those  around  him  his  last  coun- 
sels and  charge,  commending  them  to  God,  and  testifying  his  own  precious  hopes 
and  the  prospects  that  cheered  him,  as  he  bade  them  farewell.  He  subsequently 
conversed  but  little.  His  manly  frame  was  exhausted.  Three  days  after  this, 
the  strong  man  bowed  himself  to  the  impotence  and  dust  of  death.    An  inscru* 


71G  FBSfiBTTKBIAH. 

table  ProTidenoemade  him  a  partaker  in  his  Master's  safferings;  abaadaDt  g7«G» 
made  him  partaker  iu  his  glory. 

With  affectionate  regards  and  earnest  desires  that  the  perserering  labours  of 
your  pen  may  remind  future  generations  of  the  worth  and  ezodlenoe  of  many 
devoted  servants  of  God, 

I  am,  my  dear  Sir, 

Your  friend  and  brother, 

GARDINER  SPRING. 

FROM  THE  REV.  MELANCTHON  W.  JACOBUS,  D.  D., 

PB0FE8S0B  III  THE  WESTEKK  THEOLOGICAL  8EXII7ABY. 

Allkohant,  February,  28,  1858. 

My  dear  Sir:  During  a  pastorate  of  twelve  years  in  Brooklyn,  Dr.  Spencer 
was  my  near  neighbour  and  co-presbyter.  They  were  the  years  of  his  prime  and 
power,  when  his  highly  favoured  church  and  that  intelligent  community  enjoyed 
his  best  labours.  He  was  the  last  of  our  cotemporaries  called  to  yield  his  pulpit 
at  the  pressure  of  disease,  two  only  excepted — Dr.  Cutler,  of  St.  Ann's,  and  the 
Rev.  Jonathan  Greenleaf,  of  East  Brooklyn.  The  Lord  preserve  them  both 
many  years ! 

Dr.  Spencer  was  of  the  middle  stature;  square,  rather  than  corpulent;  and 
of  a  commanding  presence  from  his  massiveness  of  frame. 

A  keen  look  and  prompt  movement,  with  a  certain  liveliness  of  address,  gave 
him  a  business  air,  not  undignified,  though  at  times  somewhat  abrupt.  With 
great  energy  and  individuality,  united  to  a  characteristic  fearlessness  of  temper 
and  power  of  ivill,  he  may  have  seemed  often  to  wear  a  bluntness  of  manner. 
But  they  who  knew  him  at  the  fireside  and  in  the  lecture-room,  showed  by  their 
warm  admiration  how  winning  he  could  be  in  his  intercourse,  and  how  fondlj" 
he  could  exercise  the  finest  feelings  of  the  Christian  heart. 

In  the  pulpit,  with  a  broad,  bold  face,  short,  gray  whiskers,  and  a  peculiar  glare 
in  his  eye,  he  had  an  aspect  of  gravity,  that  bordered  perhaps  upon  severity.  A 
peculiar  arrangement  of  his  hair,  exposing  an  open,  majestical  forehead,  aided 
this  characteristic  expression;  and  this,  with  an  accent  that  was  often  taken  for 
a  foreign  one,  might  remind  you  of  one  of  the  Scotch  Reformers,  as  capable  of 
great  blandness,  yet  able  to  gather  into  a  perfect  storm-cloud  of  rebuke. 

In  conversation  he  was  rather  reserved  than  talkative,  but  of  ready  wit,  which 
he  wielded  at  times  with  excellent  efiect.  In  the  study  of  our  Episcopal  brother. 
Dr.  Cutler,  his  attention  was  directed  to  a  fine  picture  of  a  shipwreck  that 
adorned  the  wall.  Dr.  C.  pointed  him  to  the  crew  who  were  making  off  in  the 
small  boat,  and  especially  to  a  young  Lieutenant,  who,  in  springing  for  it,  had 
fallen  short  and  was  drowning.  '*  That  countenance,"  said  Dr.  C,  "has  the 
very  expression  of  prayer.'*  The  word'**  prayer,"  struck  Dr.  Spencer,  and  rais- 
ing himself  in  his  chair,  with  his  eye  intently  fixed  upon  the  young  man,  he  said 
to  Dr.  C, — **  £ut  whereas  the  Book  ?  "  The  rejoinder  of  course  was  not  lack- 
ing. 

In  his  positive  style,  he  could  deal  out  the  most  crushing  denunciation,  or  the 
keenest  sarcasm,  whether  in  public  or  in  private.  Yet  no  one  could  do  this  with 
greater  impunity.  It  was  conceded  as  his  privilege  to  express  himself  boldl3' — 
sometimes  sharply.  But  if  he  offended  ever  by  this  means,  he  still  drew  his 
people  and  his  brethren  to  him  by  other  ties  too  strong  to  be  broken.  He  was  a 
ruler  as  well  as  a  teacher. 

A  prominent  member  of  his  church,  having  the  same  cast  of  character  as  him- 
self, differed  from  him,  and  removed  to  another  connection.  A  few  years  after- 
wards, in  conversation  with  a  brother  minister,  when  the  name  of  Dr.  Spencer 
Was  mentioned,  he  said, — **  I  don't  like  the  Doctor — ^he  is  rough  and  tyrannical; 


IGHABOD  SMITH  SPENCER.  727 

but,*'  he  added,  *'  I  will  say  this  for  him, — ^he  taught  me  all  that  ever  I  knew." 
Not  long  after  this,  the  conrersation  was  related  to  him.  It  amused  him  greatly. 
lie  spoke  very  kindly  of  his  former  parishioner,  remarking  only,— **  I  know  why 
he  didn't  like  me.     I  wouldn't  let  him  have  his  way." 

He  possessed,  as  is  well  known,  an  intellect  of  very  uncommon  vigour.  Able 
to  grapple  with  complicated  questions,  theoretical  and  practical,  he  excelled  in 
power  of  analysis  and  argumentation.  In  ecclesiastical  bodies,  he  spoke  seldom, 
but  to  the  point — was  brief  rather  than  long — rather  last  than  first,  coming  in 
usually  with  an  opinion  or  argument  that  would  serve  as  a  solution  of  the 
matter. 

His  sermons  were  uniformly  written  out  in  full;  yet  with  ready  command  of 
the  manuscript,  few  extemporaneous  speakers  were  more  able  to  impress  an 
audience.  His  style  was  logical  and  forcible,  and  his  matter  commonly  compact. 
His  discourse  was  characterized  by  a  simple  and  clear  statement,  rejecting  mere 
rhetorical  fineries,  and  seldom  using  a  rare  word.  He  eschewed  alike  a  diUttant€ 
performance,  and  a  newspaper  harangue.  He  came  to  his  people  with  his  own 
exposition  of  great  Gospel  subjects,  yet  occasionally  with  a  profound  discussion 
of  some  mooted  topic  of  the  day.  In  certain  published  efforts  of  this  kind,  he 
won  the  most  flattering  testimonies  of  leading  statesmen,  as  having  a  mind  that 
would  have  adorned  any  public  station.  But  no  station  was  higher  than  hisown^ 
He  had  his  own  views,  and  expressed  them  often,  when  he  differed  from  some  of 
his  leading  members,  gaining  a  character  for  plain  spoken  deliverances,  whether 
men  would  hear  or  forbear.  He  was  at  home  in  preaching  Christ  Jesus, — with 
amplitude  of  thought,  and  originality  of  treatment,  and  copious  citation  of 
Scripture,  with  expression  rather  strong  than  elegant,  yet  not  without  fine  flashes 
of  fancy  and  striking  illustrations.  His  delivery  was  earnest  and  tender,  with 
impassioned  bursts  of  eloquence,  and  pungent  in  enforcement  of  his  w^ell  dis- 
criminated points.  Frequently  as  he  used  to  appear  in  the  lecture-room,  many 
of  his  best  hearers  preferred  him  there. 

His  sermons  and  lectures  were  rather  experimental  than  theological  in  their 
general  cast.  He  had  great  power  in  dealing  with  the  heart, — exposing  subtle 
sophisms  and  lurking  objections;  analyzing  the  religions  characters  of  his  hearers, 
and  storming  their  strongholds.  He  would  often  pick  out  a  case  in  his  audience, 
It  lie  a  practised  marksman ;  and  we  may  safely  say  that  few  of  his  congregation 
found  themselves  unreached.  His  style  was  characterized  by  great  directness. 
These  public  ministrations  he  would  follow  up  with  earnest  private  appeals,  that 
were  often  richly  blessed  to  the  salvation  of  old  and  young.  His  conferences 
were  faithful  pungent  probings  of  the  various  phases  of  unbelief,  or  misbelief,  or 
disbelief,  that  came  under  his  charge,  and  few  found  their  difficulties  unanswered, 
if  they  opened  their  case  honestly  and  fully  to  his  notice. 

He  paid  great  attention  to  his  Sabbath  School,  commonly  dropping  in  at  least 
for  a  word  or  a  look  before  the  service  of  the  Church;  and  the  effect  was  felt  in 
a  most  flourishing  condition  of  this  department,  including  often  two  or  three 
separate  schools. 

It  can  readily  be  inferred  that  it  was  as  a  Pastor  that  Dr.  Spencer  displayed 
his  most  eminent  gifts.  The  two  rare  Tolumes  of  *'  Pastor's  Sketches  "  which 
he  has  left,  were  the  natural  fruit  of  his  labours.  None  but  one  so  rarely 
adapted  to  that  office,  could  have  left  such  a  thesaurus  of  experience.  They  are 
his  best  autobiography.  They  sketch  the  Pastor  fully  as  much  as  the  Parish- 
ioner. His  distinguished  traits  as  a  shrewd  casuist,  a  subtle  logician,  a  tender 
coun.sellor,  a  patient,  persevering  winner  of  souls,  appeared  to  full  advantage  in 
his  daily  ministrations.  All  his  energies  were  devoted  to  the  pastoral  work.  He 
loved  it.  He  declined  important  calls  to  other  posts,  because  his  heart  was  in 
this.    He  was  a  Shepherd,  and  if  not  always  and  to  all  the  same  getUk  Shepherd^ 


7X8  PSESBTTBRIA17. 

none  could  say  that  he  was  not  a  **  good  Shepherd,**^  who  ''made  his  sheep  his 
own." 

He  spent  much  time  in  seeking  out  and  Tisiting  the  poor,  and  sick,  and 
distressed, — ^relieving  the  destitute  fW)m'hi8  own  liberal  hand,  or  putting  them  in 
the  way  of  the  best  attentions.  So  entirely  did  his  flock  enjoy  his  services,  that 
he  often  appeared  only  too  exclusively  wrapped  up  in  their  affairs.  It  was  plain 
that  he  identified  himself  with  his  church)— not  sparing  himself,  and  preaching 
only  too  often  and  too  persistently  for  a  prudent  regard  to  health.  He  bore  a 
leading  part  in  the  great  evangelical  operations  of  the  city.  With  such  a  press 
of  parochial  labours  as  few  could  bear,  he  rescued  time  for  the  Bible,  Tract,  and 
other,  Societies;  and  the  two  here  named  owed  much  to  his  effieient  manage- 
aient. 

That  executive  ability  which  is  so  essential  to  success,  especially  in  sncfa  a 
etty >  carried  Dr.  Speneer  through  times  of  peculiar  trial ;  building  up  a  large 
congregation  from  the  commenoement,  discharging  a  heavy  debt,  carrying  his 
own  measures,  and  gathering  around  him  a  substantial,  wealthy  and  intelligent 
people.     A  discriminating  preadier,  he  had  also  discriminating  hearers. 

He  sustained  himself  at  the  head  of  one  of  our  most  numerous,  liberal,  and 
influential  churdies,  and  died  in  their  arms  and  at  his  work*  He  rests  from  his 
labours  and  his  works  do  follow  him. 

Very  truly  yours, 

M.  W.  JACOBUS. 


FROM  THE  BEY.  R.  S.  STORRS,  JR.,  D.  D. 

BBOOKI.TN,  February  18,  1867. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  first  heard  Dr.  Spencer  preach  on  a  casual  visit  which  I  made 
to  Brooklyn  in  the  winter  of  1845,  nearly  a  year  before  I  came  here  to  reside. 
He  was  at  that  time  delivering  a  series  of  Sunday  evening  Lectures  to  his  con- 
gregation, on  the  Westminster  Catechism,  expounding  successively  the  doctrines 
embraced  in  that  venerable  instrument;  and  it  was  one  of  these  which  I  chanced 
to  hear.  His  lecture  for  that  evening  was  on  the  doctrine  of  the  Saints'  Per^ 
severance.  He  lectured  without  full  notes,  I  remember,  but  with  a  "brief" 
before  him,  and  with  frequent  reference  to  a  small  Bible  which  he  held  in  his 
hand;  and  most  of  the  peculiarities  which  I  afterwards  noticed  in  his  more 
elaborate  discourses  were  very  distinct  and  even  prominent  in  him  that  evening. 
He  approached  his  subject  immediately,  without  apology  or  delay,  grasped  it 
with  a  precise  and  energetic  statement,  opened  it  with  a  very  clear  and  logical 
analysis,  showed  himself  familiar  with  the  customary  modes  of  presenting  and 
illustrating  it,  yet  treated  it  in  a  firesh  and  peculiar  way,  and  urged  it  with  great 
earnestness  of  language  and  manner,  and  with  much  real  impressiveness  of 
thought,  on  those  who  heard  him.  I  remember  that  some  of  his  phrases  seemed 
to  be  strong,  pungent^  and  easy  to  be  remembered,  rather  than  ^ther  exact 
or  elegant;  that  I  did  not  much  admire  his  interpretation  of  some  of  the  more 
difficult  texts;  and  that  the  total  impression  which  I  received  of  the  man  was, 
that  he  had  a  great  deal  of  what  is  usually  called  power  in  the  pulpit,  with  that 
subtler  quality  and  habit  of  mind  which  naturally  originates  new  modes  of  treat- 
m^it,  in  handling  an  ever  trite  subject;  but  without  much  of  native  refinement, 
or  of  literary  sensibility,  or  of  catholicity  of  filing.  The  latter  impression  f 
found  reason  afterwards  materially  to  modify. 

When  I  came  to  Brooklyn,  in  the  fall  of  1846,  as  Pastor  of  the  "  Church  of  the 
Pilgrims,''  Dr.  Spencer  met  me  with  great  fi*ankness  and  cordiality  of  manner, 
was  present  at  the  services  attending  my  installation,  and  was  afterwards 
prompt  to  call  upon  me,  and  to  offer  roe  the  courtesy  of  an  exchange  of  pnlpits. 
He  gave  me  to  understand  at  once  that  he  valued  highly  New  England  institn- 


IGHA90D  SICTH  SPSNCER.  71^ 

iions,  and  many  New  England  men,  thoagh  he  difered  from  and  deprecated 
certain  religious  and  political  opinions  whicfar  he  understood  to  prevail  there  I 
told  him,  as  frankly,  that  I  agreed  in  many  things  with  those  from  whom  he 
differed,  but  hoped  to  live  and  work  beside  him,  in  general  sympathy,  and  an 
efficient  co-ofieration  in  all  good  efforts.  I  had  thenceforth  frequent  opportunities 
to  hear  him  preach,  and  often  met  him  in  social  and  clerical  circles,  though  my 
rtdations  with  him  never  became  intimate. 

lie  was  a  man  of  extreme  independence  of  character,  of  a  naturally  reserved 
and  reticent  temper  I  think,  and  of  very  strong  and  poaicive  convictions.  With 
these,  too,  he  combined  unusually  sensitive  and  ardent  feelings;  and  I  imagine 
that  it  had  been  the  habit  of  his  life,  from  a  very  early  period,  to  devote  himself 
assiduously,  almost  exclusively,  to  what  he  regarded  as  his  special  work,  to  be 
wrought  ill  his  particular  place,  and  in  his  own  methods,  without  much  attention 
to  those  around  him.  These  qualities,  and  this  habit,  of  course  kept  him  aloof 
to  a  considerable  extent  from  those  who  were  not  ecclesiastically  connected  with 
^im,  and  who  were  not  in  many  things  of  his  way  of  thinking.  And  while  I 
was  often  brought  in  contact  with  him,  I  do  not  i^\  that  I  ever  came  fully  into 
hiB  special  sphere  of  feeling  and  thought.  My  observations  upon  him  were  those 
rather  of  a  friendly  spectator  than  of  a  sympathizing  confidant;  and  as  such 
you  must  receive  them. 

In  the  family  circle,  his  own  or  that  of  any  friend,  or  in  company  with  those 
whom  he  admitted  to  frequent  and  familiar  intercourse,  the  same  characteristics 
to  which  I  have  referred  made  Dr.  Spencer  delightfUl  and  attractive  beyond  most 
men;  and  thus  made  him  a  model  of  energy,  efficiency,  and  untiring  assiduity, 
as  the  Pastor  of  his  own  parish,  and  as  a  visiter  to  those  of  the  sick  and  poor 
whom  he  regarded  as  under  his  especial  charge.  No  minister  in  the  city,  at  that 
time  or  since,  no  minister  whom  I  have  ever  known  in  any  pla^,  had  a  stronger 
bold  than  he  had  on  the  affections  of  his  own  people.  Their  confidence  in  him 
was  almost  literally  unlimited.  No  man  was  ever  more  beloved  and  revered 
among  the  poor  whom  he  assisted.  And  certainly  no  man,  in  his  own  household, 
was  ever  honoured  and  loved  beyond  him,  as  the  memory  of  no  one  is  now  more 
tenderly  and  religiously  cherished. 

On  one  of  the  last  occasions  on  which  I  met  him,  at  the  house  of  a  common 
^end,  a  parishioner  of  his,  I  was  greatly  impressed  with  his  kind  and  affection- 
ate attentiveness  to  the  children  of  the  family.  The  eldest  daughter  of  our 
friend,  a  lively  and  inquisitive  little  girl  of  then  perhaps  nine  years  old,  seemed 
to  be  his  particular  favourite.  She  was  almost  instantly  installed  upon 
his  knee,  and  a  perfect  battery  of  questions  was  established  on  either  side. 
Interrogatories  and  answers  flew  back  and  forth,  almost  without  cessation  or 
intermission,  till  the  little  lady  was  dismissed  at  bedtime;  and  the  beautiful 
tenderness  and  playfiilness  of  his  manner  to  this  lamb  of  his  flock,  as  contrasted 
with  the  usual  seriousness  and  reserve  of  his  demeanour,  marked  a  feature  in  his 
character  which  I  shall  never  cease  to  remember,  or,  I  trust,  to  be  instructed  by. 
The  incident  followed  soon  after  the  only  direct  collision  in  controversy  which  I 
ever  had  with  Dr.  Spencer,  in  which  sharper  things  had  been  said  upon  both 
aides  than  the  later  judgment  of  either  party  would  probably  have  justified; 
and  it  was  therefore  peculiarly  pleasant  and  memorable  to  me.  The  light  of  this 
genial  and  delicate  tenderness,  irradiated  and  placed  in  new  aspects  the  character 
of  which  the  public  saw  only  the  colder  and  less  gracious  side. 

The  same  qualities  of  character  which  led  Dr.  Spencer  to  interest  himself  so 
peculiarly  and  familiarly  in  the  children  of  his  people,  led  him  also  to  meet  with 
a  most  attractive  readiness  and  warmth  those  who  came  to  converse  with  him 
on  the  subject  of  personal  religion.  He  studied  their  several  cases  with  the 
utmost  earnestness,  and  laboured  intently  to  assist  and  guide  them.  AH  the 
fanaa  of  reserve  which  he  gathered  around  him,  in  general  society,  as  if  to 


720  PRBSBTTfiRIAN. 

shield  himself  fyom  the  scrutiny  of  the  public,  all  the  aspect  of  abruptness  and 
occasional  harshness  with  which  he  met  those  who,  as  he  thought,  were  intruding 
on  his  rights  or  his  privilege,  were  instantly  and  spontaneously  laid  aside  with 
those  who  came  to  him  in  any  spiritual  perplexity  or  distress;  and  with  a 
ttkTe  assiduity  and  fidelity,  as  well  as  with  a  very  unusual  power  of  conversa- 
tional argument  and  appeal,  he  applied  himself  to  the  removal  of  every  honest 
difficulty  from  their  minds,  to  the  breaking  down  of  every  fabricated  excuse,  and 
the  carrying  of  their  hearts  to  the  Person  and  the  Cross  of  the  Saviour  of  the 
world.  Of  course  this  was  a  relation  in  which  I  never  personally  met  him.  Bat 
his  published  writings  bear  witness  to  his  extraordinary  skill  and  success 
in  this  species  of  labour, — a  success  owing  partly,  of  course,  to  his  mental 
constitution,  but  essentially,-  and  perhaps  more  largely,  to  the  real  and  hearty 
interest  which  he  took  in  every  honest  and  earnest  inquirer.  And  some  of  those 
who  have  had  experience  of  it  have  assured  me  that  the  delicate,  sinuous,  yet 
vigorous,  masterly  and  inevitable  manner  in  which  ho  developed  their  hidden 
experience,  met  their  resistances,  overcame  their  objections,  anticipated  their 
excuses,  and  rained  the  warnings,  the  promises,  and  all  the  urgencies  of  the 
Gospel  upon  them,  until  they  yielded  and  gave  themselves  to  Christ,  shall  never 
be  effaced  from  their  recollection,  and  cannot  be  surpassed  in  the  impressions 
which  they  have  left  of  fidelity  and  power. 

The  conversation  of  Dr.  Spencer  on  general  subjects,  unless  when  his  mind 
was  otherwise  prc-occupied,  was  always  animated,  energetic  and  instructive;  and 
now  and  then  his  sentences  flashed  with  a  rapid  and  trenchant  wit  of  which  I 
never  saw  any  trace  in  his  public  discoursing.  His  wit  more  frequently  took 
the  form  of  irony  or  satire,  than  of  any  fanciful  or  humorous  turns  of  speech; 
and  once  or  twice  I  remember  to  have  heard  from  him  a  sudden  and  original 
reduction  to  absurdity  of  some  argument  against  which  he  was  reasoning  or 
inveighing,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  that  was  among  the  more  frequent  and 
familiar  of  his  mental  processes.  As  a  faithful  narrator  of  the  impressions 
which  he  made  on  me,  I  am  bound  to  add  that  he  seemed  to  me  to  see  rather  the 
weak  points  than  the  strong  points,  the  points  of  marked  irregularity  and  defect 
rather  than  those  of  proportion  and  beauty,  in  the  character  of  the  men  with 
whom  he  was  contemporaneous,  and  especially  of  those  with  Whom  he  had 
differed.  I  have  heard  him  speak  of  distinguished  divines  in  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  in  his  own  branch  of  it,  with  a  pungent  freedom  of  characterization, 
which  in  a  man  of  another  constitution  would  have  argued  an  unfriendly  or 
hostile  temper  towards  them,  but  which  in  him  I  think  showed  only  this  pecu- 
liarity of  mind,  unaccompanied  by  any  real  acerbity  of  spirit.  He  was  sensi* 
tive,  however,  and  was  subject  to  great  occasional  depression  of  spirits.  And 
when  his  feelings  had  been  wounded,  he  undoubtedly  felt  the  smart  of  it  long; 
so  thnt  something  of  this  may  occasionally  have  mingled  in  his  conversation  at 
such  times. 

The  sermons  of  Dr.  Spencer  undoubtedly  owed  very  much  of  their  effectiveness 
to  the  strong  personal  qualities  of  the  man,  and  especially  to  his  great  voluntary 
force.  He  seemed  sometimes  to  carry  his  hearers  by  the  sheer  energy  of 
volition  to  the  conclusions  which  he  announced.  Whether  their  minds  had  M\y 
grasped  his  argument  or  not,  he  so  far  governed  them  by  the  pressure  of  his  will, 
for  the  time  at  least,  that  few,  I  presume,  ever  went  from  the  house  in  which  he 
had  preached  without  having  been  impressed  and  moved.  There  were  times, 
too,  in  his  preaching,  when  this  remarkable  and  mastering  power,  co-operating 
happily  with  a  vivid  development  of  logic  and  thought,  and  a  cogent  and  potent 
strain  of  appeal,  produced  the  effect  of  noble  eloquence.  It  seemed  to  me  more 
than  once,  when  I  heard  htm,  that  if  he  could  have  been  perfectly  liberated  at 
certain  points  ftom  the  last  imperceptible  restraints  of  that  reserve  which  still 
elung  to  him  like  a  nature,  and  could  have  poured  his  whole  soul  into  his  speech 


ICHABOP  SMITH  SPSNGER.  721 

with  a  perfect  abandon  to  the  impulse  of  his  theme,  tlien,  with  this  great  power 
of  will,  and  with  his  very  eminent  logical  faculty,  he  would  have  surpassed 
almost  any  preacher  of  the  day.  There  may  have  been  some  passages  in  his 
discourses  where  this  was  realized,  but  I  never  heard  them.  The  final  finish  of 
an  utter  unreserve,  which  would  have  put  the  crown  of  light  on  his  so  muscular 
and  urgent  speech,  seemed  to  me  to  be  wanting  in  him. 

Aside  from  these  qualities  of  which  I  have  spoken,  I  was  always  struck  in  his 
sermons,  more  than  with  any  thing  else,  with  occasional  passages  of  a  certain 
weird  and  mysterious  loftiness  of  suggestion,  which  seemed  to  show  that  the 
imaginative  element  was  naturally  strong  in  him,  and  that  if  it  had  been  cher- 
ished, it  would  have  been  more  prominent  than  any  other.  I  frequently  heard 
arguments  from  him  with  which  I  could  not  altogether  agree,  and  saw  positions 
taken  by  him  which  failed  to  command  the  deference  of  my  judgment;  but  I  was 
always  impressed  with  this  imaginative  power  in  him;  the  more,  perhaps, 
because  it  was  not  generally  recognised.  I  remember  a  sermon  of  his  on  the 
Mystery  of  Redemption, — I  am  not  sure  whether  it  is  contained  in  the  volumes 
of  his  published  Sermons  or  not, — which  he  preached  in  my  own  pulpit,  and 
which  I  was  providentially  permitted  to  hear,  in  v^'hich  the  vastness  and  dark- 
ness of  the  experience  of  Death,  as  confessed  by  all  men,  was  presented  as  a  kind 
of  counterpoise  to  the  asserted  mysteriousness  of  the  system  of  Redemption; 
and  in  which  his  words,  his  sentences,  his  whole  manner  and  tone,  seemed  suffused 
with  an  almost  palpable  influence  from  the  august  mystery  of  which  he  was 
discoursing.  The  whole  paragraph,  as  uttered  by  him,  was  easy  to  be  under- 
stood, was  entirely  perspicuous  and  natural  in  construction  and  imagery;  and 
yet  it  seemed  strangely  shrouded  and  loaded  with  an  atmosphere  of  mystery,— 
an  atmosphere  which  it  gradually  diffused  through  the  house.  The  words 
shed  dark  suggestions  on  the  hearers.  The  heart  grew  chill  and  palpitated 
under  them,  till  I  am  sure  that  all  who  heard  it  must  have  felt  that  the  dark 
and  supernal  glory  of  Death  had  been  meditated  by  the  speaker  until,  as  a  Pre- 
sence, it  had  dominated  his  thoughts  and  toned  his  words.  The  impression 
grew  constantly  weightier  to  the  end,  as  the  sentences  successively  shuddered 
forth  in  the  deepest  bass  of  his  peculiar  and  arresting  voice.  In  this  respect,  the 
sermon,  or  at  least  that  part  of  it,  still  remains  in  my  thoughts  as  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  it  has  been  my  fortune  to  hear. 

In  all  our  local  Societies,  for  the  advancement  of  the  Kingdom  of  Christ  within 
the  bounds  of  the  city, — especially  in  the  City  Bible  Society,  of  which  ho  was 
in  fact  the  father, — Dr.  Spencer  took  a  lively  and  efficient  interest.  The  same 
tendencies  of  mind  which  led  him  to  concentrate  his  sympathies  and  his  ener- 
gies very  much  on  his  own  parish,  led  him  also  to  appreciate  highly  such  Socie- 
ties, and  to  labour  diligently  to  advance  and  invigorate  them.  Whoever  else 
might  be  discouraged  or  backward  in  the  effort  to  sustain  and  extend  their  use- 
fulness,  he  never  was.  He  was  an  example  of  regularity  and  punctuaHty  in  his 
attendance  upon  their  quarterly  and  annual  business  meetings;  and  often  T  have 
seen  his  powerful  influence  interposed  at  some  crisis,  encouraging  the  irresolute, 
resisting  those  who  would  counsel  any  abatement  of  their  efficiency,  and  urging 
instead  to  loftier  plans  and  wider  effort.  In  this  respect  the  city  suffered  an 
important  loss  when  he  was  removed  from  it;  and  it  will  owe  him  a  debt  of 
remembrance  and  gratitude  as  long  as  its  history  as  a  city  continues. 

The  last  illness  of  Dr.  Spencer  was  protracted  and  painfull,  far  beyond  ihib 
ordinary  experience  of  men,  and  it  brought  into  bright  and  impressiv&exhibitioa- 
those  parts  of  his  character  which  were  really  admirable  and  unusunll  With 
his  robust  and  massive  fVame,  and  his  long  habit  of  perfect  health,— enabling 
him  to  perform  without  difficulty  or  fatigue  such  labours  as  few  are  prepared  to 
undertake, — any  sickness  must  of  course  have  been  a  burden  to  him. — the  severer 
and  more  trying,  because  it  was  rare.     But  in  his  case  the  sickness  itself  was-oA 

Vol.  IV.       91 


722  PRSSBTrftBIAK. 

a  nature  to  task  his  utmost  power  of  endurance.  An  internal  malignant  disease 
consumed  some  organs  whose  processes  are  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of  life; 
and  it  must  have  been  like  carrying,  day  after  day,  a  literal  fire  among  his 
members,  to  sustain  the  pain  which  this  inflicted.  Yet  when  I  met  him  upon 
the  street,  a  few  weeks  only  before  his  death,  although  his  usually  prompt  and 
firm  step  was  wavering  and  weak,  and  his  cheek  was  blanched  with  the  fearful 
experience  through  which  he  was  passing,  and  though  his  tone  was  tremulous 
and  despondent  as  he  spoke  of  the  prospect  of  resuming  his  labours,  there  was 
no  one  syllable  of  repining  or  impatience  in  all  that  he  said,  and  he  even  referred 
to  the  pain  he  had  suffered  in  a  way  to  lead  me  to  think  of  it  as  a  matter  not 
extreme  or  unusual.  When  afterward,  learning  that  he  was  confined  to  his  bed 
again,  and  that  it  was  doubtful  if  he  would  ever  rise  from  it,  I  called  to  inquire 
for  him,  he  was  unable  to  see  me,  and  the  groans  wrung  from  him  by  the  excess 
of  his  pain  were  audible  on  the  door-step.  Yet  he  met  the  whole,  even  to  the 
last,  with  a  settled  and  resolute  Christian  patience,  a  supreme  resignation  to  the 
will  of  God,  which  was  only  appropriately  as  well  as  affectionately  recognised 
by  Dr.  Spring  in  his  Funeral  Sermon,  and  which  no  man,  although  of  the  hard- 
iest nature,  could  possibly  have  exhibited  without  the  same  Christian  experience, 
without  the  same  sustaining  trust.  The  thickest  cloud  of  his  own  distress,  the 
heavy  darkness  which  gathered  on  him  through  the  sudden  failure  of  the  reason 
of  one  who  was  very  dear  to  him,  was  still  parted  and  gilded,  if  it  was  not  dis- 
persed, by  the  assurance  he  felt  of  God's  goodness  and  wisdom,  and  of  his 
acceptance  of  himself  through  Christ.  And  so,  without  repining  or  murmuring, 
he  struggled  bravely  through,  and  passed,  I  cannot  doubt,  from  his  furnace  on 
the  earth  to  his  mansion  in  the  skies! 

I  am  sensible,  my  dear  Sir,  as  I  look  on  what  I  have  written,  that  there  is 
little  in  it  of  much  importance,  or,  I  fear,  of  much  fitness  to  your  purpose.  Br. 
Spencer  was  pre-eminently  a  man  who  must  be  lived  with,  or  very  frequently 
and  familiarly  met,  in  order  to  be  truly  and  thoroughly  known.  His  outward 
and  public  manner  he  seemed  to  wear  oftentim&s  like  a  corslet;  and  the  throb- 
logs  of  his  heart  were  only  to  be  felt  by  those  who  leaned  on  his  heart  at  home, 
or  whom  he  clasped  in  the  warm  embrace  of  an  intimate  friendship.  Such  a 
relation  to  him,  as  I  said  at  the  outset,  I  never  sustained.  Many  things  pre- 
vented it;  our  difference  of  age,  of  constitution,  of  opinion,  and  of  connection; 
especially,  latterly,  our  total  disagreement  on  themes  which  to  both  of  us  seemed 
important.  I  have  had  but  these  general  impressions,  therefore,  derived  from 
occasional  and  fragmentary  observation,  to  communicate  to  you.  But  I  am 
happy  in  having  the  opportunity  to  do  this;  both  because  I  represent,  probably, 
in  what  I  have  said,  the  prevalent  or  at  least  one  prominent  impre.ssion  which 
the  public  mind  took  from  him,  and  because  I  gladly  pay  my  tribute  to  one 
whose  laborious  and  indefatigable  life,  whose  remarkable  powers,  earnest  fidel- 
ity to  what  he  deemed  duty,  great  success  in  '  winning  souls,'  exemplary  and 
intelligent  charity  to  the  poor,  and  saintly  and  heroic  death,  will  cause  his 
name  to  be  held,  even  amid  this  changing  city,  in  long,  honoured  and  affection- 
ate remembrance. 

With  great  regard,  I  am  ever  yours, 

R.  S.  STORRS,  Ja. 


WILLIAM  STEPHENS  POTTS.  723 


WILLIAM  STEPHENS  POTTS,  D.  D  * 

1827—1852. 

William  Stephens  Potts  was  born  in  Northumberland  County,  Pa., 
at  a  place  called  Fishing  Creek,  about  ten  miles  West  of  the  town  of  Ber- 
wick, on  the  Susquehanna,  on  the  13th  of  October,  1802.  His  grandfather 
was  Stacy  Potts,  a  distinguished  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  who 
resided  in  Trenton,  N.  J.,  during  the  Revolutionary  war,  and  afterwards 
removed  to  Harrisburg,  Pa.,  and  held  various  important  offices  in  both 
States.  William  Potts,  the  eldest  son  of  Stacy,  accompanied  his  father  to 
Pennsylvania,  where  he  engaged  with  him  in  mercantile  pursuits ;  and, 
during  his  residence  there,  he  was  married  to  Mary,  the  daughter  of  The- 
ophilus  Gardner,  an  eminent  merchant  of  Philadelphia,  of  Scotch  and  Pres- 
byterian descent.  These  were  the  parents  of  the  subject  of  this  notice,  and 
in  1799  they  removed  to  the  place  where  he  was  born. 

Here,  in  this  then  wild  and  comparatively  frontier  settlement,  the  boy 
spent  several  of  his  earliest  years.  There  were,  at  that  time,  in  the  plaoe 
where  he  lived,  no  schools,  no  church  nor  preachers.  His  mother  was  at 
once  his  teacher  and  his  pastor ;  and  though  she  was  a  frail  and  delicate 
woman,  she  possessed  high  intellectual  and  moral  qualities,  and  was,  in  the 
language  of  one  of  her  sons  who  survives  her,  *•  an  angel  of  a  mother. ^^ 

At  the  age  of  eight  years,  his  family  removed  with  him  to  Trenton ;  and 
by  this  time  his  father  had  become  so  reduced  in  his  worldly  circumstances, 
that  the  children,  as  they  grew  up,  were  cast  upon  their  own  resources.  At 
the  age  of  sixteen,  with  no  other  than  a  common  English  education,  William 
was  sent  to  Philadelphia  to  learn  the  printer's  trade.  Here  he  laboured 
with  the  utmost  diligence  for  about  three  years,  and  during  this  time 
acquired  some  pecuniary  means,  which  facilitated,  in  some  degree,  his 
entrance  on  a  different  course  of  life.  He  had  now  become  a  professor  of 
religion,  and  had  a  strong  desire  to  devote  himself  to  the  ministry ;  and, 
being  encouraged  by  his  employer  and  other  friends,  he  at  length  resolved 
to  enter  upon  a  course  of  study  with  reference  to  that  object. 

Accordingly,  early  in  1822,  he  put  himself  under  the  care  of  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Ezra  Stiles  Ely,  of  Philadelphia,  who  had  kindly  offered  to  superintend 
his  studies,  and  who,  in  various  ways,  acted  towards  him  the  part  of  a  dis- 
interested friend.  Here  he  continued  till  the  autumn  of  1825,  when,  having 
completed  his  preparatory  course,  he  entered  the  Theological  Seminary  at 
Prince  ten,  being  then,  as  a  candidate  for  the  ministry,  under  the  c&re  of  the 
Presbytery  of  Philadelphia.  In  consequence  of  intense  application  to 
study,  his  health  soon  became  enfeebled,  and,  in  the  hope  of  recovering  it, 
he  availed  himself  of  the  summer  vacation  of  1827,  to  make  a  missionary 
tour  through  the  Pine  region  of  New  Jersey ;  but  the  result  was  that, 
instead  of  returning  with  invigorated  health,  he  returned  with  his  health 
still  more  impaired,  and  a  slight  hemorrhage  took  place,  which  awakened  in 
both  himself  and  his  friends  the  most  serious  apprehensions.  He  remained 
in  the  Seminary  until  the  autumn,  but  left  it  in  November,  by  the  advice  of 

«  M6S.  from  his  famUy. 


724  PRKSBTTEEIAir. 

eminent  phyBicians, — doubtfiil  whether  he  wonld  erer  resume  his  connection 
with  it. 

He  was  immediately  licensed  by  the  Presbytery  of  Philadelphia ;  and, 
under  the  advice  of  the  Kev.  Dr.  Green,  who  had  received  communicatioDS 
from  St.  Louis,  urging  the  importance  of  that  field  of  labour,  he  took  a 
mission  to  the  South,  with  instructions  to  make  his  way  as  far  as  that  point. 
He  set  out  at  once  on  his  journey  alone,  travelling  leisurely  on  horseback, 
with  all  the  property  he  had  in  the  world  in  his  saddlebags,  and  thus  com- 
menced the  work  of  a  missionary.  He  passed  on  labouring  in  various 
ways,  as  ho  had  opportunity,  through  Maryland,  Virginia,  the  Carolinas, 
Georgia,  (where  he  spent  some  time  among  the  Creek  Indians,)  Tennessee, 
and  up  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  and  reached  Illinois  town,  opposite  St. 
Louis,  on  the  14th  of  May,  1828.  The  appearance  of  St.  Louis,  at  that 
time  a  small,  scattered,  smoky  city,  inhabited  almost  entirely  by  Koman 
Catholics,  was  any  thing  else  than  attractive  to  him;  and  he  could  not  but 
regard  it  as  a  very  unpromising  field  of  labour.  He  was,  however,  eon- 
tented  to  enter  upon  it ;  and  having  received  and  accepted  a  call  to  become 
the  Pastor  of  a  small  Presbyterian  Church,  (the  only  one  then  in  the  city,) 
which  had  been  gathered  eleven  years  before  by  the  Rev.  Salmon  Giddings, 
he  was  ordained  and  installed  by  the  Presbytery  of  Missouri,  October  26, 
1828. 

During  the  first  four  years  of  his  ministry,  his  church  had  a  slow  htii 
steady  growth ;  but  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  1832,  a  revival  of  religion 
commenced,  which  continued  till  the  autumn,  and  resulted  in  the  addition 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  new  members. 

Dr.  Potts  was  an  earnest  advocate  for  church  extension ;  and  he  thought 
the  time  had  now  come  when  Prcsbyterianism  was  strong  enough  in  St. 
Louis  to  justify  them  in  commencing  the  work.  Accordingly,  two  colonies 
were  at  once  detached  from  his  congregation,  to  form  new  churches ;  one  of 
which  was  located  within  the  city,  the  other  fourteen  miles  West  of  the  city. 
In  1833  and  1834,  both  the  city  churches  enjoyed  partial  revivals,  in  con- 
sequence of  which  they  were  not  a  little  strengthened. 

About  this  period,  a  project  was  matured  for  establishing  a  literary  insti- 
tution, which  might  meet  the  growing  wants  of  the  Great  Valley.  Its 
distinct  object  was  the  training  of  Western  young  men  for  the  Christian 
ministry ;  at  the  same  time  making  provision  for  them  to  sustain  themselves, 
during  their  education,  by  manual  labour.  With  a  view  to  carry  out  thb 
idea,  several  gentlemen  formed  the  plan  of  Marion  College.  An  Act  of 
incorporation  was  procured  in  1830,  a  large  tract  of  land  was  purchased, 
buildings  erected,  and  in  1835  the  Trustees  elected  Dr.  Potts  President  of 
the  institution.  He  accepted  the  appointment,  resigned  his  charge  at  St. 
Louis,  and  entered  at  once  upon  the  duties  of  his  new  office.  Here  he 
-flpent  the  next  four  years  in  intense  and  exhausting  labour,  and  during  one 
season  travelled  from  Missouri  to  Maine,  endeavouring  to  collect  funds  in 
aid  of  the  institution. 

The  success  of  the  enterprise  did  not,  however,  equal  his  expectations; 
and  in  1838,  a  small  number  of  the  members  of  the  church  to  which  he 
had  ministered  in  St.  Louis,  proposed  to  him  that  if  he  would  return  to 
them,  they  would  attempt  the  establishment  of  a  new  church.  He  aon- 
sented  to  the  proposal,  a  new  church  was  organized,  and  he  was  unanimously 
iHtUed  to  it  in  1839.     He  entered  upon  his  new  charge  in  July  of  that  year, 


"WILLIAM  STEPHENS  POTTS.  725 

snd  was  installed  in  October  following.  And  here  he  laboured  with  untir- 
ing assiduity,  except  when  occasionally  absent  in  search  of  health,  till  his 
decease.  The  church  enjoyed,  during  his  ministry,  fiye  seasons  of  revival, 
and  received  to  its  membership  more  than  a  thousand  persons. 

The  hemorrhage  from  which  he  had  suffered  at  Princeton,  though  it  was 
not  of  the.  lungs,  settled  into  a  bronchial  affection,  from  which  he  was  never 
entirely  relieved.  In  1841,  his  health  was  so  prostrated  that  a  trip  to 
Europe  was  recommended  as  the  only  probable  means  of  restoring  him. 
He,  accordingly,  in  the  latter  part  of  April  of  that  year,  in  company  with 
bis  brother,  the  Hon.  Stacy  G.  Potts,  embarked  for  Europe ;  and,  having 
passed  several  months  on  the  Continent  and  in  Great  Britain,  he  returned 
in  the  ensuing  October,  considerably  invigorated  by  his  tour. 

The  same  year,  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him 
by  Marion  College. 

In  1850,  his  health  obliged  him  to  retire  from  his  labours  for  a  season, 
and  he  spent  most  of  the  summer  with  his  brother  at  Trenton.  Early  in 
1852,  he  took  a  cold,  which  was  not  a  little  aggravated  by  his  travelling  to 
a  distant  town  to  meet  his  Presbytery.  On  his  return,  he  was  obliged  to 
discontinue  his  labours ;  and  he  never  resumed  them.  He  evinced  an 
unqualified  resignation  in  the  prospect  of  his  departure, — arranging  all  his 
concerns  with  the  utmost  composure  and  dignity.  He  died  on  Sabbath 
morning,  March  27,  1852.  He  had  rested  quietly  the  preceding  night, 
and  when  the  sun  arose,  he  roused  up,  and  was  told  that  it  was  Sabbath 
morning.  He  asked  to  be  raised  in  his  bed  that  he  might  once  more 
look  at  the  sun ;  but  his  sight  was  gone.  He  said  quietly, — *^  I  cannot 
see  ;"  and  sunk  back  on  his  pillow.  He  only  spoke  once  afterwards,  and 
his  words  were, — **  Enduring  the  cross,  despising  the  shame,  He  is  set 
down  at  the  Eight  Hand  of  the  Throne  of  God."  His  Funeral  took  place 
on  the  following  Tuesday.  The  Courts  in  Session  in  the  city  were  closed, 
and  many  suspended  their  business  to  do  honour  to  his  memory. 

On  the  18th  of  August,  1884,  he  was  married  to  Ann,  daughter  of  Samuel 
Benton  of  Mbsouri,  and  niece  of  the  Hon.  Thomas  H.  Benton,  of  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States, — a  lady  eminently  qualified  to  render  him 
happy.     They  had  no  living  children. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Dr.  Potts'  publications : — A  Masonic  Discourse, 
delivered  before  the  Missouri  Lodge,  No.  1,  on  St.  John's  Day,  at  St.  Louis, 
1828.  An  Annual  Sermon  for  the  Presbyterian  Sunday  School  Society 
of  St.  Louis,  1881.  An  Address  delivered  before  the  Young  Men's  Tem- 
perance Society  of  St,  Louis,  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1834.  An  Inaugural 
Address  delivered  before  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Marion  College,  1885. 
Obligations  of  Professors  in  Christian  Colleges :  an  Address  delivered  by 
appointment  before  the  Professors  and  Tutors  of  Marion  College,  1886. 
Effects  of  Intemperance  upon  National  Wealth:  an  Address  delivered 
before  the  St.  Louis  Total  Abstinence  Society,  1889.  A  Beview  of  a 
Declaration  of  Sentiments  made  by  the  Synod  of  Missouri,  formed  by  a 
Convention  of  Presbyterian  ministers  and  elders,  held  at  Hannibal,  Mo., 
1841.  Presbyterian  Church  Government  Scriptural:  a  Sermon  delivered 
by  appointment  before  the  Presbytery  of  St.  Louis,  1842.  The  Episcopal 
doctrine  of  Apostolic  Succession  examined  ;  being  a  reply  to  '*  An  Episco- 
palian's Beview  of  a  Sermon  by  the  Bev.  William  S.  Potts,  D.  D.,  entitled 
'  Presbyterian  Church  Government  Scriptural,'  "  1843.     Sequel  to  Apos- 


726  PRESBYTERIAN. 

tolical  Succession  examined :  being  an  Answer  to  ''An  Episcopalian's  Com- 
ments" on  the  same,  1843.  The  path  of  Honour:  an  Address  delivered 
before  the  Union  Literary  Society  of  the  University  of  Missouri,  1845. 
Dangers  of  Jesuit  Instruction :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the  Second  Presby- 
terian Church,  St.  Louis,  1845.  Reply  to  Brownson's  "Revieyr  of  the 
Sermon  by  Dr.  Potts,  on  the  'dangers  of  Jesuit  instruction*,' ''  1846. 
Ministers  should  live  of  the  Gospel :  a  Sermon  on  the  duty  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  in  Missouri  in  regard  to  Domestic  Missions ;  preached  by 
appointment  before  the  Synod  of  Missouri,  in  Columbia,  1846.  A  Sermon 
on  certain  Popular  Amusements  of  the  day ;  delivered  in  the  Second  Pres- 
byterian Church,  St.  Louis,  1847.  The  Bible  the  basis  of  American 
Liberty :  a  Tract.  God  in  the  Pestilence  and  the  Fire  :  a  Sermon  preached 
in  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  of  St.  Louis,  the  Sabbath  after  the 
Great  Fire,  1849.  Sin,  the  bane  of  prosperity :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the 
Second  Presbyterian  Church  in  St.  Louis,  on  the  day  of  the  National  Fast, 
1849.  The  Sabbath :  its  original  institution,  &c. — the  substance  of  two 
Discourses  in  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  of  St.  Louis,  1849.  The 
blessedness  of  dying  in  the  Lord :  a  Sermon  preached  at  the  Funeral  of 
Mrs.  Angelina  Charlotte  Yeatman,  in  tho  Second  Presbyterian  Church  of 
St.  Louis,  1849. 

FROM  THE  REV.  H.  P.  GOODRICH,  D.  D. 

St.  Lonia,  Mo.,  Augnst  18,  1852. 

Dear  Sir :  I  knew  Dr.  Potts  in  Princeton  Seminary  in  1825.  I  was  with  him 
one  year,  as  Professor  of  Ancient  Languages  in  Marion  College,  of  which  he  wa.s 
President.  For  four  years  after,  I  was  his  successor  in  the  Presidency,  was  often 
in  his  company,  and  was  in  constant  correspondence  with  him.  While  engaged 
in  the  minislry  in  this  city,  I  was  accustomed  to  meet  him  often,  and  regularly 
in  our  weekly  clerical  association,  and  in  Presbytery  and  Synod. 

In  personal  appearance.  Dr.  Potts  was  rather  tall,  but  of  a  slight  figure  and 
pale  countenance.  He  had  a  mild,  determined,  intellectual  look,  and  a  graceful 
and  dignified  bearing.  He  had  a  fine  forehead,  firmly  compressed  lips,  dark 
brown  glossy  hair,  and  clear  blue  eyes,  over  which  he  always  wore  gold-rimmed 
concave  glasses.  All  the  physical  strength  he  ever  had  was  induced  from  the 
strength  of  his  will;  but  it  was  iron;  and  hence  he  could  endure  and  accomplish 
more  than  most  men.  His  dress  was  always  neat  and  genteel,  but  not  extrava- 
gant. He  never  sought  conversation  Or  societ}*^  for  amusement,  or  because  he 
loved  it,  for  he  was  much  happier  in  his  library,  or  in  his  family,  than  any  where 
else.  Yet  he  was  easily  approached  by  any  one,  and  children  always  loved  him. 
He  was  disposed  to  do  those  little  kindnesses  which  win  the  heart,  and  show  a 
thoughtful  friendship.  A  beautiful  hymn-book  is  now  before  me,  presented  to 
my  deceased  daughter  by  Dr.  Potts,  bearing  an  afiectionate  inscription.  In  some 
one  of  his  conversations  with  her  during  her  last  illness,  he  ate  with  her  a  double 
almond,  and  when  she  won  the  philopcena,  he  presented  her  this  book.  To 
many  of  his  charge  he  gave  similar  mementos.  He  was  also  kind  to  the  friend- 
less stranger,  in  money,  in  time,  and  in  counsel.  Not  long  ago,  a  young  man, 
elegantly  dressed,  called  on  him  as  a  Presbyterian  minister,  because  his  father 
was  an  elder  of  that  Church  in  some  Northern  State,  and  asked  his  influence  in 
getting  for  him  a  clerkship,  stating  that  he  had  been  to  Mobile  and  New  Orleans, 
and  had  now  been  in  St.  Louis  till  his  money  was  all  gone,  and  he  could  get  no 
employment.  Dr.  Potts  verified  his  statements,  and  then  told  the  young  man 
that,  at  that  moment,  he  could  get  no  place  for  him,  but  that  he  would  pay  for 


WILLIAM  STXFHXKS  POTTS.  727 

his  board  till  something  oould  be  done,  and  that,  in  the  mean  time,  the  best 
advioe  he  could  give  him  was  to  engage  in  the  first  honest  business  that  should 
present  itself.  This  so  impressed  the  mind  of  the  young  man  that,  as  he  passed 
ftlong  the  street,  and  heard  some  one  asking  for  a  labourer  to  put  a  load  of  coal 
into  the  cellar,  he  offered  to  do  it,  and  did  it  without  soiling  his  black  broadcloth 
or  white  linen.  Thus  he  earned  the  first  seyenty-five  cents  since  he  left  his 
&ther's  house.  This  led  to  other  employment;  but  he  still  followed  the  Doctor's 
advice,  and  after  a  few  months  returned  to  him  to  thank  him  for  his  kind  atten- 
tions, and  especially  for  that  judicious  counsel,  which  had  led  to  his  earning 
fifteen  hundred  dollars.  Many  young  men  have  found  a  friend  in  need  in  Doctor 
Potts. 

In  society,  he  was  courteous  and  polite,  but  most  persons  stood  in  awe  of  him, 
and  in  conversation  with  him  rather  expected  instruction  than  a  mutual  inter- 
change of  thoughts  and  feelings.  His  colloquial  speech  was  slow  and  deliberate, 
nsually  indicating  reflection.  In  the  study,  his  labour  was  mostly  that  of 
thought.  He  never  used  the  language  of  others,  never  adopted  their  arrange- 
ment of  ideas,  and  seldom  quoted  either  prose  or  poetry.  He  used  books  mainly 
to  discover  facts  and  arguments,  and  to  learn  what  the  world  was  writing  and 
reading.  In  reading,  if  he  wished  to  remember  a  page,  as  he  would  not  trust  a 
lod^e  book-mark,  and  would  not  turn  a  leaf,  he  was  wont  to  put  his  finger  on  the 
pacing,  and  repeat  the  number  aloud,  and  would  then  never  forget  it.  So,  in 
remembering  numbers  in  a  city  of  a  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  and  in  a 
church  of  five  hundred  members, — he  never  forgot  the  number  of  a  house,  and 
usually  associated  the  number  with  money.  If  asked  to  call,  for  instance,  at 
No.  18,  he  would  say  to  himself, — "that  is  three  picayunes;"  or  110, — '*that  is  one 
dollar  and  a  dime;  "  or  233, — '^  that  is  two  dollars  and  two  shillings;  **  and  he 
would  then  never  forget  it.  His  knowledge  was  usually  remarkably  accurate, 
and  of  course  there  were  many  subjects  on  which  he  knew  nothing;  for  if  he  had 
not  time  or  opportunity  to  master  the  subject,  he  did  not  care  to  know  anything 
about  it.  His  library  was  composed  of  standard  works.  Every  book  and  every 
paper  was  always  in  its  place,  and  the  place  was  rarely  ever  changed.  The  same 
Bible  lay  upon  his  table  for  twenty  years.  His  discourses  were  usually  prepared 
with  full  analysis,  and  written,  as  they  were  prepared,  in  a  series  of  blank  books 
of  pocket  size.  He  seldom  wrote  out  a  discourse,  and  seldom,  when  he  did  write, 
read  the  manuscript,  or  committed  it  to  memory,  or  carried  the  fragment  of  a 
note  into  the  pulpit.  His  sermons  were  extempore — in  the  sense  not  of  being 
unstudied,  but  unwritten. 

In  pulpit  labours  he  never  varied  much.  No  man  ever  saw  him  try  to  be  elo- 
quent, or  to  win  any  external  sign  of  approbation  or  feeling.  If  a  sermon  was 
praised,  it  never  seemed  to  gratify  him;  and  if  criticised  and  censured,  it  did  not 
disturb  him.  His  sole  aim  in  preaching  was  manifestly  to  make  men  better,  and 
the  weapon  he  wielded  most,  was  strong,  unanswerable  logic.  With  him,  the 
tone  of  voice,  the  gesture,  the  garniture  of  flowers  and  figures,  were  nothing^— 
simple  truth  and  sound  argument  were  every  thing.  He  ever  seemed  to  rely 
much  on  the  power  of  prayer,  and  in  social  meetings,  urged  all  the  male  mem-> 
hers  of  his  church  to  take  a  part. 

In  building  up  his  church  and  congregation,  Dr,  Potts  was  unusually  wise  and 
politic.  All  measures  not  decidedly  wrong,  he  would  use  for  the  benefit  of  the 
church,  or  of  any  cause  in  which  he  was  engaged,  and  in  seasons  of  revival  he 
adopted  any  measures  which  seemed  to  him  likely,  on  the  whole,  to  produce  good 
results.  In  public  labours  and  in  private  intercourse,  in  counsel  and  rebuke,  he 
was  ever  faithful  to  the  souls  of  men,  whether  they  were  high  or  low  according 
to  the  world's  standard. 

In  the  judicatories  of  the  Church,  he  was  always  prominent,  though  not  for- 
ward; for  he  felt  an  interest  in  every  subject,  and  had  always  something  to  say 


728  PRSSBTTSBIAV. 

that  was  worthy  of  being  heard.  As  Chairman  of  a  Committee,  or  aa  Stated 
Clerk,  he  w^as  a  pattern  of  excellence.  All  business  committed  to  him  was  sure 
to  be  done,  and  done  right,  and  all  papers  drafted  by  him  were  always  in  right 
form,  rightly  folded  and  endorsed,  beautifully  written,  and  seldom  interlined  or 
copied.  I  may  here  mention  an  incident  which  controlled  his  handwriting  in  all 
after-life,  and  which  shows  how  his  mind  turned  to  good  account  little  things. 
When  a  boy,  he  was  a  clerk  of  some  sort  in  Philadelphia,  and  went  to  collect  a 
bill  from  a  Quaker  gentleman.  When  paid,  he  signed  the  receipt  with  one  of 
those  hieroglyphic  cartouches,  which  we  sometimes  see  as  a  signature  on  bank- 
notes. The  Quaker  took  up  the  bill  and  said  very  blandly, — *'  Friend,  what  is 
this  at  the  bottom?**  **That,  Sir,  is  my  name."  **  What  is  thy  name  .^" 
"  William  S.  Potts."  *'  Well,  William,  will  thee  please  to  write  it  down  under 
here  plain,  so  that  a  witness  in  Court  could  know  it."  Ever  after.  Dr.  Potts 
wrote  to  be  read,  and  no  man  could  mistake  a  word  or  letter. 

I  remain  your  brother  in  the  Lord, 

HIRAM  P.  GOODRICH. 

FROM  THE  HON.  STACY  G.  POTTS, 

JUDQE  OF  TBS  8UPBEME    COUKT  OF  MEW  JERSET. 

■ 

TkemtoNj  N.  J.,  September  4,  1852. 

Dear  Sir:  I  avail  myself  of  the  first  leisure  moment  I  have  had  since  your 
letter  was  received,  to  furnish  some  reminiscences  of  my  deceased  brother,  the 
late  Rev.  Dr.  Potts  of  St.  Louis. 

The  only  very  prominent  trait  of  character  which  he  exhibited  in  his  earliest 
years,  was  that  of  dogged,  invincible  obstinacy.  He  was  the  most  utterly 
''impracticable'*  boy  I  ever  knew — not  vicious,  not  unkind,  but  self-willed,  and  in 
his  self-will  unconquerable.  As  this  trait  came,  in  time  and  through  after  years, 
to  be  softened  and  controlled  by  the  exercise  of  an  intellect  of  great  vigour,  it 
took  that  form  of  firmness,  fearlessness,  and  uncompromising  devotion  to  duty, 
which  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  characteristics  of  the  man.  For  where 
his  convictions  of  duty  were  clear,  I  believe  he  would,  at  any  time,  have  faced  a 
cannon's  mouth,  as  calmly  as  eat  his  breakfast.  It  was  this  character  which  soon 
came  to  be  understood  when  he  went  to  the  West,  that  made  many  things  easy 
of  accomplishment  in  his  ministerial  labour,  which  a  timid  man  would  have  found 
impossible. 

It  was  during  bis  course  of  study  preparatory  to  entering  the  Seminary,  that 
his  firm  and  decided  Christian  character  took  its  shape,  and  commenced  its 
development.  His  eye,  his  thoughts,  his  efforts,  were  directed  steadily  and  singly 
to  the  field  he  was  about  to  occupy.  He  was  not  a  man  of  impulses,  of  heated 
zeal,  of  overwrought  imaginations,  or  sanguine  hopes.  With  him  opinions  were 
the  sober  convictions  of  a  cool,  dispassionate  judgment,— the  result  of  full  invest- 
igation and  deep  thought.  He.  was  in  one  sense  a  man  of  one  idea;  but  that 
was  an  idea  which  expanded  over  the  whole  circle  of  his  anticipated  duties.  His 
system  of  study  was  thoroughly  to  master  one  thing  at  a  time,  no  matter  how 
slow  the  process.  This  made  him  rather  a  sure  than  a  rapid  learner.  What  he 
knew  once,  he  know  for  his  lifetime.  It  was  this  habit  of  patient,  thoughtful 
investigation,  of  dagiterreotyping  one  thing  after  another  on  the  memory  and  in 
the  heart,  instead  of  glancing  at  things  in  their  combinations,  as  one  looking  into 
a  kaleidescope,  that  made  him  eventually  what  ho  was.  But  though  now  lead- 
ing the  life  of  a  severe  student,  he  considered  himself  responsible  for  the  manner 
in  which  his  short  intervals  of  recreation  were  employed;  and  in  social  or  private 
conversation,  at  home,  in  his  walks,  in  company,  at  the  prayer  meeting  and  the 
Sunday  School,  in  every  field  open  to  him  for  speaking  boldly  the  simple  truths 


WILLIAM  STEPHEHS  POTTS.  729 

of  the  Gospol,  be  commenced  the  work  that  occupied  him  all:  the  remainder  of  his 
life. 

It  is  difficult  for  us  in  this  part  of  the  country  to  conceive  of  the  amount  of 
labour  which  devolved  upon  my  brother  after  he  wont  to  St.  Louis.  He  was  one 
of  the  early  pioneers  of  Presbyterianism  in  the  Great  Valley.  St.  Louis  was,  in 
1827,  a  small  town  of  less  than  six  thousand  inhabitants.  Its  commerce  was  then 
managed,  I  believe,  in  a  feiv  fiat-bottomed  boats.  The  Catholics  formed  the 
substrata  of  the  community— only  a  few  Methodists  and  Presbyterians  had  pre- 
ceded him.  lie  lived  to  see  St.  Louis  a  city  of  nearly  a  hundred  thousand  souls, 
with  hundreds  of  steamboats  at  her  levee,  the  great  emporium  of  the  trade  of 
the  upper  country,  the  Queen  of  the  cities  of  the  Valley,  the  great  centre  of 
wealth,  intelligence,  talent,  and  influence.  He  lived  to  see  the  Presbyterian 
Church  as  powerful  and  influential  as  any  other  denomination,  if  not  more  so. 
He  had  grown  up  with  this  great  progress,  and  been  a  part  of  it,  and  but  com- 
paratively few  are  now  to  be  found  in  St.  Louis,  who  were  there  when  he  first 
came.  He  had  been  consulted  and  active  in  the  formation  of  churches,  and  the 
settlement  of  pastors,  all  through  the  Valley,  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century. 
Every  body  knew  where  he  was,  and  who  he  was. 

As  a  specimen  of  his  system  in  labour,  I  may  mention  that  ho  kept,  from  the 
commencement  of  his  ministry,  a  sort  of  historical  record  of  all  persons  who 
joined  his  Church;  and  it  was  printed,  and  re-printed  every  four  years,  and 
distributed  through  the  Church.  In  this  the  brief  history  of  every  member  was 
kept  before  his  eye,  and  continued  down  year  after  year,  and  kept  too  before  all 
his  people.  He  considered  a  person  who  once  joined  his  Church,  thenceforth  a 
member  of  his  family — to  be  visited,  written  to,  watched  over,  and  followed  with 
the  solicitude  of  parental  afiection,  while  he  lived.  Hence  he  knew  intimately 
every  one  of  his  members,  and  seldom  failed -to  keep  his  eye  upon  them  wherever 
they  might  wander. 

It  was  his  constant  object  to  find  work  for  every  one  of  his  people,  and  he  kept 
them,  as  far  as  possible,  at  work.  His  maxim  was, — *'  to  grow  in  grace,  you 
must  do  your  duty."  He  was  a  man  of  practical  ideas,  and  but  little  of  a  theorist. 
His  test  of  Christian  character  was  not  so  much  "*  How  do  you  feel,  as  how  do 
you  perform  your  duty.  If  you  want  me  to  tell  you  whether  or  no  you  love  the 
Saviour,  tell  me  first  how  you  serve  and  obey  Him." 

I  might  extend  these  reminiscences  indefinitely,  but  what  I  hare  written  is 
probably  sufficient  for  your  purpose. 

Yours  truly, 

STACY  G.  POTTS. 

Vol.  IV.  92 


730  PBXSBTTEBIAX. 


CHARLES  HALL,  D.  D  * 

1827—1853. 

Chables  Hall,  the  eldest  child  of  Jaooh  Hall,  was  bom  at  Williams* 
port.  Pa.,  June  23,  1799 ;  though,  while  he  was  yet  in  his  infancy,  the 
family  removed  to  Geneva,  N.  T.     His  parents  were  in  moderate  worldly 
circumstances,  but  they  were  both  distinguished  for  good  sense,  sound  jndg* 
ment,  and  earnest  piety.     He  early  exhibited  a  decided  taste  and  aptness 
for  study,  as  a  proof  of  which  it  is  stated  that  when  he  was  only  two  or 
three  years  of  age,  he  learned  to  read  by  tracing  the  letters  and  words  on 
the  signboards  in  the  village.     He  also  manifested  great  tenderness  of  con- 
science ;   and  he  had,  as  he  advanced  through  childhood  and  youth,  manj 
seasons  of  deeply  serious  reflection.     But  his  good  resolutions  seem  to  have 
been  formed  in  the  spirit  of  the  law  rather  than  of  the  Gospel,  until  he  was 
about  eighteen  years  of  age,  when  he  believed  that  he  submitted  himself  to 
the  righteousness  of  God.     Of  that  most  important  event  in  his  history  he 
has  left  the  following  interesting  record  : — 

'*  I  took  up  my  Bible,  which  always  lay  on  my  writing-desk,  and  tried  to  read  it,  but 
could  not.  My  thoughts  dwelt  only  on  my  own  dismal  situation,  and  revised  attention 
to  any  thing  else.  The  conviction  of  my  guilt  seemed  now  complete.  I  saw  that  I 
was  a  sinner  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  word.  But  it  was  not  the  conviction  which  is 
connect^id  with  godly  sorrow.  I  could  not  brook  it  that  all  my  doings  should  be  at  last 
but  filthy  rags.  I  murmured  and  found  fault  with  God  for  not  converting  me  as 
well  as  others,  and  while  my  reason  and  all  my  mental  powers  approved  the  sorereignty 
of  God,  my  heart  rose  against  it,  and  such  a  malignant  feeling  of  opposition  to  the 
supremacy  of  his  will  possessed  me,  as  makes  me  almost  shudder  at  the  recollection.'' 

Then  referring  to  the  change  which  he  subsequently  experienced,  he 
adds, — 

"  Every  thing  seemed  new  and  interesting.  I  was  surprised  and  delighted  with  so 
fine  a  theme  of  thought;  and,  as  I  pursued  my  reflections,  the  plan  of  salvation — God's 
dealings  with  me — the  love  of  Christ — ^seemcd  to  be  topics  enough  for  the  universe 
to  talk  of.  All  these  things  were  so  sweet,  so  mild,  so  proper,  the  sublime  truths  of 
religion,  of  whose  excellence  I  had  before  but  a  speculative  conviction,  now  seemed  90 
glorious,  so  important,  and  crowded  in  such  magnificent  forms  upon  my  narrow  mind, 
that  I  felt  bewildered  among  them.  Myself,  too,  so  poor  and  unworthy !  No  language 
oould  do  my  feeUngp  justice.  It  was  some  time  before  I  recovered  myself,  and  then 
the  first  sentiment  of  my  heart  was, — '  Lord,  it  is  enough.  I  will  love  thee.  I  will  not 
murmur  any  longer.    All  is  right.    Do  with  me  as  seemeth  good  in  thy  sight.'" 

In  accordance  with  the  wishes  of  his  parents,  as  well  as  his  own  early 
predilections,  he  resolved,  almost  in  connection  with  this  change  of  feeling, 
to  enter  on  a  course  of  study  preparatory  to  the  Christian  ministry.  This 
design  was  also  favoured  by  his  Pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Axtell,  whose  atten- 
tion had  early  been  drawn  to  him  as  a  youth  of  uncommon  promise.  He 
prosecuted  his  studies  under  many  embarrassments,  all  of  which  he  met 
with  remarkable  perseverance,  patience,  and  self-sacrifice.  For  one  winter, 
while  preparing  for  College,  he  studied  his  Latin  Grammar  and  Virgil  by 
the  light  of  blazing  pine  knots,  while  tending,  as  a  means  of  support, 
a  lonely  mill  on  the  outlet  of  Conesus  Lake.  At  this  period,  his  father, 
who  watched  his  progress  with  the  deepest  interest,  but  was  prevented 
by  his  straitened  circumstances  from  rendering  him  much  pecuniary  aid, 
made  him  a  visit,  carrying  with  him  a  bank  note,  as  a  sort  of  family  offering, 

•  Dr.  Smith*!  Fan.  Serm.— Home  Missionaiy  for  1853,  1854. 


CHARLES  HALL.  731 

which  had  been  saved  at  home  by  extraoTdiBarj  economj  and  self-denial. 
Both  the  father  and  the  son  were  deeply  affected,  as  the  one  delivered,  and 
the  other  received,  it.  They  sat  by  the  fireside  daring  the  evening,  engaged 
in  conversation  in  which  they  were  mutually  much  interested,  and  when  at 
length  they  rose  to  retire,  the  bank  note  was  missing.  On  examination,  it 
was  found  that  it  had  fallen  from  the  hands  of  the  son  into  the  fire,  and 
that  only  enough  of  it  had  escaped  the  flames  to  show  that  it  was  irrecover- 
ably gone.  He  used  at  a  later  period  of  life  to  speak  of  this  as  a  severe 
trial  of  his  faith,  in  which  he  gratefully  recognised  his  Heavenly  Father's 
gracious  hand. 

Having  acquired  the  reqnbite  preparation  for  College,  chiefly  under  tho 
Rev.  Dr.  Axtell,  he  joined  the  Sophomore  class  in  Hamilton  College,  in 
1821.  He  graduated  in  1824,  with  the  first  honours  of  his  class  ;  and  that, 
notwithstanding  he  had  been  embarrassed  during  his  whole  course  by  the 
necessity  of  practising  the  most  rigid  economy,  and  sometimes  submitting  to 
a  degree  of  hardship,  in  order  to  meet  his  College  expenses.  Immediately 
after  his  graduation,  he  entered  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton, 
where  he  remained  earnestly  and  successfully  prosecuting  his  studies, 
until  he  had  nearly  completed  the  prescribed  course  of  three  years.  He 
was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Newark,  on  the  24th  of 
April,  1827.  In  October  following,  he  was  married  to  Sarah  Webster, 
daughter  of  Colonel  Joseph  Lawrence,  of  Geneseo,  N.  Y.  They  had  eight 
children. 

Mr.  Hall,  even  before  he  entered  College,  had  exhibited  much  of  the 
missionary  spirit,  and  had  expressed  a  desire  to  become  immediately  con- 
nected, in  some  way,  with  the  great  enterprise  of  etangelising  the  world. 
The  American  Home  Missionary  Society  having  been  formed  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  in  the  year  1826,  he  was  called,  in  1827,  to  the  oflSce  of  its 
Assistant  Secretary ;  and  he  accepted  the  appointment.  In  the  autumn  of 
1837,  he  was  appointed  one  of  the  Co-ordinate  Secretaries  for  Correspon- 
dence ;  and  in  this  office  he  continued  until  his  death,  discharging  its  duties 
with  rare  ability  and  fidelity. 

He  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Hamilton 
College  in  1848. 

Though  Dr.  Hall's  physical  habit  was,  daring  most  of  his  public  life, 
rather  delicate  than  robust,  he  was  able  ordinarily  to  accomplish  a  great 
amount  of  labour.  For  several  years  before  his  death,  however,  there  was 
a  very  perceptible  decline  of  his  health :  besides  being  not  a  little  afflicted 
by  dyspepsia,  he  suffered  from  severe  attacks  of  inflammatory  rheumatism. 
At  length  it  was  proposed  to  him  by  some  of  his  friends  that  he  should  try 
the  effect  of  a  voyage  to  Europe;  and  though  all  his  tastes  would  have 
seconded  the  proposal,  yet  he  could  not  for  some  time  be  induced  to  enter- 
tain the  idea,  on  account  of  his  unwillingness  to  withdraw  even  temporarily 
from  his  official  duties.  He,  however,  finally  consented  to  it,  from  a  con- 
viction that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  the  restoration  of  his  health  and 
the  continuance  of  his  life.  He,  accordingly,  embarked  for  Havre  on  the 
10th  of  July,  1852. 

On  big  arrival  at  Havre,  he  immediately  crossed  the  channel  to  England, 
and,  after  a  brief  stay  in  London,  went  to  Liverpool,  and  thence  North- 
ward  to  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  Returning  by  way  of  Edinburgh  to 
London,  he  visited  some  of  the  most  interesting  localities  in  the  neighbour- 


732  FBESBYTBRIAN. 

hood  of  that  oity,  aad  tben  made  his  way  to  Paris.  From  Paris  he  passed, 
by  way  of  Germany,  to  Switaerland,  among  whose  Alpine  wonders  he  foand 
the  greatest  delight.  In  one  of  the  monntain  passes,  the  Tete  Noire,  he 
narrowly  escaped  with  his  life.  The  mule  on  which  he  rode,  making  a  false 
step,  rolled  from  the  path  with  him  into  the  rocky  bed  of  a  river  below. 
Tlie  effect  was  nothing  more  than  a  few  bruises  and  a  momentary  stunning ; 
but  it  was  wonderful  that  it  had  not  been  instant  death.  By  way  of  Mar- 
seilles and  other  cities  on  the  Mediterranean,  he  passed  on  to  Kouie; 
and  having  remained  there  a  short  time,  he  returned  through  France  to 
England,  and  thence  sailed  for  home, — the  whole  period  of  his  absence 
from  the  country  having  been  less  than  five  months. 

Though  he  enjoyed  much  during  his  absence,  neither  his  own  hopes  nor 
those  of  his  friends,  were  realized  in  respect  to  the  improvement  of  his 
health.  He  returned  immediately  to  his  accustomed  duties,  and  continued 
to  discharge  them  in  great  weakness,  and  not  without  much  suffering,  until 
the  14th  of  October,  1853,  when  he  left  the  Home  Missionary  office  for  the 
last  time.  It  soon  became  manifest  that,  with  the  inflammatory  rheumatism, 
from  which  he  had  long  been  a  sufferer,  was  combined  a  dropsical  affection 
of  the  heart ;  and  that  this  complicated  disease  must  speedily  have  a  futal 
termination.  His  last  days  were  marked  not  only  by  perfect  peace,  but  by 
an  unusual  degree  of  Christian  triumph.  He  died  at  the  age  of  fifty-four, 
at  his  residence  in  Newark,  N.  J.,  on  the  81st  of  October,  just  two  weeks 
after  he  ceased  from  his  official  labours.  A  Discourse,  commemorative  of 
his  life  and  character,  Avas  preached  in  the  city  of  New  York,  on  the  first 
Sabbath  evening  in  January  following,  by  the  Rev.  Asa  D.  Smith,  D.  D., 
and  was  published. 

Dr.  Hall  was,  for  several  years,  the  editor  of  the  Home  Missionary,  and 
wrote  a  considerable  part  of  each  of  the  Annual  Reports  of  the  American 
Home  Missionary  Society,  during  the  twenty-five  years  that  he  was  connec- 
ted with  it.  He  published  a  Tract  entitled  **  Plans  and  motives  for  the 
extension  of  Sabbath  Schools,"  1828;  (for  which  there  was  awarded  to  him 
a  prize  of  fifty  dollars ;)  the  Daily  Verse  Expositor,  consisting  of  a  brief 
Commentary  on  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  1832  ;  a  Plan  for  Systematic 
Benevolence  ;  and  a  Sermon  on  the  means  of  the  World's  Conversion,  pub- 
lished in  the  National  Preacher,  1841. 

FROM  THE  REV.  NICHOLAS  MURRAY,  D.  D. 

Elizabeth,  June  21, 1857. 
My  dear  Dr.  Sprague:  In  the  fall  of  1826, 1  became  a  member  of  the  Theo- 
logical Seminary  of  Princeton.  Doctors  Alexander  and  Miller  were  then  in  the 
full  maturity  of  their  intellect,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  high  and  extended 
reputation,  as  teachers,  and  they  attracted  students  from  every  part  of  the  coan- 
try,  and  from  the  different  branches  of  the  Evangelical  Church.  There  were 
then  in  the  Seminary,  as  a  glance  at  the  Catalogue  proves,  many  young  men  of 
the  highest  promise,  and  who  have  since  risen  to  great  distinction — John  C. 
Young,  Henry  White,  William  S.  Potts,  D.  H.  Riddle,  Daniel  L.  Carroll,  0. 
W.  Musgrave,  Albert  B.  Dod,  and  others,  whose  names  are  not  unknown  to  tho 
Church,  or  to  the  country.  And  among  these  stood  Charles  Hall,  with  less 
showy  talent  than  some  of  them,  but  in  solid  acquisition,  in  deep  thoughtful ne&s 
in  fervent  piety,  unsurpassed  by  any.  His  great  seriousness  of  deportment,  his 
long  marked  visage,  his  dark  searching  eye,  his  scholarly  bearing,  soon  attracted 


CHARLES  HALL.  733 

my  notice  and  my  respect;  and  as  we  became  members  of  the  Society  of  Inquiry, 
which  was  then  confined  to  those  who  were  canyassing  their  duty  as  to  Foreign 
Missions,  that  respect  soon  grew  into  friendship.  His  health  was  then  feeble, 
M'ith  some  premonitions  of  consumption;  and  tliis  was  probably  the  reason  why 
he  did  not  go  with  his  firiend  Whiting  as  a  missionary  to  the  East,  and  why  he 
turned  aside  from  the  direct  work  of  preaching  the  Gospel.  Whilst  yet  a 
student  of  the  Seminary,  be  wrote  an  Essay  on  the  subject  of  Sabbath  Schools, 
which  was  published,  and  extensively  circulated,  and  which  gained  him  a  high 
reputation.  And  his  well  known  song, — '*A  Church  without  a  Bishop,  a  State 
without  a  King,"  which  was  sung  a  few  years  since  in  almost  every  viUage  in 
the  United  States,  showed  that  he  also  successfully  courted  the  muses. 

Dr.  Hall  was  most  respected  by  those  who  knew  him  best.  He  was  modest 
to  a  degree  which,  to  a  stranger,  might  make  him  appear  distant;  he  was  cautious 
up  to  a  point  which  might  have  been  mistaken  for  the  want  of  frankness  or  for 
unreasonable  scrupvlosity;  he  was  so  strong  in  his  convictions  and  principles, 
that  some  might  have  been  ready  to  charge  him  with  obstinacy;  but  those  who 
knew  him  well,  knew  that  in  each  of  these  cases,  it  was  the  genuine  virtue 
that  adorned  his  character.  He  was  eminently  a  guileless  man,  and  in  his 
friendships  he  was  not  only  sincere,  but  constant,  warm  and  faithful.  He  was  no 
doubt  greatly  useful  as  the  Secretary  of  the  American  Home  Missionary  Society, 
and  laboured  in  that  field  with  characteristic  wisdom  and  efficiency.  But  there 
were  other  fields  probably  in  which  the  results  of  his  labours  might  at  least  have 
attracted  more  attention,  if  they  had  not  been  more  permanently  important. 

Had  he  been  blessed  with  health  to  devote  himself  to  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel,  unless  I  greatly  mistake,  he  would,  in  clearness  of  discrimination,  in 
analytical  power,  in  force  of  presentation,  in  terseness  of  style,  and  in  all  the 
high  moral  qualifications  of  the  ministry,  have  been  one  of  the  brightest  lights 
of  the  American  pulpit.  Or  had  he  devoted  himself  to  the  duties  of  a  Professor 
in  any  of  our  Colleges  or  Seminaries,  instead  of  the  miscellaneous  duties  of  a 
Secretary,  he  might  have  left  behind  him  some  more  palpable,  if  not  more  endur- 
ing, monuments  of  his  excellent  talents,  and  of  his  great  powers  of  acquisition. 
Uis  death  was  as  triumphant  and  peaceful,  as  his  life  was  pure. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

N.  MURRAY. 

PROM  THE  REV.  ASA  D.  SMITH,  D.  D. 

New  Youe,  June,  1, 1867. 
My  dear  Sir:  One  of  my  earliest  clerical  acquaintances,  as  I  entered  upon  the 
ministerial  work  in  this  city,  was  the  Rev.  Charles  Hall.  It  was  largely  through 
his  instrumentality  that  I  was  drawn  to  this  field.  I  knew  him  intimately 
thenceforward, — as  an  inmate  of  his  family  for  a  time,  as  a  co-presbyter,  and  as 
a  bosom  friend, — till  he  entered  into  his  rest.  His  memory  runs  as  a  silver 
thread  through  the  whole  web  of  my  ministerial  life.  A  dear  name  will  his  be 
to  me  while  I  live,  and  yet  dearer,  I  trust,  as  more  luminous  with  the  reflected 
glory  of  Christ,  when,  after  some  short  time  has  passed  by,  I  meet  him  again  in 
the  better  land. 

Says  George  Herbert  of  his  Country  Parson, — "  The  character  of  his  sermon 
is  holiness.'*    So  might  I  say  of  Dr.  Hall's  life.    Not  that  it  lacked  many  other 
excellencies,  but  this  was  chief.    I  shall  never  forget  the  tender  emphasis  with 
which  he  said  to  me,  soon  after  I  first  knew  him,  as  we  talked  of  a  point  of  duty 
I  which  would  hardly  have  raised  a  scruple  in  most  minds,—'*/  must  be  hdy.** 

That  was  the  key-note  of  his  life. 
I  There  were  rare  combinations  in  Dr.  Hall's  character,  both  intellectaal  and 

)  moral.    He  had  much  acuteness  of  mind,  and  analytic  power.    Possibly  the 


734  PBXSBTTBRIAK. 

analytic  habit  sometimes  gained  undne  ascendancy.  Yet  he  lacked  not  synthe* 
sis.  He  had  a  firm  grasp  on  prindpleB.  They  were  the  light  of  his  eyes,  and 
the  joy  of  his  heart.  He  could  generalize  broadly,  and  with  great  effect.  He 
could  tear  down,  if  occasion  required,  but  he  could  build  up  also.  Few  excelled 
him  in  forming  a  whole  plan — large  and  comprehensive.  Nor,  while  thus  accom- 
plished in  generals,  was  he  deficient  in  the  management  of  details.  He  had,  in 
both  respects,  unusual  practical  ability.  He  was  a  modest  man,  of  a  shrinking 
reserve;  in  some  of  the  elements  of  his  character  predisposed,  perhaps,  to  timid- 
ity. Yet  when  great  principles  were  at  stake,  when  truth  and  righteousness 
called  for  decided  action,  he  was  ever  serenely  intrepid.  In  the  development  of 
his  intellectual  faculties,  there  was  a  marked  symmetry.  He  was  a  good  mathe- 
matician and  logician.  His  reasoning  powers  had  been  trained  to  the  abstrnsest 
investigation.  Yet  it  was  not  at  the  expense  of  the  aesthetic  nature.  He  had  a 
delicate  taste — ^fastidious  almost.  His  susceptibilities  were  alive  to  all  beauty 
and  sublimity.  He  had  the  eye  and  the  hand  of  an  artist.  He  would  have  niad<f 
an  eminent  architect,  or  statuary,  or  painter.  Poetry  did  gush  from  him,  at 
times,  so  readily,  and  of  such  richness,  as  to  indicate  a  broad  un wrought  vein  in 
the  depths  of  his  soul.  Public  man  though  he  was,  he  never  merged  his  per- 
sonal in  his  official  character.  Especially  might  this  be  said  of  his  religion. 
With  the  cares  of  a  great  national  institution  upon  him,  he  could  care  still  for 
the  parish  with  which  he  happened  to  be  connected,  for  a  feeble  minded  or  erring 
Christian,  or  for  a  soul  perishing  in  unbelief.  The  farthest  possible  was  his  from 
a  perfunctory  piety.  I  have  a  grateful  remembrance  of  his  manifold  helpful- 
ness, so  sympathetic,  so  considerate,  so  wise,  so  faithful,  in  the  church  enterprise 
of  which  he  was  mainly  the  founder,  and  with  which  my  pastoral  life  has  been 
identified.  He  was  for  years  one  of  my  hearers.  And  though  my  senior  in  the 
ministry,  and  no  mean  man,  as  I  well  knew,  intellectually,  I  soon  found  that  he 
listened  to  my  earliest  pulpit  efforts  as  a  little  child  in  Christ  Jesus.  His  chief 
care  was  that  the  people  might  be  benefitted,  and  his  own  soul  grow  in  grace.  His 
presence,  was  a  continual  incentive,  not  to  a  vain,  worldly  ambition,  but  to  all 
ministerial  earnestness  and  fidelity.  It  helped  to  make  me  feel  that  Christ  was 
present.  A  testimony  not  unlike  this  has  been  borne  by  other  pastors  with  whose 
congregations  he  was  afterwards  connected. 

Nothing  was  more  interesting  in  Dr.  Hall  than  his  domestic  character.  Home 
was  ever  a  dear  word  to  him.  His  gentle,  loving  heart,  worn  by  toil  and  care,  found 
at  the  fireside  a  sweet  refuge  and  resting-place.  All  his  domestic  affections  were  of 
rare  depth  and  tenderness.  I  saw  this  while  I  abode  under  his  roof,  and  in 
all  my  subsequent  intercourse  with  him.  It  was  indicated  abundantly  in  thkt 
brief  and  fragmentary  journal  of  his  tour  in  Europe,  not  long  before  his  death, 
which  it  was  my  privilege  with  tearful  eyes  to  read.  Amid  the  attractions  of 
London,  he  writes, — **  Felt  sad — I  greatly  need  sympathy.  I  have  been  so  long 
accustomed  to  pour  out  my  heart  into  the  ear  of  listening  affection,  and  to  have 
reciprocal  expression  of  thought  and  interest,  that,  without  it,  pleasure  is  no 
pleasure  to  me."  He  recognises  again,  with  a  gush  of  fatherly  feeling,  the  recur- 
ring birth-day  of  one  of  his  children.  He  calls  them  all  to  mind.  ''  I  looked  at 
their  pictures,"  he  writes,  **  till  my  heart  almost  broke.'*  He  receives  letters 
from  home,  and  speaks  of  making  haste  to  get  alone,  that  he  might  "  read,  and 
weep,  and  give  thanks,  and  pray."  Amid  rural  scenes  of  surpassing  loveliness, 
he  says  of  his  dear  ones, — *'  I  longed,  first  for  one,  then  for  another,  for  o/lof 
them  to  be  with  me."  He  is  among  the  mountains  of  Scotland,  and  by  associa- 
tions characteristically  delicate  and  touching,  his  thoughts  are  again  sent  home- 
ward. '*  My  attention,  he  says,  "  was  arrested  by  a  tree,  which  frequently 
occurred,  growing  orer  the  precipices,  and  loaded  with  clusters  of  red  berries,— 
in  erery  respect  like  the  moantain-ash,  except  that  the  head  of  the  tree  is  not  so 
trim  and  gracefiil  as  that  is.    I  asked  one  of  the  young  gentlemen  in  company. 


I 


CHARLBS  HALL.  735 

.  *.What  tree  is  th&tf '     '  The  Rowan  tree.'    Oh,  how  there  rashed  to  my  heart  a 

tide  of  emotions!     '  The  Rowaa  tree  '  is  the  title  of  a  song  which  my  dear  girls 
.  sing,  full  of  sweet  thoughts  of  home  and  home  scenes;  and  the  tune  is  touchingly 

I  plaintive.     Those  thoughts — that  tune — those  scenes  *  of  hame  and  infancy,'  of 

*  bairnies  '  and  their  *  mither  dear,'  came  back  to  me  here,  in  the  highland  birth- 
place of  the  poetry  and  the  music,  and  I  melted  under  their  power.  I  sought  a 
place  to  weep,  while  I  sat  on  a  stone  and  sang  a  verse,  holding  in  my  hands  a 
branch  with  its  scarlet  berries."  With  all  carefulness  he  sought  to  train  his 
children  for  God,  and  his  intense  desire  was  to  see  them  not  only  Christians,  but 
eminent  Christians.  In  a  letter  to  one  of  his  sons,  after  a  vivid  sketch  of  the 
peculiarities  of  the  age,  a  passage  follows,  which  may  be  taken  as  a  specimen  of 
his  pareatal  counsels  and  appeals:  **  You  will  soon  come,  if  your  life  is  spared, 
upon  the  stage,  right  in  the /brenoon  of  a  day  of  action,  such  as  the  world  never 
saw.  I  would  fain  impress  you  with  the  idea  that  you  are  to  live  in  an  unconi- 
mon  era;  and  that  you  owe  it  to  your  own  character,  to  God,  and  to  the  interests 
of  human  nature,  to  be  more,  and  do  more,  than  if  you  had  lived  at  another 

time. 

'  On  the  world's  broad  field  of  battle, 

'  In  the  biTouao  of  life, 
*  Be  not  like  dumb,  driven  eatUe— 

*  Be  a  hero  in  the  strife.' " 

That  tenderness  of  conscience  which  marked  all  his  deportment,  was  especially 
observable  in  reference  to  the  keeping  of  the  Sabbath.  He  was  scrupulously 
careful  not  to  desecrate  it,  under  whatever  urgency  of  temptation,  either  by 
labour,  by  travel,  or  by  recreation.  After  a  week's  toil  in  a  warm  room  in  the 
crowded  city,  he  would  resolutely  decline  walking  in  his  garden  on  that  day, 
however  solicited  by  the  early  flowers,  the  spring  birds,  and  the  balmy  air.  He 
would  avoid  the  very  appearance  of  evil.  He  would  not  even  seem  to  saunter 
away  the  holy  hours.  On  his  return  from  his  tour  in  Europe,  the  ship  that  bore 
him  arrived  at  the  wharf  in  New  York  on  Sabbath  rooming.  His  family  were 
at  Newark.  A  little  more  than  half  an  hour's  ride  in  the  cars  would  have  taken 
him  there.  His  affectionate  heart  yearned  to  greet  them.  But  it  was  the  Lord's 
day,  and  he  would  not  seek  his  own  pleasure.  So  he  tarried  in  the  city  until 
Monday,  '*  and  rested  the  Sabbath  day,  according  to  the  commandment." 

I  may  say  a  word  respecting  Dr.  Hall's  labours  in  connection  with  the  Home 
Missionary  Society.  They  were  not  mainly  in  the  pulpit.  As  the  mass  of  men 
judge,  he  was  not  an  impressive  public  speaker.  So  far  as  thought  and  style 
were  concerned,  the  intellectual  and  the  pious  could  not  but  listen  with  interest. 
Yet  his  voice  was  feeble,  as  was  his  general  physical  habit.  He  appeared  in  pub- 
lic loss  frequently  than  his  colleagues.  The  large  compensation  for  this  was  his 
great  ability  for  more  private  labours.  His  judgment  was  eminently  sound  and 
reliable.  He  had  a  keen  discernment  of  character,  which,  in  the  management  of 
such  a  Society,  was  of  the  utmost  value.  He  read  men  as  one  reads  a  book.  He 
had  rare  gifts,  too,  for  correspondence.  The  greater  freedom,  directness,  and 
simplicity  of  the  epistolary  style,  seemed  especially  to  suit  his  genius  and  tem- 
perament. His  letters  were  a  rich  treasure  to  many.  They  were  characterized 
by  a  mingled  wisdom  and  sympathy,  a  clearness  and  freshness,  a  depth  of 
thought,  at  times,  and  even  a  brilliancy,  such  as  seldom  mark  the  outgivings  of 
a  missionary  bureau.  As  editor  of  the  '*  Home  Missionary,"  and  author  of 
various  valuable  papers  on  missionary  subjects,  he  did  a  great  service  to  a  cause 
to  which  his  heart  was  ardently  devoted.  The  inspiring  motto  under  which  he 
toiled  unto  death  was,  "  The  salvation  of  our  country,  for  the  world's  sake,  and 
for  Ohi-ist's." 

To  his  official  duties,  he  added,  from  time  to  time,  other  useful  public  labours. 
One  of  the  best  presentations  of  the  duty  of  *'  Systematic  Benevolenoe  "  that 
has  ever  been  made,  was  a  Report  on  that  subject,  originally  prepared  by  him  ibr 


736  PRSSBTTERIAK. 

the  Sjnod  of  New  York  and  New  Jersey,  and  afterwards  published,  with  a  valu- 
able appendix.  Early  in  his  public  life,  he  commenced^  and  continued  for  a  time, 
carefully  husbanding  his  moments  of  leisure  for  the  purpose,  and  touching  often 
upon  the  hours  that  should  have  been  given  to  sleep, — an  exegetical  work  of  a 
serial  character,  called  the  "  Daily  Verse  Expositor."  He  was  deeply  interested 
in  Biblical  Archaeology,  and  had  made  unusual  proficiency  in  it.  1  was  once  told 
by  Dr.  Robinson,  that  ho  had  found  no  other  man  in  America  so  well  acquainted 
with  the  Geography  of  Palestine.  lie  not  only  prepared  an  appropriate  notice 
of  the  *'  Biblical  Researches  "  for  one  of  our  leading  religious  papers,  but  wrote, 
also,  an  extended  and  able  review  of  it  for  the  ''  Biblical  Repository." 

I  have  referred  to  his  tour  in  Europe.  Wliile  the  restoration  of  his  health  was 
his  main  object,  he  diligently  availed  himself  of  his  many  opportunities  forobser* 
vation  and  intellectual  improvement.  With  his  highly  cultivated  taste  for  the 
fine  arts,  he  had  great  delight  in  exploring  the  galleries  of  the  old  world.  Yet 
he  passed  through  them  as  a  discriminating  and  independent  critic;  never  prais- 
ing things,  as  his  notes  evince,  because  others  had  praised  them;  but  continuing 
to  stand  alone,  if  he  must,  in  his  judgment  of  the  productions  even  of  a  Rubens 
or  a  Raphael.  He  was  especially  a  lover  of  the  beautiful  and  sublime  iu  nature; 
and  in  this  respect  his  tour  afibrded  him  the  most  exquisite  enjoj^ment.  Amid 
the  enchanting  scenery  of  the  West  of  England — in  the  vale  of  Keswick.,  at 
Rydal  Mount,  at  Windermere,  and  the  neighbouring  lakes;  among  the  Uighlanda 
of  Scotland;  at  Windsor,  at  Blenheim;  at  a  thousand  points  in  the  Swiss  Ober- 
land,  language  seemed  inadequate  to  express  his  emotions.  '*Such  combinations," 
he  writes,  iu  the  West  of  England,  *'  of  grandeur  of  outline  and  colour  in  the 
close-shutting  mountains,  and  of  beauty  in  the  lakes  and  clean,  lawn-like  naea- 
dows,  I  never  saw  before.'*  *'  Magnificent  and  inexpressible!  "  he  exclaims,  at 
the  Grimsel  Pass  of  the  Alps.  '*  The  half  w^as  never  told  me,  nor  can  it  be  com- 
municated in  words."  The  chief  interest  of  his  journal,  however,  is  its  mani- 
festation of  liis  piety.  Wherever  he  journeyed,  whatever  he  beheld  and  enjoyed, 
whether  the  finest  and  noblest  works  of  art,  or  the  loveliest  and  most  majestio 
natural  scenery,  his  heart  rose  above  and  through  all  to  God.  He  writes  from 
the  ship  iu  which  he  sailed  to  Europe,  as  it  floats  out  of  the  harbour, — *'  I  am  well 
supplied  with  tracts,  and  hope  to-morrow  to  begiu  my  mission  in  a  small  way." 
He  meets  a  beggar  iu  Scotland,  and  the  entry  iu  his  journal  is, — '*  Talked  to  him 
about  his  soul."  At  Stratford-upon-Avon,  he  writes, — '*  The  great  enemy  has 
this  day  sorely  buffeted  me,  so  that  my  joy  has  been  turned  into  mourning.  I 
go  to  my  bed  looking  to  Jesus — or  towards  Him,  for  Oh,  I  do  not  perceive  his 
smiling  face.  '  Return,  0  Holy  Dove,  return.' "  He  visits  Blenheim,  the  famous 
country  seat  bestowed  by  Queen  Anne  on  the  first  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and 
after  a  most  graphic  account  of  it,  adds, — *'  As  I  wandered  through  these  grounds, 
and  opened  my  heart  to  these  forms  of  beauty,  I  could  feel  the  rivers  of  delight 
roll  in  upon  my  soul.  I  forgot  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  I  had  no  appreciation 
for  his  military  glory,  or  for  his  royal  mistress.  I  thought  only  of  God,  who 
made  this  majesty  and  loveliness.  I  felt  that  He  intended  and  adapted  the 
world — its  creatures,  its  lakes,  its  forests,  its  landscapes,  to  speak  of  Him,  to 
lead  up  our  hearts  to  Him.  I  felt  that  there  is  no  mistake  as  to  the  oneness  of 
the  Godhead  in  Revelation  and  in  nature.  And  my  heart  praised  Him.  I  cried 
out  for  holiness — ^that  there,  with  such  beauty  of  the  natural  world,  there  might 
bo  nothing  but  moral  consanguinity  in  my  soul."  Amid  the  mummeries  at  Rome, 
he  says, — *'  I  feel,  as  I  see  the  disgusting  pretence  of  this  fomial  worship,  this 
fresco  piety f  that  God  must  be  offended  with  formalism;  and  I  am  more  pat  on 
my  guard  to  deal  honestly  and  truly  with  Heaven  in  my  devotions."  in  the 
valley  of  Oberhasli,  in  Switzerland,  he  says, — "  My  soul  has  been  lifted  up  amid 
the  grandeur  of  these  everlasting  hills.  I  have  felt  the  grandeur  of  God.  I  have 
felt  my  own  littleness.    I  have  felt  that  it  was  an  inexpressible  condescension  for 


QBABJLiSa  HALL .  737 

Ghristy  haring  b^iit  this  mighty  earthy  to  die  for  the  Binful  creatures  who  creep 
on  iU  surface.''  And  at  Chamouny  he  writes, — *'IIere,  amid  the  sublimest  of 
God's  works,  I  have  communed  with  Him,  and  have  endeavoured  to  reconsecrate 
myself  to  Ilim.  0  Lord,  who  by  thy  power  settest  fast  the  mountains,  exert  that 
power  to  make  this  poor,  vile  heart  all  thine  own."  Such  were  the  outpourings 
of  his  soul,  while  a  way&rer  in  Europe, — a  pilgrim  still  to  the  Heavenly  City. 

He  returned  with  but  little  improvement  in  health,  to  continue  the  struggle 
with  his  old  infirmities.  He  died  as  he  had  lived,  meek,  patient,  lowly,  yet 
trustful, — counting  himself  nothing,  and  less  than  nothing,  yet  magnifying  Christ, 
and  resting  calmly  upon  Him.  I  might  fill  pages  with  touching  incidents  of  the 
closing  scenes  of  his  life.  I  will  only  give  his  last  words.  He  was  told  that  he 
was  dying,  and  some  inquiry  was  made  as  to  the  state  of  his  mind.  From  soma 
cause,  perhaps  from  exhaustion,  he  did  not  at  first  reply.  At  length,  however* 
calling  his  wife  from  the  adjoining  room,  and  throwing  his  arms  around  her  neck| 
he  exclaimed,  "  Triumph  in  Death!  Triumph  in  Death!  "  She  asked, — '*  Is  it 
triumph  in  Jesus?  "    "  Yes,"  he  answered,  **  in  Jesus !  " 

Very  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

ASA  D.  SMITH. 


-#♦- 


ALBERT  BALDWIN  DOD,  D.  D.* 

1828—1845. 

Albert  Baldwin  Dod,  the  son  of  Daniel  and  Nancy  (Sqnier)  Dod, 
was  born  in  Mendham,  N.  J.,  March  24,  1805.  His  father  was  distin- 
guished for  mathematical  taste  and  acquirements,  and  was  by  profession  an 
engine  builder.  He  was  moreover  a  sort  of  universal  genius, — was  a  pro- 
found and  accurate  theologian,  wrote  poetry,  and  could  scarcely  turn  his 
hand  to  any  thing  in  which  he  was  not  quickly  at  home.  He  resided  at 
Elizabeth  to  WD,  N.  J.,  from  1812  to  1821,  when  he  removed  to  the  city  of 
New  York.  On  the  9th  of  May,  1823,  he  was  killed  by  the  explosion  of 
the  boiler  on  board  the  steamboat  Patent,  the  machinery  of  which  he  had 
been  employed  to  repair,  and  which,  at  the  time  of  the  explosion,  was 
making  an  experimental  trip  on  the  East  River. 

The  grandfather  of  Albert  B.  Dod,  who  originally  resided  in  Virginia, 
but  afterwards  removed  to  New  Jersey,  was  a  man  of  a  highly  endowed  and 
cultivated  mind,  and  educated  his  numerous  family  himself,  without  ever 
sending  them  to  school.  Thaddeus  Dod,  his  grandfather's  brother,  was  Pro- 
fessor of  Mathematics  in  Queen's  (now  Rutgers)  College,  and  thence 
went  to  Jefferson  College  in  Cannonsbnrg,  where  he  held  a  Professorship 
until  his  death.  In  1810  or  1811,  Daniel  Dod  was  invited  to  accept  the 
Professorship  in  Rutgers  College,  whi^h  his  ancle  had  formerly  held,  but 
declined  it.  Charles  Dod,  the  brother  of  Albert,  for  some  time,  filled  Che 
ohair  in  Jefferson  College,  which  his  great  uncle  had  occnpied  many  years 
before ;  bnt  he  left  it  to  become  a  Pastor.  The  family,  for  several  genera- 
tions, have  been  remarkable  for  both  mathematical  taste  and  talent. 

•MS.  frooi  his  ftaaUy. 
Vol.  IV.  93 


738  PRS6BTTEBIAK. 

Albert  was  the  second  son  of  his  parents,  and  was  one  of  eight  chQdTen»— 
five  sons  and  three  daughters.  Of  the  sons,  three  became  ministers,  the 
others  inherited  or  imbibed  their  father's  taste  for  mechanics,  and  all 
keep  np  the  reputation  of  the  family  for  mathematics.  Albert  was  like 
his  father,  not  only  in  his  mathematical  taste,  but  in  the  versatility  of  his 
genius,  and  his  quickness  in  mastering  a  difficult  subject,  amounting  almost 
to  intuition.  From  the  time  he  knew  how  to  read,  he  evinced  a  great  fond* 
ness  for  books;  and  his  brothers  would  often  tell  him  that  he  ought  to  have 
been  a  girl,  as  he  oared  for  nothing  but  to  stay  in  the  house  and  read.  He 
was  very  affectionate  in  his  spirit,  and  gentle  in  his  manners,  and  always  the 
fkvourite  of  the  younger  children.  When  his  parents  removed  to  Elizabeth- 
town,  ho  was  seven  years  old ;  and  from  that  time  was  kept  constantly  at 
Bohool.  He  fitted  for  College  at  a  classical  school  in  the  town,  taught  by 
a  Mr.  Smith.  When  he  was  fourteen,  his  teacher  told  his  parents  that  it 
was  useless  for  him  to  attend  his  school  any  longer,  as  he  was  in  advance 
of  his  schoolfellows,  and  was  prepared  to  enter  the  Sophomore  class  at 
Princeton.  His  parents,  thinking  that  he  was  too  young  to  commence  a 
collegiate  coujrse,  concluded  to  send  him  to  Dr.  Armstrong,  who  had  resigned 
his  pastoral  charge,  and  was  then  teaching  a  classical  school  in  the  neigh- 
bouring town  of  Bloomfield.  He  remained  there,  however,  but  one  term, 
and  spent  the  winter  of  that  year  at  home, — ^reading,  and  teaching  the 
younger  children  of  the  family. 

In  the  spring  of  1821,  being  then  fifteen  years  of  age,  he  entered  the 
Sophomore  class  in  Princeton  College,  half  advanced.  He  became  hope- 
fully pious  the  first  year  he  was  in  College,  and  joined  the  Church  in 
Princeton.  He  graduated  in  the  autumn  of  1822,  being  seventeen  and  a 
half  years  old. 

The  Hon.  Samuel  Southard  and  Mr.  Dod's  father  had,  from  early  life, 
been  intimate  friends.  Mr.  Southard,  whb  was  then  Secretary  of  the  Navy, 
attended  the  Commencement  exercises,  the  year  that  Albert  graduated,  and 
immediately  wrote  to  his  father,  congratulating  him  that  he  had  a  son  of  so 
much  promise,  and  offering  to  advance  him  in  the  Navy,  if  he  would  con- 
sent to  enter  it.  But  the  son  had  already  chosen  the  ministry  as  his  pro- 
fession, and  he  wished  to  be  engaged  in  teaching  until  he  should  be  of 
suitable  age  to  enter  the  Theological  Seminary.  When  this  was  communi- 
cated to  Mr.  Southard,  he  immediately  wrote  back  that  application  had  just 
been  made  to  him  for  a  teacher,  by  a  gentleman  of  his  acquaintance  near 
Fredericksburg,  Ya.,  and  recommended  that  the  son  of  his  friend  should 
accept  the  place.  He  did  so,  and  went  the  same  fall  in  which  he  was  gradu- 
ated, and  remained  there,  in  circumstances  very  agreeable  to  him,  between 
three  and  four  years. 

On  his  return  from  Virginia,  he  remained  at  home  a  few  months,  and  in 
the  autumn  of  1826,  became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at 
Princeton.  The  next  year,  he  accepted  a  Tutorship  in  Princeton  College, 
still  continuing  his  theological  studies,  as  he  had  opportunity.  He  was 
licensed  to  preach,  in  the  spring  of  1828,  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  York; 
but  retained  his  office  as  Tutor  till  1829.  In  1830,  he  was  appointed  to 
the  Mathematical  Professorship  in  the  College, — ^a  place  that  was  eminently 
congenial  with  his  tastes  and  habits.  This  appointment  he  accepted,  and  dis- 
charged the  duties  of  the  office  with  signal  ability  and  fidelity.  Here  he 
continued  till  his  death,  which  took  place  November  20,  1845.    He  died 


ALBERT  BALDWIN  DOD.  739 

el  pleurisy,  after  an  illness  of  a  week,  having,  dvring  the  whole  time, 
maintained  the  utmost  serenity  of  spirit. 

Professor  Dod  was  invited  to  take  oharge  of  several  different  congrega- 
tions ;  but  uniformly  declined  from  a  conviction  that  his  usefalness  could 
not  be  promoted  by  leaving  the  College.  He,  however,  preached  a  great 
deal ;  and  his  labours  were  frequently  put  in  requisition  to  supply  destitute 
pulpits  in  both  New  York  and  Philadelphia.  He  published  nothing  except 
a  few  articles  in  the  Biblical  Repertory.  One  of  those  articles  on  Trans- 
oendentalism,  was  printed  in  a  separate  pamphlet,  and  attracted  great  atten- 
tion. 

He  was  married,  in  April  1830,  to  Caroline  S.,  daughter  of  the  late  Hon. 
Samuel  Bayard,  of  Princeton.  They  had  nine  children,  seven  of  whom  sur- 
vived him. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  Uni- 
versity of  North  Carolina  in  1844,  and  by  the  University  of  New  York,  in 
1845. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  an  acquaintance  with  Professor  Dod  during  the 
last  two  or  three  years  of  his  life,  and  was  always  much  impressed  with  his 
vivacity  of  manner,  his  pertinent  and  pithy  remarks,  the  utter  absence  of 
every  thing  like  ostentation,  and  his  uncommonly  obliging  and  generoos 
spirit.  I  have  rarely  met  with  a  person  who  has  seemed  to  take  so  much 
pleasure  as  he  did  in  rendering  others  happy. 

FROM  THE  REV.  CHARLES  HODGE,  D.D., 

PBOrSflSOB  IN  THV  THSOLOOICJLL  8EXIVABT  AT  PBIHCCTOH. 

Fbiroston,  Febraarj  21, 1856. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  The  Rev.  Albert  B.  Dod  was  appointed  Professor  of  Mathe- 
matics in  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  in  April,  1830,  and  from  that  time,  until 
the  day  of  his  death,  in  November,  1845, 1  was  in  the  habit  of  intimate  and  con- 
stant intercourse  with  him. 

He  was  rather  above  the  ordinary  standard  in  height;  somewhat  inclined  to 
stoop;  rather  square  shouldered;  but  active  and  graceful  in  his  movements  and 
carriage.  His  head  was  unusually  large;  his  forehead  broad,  but  not  high; 
his  eyebrows  massive  and  projecting;  his  eyes  hazel,  brilliant  and  deep  seated; 
his  countenance  intellectual  and  pleasing.  His  disposition  was  very  cheerful  and 
amiable,  which  rendered  him,  with  his  extraordinary  conversational  powers, 
peculiarly  agreeable  as  a  companion.  His  reputation  as  a  talker  threatened,  at 
one  time,  to  eclipse  his  fame  in  higher  departments.  But  this  was  only  the 
sparkling  of  a  really  deep  and  rapidly  moving  stream. 

He  had  a  taste  for  literature  and  the  fine  arts,  and  considerable  fertility  of 
imagination,  and  was,  I  think,  disposed  to  estimate  these  gifts  at  a  higher  value 
than  his  more  solid  mental  qualities.  To  me  it  always  appeared  that  his  ander-> 
standing,  his  power  of  clear  and  quick  discernment,  of  analysis  and  lucid  state- 
ment, and  of  logical  deduction,  was  the  leading  power  of  his  mind,  to  which  his 
reputation  and  usefulness  were  mainly  due. 

It  was  this  that  gave  him  his  success  and  power  as  a  teacher.  There  was 
nothing  he  could  not  make  plain.  Provided  his  pupils  had  the  requisite  prelimi- 
nary knowledge,  he  rendered  the  most  abstruse  departments  of  Mathematics  so 
clear,  that  his  students  became  enthusiastic  in  their  admiration  of  himself,  and 
in  their  love  for  the  science.  It  was  his  delight  to  unfold  the  ratiorude  of  all  the 
processes  of  his  department,  and  to  elevate  his  pupils  to  the  study  of  the  philoso- 
phy of  every  subject  which  he  taught.    He  was,  therefore,  most  suooessftil  with 


T 


740  PRISBTnULAK. 

tbe  more  iDteliigent  class  of  stodcnU;  with  the  duU,  u  he  had  no  fellow-leeling; 
he  was  prone  to  have  too  little  patience.  This  mastery  of  his  subject,  and  this 
superiority  of  intellect,  made  him  exceedingly  popular  as  an  instructor.  When, 
on  one  occasion ,  he  attended  the  annual  examination  of  the  Cadets  at  West 
Point,  as  a  visitor,  he  evinced  so  clearly  these  powers  of  mind,  that  the  Cadets 
and  Professors  united  in  an  application  to  the  Government  for  his  appointment 
as  Chaplain  and  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy.  This  incident  shows  how 
striking  was  the  exhibition  of  talent,  which  any  suitable  occasion  was  certain  to 
call  forth. 

To  this  deamess  and  discrimination  of  mind  is  also  to  be  referred  his  fond- 
ness for  metaphysics,  and  his  skill  in  the  discussion  of  subjects  connected  with 
that  department.  Those  of  his  writings  which  excited  general  attention,  are  on 
topics  of  this  character.  Reference  may  be  made  to  the  able  articles  in  the 
Princeton  Review,  proceeding  from  his  pen,  in  illustration  and  confirmation 
of  his  peculiar  talents  for  philosophkal  discussion^  His  mind  was  always  on 
the  alert,  and  teeming  with  thoughts  and  suggestions.  It  was  a  common  thing 
for  him,  when  he  entered  my  study,  to  say, — *'  I  was  thinking,  as  I  came  along, 
of  such  or  such  a  question," — ^announcing  some  problem  in  mental  or  moral 
science.  Indeed  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  was  acquainted  with  a  man,  who  so 
constantly  suggested  important  topics  of  conversation,  or  kept  the  minds  of  his 
friends  more  on  the  stretch.  His  consciousness  of  power  in  debate,  no  doubt, 
contributed  to  the  formation  of  this  habit;  for  the  pleasure  of  discussion  was  in 
his  case  so  great,  that  he  wonld  often  start  paradoxical  opinions,  either  for  the 
Bake  of  surprising  his  hearers,  or  exercising  his  skill  in  defending  them. 

The  talent  to  which  I  have  referred  was  conspicuously  displayed  in  all  public 
assemblies.  Had  his  life  been  spared,  I  doubt  not  he  would  soon  have  established 
for  himself  the  reputation  of  one  of  the  ablest  debaters  in  our  Church. 

His  best  and  most  effective  sermons  are  distinguished  by  the  same  character 
of  mind.  He  undervalued,  at  least  at  one  part  of  his  life,  emotional  preaching. 
He  did  not  seem  to  estimate  aright  how  great  and  how  permanent  a  good 
was  efifected  by  any  preacher  who  calls  into  lively  exercise  the  devotional 
feelings  of  his  audience.  Professor  Dod  aimed  rather  to  lodge  in  the  under- 
standing some  fundamental  principle  of  truth  or  duty,  which  should  become 
part  of  the  governing  convictions  of  the  mind.  He  was  accustomed  to  say  that 
if  he  could  make  his  hearers  see  that  they  are  responsible  for  their  faith,  or  that 
expediency  is  not  the  rule  of  right,  or  that  things  unseen  are  more  real  and 
powerful  than  the  things  that  are  seen,  or  some  such  general  truth,  he  would  do 
them  far  greater  service  than  by  any  excitement  of  their  feelings.  His  sermons 
were  generally  constructed  on  that  principle;  and  many  of  them  are  of  perma- 
nent value.  His  voice  was  melodious,  and  his  delivery  free  and  untrammelled 
by  his  notes,  whieh  were  generally  written  out  in  full.  Though  his  preaching, 
in  the  later  years  of  his  life,  w^as  generally  addressed  more  to  the  understanding 
than  to  the  affections,  yet  he  had  great  emotional  power,  and  could,  when  roiised 
himself,  control  in  an  uncommon  degree  the  feelings  of  his  audience. 

Professor  Dod  has  now  been  dead  more  than  nine  years.  I  have  not  yet 
ceased  to  mourn  for  his  departure  as  a  personal  loss.  I  regarded  him  as  one  of 
the  most  gifted  men  of  our  Church.  His  having  chosen  an  academical  instead 
of  a  pastoral  career  kept  him  in  a  measure  aloof  from  our  Ecclesiastical  Courts, 
and  turned  his  attention  rather  to  Science  than  to  Theology.  But  I  have  a  strong 
conviction  that  he  had  in  him  rich  stores  of  undeveloped  resources,  which,  had 
it  pleased  God  to  prolong  his  life,  would  have  rendered  him  one  of  the  most  emi- 
nent and  useful  ministers  of  our  Church. 

Very  truly  your  friend, 

CHARLES  HODGE. 


ASA  THEOHOBE  HOPKINS.  74X 


> 


ASA  THEODORE  HOPKINS,  D.  D  * 


ii 
I 
b 
i  1828—1841. 

i 

I  Asa  Theodore  Hopkins,  a  son  of  Asa  and  Abigail  (Burnham)  Hop- 

if         kins,  was  born  at  Hartford,  Conn.,  on  the  25th  of  July,  1805.     He  lost 
his  father  when  he  was  an  infant,  less  than  six  months  old;  and  in  1810  his 

I         mother  removed  to  Wethersfield,  where,  for  a  time,  this  son  attended  a  com* 

^         mon  school,  and  afterwards,  nntil  1818,  was  a  pupil  at  the  Wethersfield 

•■         Academy. 

[  In  1818,  he  was  sent  to  the  Hartford  grammar  school,  and  subsequently, 

for  one  year,  to  the  Amherst  Academy ;  and  at  these  two  institutions  went 
through  his  course  of  preparation  for  College.  He  entered  Yale  College  in 
1824,  and  graduated  in  1826,  being  at  that  time  distinguished  rather  for 
a  ready  and  brilliant  mind  and  fine  powers  of  oratory,  than  for  vigorous 
application  or  high  attainments.  Shortly  after  his  graduation,  he  went  to 
Ithaca,  N.  Y.,  where  he  resided  for  more  than  two  years  in  the  family  of 
the  Rev.  William  Wisner,  D.  D.,  and  was  employed  partly  in  teaching  a 
school ;  partly  in  conducting  a  weekly  newspaper ;  but  chiefly  in  pursuing  a 
course  of  theological  study,  under  Dr.  Wisner's  direction.  He  was  licensed 
to  preach  the  G-ospel,  by  the  Cayuga  Presbytery,  on  the  19th  of  June,  1828  ; 
and  in  February  following,  was  married  to  a  daughter  of  the  late  Asa  Wis- 
ner, of  Elmira,  and  a  niece  of  his  theological  instructor. 

After  preaching  a  few  times  within  the  bounds  of  the  Cayuga  Presbytery, 
he  accepted  an  invitation  to  preach  at  Deep  Cut,  near  St.  Catharines, 
Canada  West.  He  remained  there,  however,  only  a  few  weeks,  and  then 
returned  to  his  friends  in  Connecticut,  and  preached  with  great  acceptance 
in  Hartford  and  some  of  the  neighbouring  parishes.  About  the  close  of 
the  year  he  commenced  preaching  in  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in 
Albany,  whose  Pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Chester,  was  then  lying  dangerously 
ill  in  Philadelphia,  and  died  on  the  12th  of  January  following.  Mr.  Hop- 
kins continued  his  labours  there  after  Dr.  C.'s  death,  and  was  so  popular 
with  the  congregation  that  on  the  2d  of  March  following,  they  invited  him 
to  become  their  Pastor ;  but,  in  view  of  the  importance  of  the  charge,  and 
his  inexperience  in  the  ministry,  he  was  led  to  decline  the  invitation.  He 
subsequently  accepted  a  call  from  the  Congregational  Church  at  Pawtucket, 
Mass.,  and  was  ordained  there  on  the  5th  of  August,  1829.  The  Rev.  C. 
Blodgett  who  succeeded  him  in  the  pastoral  office,  says, — **  His  ministry 
here  was  successful  and  highly  acceptable  to  his  people.  He  carried  with 
him  their  high  admiration.''  After  remaining  at  Pawtucket  between  two 
and  three  years,  he  resigned  his  charge,  and,  soon  after,  was  employed  for 
several  months  as  a  supply  for  the  Essex  Street  Church,  Boston,  while 
their  Pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Green,  was  travelling  in  Europe.  Shortly  after 
leaving  Boston,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Bleecker  Street  (Presbyterian) 
Church,  Utica,  N.  Y.;  and  was  installed  by  the  Presbytery  of  Oneida,  as 
its  Pastor,  on  the  18th  of  July,  1883.  Here  he  remained  till  February  5, 
1835,  when  he  was  again  dismissed,  by  his  own  request.  On  leaving  Utica, 
he  went  to  supply  the  pulpit  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Brooklyn, 

•  MSB,  from  his  brothen. 


742  PRESBTTERIAlf. 

N.  T., — the  Pastor,  Bev.  Dr.  Carroll,  being  absent  on  accotmt  of  ill  heal tli; 
but  before  he  had  been  long  there,  he  received  an  inyitation  to  take  the  pas- 
toral charge  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Buffalo.  He  accordingly 
went  to  Buffalo,  in  October,  1835,  was  installed  Pastor  of  the  Church  on  the 
17th  of  February,  1836,  and  continued  in  this  connection  till  the  close  of 
his  life. 

Early  in  May,  1846,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hopkins,  being  both  of  them  in  feeble 
health,  made  a  voyage  to  Europe.  After  vbiting  London,  where  Mr.  H. 
attended,  as  a  delegate,  the  meeting  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance,  they 
travelled  considerably  in  England  and  Scotland, — stopping  at  all  the  more 
interesting  points,  and  then  passed  over  to  the  Continent,  and  made  a  hasty 
tour  through  parts  of  France,  Switzerland,  and  Germany.  Mrs.  Hopkins' 
rapidly  failing  health  induced  them  to  turn  their  faces  homeward  earlier 
than  they  had  expected ;  but  unhappily  it  was  too  late  for  her  ever  again 
to  see  her  native  country.  She  died  on  the  return  voyage  (November  18. 
1846)  a  few  days  before  the  arrival  of  the  packet  at  New  York.  Her 
remains  were  taken  to  Buffalo,  where  the  Funeral  solemnities  were  performed 
on  the  27th  of  November.     She  had  no  children. 

Mr.  Hopkins  was  honoured  with  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
Hamilton  College  in  1847. 

On  his  return  from  Europe,  his  health  seems  not  to  have  been  materially 
improved,  though  he  was  able,  with  but  little  embarrassment,  to  attend 
regularly  to  his  duties,  both  in  the  church  and  out  of  it,  until  the  month 
of  October,  1847,  when  his  friends  began  to  regard  his  case  with  some 
anxiety.  On  Sunday,  the  7th  of  November,  he  preached  his  two  last  ser- 
mons. From  that  time  his  symptoms  gradually  became  more  alarming,  till 
Monday  the  22d,  when,  after  having  just  written  and  sealed  a  letter  to  a 
dear  friend,  he  was  struck  with  apoplexy,  which  terminated  fatally  on  Satur- 
day morning,  the  27th  of  November, — just  one  year  to  a  day  from  the 
Funeral  of  his  wife.  He  died  in  the  forty-third  year  of  his  age,  and  the 
eighteenth  of  his  ministry.  During  a  part  of  the  time  that  intervened 
between  the  22d  and  the  27th.,  he  was  evidently  conscious,  and  though 
unable  to  speak,  he  made  it  manifest  by  signs  that  he  felt  that  his  Redeemer 
was  graciously  present  with  him  in  the  dark  valley.  His  Funeral  was 
attended  by  an  immense  concourse  of  citizens,  and  was  marked  by  every 
demonstration  of  affectionate  respect. 

During  Dr.  Hopkins'  ministry  of  twelve  years  at  Buffalo,  upwards  of 
five  hundred  were  added  to  his  church,  and  the  congregation  was  propor- 
tionally increased  in  numbers,  e£Bciency,  and  liberality. 

Dr.  Hopkins'  only  publications  are  a  Sermon  on  the  Evils  and  Bemedy 
of  Lewdness,  preached  to  the  Bleecker  Street  Church,  Utica,  and  after- 
wards, by  request,  to  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in  Borne,  1834 ;  and 
a  Sermon  entitled  **  The  American  Patriot,"  delivered  on  the  day  of  the 
Annual  Thanksgiving  before  the  United  Congregations  of  the  First  and 
Park  Street  Presbyterian  Churches  in  Buffalo,  1842. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  WISNER,  D.  D. 

Ithaca,  April  9, 1857. 
Dear  Brother:  I  am  so  much  disabled  by  bodily  indisposition,  that  I  can  only 
give  you  a  brief  outline  of  what  I  recollect  of  the  late  Dr.  Hopkins,  and  if  yoa 


ASA  THEOIK)B£  HOPKINS.  743 

I  can  m&ke  the  mere  hints  that  I  shall  oommanicate,  in  %nj  d^;ree  arailable  for 

your  purpose,  I  shall  be  glad. 

Mr.  Hopkins  came  to  my  house  soon  after  he  had  finished  his  college  course, 

I  and  lived  in  my  family,  and  studied  Theology  under  my  direction,  up  to  the  time 

I  of  his  being  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel. 

t  He  possessed  a  clear  and  discriminating  mind,  an  amiable  disposition,  a  ten- 

der conscience,  and  indefatigable  industry.     His  style  was  smooth  and  flowing, 

I  though  energetic,  and  his  delivery  was  impressive  and  earnest. 

i  In  his  manners,  he  was  a  true  gentleman,  whose  politeness  flowed  sponta- 

I  neoasly  from  the  benevolence  of  his  heart. 

I  He  was  a  fiiithfal  pastor,  an  interesting  and  instructive  preacher,  a  kind  and 

affectionate  husband,  and  an  exemplary  and  useful  citizen. 
He  died  Ij^mented  most  by  those  who  knew  him  best. 
I  am,  my  dear  Brother, 

'  Truly  and  affectionately  yours, 

'  WILLIAM  WISNER. 


FROM  THE  HON.  MILLARD  FILLMORE, 

PRE8IDEKT  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

BurrALo,  June  2, 1867. 

My  dear  Sir:  Tou  did  me  the  honour,  when  we  last  met,  to  solicit  from  me  a 
brief  statement  of  my  views  of  the  character  of  the  late  Rev.  Asa  T.  Hopkins,  D.  D., 
of  this  city;  and  I  fear  I  was  somewhat  inconsiderate  in  promising  to  comply  with 
your  request;  for  the  more  I  have  thought  of  it,  the  more  I  have  felt  oppressed 
with  the  conviction  that  my  personal  acquaintance  with  him  was  hardly  suffi- 
cient to  justify  me  in  attempting  any  thing  like  an  intellectual  or  moral  portrait 
of  the  man.  It  is  true  he  was  here  some  twelve  years,  and  settled  over  one  of 
our  most  numerous  and  intelligent  congregations;  and  I  occasionally  met  him  in 
social  intercourse — ^yet,  as  I  was  not  a  member  of  his  congregation,  I  seldom 
heard  him  preach.  My  impressions  concerning  him,  as  gathered  more  from 
common  fame  than  from  my  own  observation,  are,  that  he  was  a  man  of  gentle- 
manly manners;  exemplary  in  all  the  walks  of  private  life;  sincere  and  zealous 
in  the  discharge  of  his  pastoral  duties;  impulsive  in  his  feelings  to  an  extent 
that  sometimes  swayed  his  judgment;  and  in  point  of  intellectual  gifts  and 
accomplishments,  greatly  above  mediocrity. 

His  efforts  in  the  pulpit,  as  might  be  expected  from  his  peculiar  temperament, 
are  said  to  have  been  characterized  by  no  small  inequality;  and  while  he  some- 
times rose  to  a  very  high  pitch  of  pulpit  eloquence,  at  other  times,  under  the 
influence  of  a  different  state  of  feeling,  he  fell  proportionably  below  his  own 
standard.  Another  consequence  of  the  same  temperament  was  that,  while,  in 
in  his  religious  controversies, — ^for  I  never  knew  that  he  had  any  other, — he  drew 
around  him  congenial  spirits,  warm  friends,  admiring  and  enthusiastic  eulogists, 
ho  arrayed  against  him  proportionally  vigorous  and  earnest  opposers :  but  since 
time  has  exerted  its  modifying  and  healing  influence,  I  may  safely  say  that  he 
has  left  a  character,  not  only  venerated  by  his  congregation,  but  very  generally 
respected  by  our  community. 

I  submit  these  brief  hints  to  you  because  I  promised,  and  not  because  I  sup- 
pose they  can  be  of  much  avail  to  you;  but  you  must  take  them  for  what  they 
are  worth.    And  permit  me  to  subscribe  myself 

Tour  obedient  servant, 

MILLARD  FILLMORE. 


744  FRSSBTT8KIAK. 


HUGH  MAIR,  D.  D  * 

1828—1854. 

HxrOH  Mair  was  a  son  of  Archibald  and  Janette  (Woodboarn)  Mair, 
and  was  born  at  New  Mjlns,  Ayrshire,  Scotland,  Jidy  16,  1797.  His 
father  was,  for  many  years,  a  Captain  in  the  British  army ;  and,  as  his 
mother,  during  his  childhood  and  early  youth,  was  with  her  hi:ffiband  in 
Spain,  he  was  committed  to  the  care  of  his  paternal  grandmotfcMr,  who  ga^a 
tho  first  direction  to  his  mind»  and  watched  over  him  with  an  ^ectionate 
Christian  solicitude.  At  the  age  of  eight,  he  went  to  school  at  Kilmarnock, 
and  remained  there  a  year ;  after  which,  he  returned  to  New  My  Ins,  and, 
under  an  excellent  olassical  teacher  by  the  name  of  Campbell,  pursued  his 
studies  till  he  was  fourteen,  when  he  entered  the  University  of  Glasgow. 
There  he  continued  six  years ;  and  having  completed  his  curriculum,  went 
to  Edinburgh,  and  studied  Theology  under  the  Rev.  Dr.  Paxton,  at  that 
time  the  Theological  Professor  of  the  United  Secession  Church.  At  the 
age  of  about  twenty-five,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  United  Secession 
Presbytery  of  Edinburgh;  and,  for  some  time  after,  was  employed  as  a 
mbsionary  iu  the  Orkney  Islands  and  other  parts  of  Scotland. 

He  came  to  the  United  States  in  1828;  and,  shortly  after  his  arrival, 
was  ordained  and  installed  as  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Churches  at  Fort 
Miller  and  Northumberland,  in  the  State  of  New  York.  After  labouring 
here  a  year,  he  received  a  call  from  the  Church  at  Ballston  Centre,  and 
about  the  same  time,  one  from  the  Church  at  Johnstown ;  and,  as  he  pre- 
ferred the  latter,  he  was  installed  at  Johnstown  early  in  the  year  1830.  In 
1843,  he  resigned  his  charge  here,  and  went  to  Brockport,  where  he  offi- 
dated  as  a  stated  supply,  eighteen  months.  He  then  had  a  call  from  the 
Church  in  Warsaw,  which  he  declined;  though  he  consented  to  labour 
among  them  for  a  year.  When  this  engagement  expired,  which  was  in  184 7, 
he  went  to  Canada  West,  and  became  the  Pastor  of  a  Church  in  Fergus,  in 
connection  with  the  Church  of  Scotland.  In  this  relation  he  continued  till 
the  close  of  his  life. 

He  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  the  University  of 
New  York,  in  1842. 

Dr.  Mair  always  retained  a  warm  affection  for  his  charge  at  Johns* 
town,  and  engaged,  more  than  a  year  before  his  death,  if  his  life  and  health 
were  spared,  to  take  part  in  their  Communion  service,  to  be  held  in  the 
autumn  of  1854.  Accordingly,  the  week  previous  to  the  Communion  found 
.  him  on  the  spot,  ready  to  fulfil  his  engagement ;  but  it  was  quickly  ascer- 
tained that  he  had  come  with  impaired  health,  and  not  only  so,  but  that  his 
disease  was,  to  say  the  least,  of  very  doubtful  issue. t  He,  however,  was 
resolutely  determined — even  contrary  to  the  judgment  of  his  physician — to 
bear  his  part  in  the  services  of  the  Sabbath ;  but,  when  the  Sabbath  mom* 
ing  came,  he  was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  his  inability  to  make  any 
effort,  and  immediately  sunk  into  a  state  of  weakness  and  suffering  from 
which  he  was  destined  never  to  rise.    About  one  week  before  his  death, 

*  Commnnioation  flrom  himself, 
t  It  wai  ft  oftrbttn«lo. 


HUGH  HAIB.  745 

bdng  iafomwd  of  his  illneesy  I  went  to  Johnslowii  to  visit  him.  I  found 
him  in  a  state  of  great  prostration,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  past  all  reason^ 
able  hope  of  recovery.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  great  bodily  suffering ;  and 
he  replied, — ^*  Greater  than  language  can  describe — greater  than  yon  can 
possibly  conooive  without  the  experience."  I  asked  him  if  his  mind  was 
peaceful;  and  his  answer  was, — '*I  have  no  particular  anxiety — ^if  God  be 
for  us,  who  can  be  against  ns?" — and  then  repeated  the  passage,  gathering 
himself  up  apparently  into  an  attitude  corresponding  with  its  triumphant 
tone.  Every  thing  that  he  said,  showed  the  depth  of  his  resignation,  the 
strength  of  his  faith,  or  the  warmth  of  his  kind  affections.  After  this,  he 
conversed  but  little ;  but  all  that  he  said  indicated  a  most  anbmissive  and 
trusting  spirit.  He  died  at  the  house  of  his  friend  and  physician,  Dr.  Max- 
well, on  the  1st  of  November,  1854,  and  his  Funeral  was  attended  on  the 
3d,  by  a  large  concourse,  consisting  not  only  of  his  own  former  flock,  but 
of  many  from  the  neighbouring  towns. 

Dr.  Mair  was  married  on  the  29th  of  April,  1832,  to  Maria  Harriet, 
daughter  of  William  and  Margaret  (Vantyle)  Metcalf,  of  Northumberland, 
N.  Y.     They  had  no  children.     Mrs.  Mair  survives  her  husband. 

He  Tisited  his  native  country  three  times, — in  1835, 1840,  and  1849. 

Dr.  Mair  published,  during  his  ministry  at  Johnstown,  four  miscellaneous 
Sermons.  In  1856,  a  selection  from  his  manuscript  Sermons  was  published 
in  a  duodecimo  volume,  with  a  brief  Memoir  of  his  life,  by  his  friend  and 
parishioner,  Mr.  A.  Dingwall  Fordyce. 

Shortly  after  Dr.  Mair  came  to  this  country, — I  think  it  was  in  1829, — 
I  heard  of  him  as  a  man  of  remarkable  powers,  and  as  making  very  pow- 
erful impressions  by  his  pulpit  efforts ;  but  it  was  not  till  after  his  removal 
to  Johnstown  that  I  first  met  him,  and  not  till  about  1885,  that  I  became 
intimate  with  him ;  but  from  that  time  till  the  close  of  his  life,  my  relations 
with  him  were  quite  close  and  confidential.  His  personal  appearance  was 
not  greatly  in  his  favour.  He  was  a  short,  thick-set  man,  rather  inclined 
to  corpulency,  with  his  head  but  little  elevated  above  his  shoulders  ;  and 
altogether  looking  as  if  he  were  specially  liable  to  die  of  apoplexy.  Indeed, 
he  had  been  troubled  for  many  years  by  a  determination  of  blood  to  his 
head ;  and  both  himself  and  his  friends  were  apprehensive  that  it  boded  a 
Budden  death.  His  face  had  nothing  of  refinement,  but  there  was  a  strong, 
thoughtful,  and  withal  modest,  expression,  that  could  hardly  fail  to  excite 
interest.  His  mind  was  comprehensive  and  energetic;  his  imagination 
wonderfully  brilliant  and  lofty,  but  by  no  means  under  the  control  of  an 
exact  taste.  His  heart  was  as  large  as  the  world — while  he  seemed  to 
shrink  from  receiving  kindnesses,  and  to  be  always  apprehensive  that  he  was 
making  somebody  trouble,  there  was  no  sacrifice  that  he  was  not  ready  to 
make  to  oblige  a  friend,  or  even  to  do  good  to  any  one.  He  had  a  quiet 
and  retiring  manner,  and  in  a  mixed  company  his  voice  would  rarely  be 
heard,  unless  in  reply  to  a  question  immediately  addressed  to  him ;  but  in 
more  private  intercourse,  especially  with  a  single  friend,  he  was  perfectly 
free  and  communicative.  I  never  knew  a  man  who  had  a  stronger  sense  of 
right  than  he — while  he  was  ordinarily  charitable  in  his  judgments  of  his 
fellow  men,  and  by  no  means  disposed  to  hunt  after  their  imperfections,  no 
one  was  less  tolerant  of  palpable  moral  obliquity,  especially  in  a  member 
of  the  Church,  or  a  minister  of  the  Gospel ;  and  I  nevw  heard  more  soath* 
ing  words  from  mortal  lips  than  have  sometimea  SeJlen  from  him  in  sueh 

Vol.  IV.  94 


746  PRSSBTTIRIAN. 

oMes.  The  pulpit  wae  empbfttioaUj  **  his  throne."  His  fienaons  irere  toij 
strongly  of  the  Scottish  type.  They  were  deeply  evangelical  in  their  tone ; 
were  constructed  with  logical  accuracy,  and  elaborated  with  great  care ;  were 
distinguished  for  an  exuberance  of  splendid  diction,  which  made  the  truth 
literally  blaze  upon  the  minds  of  his  hearers ;  and  were  delivered  with  a 
boldness  and  earnestness  which  might  have  well  denominated  him  '*a  son 
of  thunder."  His  pronunciation  was  intensely  Scotch,  and  I  do  not  think 
his  residence  in  this  country  made  it  any  the  less  so.  He  rarely  preached 
less  than  an  hour ;  and  I  think  I  once  heard  him,  on  a  public  occasion, 
when  his  discourse  reached  to  nearly  an  hour  and  three  quarters.  He  was 
altogether,  both  in  the  pulpit  and  out  of  it,  a  man  of  mark :  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  mental  or  moral  constitution,  that  doubUess  interfered  with 
the  most  successful  operation  of  his  powers,  and  served  to  keep  him  in  a 
great  measure  in  the  shade ;  but  all  who  knew  him  well,  wiU  agree  that  he 
possessed  some  of  the  noblest  qualities  of  mind  and  heart. 

FROM  TAYLER  LEWIS,  LL.D., 

PBOnsBOB  IM  UNIOK  OOLUEGI. 

UmoN  College,  Schenectady, ) 
January  81;  1856.  ) 

My  dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Mair  commenced  in  the  fall  of  1828. 
He  had  then  just  come  from  Scotland,  been  received  by  the  Dutch  Church,  and 
sent  as  a  missionary  to  our  poor  congregation  in  Fort  Miller.  His  preaching 
there,  and  in  the  adjoining  Church  of  Northumberland,  soon  called  out  an 
interest,  and  an  attendance,  which  provided  him  a  good  settlement,  without  the 
farther  aid  of  missionary  funds.  After  remaining  two  years,  he  received  a  call 
to  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Johnstown,  from  which  period  you  are  well 
acquainted  with  his  history.  I  must  ever  esteem  Dr.  Mair  among  my  most 
valuable  acquaintances,  and  warmest  personal  friends.  To  him  must  I  also  ever 
attribute  a  most  marked  change  in  my  own  life  and  labours,  so  far  as  they  have 
been  of  any  value  to  myself  or  others.  I  had  been  practising  Law  for  several  years 
in  the  retired  village  of  Fort  Miller,  and  the  result  was  a  dissatisfaction  with 
the  profession,  with  myself,  and  almost  every  thing  else.  In  &ct,  from  various 
circumstances,  I  was  in  a  state  that  might  almost  be  called  one  of  spiritual 
desolation.  My  books  were  few,  my  society  very  limited,  my  health  not  the 
best,  and  my  profession  growing  continually  more  and  more  distasteful.  But 
not  to  talk  too  much  about  myself, — you  may  well  suppose  what  relief  came  from 
the  society  and  conversation  of  Dr.  Mair,  although  he  was  not  at  that  time  a 
Doctor  of  Divinity.  It  was  evident  that  there  was  something  about  this  learned 
yet  unpretending  Scotchman  to  please  every  condition  of  life  in  our  homely 
neighbourhood.  He  preached  with  great  acceptance.  He  was  freqaent  and 
fiiithful  in  visitations  and  catechisings,  after  the  old  Scottish  mode.  The  power 
of  his  pulpit  exercises,  and  the  great  beauty  and  simplicity  of  his  instructions 
in  his  parochial  visits,  presented  a  contrast  which  charmed  me  greatly.  He 
insisted  upon  my  attending  him  in  many  of  these  catechisings,  and  the  vivid 
remembrance  of  them  would  make  me  love  the  man,  if  I  had  not  Imd  other 
causes  for  it  in  the  warm  personal  friendship,  and  the  many  acts  of  disinterested 
kindness,  he  ever  afterwards  manifested  towards  me.  Along  with  all  this,  how- 
ever, there  was  something  which  at  first  was  not  a  little  troublesome.  Mr.  Mair 
was  a  very  excellent  Greek  aiid  Hebrew  scholar.  His  familiarity  with  Homer 
especially  was  remarkable,  but  no  less  so,  his  love  of  talking  about  him,  and 
reading  him  aloud  whenever  he  could  find  one  who  had  interest  enough  in  the 
matter  to  listen  to  him.    In  these  recitations  he  would  get  into  the  same  loud, 


HUGH  MAmli  D  li  i    «    ..   .i."!x   j^^ 

boisterolu  manner  which  you  so  well  know  as  chan^My]|^'|M|^tHf^p|lq>it. 
Ue  was  more  than  any  thing  else,  like  the  conception^^flc^gm^^^tlie  old 
Homeric  Rhapsodists  or  public  chanters  of  the  Iliad, — so  completely  was  he 
carried  away  by  his  enthusiasm.  He  was  a  Hebraist  of  the  Park  hurst  School, 
but  much  beyond  the  common  standard  of  Hebrew  learning,  which  prevailed 
among,  the  Scotch  and  English  clergy;  and,  although  his  acquaintance  with  the 
language  was  not  of  the  Andover  or  German  stamp,  it  was  in  some  respects 
equally  solid,  and  at  the  same  time  more  spiritual.  He  was  less  skilled  in  pho- 
netic and  grammatical  niceties,  but  saw  much  in  Hebrew  roots.  In  these  he  was 
ever  discovering  a  depth  of  meaning  often  real,  but  sometimes  perhaps  only  exist- 
ing in  his  own  rich,  religious  and  deeply  Biblical  imagination.  He  was  ever  at 
that  time  urging  me  to  study  Hebrew  with  him,  and  this  is  what  I  meant  in 
saying  he  was  somewhat  troublesome;  as  I  had  then  no  thought  of  doing  any 
each  thing.  He  would  sometimes  almost  provoke  me  by  his  importunities,  and 
his  continual  reflection  on  my  imperfect  education,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  in  being 
ignorant  of  so  important  and  even  sacred  a  branch  of  knowledge.  Every  man, 
he  would  say,  who  has  any  leisure,  and  any  pretensions  to  liberal  education, 
ought  to  be  a  Hebrew  scholar.  In  short,  he  worried  me  out.  To  get  rid  of  his 
importunities,  more  than  for  any  other  reason,  I  one  day  borrowed  his  grammar, 
and  learned  the  Hebrew  alphabet.  It  was  one  of  the  turning  points  in  my  own 
life.  The  study  of  Hebrew  soon  became  my  one  ardent  pursuit  by  day  and  by 
night.  Ennui  fled  away.  The  disagreeable  things  of  the  Law  were  forgotten.  To 
make  the  story  short,  the  whole  after  current  of  my  life  was  changed.  I  was 
introduced  into  a  new  world  of  thought.  All  my  studies,  feelings,  aims,  took  a 
different  direction,  until  the  Law  was  relinquished,  for  that  profession  of  a  teacher 
to  which  I  have  ever  since  been  devoted. 

You  may  well  suppose  that  I  have  reason  to  remember  Hugh  Mair  and  his 
Hebrew  Grammar.  Our  intercourse  from  that  period  was  ever  of  the  most  inti- 
mate kind.  Although  I  afterwards  made  some  respectable  progress  in  Hebrew, 
he  ever,  from  old  habit,  assumed  a  sort  of  tutorship  over  me.  He  frequently 
visited  me  in  New  York,  and  on  such  occasions,  one  of  the  indispensable  exercises 
was  the  reading  of  some  long  portion  of  the  Hebrew  Bible,  verse  about,  in  which 
we  would  continue  for  hours, — he  taking  the  lead,  and  assuming  a  tutorial  style, 
giving  his  favourite  root  meanings  in  Latin,  and  in  a  manner  which  to  one  who 
did  not  know  him,  would  seem  to  savour  of  pedantry.  Sometimes,  this  would 
try  my  patience  a  little,  especially  when  I  had  other  demands  upon  my  time; 
but  now  my  heart  reproaches  me  that  the  least  degree  of  such  a  feeling  should 
have  ever  been  called  out  by  any  thing,  however  eccentric,  from  so  noble  a  friend. 

The  remembrance  of  my  intercourse  with  Dr.  Mair  is  full  of  the  most  cher- 
ished associations.  From  personal  knowledge,  I  am  convinced  that  his  last 
dollar  would  have  been  freely  shared  with  any  friend  who  needed  it.  He  was  ever 
Seeking  out  and  trying  to  do  good  to  his  own  countrymen,  in  this  way; — some- 
times subjecting  himself  to  repulsive  treatment  which  he  never  would  have  home 
on  his  own  account.  Some  men  of  a  different  school  of  Theology,  and  of  a 
different  religious  type,  would  say  that  there  was  not  enough  of  what  they  would 
call  *'  decided  active  piety  in  him.''  But  there  could  not  be  a  greater  mistake. 
His  Scotch  hilarity  sometimes,  and  fondness  for  anecdote,  might  strike  some  of 
this  class  unfavourably;  but  he  was  for  all  that,  a  most  devout,  a  most  lowly- 
minded,  spiritually -minded,  modest  Christian.  Dr.  Mair  had  a  habit  which  I 
have  seldom  seen  in  my  personal  intercourse  with  other  clergymen.  A  short, 
social  visit  to  a  single  friend,  whether  in  the  parlour,  or  in  the  study,  he  would 
request  to  have  closed  with  prayer.  It  was  the  conclusion  of  the  freest  and 
most  lively  interview.  **  Just  a  short  spell  of  prayer  before  we  go," — he  would 
say,  and  then  one  of  the  most  touching  appeals  to  the  God  of  Mizpah,  the  God 
of  friends  and  friendship,  that  Mave  ever  heard.     Genesis  xzxi.  49,  comes  into 


748  PR10BTTEKIAK. 

my  mind  when  I  think  of  htm^— '^  And  he  cailed  ii  liispttii,  Hirhtt  nod  the  Lord 
waich  (^yi-zeph)  between  me  and  thee»  when  weare  parted  the  qnerfrom  the  other." 
£flpecialiy  do  I  think  of  it  sinoe  he  haa  gone  on  his  laat  &e  joamey.  Blessed  be 
his  memory.  You  may  think  my  language  too  warm  for  a  brief  biographical 
notice,  but  the  feeling  is  one  I  lore  to  cherish,  and  cannot  help  r^arding  it  aa 
eminently  due  to  its  object. 

With  great  respect,  yours  truly, 

TAYLER  LEWIS. 


-•♦- 


ARTEMAS  BULLARD,  D.  D.*^ 

1828—1855. 

Artekas  Bullard,  a  son  of  Dr.  Artemas  and  Lucy  (White)  BuUard, 
was  born  at  Northbridge,  Mass.,  June*3,  1802.  Under  the  influence  of  an 
excellent  parental  training,  he  became,  while  quite  young,  hopefully,  a  sub- 
ject of  renewing  grace,  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  united  with  the 
Church  in  Sutton,  Mass.,  (whither  his  parents  had  removed,)  under  the  care 
of  the  Rev.  Edmund  Mills.  He  commenced  almost  immediately  a  course 
of  study,  with  a  view  to  engaging  ultimately  in  the  ministry.  He  was  fitted 
for  College,  partly  under  the  private  tuition  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pond,  now 
(1857)  Professor  in  the  Bangor  Theological  Seminary,  and  was  graduated  at 
Amherst  College  in  1826.  From  College  he  repaired  to  the  Theological 
Seminary  at  Andover,  and  while  there  formed  the  purpose  of  becoming 
a  foreign  missionary.  Before  his  studies  were  completed,  he  was  solicited 
to  accept  the  General  Agency  and  Secretariship  of  the  Massachusetts  Sab- 
bath School  Union ;  and,  by  the  advice  of  the  Professors  of  the  Seminary, 
who  regarded  the  place  as  one  of  great  importance,  and  considered  him 
as  possessing  rare  qualifications  for  it,  he  turned  aside  from  his  studies  to 
enter  upon  this  employment.  Having  been  licensed  by  the  Worcester 
Association  in  May,  18*^8,  and  ordained  by  the  Andover  Association,  April 
20,  1831,  he  passed  the  first  years  of  his  clerical  life  in  Boston,  in  intimate 
relations  with  Dr.  Beecher,  Dr.  Cornelius,  Dr.  Wisner,  and  other  prominent 
ministers  of  the  same  religious  views  and  sympathies,  in  that  neighbourhood. 

In  1830,  Mr.  Bullard  visited  the  West,  in  the  service  of  the  Sabbath 
School  Union,  and  travelled  on  horseback  as  far  as  Illinois.  While  thus 
engaged,  be  attracted,  by  his  wisdom,  energy,  and  untiring  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  Christ,  the  attention  of  some  who  were  prominent  in  directing  the 
operations  of  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions; 
and  when  Dr.  Cornelius  was  suddenly  struck  down  in  the  midst  of  his  use- 
fulness, Mr.  Bullard  was  put  in  requisition  to  supply  the  lack  of  service. 
Having  performed,  with  great  success,  a  tour  through  certain  parts  of  the 
State  of  New  York,  which  had  been  previously  plajined  in  concert  with  Dr. 
Cornelius,  he  was  designated,  soon  after,  to  the  responsible  position  of 
Secretary  of  the  American  Board  for  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi.  He 
accepted  this  appointment,  removed  to  Cincinnati  in  October,  1832,  and 
visited  all  the  principal  places  from  Detroit  to  New  Orleans.     These  visits, 

*St.  Lonii  newepapen.— Presb.  Quart.  Rev.  IsA.^MS.  from  Mm.  Balhtfd. 


ABXSMIS  BCIXARD.  749 

repeAted  for  seTeral  sutfeettire  years,  abooaiplished  miioK  for  Ids  objiect,  and 
left  the  most  fiRvoarable  impreseioa  in  reapeet  to  his  character. 

While  he  was  thus  pursuing  his  appropriate  work,  the  attention  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church  of  St.  Louis  was  directed  to  him  as  a  suitable  person 
to  become  their  Pastor.  There  was  then  no  other  Church  of  that  dononti* 
nation  in  the  city,  and  the  few  that  were  scattered  over  the  State,  were 
none  of  them  in  a  j9ourishing  condition.  Here  he  was  installed  in  June, 
1838 ;  and  within  a  few  months  from  that  time,  a  colony  of  more  than  sixty 
of  his  most  substantial  members  went,  by  his  own  urgent  solicitation,  to 
form  a  Second  Church. 

Though  Mr.  Bullard  originally  took  no  part  in  the  division  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church,  and  was  disposed,  for  a  while,  to  retain  a  neutral  position, 
yet  circumstances  subsequently  occurred  that  led  him  to  enlist  decisively 
under  the  New  School  standard,  and  from  that  time  he  may  be  considered  as 
haTing  been  the  leader  of  the  Churches  on  that  side,  throughout  the  State. 

During  the  first  five  years  of  his  ministry  in  St.  Louis,  he  devoted  much 
of  his  time  to  City  Missions,  Sunday  Schools,  and  the  cause  of  Temperance. 
On  the  latter  subject  particularly,  he  availed  himself  of  every  channel  that 
was  open  to  him  for  reaching  the  public  mind  and  conscience ;  and  in  no 
way  perhaps  did  he  operate  more  efficiently,  than  by  the  numerous  touching 
and  impressive  articles  which  he  contributed  to  the  secular  papers.  Theae 
outside  engagements,  however,  were  not  suffered  to  interfere  at  all  with  his 
appropriate  preparations  for  the  pulpit. 

Mr.  Bullard  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Marion 
College  in  1841. 

Dr.  Bullard,  at  an  early  period,  became  convinced  that  the  want,  which 
ia  most  difficult  to  supply  to  destitute  Churches  in  new  settlements,  is  that 
of  houses  of  worship ;  and  that  it  was  highly  needful  that  some  systematic 
provision  should  be  made  for  this,  in  the  general  charities  of  the  Church. 
Having  brought  the  Synod  to  concur  in  his  views,  he  undertook,  in  1845, 
to  raise  a  fund  of  ten  thousand  dollars  for  the  building  of  churches,  to  be 
loaned  in  such  sums  as  were  needed,  to  the  feeble  congregations  in  Missouri. 
The  summer  of  that  year  he  spent  at  the  East,  chiefly  in  solicitations  for 
that  object;  and  though  he  did  not  meet  with  all  the  success  he  could 
have  wished,  yet  his  collections  were  considerable,  and  when  he  returned  in 
November,  ten  ministers  accompanied  him,  whose  fields  of  labour  in  the 
West  were  chosen  under  his  advice.  The  four  or  five  years  next  following 
were  years  of  unwonted  effort  even  with  him.  And  he  was  oppressed  with 
not  only  care  but  sorrow ;  for,  during  this  period,  he  was  afflicted  by  the 
death  of  three  of  his  children.  His  people  urged  him  to  take  a  season  of 
recreation ;  and  his  fellow  citizens,  at  the  instance  of  Elihu  Burritt,  desig- 
nated him  as  their  representative  to  the  World's  Peace  Convention  in 
Germany.  Accordingly,  he  spent  six  months,  in  1850,  travelling  in  Europe : 
he  was  received  with  marked  attention  by  many  distinguished  individuals, 
and  returned  with  a  fresh  stock  of  health,  and  with  a  large  store  of 
pleasant  remembrances. 

Soon  after  his  return,  his  congregation  determined  to  remove  their  place 
of  worship  to  a  more  quiet  part  of  the  city  ;  and,  having  selected  a  suitable 
site,  they  commenced  building  on  a  large  and  magnificent  scale.  Though 
he  had  much  to  do  in  superintending  this  enterprise,  yet  his  pastoral 
Ubonta  were  oonsiderably  abridged,  while  his  oongregation  were  waiting  for 


750  PRESBYTEBIAN. 

their  new  edifice,  and  he  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  thereby 
furnished  of  prosecuting  his  favourite  scheme  of  instituting  a  College.  It 
was  chiefly  through  his  efforts  that  Webster  College  was  established  ;  and  if 
his  life  had  been  spared,  it  is  believed  that  he  would  have  secured  for  it  a 
liberal  endowment.     He  published  three  or  four  occasional  sermons. 

Dr.  Bullard*8  death  was  identified  with  a  scene  of  deep  tragical  interest. 
The  Pacific  Rail  Koad,  iu  which  St.  Louis  was  deeply  interested,  was  to  be 
opened,  on  Thursday,  November  1,  1855,  to  Jefferson  City,  the  capital  of 
the  State.  The  occasion  was  a  most  exciting  one.  A  long  train  of  cars, 
bearing  the  Directors  of  the  road  and  a  large  number  of  highly  respectable 
citizens,  set  out  on  the  excursion.  The  occasion  was  graced  by  military 
array,  and  martial  music,  and  whatever  else  could  render  the  scene  impo- 
sing and  joyous.  In  passing  the  bridge  across  the  Gasconade,  eighty-eight 
miles  from  St.  Louis,  and  thirty-seven  from  Jefferson  City,  the  structure 
gave  way,  and  six  cars,  densely  filled  with  human  beings,  fell  one  upon 
another,  to  the  beach,  thirty  feet  below.  Twenty-nine  persons  were 
instantly  killed,  and  among  them  Dr.  Bullard.  His  remains  did  not  reach 
St.  Louis  till  Saturday  night;  and  then  they  were  taken,  not  to  his  resi- 
dence, but  to  the  church,  where,  on  Monday,  the  Funeral  solemnities  took 
place.  The  Sabbath  previous,  he  had  administered  the  Lord's  Supper,  from 
the  very  table  on  which  his  lifeless  body  then  lay.  The  church  had  been 
dedicated  just  two  weeks  before,  but  he  had  never  preached  in  it.  His 
Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Timothy  Hill,  of  Fairmoant 
Church,  St.  Louis. 

He  was  married  in  Boston  on  the  2d  of  June,  1829,  to  Anne  Tnttle, 
daughter  of  Samuel  Jones,  who  died  of  yellow  fever  at  Natchez,  and  whose 
widow,  with  her  two  children,  afterwards  returned  to  New  England,  wbence 
the  family  had  emigrated.  He  had  seven  children, — five  sons  and  two 
daughters.  One  only  survives, — ^a  son,  who  is  now  (1857)  a  member  of 
Amherst  College. 


FROM  THE  REV.  TIMOTHY  HILL. 

St.  Louu,  April  29, 1857. 

Dear  Sir ;  I  will  endeavour,  according  to  your  request,  to  briefly  give  my 
impressions  of  the  late  Dr.  Bullard, — a  man  I  knew  well  and  greatly  loved. 

My  acquaintance  with  him  began  in  the  summer  of  1845.  I  was  then  a 
student  in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary  in  New  York,  and  he  was  on  his  way 
through  the  prominent  places  of  the  East,  and  visiting  the  Theological  Semina- 
ries, for  the  double  purpose  of  raising  a  fund  for  church  erection  in  Missouri,  and 
of  inducing  young  men  about  to  enter  the  ministry  to  select  this  State  as  the  field 
of  their  future  labours. 

The  interview  in  the  Seminary  was  very  short,  but  it  led  to  my  coming  to 
Missouri;  and  the  acquaintance,  thus  formed,  afterwards  ripened  into  a  friendship, 
which  continued  with  growing  strength  until  his  death.  I  knew  him  intimately. 
No  man's  death  has  ever  been  so  great  a  grief  to  me. 

Artemas  Bullard  was  a  remarkable  man.  His  character,  his  habits  of  life,  and 
his  achievements,  were  of  a  description  that  have  seldom  been  seen,  and  will  not 
be  likely  soon  to  be  reproduced. 

In  person  he  was  tall  and  slender,  but  well  formed,  with  a  countenance 
expressive  of  decision  and  energy  combined  with  benevolence.  For  some  years 
previous  to  his  death,  his  hair  was  nearly  white,  and  his  appearance  indicated 


ARTEMAS  BULLARD.  7gl 

greater  age  than  he  possessed.    Acquaintances  of  the  late  President  Jackson 
frequently  said  that  he  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  that  celebrated  man. 

Dr.  BuUard  possessed  a  rare  combination  of  superior  qualities.  Uis  mental 
powers  were  none  of  them  of  a  low  order,  and  in  some  he  was  seldom  equalled, 
ills  perceptions  were  uncommonly  quick,  and  his  power  to  avail  himself  of  his 
resources  at  any  time,  remarkably  great.  His  was  eminently  a  constructive 
mind.  He  could  lay  plans,  and  see  the  time  and  manner  for  their  execution  with 
greater  clearness  than  any  other  man  with  whom  I  was  ever  acquainted.  He 
was  no  visionary ;  \u$  plans,  though  they  might  seem  hopeless  to  others,  seldom 
failed,  and  were  sometimes  executed  in  the  face  of  opposing  influences,  utterly 
insuperable  to  less  active  and  courageous  men. 

There  was  an  unconquerable  determination  to  surmount  all  obstacles  that 
opposed  his  favourite  schemes,  and  heliad  unusual  power  to  infuse  his  own  hope- 
ful spirit  into  the  minds  of  those  whom  he  wished  to  interest. 

He  was  frank  in  his  manner,  open  hearted  and  sincere,  social  and  benevolent, 
in  a  high  degree.  His  very  want  of  disguise  sometimes  led  less  ingenuous  minds 
to  misapprehend  him,  and  look  for  something  never  to  be  found,  concealed  under 
an  exterior  of  frankness.  Fond  of  society,  possessed  of  no  inconsiderable  degree 
of  shrewdness  and  pleasantry,  mingling  with  all  classes  of  men,  from  children, 
of  whom  he  was  a  great  lover,  to  those  of  the  most  cultivated  minds  in  the 
highest  stations  of  life,  he  was  a  most  entertaining  associate,  and  had  an  ability 
ibr  usefulness,  wherever  he  might  be,  that  few  men  possess.  He  would  hold  the 
attention  of  a  congregation  of  pioneers  on  the  frontier,  reprove  the  profaneness  of 
a  wild  group  of  California  emigrants  on  a  steamboat,  and  draw  tears  to  their 
eyes  by  tender  allusions  to  home  and  the  sanctuary  they  had  left  behind,  or 
debate  with  the  congregated  wisdom  of  the  General  Assembly,  with  equal  ease 
and  success.  He  was  a  man  of  immense  energy — the  amount  of  labour  he  performed 
was  almost  incalculable.  He  corresponded,  I  had  almost  said,  with  every  body. 
He  knew  accurately  the  situation  of  every  church  of  his  own  denomination  in 
the  State,  and  was  well  posted  in  the  general  affairs  of  the  Church  in  the  laud 
and  world.  Most  of  the  churches  in  this  State  can  remember  a  visit  of  his,  as 
the  time  when  they  were  greatly  encouraged — ^incited  to  build  a  new  house 
of  worship,  or  to  sustain  or  care  for  a  pastor.  He  loved  to  cheer  the  younger 
ministers,  whose  fields  of  labour  were  remote  or  toilsome — a  letter ;  a  box  of 
clothing  furnished  by  some  Benevolent  Society,  but  its  destination  marked  by  the 
Doctor,  or  associated  with  him;  oratimely  visit,*— will  be  a  cherished  recollection 
of  many  a  weary  labourer  in  this  State.  It  has  been  said  of  him  by  one  who 
knew  him  well,  but  with  whom  he  was  not  a  favourite, — '*  There  was  no  man 
who  would  go  farther,  and  do  more,  for  a  friend  than  he." 

His  acquaintance  with  books  was  not  extensive,  nor  minutely  critical ;  but  his 
knowledge  of  all  the  practical  questions  of  the  day  was  never  deficient.  These  he 
had  studied  until  his  mind  was  made  up,  and  he  could  sustain  his  opinions  by 
close  and  well  digested  arguments.  Dr.  BulUird's  first  clerical  labours  were  as 
an  Agent, — having  much  to  do  with  collecting  fuxfds  for  purposes  of  benevolence; 
and  this  fact  undoubtedly  shaped,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree,  his  whole  subse- 
quent life. 

He  was  singularly  successful  in  any  department  where  money  was  wanted  for 
benevolent  objects.  It  may  not  be  amiss  here  to  relate  an  anecdote  which  one 
of  his  friends  told  him,  much  to  his  amusement.  It  was  said  that  two  young 
men  were  walking  together,  and,  as  they  passed  the  door  of  an  artist,  saw  there 
a  well-executed  photograph  of  Dr.  BuUard.  As  they  came  to  it,  one  said  to  the 
other, — "  See,  here  is  a  most  excellent  likeness  of  Dr.  Bullard."  His  friend 
answered, — **  Come  away,  come  away;  he'll  have  five  dollars  out  of  you  for  a 
church  before  you  know  it."   But  if  he  urged  others  to  acts  of  benevolence,  he  set 


:7g2  PBESBXTSSIAN* 

the  example,  and  gave,  according  to  his  means,  liberallj,  especiallj  to  chvfefaas 
in  Missouri. 

His  tragic  death  ia  well  known,  and  it  is  needless  for  me  to  describe  it  here. 
.But  it  is  proper  perhaps  to  state  that  his  purpose,  in  going  on  that  excursion, 
.  which  had  so  terrible  a  termination,  was  not  merely  for  recreation,  but  for  benevo- 
lence. I  saw  him  a  day  or  two  before,  and  he  remarked  to  me  that  he  had 
hesitated  about  going,*— that  he  had  no  fondness  for  such  gatherings,  but  thought 
it  might  afford  him  an  opportunity  to  do  something  for  Webster  College, — an 
institution  of  which  he  was  the  originator,  and  the  strongpst  friend.  The  sub- 
scription book  of  that  institution  was  found  in  his  pocket  after  his  death, — wet 
and  soiled  by  the  tempest  which  beat  so  piteously  at  that  terrible  hour. 

He  was  in  excellent  spirits  on  the  day  of  his  death.  His  beautiful  church,  for 
which  he  had  laboured  untiringly,  but  in' which  he  had  only  administered  the 
Communion  service,  was  completed;  all  his  enterprises  were  prospering;  and  be 
hoped,  and  apparently  with  good  reason,  for  a  long  life  of  usefulness.  The  last 
word  remembered  of  him  was  a  mirthful  remark  to  one  of  his  travelling  friends. 
Probably  he  passed  from  one  world  to  another  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  He 
fell  in  the  full  vigour  of  life,  with  his  armour  on. 

His  memory  will  long  be  cherished  with  a  deep  and  affectionate  interest.  His 
work  was  a  peculiar  one,  and  he  did  it  well. 

With  great  regard, 

I  remain  yours  truly, 

T.  HILL. 

FROM  THE  REV.  THOMAS  BRAINERD,  D.  D. 

PHiXtAnxLPHiA,  Jane  24, 1857. 

Dear  Sir:  My  first  knowledge  of  the  late  Dr.  Bullard  was  while  he  was  Agent 
of  the  Massachusetts  Sabbath  Scho<d  Union, — during  my  student  days  at  the 
Andover  Theological  Seminary.  Tn  1831,  I  settled  in  Cincinnati.  In  1832, 
Mr.  Bullard  came  there  as  Agent  of  the  *'  American  Board  for  the  Valley  of  the 
Mississippi."  For  four  years  he  acted  in  this  Agency,  while  I  conducted  the 
<'  Cincinnati  Journal."  Ecclesiastically  and  socially  we  were  thrown  together  ia 
constant  and  confidential  intercourse.  I  think  I  knew  him  well;  but  still  feel 
doubtful  of  my  ability  to  sketch  his  character  within  the  limits  of  a  short  letter. 

His.  great  attribute,  as  a  man  and  a  minister,  was  enei^y .  In  executive  power, 
within  the  range  of  his  objects,  he  has  hardly  left  an  equal  in  our  Church.  In 
his  enterprises  for  Sabbath  schools,  missions,  church  building,  colloge  founding, 
&c.,  I  am  not  aware  that  lie  over  failed.  When  he  had  once  taken  up  an  enter- 
prise, he  identified  with  it  his  whole  being.  His  time,  travel,  credit,  pen, 
tongue,  purse,  and  prayers,  were  all  put  in  requisition.  He  was  dismayed  by 
no  obstacles,  hindered  by  no  objections,  turned  aside  by  no  attractions,  until 
the  matter  was  accomplished.     Where  he  began,  he  finished. 

For  these  enterprises  he  hid  remarkable  qualifications.  Physically,  he  was 
able  to  endure  almost  any  amount  of  labour.  He  had  a  temperament  at  once 
ardent  and  wary ; — blending  qualities  not  often  found  in  the  same  person.  As 
a  thinker,  he  was  ready  and  dear.  His  personal  appearance  was  commanding 
and  attractive;  his  voice  clear,  penetrating  and  full;  his  manners  social,  kind 
and  dignified;  his  public  speaking,  fluent,  simple,  fervid  and  effective.  He  was 
a  good  scholar — but  scht^rship  with  him  was  not  an  end,  but  a  means.  Truth 
itself,  with  him,  was  mainly  valued  for  its  uses.  He  cared  little  for  scientific  or 
theological  speculations*  With  him,  every  thing,  even  to  his  friendships  and 
recreations,  his  readings  and  his  sermons,  was  practical.  He  had  great  con- 
fidence in  Qod  and  the  Gospel;  great  conscientiousness  in  the  use  of  his  Urns 
and  powers;  great  reliance  on  the  excellence  and  feasibility  of  his  own  plans; 


ARTEMAS  BULLARD.  •  *j^ 


Q 


l^eetA  perBonal  and  moral  courage,  by  wkkh  he  moved  orer  firieod  or  foe — over 
dangers  or  difficulties,  to  reach  hifi  benevolent  ends;  great  adhesireness,  hj 
which  he  clung  to  the  work  until  it  was  done.  Of  course  he  was  a  man  of  mark, 
as  to  power  and  efficiency.  Those  who  could  appreciate  him,  and  aid  him,  he 
loved  intensely;  but  more  timid,  and  less  energetic  and  devoted,  spirits,  he  was 
liable  to  regard  with  indifference  and  distaste.  He  cared  little  for  mere  style, 
form  or  manner.  He  looked  for  reauUa;  and  his  brethren  who  failed  in  efficiency 
here,  he  cared  little  to  please.  Such  a  sanctified  Napoleon  in  the  Church, — sudi 
a  moving  spirit  in  the  ministry, — ^naturally  had  devoted  friends  and  resolute 
opponents. 

I  could  give  facts  to  illustrate  all  I  have  said,  but  I  will  only  recall  a  few 
incidents  to  the  memory  of  his  friends. 

When  ho  entered  the  West,  as  Agent  of  the  American  Board,  the  whole  field 
lay  waste.  He  formed  an  **  Auxiliary  Society  of  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi;" 
attracted  attention  to  it,  and  made  it  effective;  reprinted  the  Missionary  Herald 
at  Cincinnati,  and  circulated  it  largely;  got  up  Western  Anniversaries  fully 
attended;  republished  all  the  past  Reports  of  the  Board,  and  made  them  tell, 
in  combining  and  concentrating  the  affections  of  thousands  on  the  cause  of  mis- 
sions. At  two  periods,  he  returned  from  his  long  journeys,  to  find  an  only  child 
dead.  *'  He  buried  their  bodies  and  went"  on  with  his  work.  Repeatedly, 
when  he  determined  a  church  should  be  erected  in  a  desolate  district,  he  was  so 
confident  of  success,  that  he  pledged  his  own  credit  and  pushed  on  the  work.  In 
the  winter  of  1834,  he  had  been  labouring  in  a  revival  in  Lexington,  Ky.  Obliged 
to  leave  for  a  time,  he  promised  to  return  and  bring  me  with  him.  On  his  way  to 
Cincinnati,  his  horse  fell,  threw  Mr.  Bullard  and  disabled  himself.  He  hired 
another,  and  reaching  Cincinnati,  persuaded  me  to  go  back  with  him, — a  journey 
of  eighty  miles  in  the  deep  mud  of  December.  We  started,  and  on  the  way  took 
up  his  lame  horse;  and  by  wading  in  slush  from  early  dawn  till  nine  o'clock  at 
evening,  in  two  days  and  a  half,  reached  Lexington;  where  we  laboured  two 
weeks  for  the  Rev.  Doctors  Hall  and  Davidson.  This  is  a  specimen  of  the  man- 
ner in  which,  at  that  early  day,  he  was  accustomed  to  push  through  obstacles. 

In  the  winter  of  1835,  very  much  under  his  promptings,  we  made  another 
excursion  to  Lexington  in  the  stage.  Our  company  consisted  of  Rev.  Dr.  Lyman 
Beecher,  his  daughter  Catharine,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Storrs,  Rev.  Dr.  Cogswell,  Rev. 
£.  N.  Kirk,  Rev.  Mr.  Mahan,  Rev.  Dr.  Bullard,  and  myself.  The  road  was 
terrible.  And  in  returning,  though  we  left  Lexington  Friday  noon,  it  was  gray 
dawn  on  Sunday  morning  when  we  arrived  at  Cincinnati.  About  twelve  o'clock 
on  Friday  night,  we  found  our  stage  in  a  drenching  rain  and  deep  mud,  half 
capsized  in  a  desolate  spot.  By  hanging  Miss  Beccher  up  like  a  locust,  on  a  rail 
fence,  and  lifting  at  the  stage,  wo  righted  it.  We  crept  on  through  Saturday 
until  about  nine  o'clock  at  evening,  twenty  miles  out  from  Cincinnati,  when  we 
slid  again  into  a  ditch  and  stuck  fast.  Dr.  Beecher  lost  both  shoes  in  the  mud. 
By  a  liberal  use  of  rails,  we  righted  the  stage,  but  the  driver  became  panic- 
stricken,  and  refused  to  go  on.  Dr.  Bullard  told  him  he  would  sit  with  him  and 
share  the  responsibility.  He  did  so;  encouraged  the  driver,  and  brought  u&in  al 
break  of  day.     This  is  a  specimen  of  his  energy  and  courage. 

On  a  certain  occasion.  Dr.  Bullard  was  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  a 
man  somewhat  distinguished,  and  occupying  a  prominent  position,  was  neglecting 
his  congregation  by  residing  at  a  distance  from  them  on  his  farm,  to  which  he^ 
seemed  to  give  more  attention  than  to  his  people.  He  deliberately  administered 
a  decided  reproof.  It  brought  the  minister  back  to  his  duty  to  his  people;  but 
I  am  sorry  to  add,  alienated  him  ever  after  from  Dr.  Bullard.  •  I  always  admired 
the  conscientious  fidelity  and  boldness  of  Dr.  Bullard,  in  admonishing  his  brethren, 
hut  could  not  always  commend  the  delicacy  and  gentleness  of  his  spirit  in  snch 
matters.     What  he  gave,  however,  he  would  take  without  offence.    Advancing 

Vol.  IV.  95 


7g4  PRESBTTKRIAN. 

je«ra,  while  they  ripened  hU  Jadgment,  wrought  no  abatement  of  his  entkn- 
masm  and  energy.  A  short  time  before  he  died,  I  reoeived  a  letter  from  him,  in 
which  he  manifested  a  willingness  to  embark  in  an  enterprise,  new,  difficult  and 
laborious.  Speaking  of  ministerial  education  in  connection  with  our  General 
Assembly,  he  says, — "  Had  Providence  permitted,  I  should  have  entered  the 
important  field  you  opened  to  me  with  a  toUl,  and  laboured  in  it  with  a  zeal  and 
enthusiasm  I  never  exhibited  before.  There  is  no  place  on  earth  1  prefer  to  it; 
none  so  important."    Thus  he  wrote,  Nov.  13th,  1854. 

I  have  given  facts  sufficient  to  justify  what  1  have  said  of  the  characteristics 
of  Dr.  Bullard.  He  passed  from  earth  by  a  death  of  violence,  at  the  period  of 
his  greatest  strength  and  highest  usefulness.  But  he  lived  long  enough  to  have 
an  influence  decided,  wide^spread  and  enduring,  on  that  Great  VaUey  of  the 
West,  to  whose  religious  culture  he  had  oonsecrated  his  energies. 

Yours  troly,. 

THOMAS  BRAIN  ERD. 


-•♦■ 


SAMUEL  GOVER  WINCHESTER  * 

1829—1841. 

Samuel  Goyer  Winchester,  a  son  of  Samuel  and  Eliza  (Goyer) 
Winchester,  was  born  at  Bock  Run,  Harford  County,  Md.,  on  the  17th 
of  February,  1805.  His  mother,  whose  parents  belonged  to  the  Society 
of  Friends,  died  when  he  was  about  fifteen  months  old,  so  that  he  had  no 
recollection  of  her ;  but  she  committed  her  infant  child  to  the  care  of  her 
surviving  sisters,  who  were  eminently  pious  persons  in  communion  with  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and  were  every  way  qualified  for  the  responsi- 
ble trust  which  was  thus  devolved  upon  them.  Though  he  was  separated 
from  them  during  the  greater  part  of  the  period  of  his  education,  they  kept 
up  a  constant  correspondenoe  with  him,  and  their  afifectionate  and  earnest 
letters  made  impressions  upon  his  mind  which,  in  subsequent  life,  he  con- 
sidered  as  having  had  much  to  do  with  the  formation  of  his  religious  char- 
acter«  At  the  age  of  eleven,  he  was  put  to  a  boarding  school  at  Bel  Air. 
Md.,  under  the  instruction  of  a  Mr.  Davis,  where  he  continued  four  years — 
till  the  year  1820.  He  then  went  to  Baltimore  to  reside  with  his  father, 
and  there  became  a  pupil  of  Mr.  J),  W.  Boisseau, — a  man  eminently  skilled 
in  teaching,  and  distinguished  for  the  fervour  of  his  piety.  From  early 
childhood  he  had  discovered  a  great  fondness  for  oratory ;  and,  by  this  time, 
it  seemed  to  have  grown  into  a  passion.  He  was  instrumental,  during  his 
connection  with  this  school,  in  forming  a  Society  among  the  pupils  for 
improvement  in  declamation ;  and  in  these  exercises  he  used  to  take  the 
most  intense  delight.  He  soon  projected  the  plan  of  connecting  with  the 
other  exercises  that  of  debating ;  but  this  suggestion  found  little  favour 
with  his  fellow-students,  on  the  ground  that  they  felt  themselves  wholly 
inadequate  to  it.  He,  however,  shrewdly  contrived  to  engage  them  in  a 
warm  discussion  on  this  very  subject,  and  then  sportively  and  triumphantly 
remarked  to  them  that  they  had  been  ardently  debating  to  show  that  they 

•  PTCBbytoiiaa  for  1841— KB.  from  Mn.  Whieheatw. 


SAMUEL  GOYEB  WINCHESTER.  7^5 

ware  unable  to  debate.  The  resmlt  was  that  hb  proposal  immediatelj  took 
effeot,  and  the  new  exercise  became  so  popular  as  entirely  to  supersede  that 
which  formed  the  original  object  of  the  Association. 

In  the  autnmn  of  1824,  he  left  school,  and  in  January,  1825,  was  matri* 
culated  as  a  student  of  Law  in  the  UniTersitj  of  Maryland,  under  David 
Ho£fman,  Esq.,  Professor  of  Law.  He  entered  upon  his  studies  with  great 
vigour  and  alacrity,  feeling  that  the  profession  opened  a  fine  field  for  his 
peculiar  talents,  and  resolved  to  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  standing 
at  the  head  of  it.  Shortly  after  he  began  his  course,  a  **  Law  Institute  *' 
was  formed  by  the  students,  for  the  purpose  of  discussing  questions  eoa- 
nected  with  their  studies ;  and  in  forming  and  conducting  this  association,  he 
took  an  active  part.  He  was  particularly  interested  in  what  he  called  the 
philosophy  of  the  science, — in  tracing  out  the  reasons  of  enactments,  and 
the  origin  of  customs, — discovering  those  expedients  for  evasion  which  the 
Law  anticipated,  and  marking  the  wisdom  of  its  provisions.  The  Professor 
offered  a  premium  of  a  gold  medal  to  the  author  of  the  best  Essay  on  any 
given  subject.  Mr.  Winchester  resolved  to  try  for  th-e  prize,  and  had 
actually  made  considerable  progress  in  an  Essay  entitled  **A  brief  history 
of  the  potest  as  alienandi  from  the  earliest  times."  But  before  it  was 
completed,  his  thoughts  were  directed  with  great  intensity  to  the  subject  <tf 
religion.  He  had  been,  for  several  years,  an  attendant  upon  an  Episcopal 
Church ;  but  was  now  induced  occasionally  to  attend  in  the  afternoon  on  the 
ministry  of  the  Be  v.  William  Nevins,  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church ; 
and,  after  a  while,  became  a  member  of  Mr*  Nevins*  Bible  class,  which 
included  also  some  from  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church,  and  was  con- 
ducted partly  by  the  Rev.  John  Breckenridge.  In  March,  1827,  an  exten- 
sive revival  of  religion  commenced  in  the  two  congregations, — of  which 
many  in  the  Bible  class,  and  young  Winchester  among  the  rest,  were  reck- 
oned as  subjects.  On  the  6th  of  May  following,  he  was  admitted  to  the 
Communion  of  the  Church  under  the  pastoral  care  of  the  Bev.  Mr. 
Nevins. 

He  had  now  nearly  completed  his  studies  preparatory  to  admission  to  the 
Bar ;  and  his  prospects  of  success  in  his  profession  were  scarcely  exceeded 
by  those  of  any  young  man  of  his  time.  But  the  religious  change  which 
had  been  wrought  in  him  immediately  suggested  the  inquiry  whether  it  was 
not  his  duty  to  serve  God  in  the  ministry  of  the  .Gospel;  and,  after  ponder- 
ing the  question  most  devoutly  and  earnestly,  he  felt  constrained  to  return 
to  it  an  affirmative  answer;  and  that,  notwithstanding  some  of  his  neareat 
friends,  including  his  father,  strongly  opposed  his  taking  such  a  step.  In 
coming  to  this  determination,  he  felt  that  his  plans  of  worldly  ambition  must 
all  be  sacrificed,  as  well  as  the  cherished  hopes  of  his  friends  disappointed ; 
but  his  convictions  of  duty  did  not  allow  him  to  hesitate  which  side  of  the 
alternative  to  choose. 

In  November,  1827,  he  became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary 
at  Princeton,  where  he  was  sustained  chiefly  by  the  relics  of  an  estate,  to 
which,  as  the  representative  of  his  mother,  he  was  lawful  heir.  In  the 
autumn  of  1829,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Baltimore, 
and  shortly  after  preached  his  first  sermon  in  Mr.  Nevins'  Church.  In  the 
spring  of  1830,  while  he  was  yet  pursuing  his  studies  at  Princeton,  he  was 
Qxuuumously  called  to  be  the  Paator  of  the  Sixth  Presbyterian  Church  in 


756  PRESBYTERIAN. 

Philadelphia,  then  vacant  by  the  removal  of  the  Bev.  John  H.  Kennedy. 
He  accepted  the  call,  and  was  ordained  and  installed,  May  4,  18B0. 

On  the  8th  of  June  following,  he  was  married  to  Grace,  daughter  of 
Alexander  and  Frances  (Crane)  Mactier,  of  Baltimore, — a  lady  every  way 
qualified  for  the  important  sphere  in  which  her  lot  was  to  be  cast.  They 
had  four  children,  all  of  whom  survived  their  father. 

After  a  residence  in  Philadelphia  of  about  seven  years,  during  which  time 
he  maintained  his  position  as  a  minister  with  great  dignity  and  ability,  his 
health  became  much  impaired,  and  he  determined,  in  accordance  with  the 
advice  of  his  friends,  to  visit  the  Southern  States,  and  the  Island  of  Cuba. 
By  this  tour,  his  health  was  decidedly  improved,  and  a  new  impulse  seemed 
to  have  been  given  to  his  physical  constitution.  In  the  spring  of  18B7,  he 
resigned  his  charge,  and  was  employed  as  an  Agent  of  the  General  Assem* 
bly's  Board  of  Domestic  Missions.  In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  he 
received  a  unanimous  call  to  the  large  and  flourishing  Presbyterian  Congre- 
gation in  Natchez,  Mi.  Believing  that  the  change  of  climate  would  be 
favourable  to  his  health,  and  that  his  field  of  usefulness  would  at  least  not 
be  contracted  by  a  removal  thither,  he  accepted  the  call  and  removed  with 
his  family  to  Natchez.  Here  he  continued  in  the  faithful  and  successful 
discharge  of  his  duties  for  nearly  four  years. 

In  May,  1841,  he  came  to  Philadelphia  as  a  delegate  to  the  General 
Assembly ;  and  it  was  no  common  testimony  of  respect,  considering  his  age, 
that  he  should  have  come  within  two  votes  of  being  chosen  Moderator  of 
that  venerable  Body. 

Having  leave  of  absence  from  his  congregation  for  six  months,  he  availed 
himself  of  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  him,  to  visit  his  friends,  and  travel 
somewhat  extensively  in  the  North.  After  stopping  a  little  at  Niagara 
Falls,  and  making  the  tour  of  Canada,  during  which  time  his  health  was 
evidently  in  an  enfeebled  state,  he  returned  to  the  city  of  New  York,  with 
the  intention  of  soon  pursuing  his  homeward  way.  On  the  22d  of  August, 
he  preached  in  the  Keformed  Dutch  Church  in  Lafayette  Place  an  impressive 
and  earnest  Discourse  from  the  text — **  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall 
he  also  reap.*'  During  the  following  week,  he  made  a  brief  visit  to  West 
Point,  and  when  he  returned>  it  was  manifest  that  he  was  seriously  indis- 
posed. His  case  gradually  assumed  a  more  alarming  character,  and  termi- 
nated in  congestion  of  the  brain.  At  half  past  five  o'clock  on  Tuesday 
morning,  the  31st  of  August,  it  was  discovered  that  his  spirit  had  passed 
away.  He  died  at  the  house  of  his  relative,  Alexander  G.  Mactier,  Esq. 
His  remains  were  conveyed  to  Baltimore,  and  placed  in  the  Mactier  vault, 
in  Green  Mount  Cemetery. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Mr.  Winchester's  publications  ; — Companion  for 
the  Sick,  altered  from  Willison's  Afflicted  Man's  Companion;  with  addi- 
tions, 1833.  Christian  Counsel  to  the  Sick,  1836.  A  Discourse  at  Oak- 
land College,  1838.     Family  Religion,  1841.     Theatrical  amusements. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  ENGLES,  D.  D. 

Philadblphia,  September  25^  1848. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  In  compliance  with  your  request,  I  transmit  you  a  few 
reooHectfons  of  my  much  esteemed  and  lamented  friend,  the  late  Rev.  Samuel  0. 
Winchester. 


SAMUEL  GOVER  WINCHESTER.  757 

In  regard  to  his  personal  appearance,  he  was  above  the  medium  height,  finely 
proportioned,  erect  and  graceful  in  his  carriage,  with  a  face  in  which  dignity  and 
benevolence  were  happily  blended.  When  animated  in  conversation  or  in  public 
speaking,  his  eye  expressed  his  emotions,  and  beamed  with  light.  His  counte- 
nance in  repose  was  indicative  of  gentleness;  but  when  the  occasion  demanded, 
it  could  express  firm  determination,  and  even  severity.  In  the  pulpit,  or  on  the 
floor  of  a  deliberative  body,  although  his  appearance  was  youthful,  his  person 
was  commanding,  his  self-possession  perfect,  his  gesticulation  easy  and  graceful, 
his  voice  full  and  well  modulated,  and  his  whole  manner  peculiarly  oratorical. 

From  the  commencement  of  his  ministerial  course,  Mr.  Winchester  was  strongly 
inclined  to  cultivate  a  habit  of  extemporaneous  speaking,  and  was  evidently 
trammelled  by  notes.  In  an  experiment,  always  perilous  to  a  young  pastor,  from 
its  tendency  to  mere  verbiage,  he  may  have  often  failed;  but,  careful  to  arrange 
his  thoughts  in  the  study,  practice  gave  him  the  most  desirable  facility  in 
expressing  them  before  a  public  assembly.  During  his  last  visit  to  the  North, 
there  was  perceptible  a  very  marked  improvement  of  his  pulpit  efforts.  The 
frame-work  of  bis  sermons  was  more  logical,  the  thoughts  richer  and  more  con- 
densed, and  the  expression  of  them  more  forcible  and  fluent.  In  doctrinal 
preaching,  in  which  he  often  indulged,  as  well  from  a  sense  of  duty  as  a  natural 
predilection,  he  was,  as  I  have  heard  some  of  his  stated  and  most  intelligent 
hearers  say,  highly  instructive.  He  excelled  too  in  his  hortatory  addresses,  and 
was  often  particularly  pungent  in  his  appeals  to  the  conscience.  Imagination 
was  not  his  predominant  faculty;  and  yet  he  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  it. 
It  was  perhaps  more  perceptible  in  the  freedom  of  familiar  conversation,  than  in 
his  public  addresses.  The  bent  of  his  mind  was  for  argument  and  discussion; 
and  in  deliberative  bodies  he  was  often  listened  to  with  pleasure,  if  not  surprise, 
for  the  happy  facility  he  displayed  in  developing  a  point  of  controversy,  particu- 
larly when  it  related  to  ecclesiastical  law.  If  he  was  not  always  right,  he  was 
at  least  always  plausible  and  ingenious.  His  appearance  before  the  Assembly 
of  1834  will  long  be  remembe^'d.  The  subject  under  discussion  related  to  the 
grounds  of  appeal.  He  was  you  ig,  he  was  comparatively  unknown  to  the  great 
majority  of  the  members;  and  nothing  unusual  was  expected  of  him  when  he 
took  the  floor.  The  subject  was  a  dry  one,  and  seemingly  afforded  but  little 
scope  for  the  display  of  oratorical  power;  yet  it  was  the  kind  of  subject  with 
which  he  loved  to  grapple.  In  the  discussion  of  it,  the  energy  of  his  mind  was 
fully  tasked;  his  eye  kindled,  the  best  points  of  his  naturally  oratorical  manner 
were  brought  forth,  and  with  the  self-possession  of  a  practised  debater,  he 
reasoned  his  points  with  a  cogency  and  fluency  which  carried  conviction  to  many 
minds,  and  held  the  attention  of  the  house  for  more  than  two  hours.  This  effort, 
like  many  preceding  ones  in  the  inferior  Courts  of  the  Church,  afforded  Aie 
requisite  proof  that,  had  he  been  admitted  to  the  Bar,  agreeably  to  his  first 
intentions,  he  would  have  become  one  of  its  most  distinguished  ornaments. 
Esteemed  as  be  was  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  he  displayed  still  higher  power 
as  a  debater;  and  familiar  as  I  was  with  his  manner  on  such  occasions,  I  cannot 
recall  the  instance  in  which  he  was  betrayed  into  discourteous  warmth  by  strong 
opposition,  or  even  defeat. 

Mr.  Winchester  was  exemplary  in  his  domestic  relations,  warm  in  his  attach- 
ments, true  in  his  Mendships,  and  amiable  in  his  intercourse  with  others.  He 
was  ardently  attached  to  the  doctrines  and  order  of  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
and  always  prepared  to  defend  them.  He  frequently  contributed  to  the  periodi- 
cal press,  and  wrote  several  original  works,  which  were  creditable  alike  to  his 
head  and  his  heart. 

I  am,  dear  Sir,  very  truly  yours, 

WILLIAM  BNGLB3. 


ffS$  PRESBYTERIAN. 


THOMAS  SYDENHAM  WITHERSPOON  * 

1830—1846. 

Thomas  Stdbnham  Withebspoon,  a  son  of  Thomas  and  Jennet 
WithenpooD,  was  born  on  Black  Biver,  near  Kingstree,  in  Williamsbarg 
Diatrict,  S.  0.,  on  the  2d  of  January,  1805.  His  father's  paternal  great- 
grandfather, John  Witherspoon,  who  was  a  brother  of  the  grandfather  of 
Dr.  John  Witherspoon,  President  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  was  bom 
near  Glasgow  in  Scotland  in  1670 ;  was  driven  by  persecution  to  Ireland  in 
1695,  and  settled  in  the  County  of  Down ;  and  remained  there  till  1734, 
when  he  migrated  to  South  Carolina,  where  he  arrived  in  J)ecember  of  that 
year, — his  wife  having  died  on  the  passage.  He  settled  near  ELingstree, 
where  he  died  in  1737,  and  was  the  first  person  buried  at  the  old  Williams- 
burg Presbyterian  Church,  which  he  had  assisted  in  bnilding. 

The  parents  of  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  though  not  wealthy,  were  in 
comfortable  worldly  circumstances,  and  able  to  provide  for  the  liberal  edu- 
eation  of  their  children.  They  were  both  devout  members,  and  the  father 
an  elder,  of  the  Presbyterian  Church ;  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  care 
and  vigilance  which  they  bestowed  especially  on  the  spiritual  interests  of 
their  household.  As  one  of  the  fruits  of  their  parental  fidelity,  this  son 
early  embraced  religion,  and  made  a  public  profession  of  his  faith  at  the 
age  of  about  sixteen. 

In  1825,  he  removed  with  his  father's  family  to  Greene  County,  Ala. 
Previous  to  this,  he  had  partly  fitted  for  College  at  the  Bethel  Academy  in 
York  District,  S.  C,  and,  after  his  removal,  completed  his  preparation  under 
the  Rev.  Henry  White,t  at  the  Concord  Academy,  which  was  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  his  father's  new  residence.  He  entered  the  Junior  class 
of  Union  College,  Schenectady,  N.  Y.,  in  1826,  and  graduated  in  1828. 
He  then  returned  to  his  father's  in  Alabama,  placed  himself  under  the  care 
of  the  Presbytery  of  South  Alabama,  and  pursued  his  theological  studies 
mainly  under  the  direction  of  the  Bev.  James  Hillhouse.t  He  was  licensed 
to  preach  the  Gospel  on  the  23d  of  October,  1830 ;  and  was  ordained  to  the 
full  work  of  the  ministry  on  the  10th  of  November,  1832. 

Mr.  Withcrspoon's  whole  ministerial  life  was  passed  in  Alabama.  Soon 
after  his  licensure  he  went,  under  direction  of  his  Presbytery,  as  a  mission- 
ary to  the  Church  at  Ouchy  Valley  in  Florida,  where  he  was  occupied  for 
six  months.  After  this  he  was  engaged  in  preaching  in  di£ferent  places, 
until  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1831,  or  early  in  1832,  when  he  was  invited 
to  the  Church  in  Lowndesborough,  then  in  the  bounds  of  his  Presbytery, 

*M8S.  from  hU  brother^ — Dr.  J.  M.  Withenpoon,  and  Rev.  J.  M.  MoEee. — Br.  Kairs  8«r- 
turn  on  the  Dead  of  the  Sjnod  of  Alabama.— Presbyterian,  1846. 

f  Henry  White  was  gmdaated  at  Williams  College  in  1812,  studied  Theolosy  and  went  to 
the  South,  and  on  the  Ist  of  April,  1824,  was  reeei^ed  as  a  member  of  the  Presbytery  of  Ala- 
bama firom  the  Soath  Carolina  Congregational  AssooiaUon.  For  some  time  previous  to  this, 
he  had  been  labouring  as  a  missionary  within  the  bounds  of  that  Presbytery.  Ue  was  for  some 
time  Principal  of  the  Conoord  Academy.  But,  in  oonsequenoe  of  feeble  health,  he  was  able,  in 
his  last  years,  to  perform  but  little  ministerial  labour.  Ue  died  after  a  severe  illness  of  two 
or  three  weeks,  on  the  13th  of  March>  1829,  near  Claiborne,  Ala. 

X  Jakes  Hillhousb,  of  the  Presbytery  of  South  Carolina,  settled  in  Qreensborough,  Ala.,  ia 
the  apring  of  18S2,  and  waa  received  a  member  of  the  Presbytery  of  Alabama,  on  the  11th  of 
April,  1823.  He  was  an  unoommonly  laborious  nastor,  and  an  effective  and  popular  preacher. 
He  died  at  Qreensborough  on  the  17th  of  Novemoer,  1835. 


THOMAS  SYPHNHAM  WITHERSPOON.  Jf^ 

as  a  stated  supply.  Ha?iog  remained  here  not  far  from  two  years,  he  was 
called  in  the  same  capacity  to  the  Church  at  Claiborne,  where  he  continued 
until  some  time  in  the  year  1836.  He  them  accepted  an  inyitation  to  the 
Church  in  Greensborough,  and  was  installed  as  its  Pastor  in  1888.  In  the 
spring  of  1843,  hb  health  became  so  infirm  that  he  found  himself  quite 
incapacitated  for  public  speaking,  and  he  accordingly  felt  constrained  to 
resign  his  pastoral  charge.  This  he  did  not  without  great  reluctance,  as  his 
labours  here  had  been  richly  blessed,  and  the  Church  which  he  found  con« 
sisting  of  a  few  members,  had  greatly  increased  under  his  ministrations,  in 
respect  to  both  numbers  and  efficiency. 

In  the  autumn  of  1843,  he  was  appointed  by  the  Synod  to  the  Alabama 
Professorship  in  Oglethorpe  University.  ,  Having  accepted  this  appointment, 
he  undertook  to  raise  funds  for  the  endowment  of  the  Professorship,  and  he 
was  prosecuting  his  agency  with  very  promising  success.  Whilst  attending 
the  sessions  of  his  Presbytery  at  Centre  Kidge  Church,  with  every  prospect 
of  being  permitted  to  labour  for  years  in  the  new  field  to  which  Providence 
had  called  him,  he  was  suddenly  stricken  down  with  what  proved  to  be  a 
mortal  malady.  The  Presbytery,  previous  to  adjournment,  had  a  season  of 
united  and  earnest  prayer  in  his  behalf;  but  scarcely  had  they  reached  their 
homes,  when  ihey  were  followed  with  the  sad  tidings  that  this  beloved  and 
honoured  brothor  had  closed  his  earthly  labours.  He  died  of  ossification 
of  the  heart,  at  the  house  of  his  friend,  Mr.  James  M.  Calhoun,  at  Rich- 
mond, Dallas  County,  on  the  20th  of  October,  1845,  and  his  remains  were 
removed  for  burial  to  Grcensborough,  which  had  been  the  principal  scene  of 
his  pastoral  labours.  The  Professorship  which  he  had  accepted,  has  since 
been  fully  endowed,  and,  as  a  token  of  respect  for  his  memory,  is  called  by 
his  name. 

Mr.  Witherspoon  had  been  pre-eminently  a  man  of  affliction.  His  whole 
family  had  gone  before  him  to  the  grave,  except  one  brother,  who  reached 
him  but  a  few  hours  before  his  departure.  The  meeting  was  one  of  most 
tender  and  overwhelming  interest.  The  dying  man  embraced  his  brother 
with  inexpressible  joy,  thanking  God  that  he  was  permitted  to  sec  him  once 
more  in  the  body.  He  told  him  that  he  should  die  soon,  but  that  he  did 
not  fear  death,  foic  he  was  in  the  hands  of  a  Being  who  would  certainly  do 
with  him  what  was  right.  That  night  his  disease  evidently  gained  upon  him ; 
but  he  was  sustained  by  the  precious  promises  of  God*s  word,  many  of 
which  he  repeated  with  an  air  of  serene  and  grateful  triumph.  The  next 
day,  which  was  the  Sabbath,  his  brother  said  to  him, — '*  You  are  now  amidst 
the  waves  of  Jordan  ;'*  and  he  answered  with  a  smile — "  Yes,  and  I  shall 
soon  see  our  father  and  all  the  family,  and  you  alone  are  left  behind." 
Death  now  proceeded  to  do  its  work.  Without  a  groan,  or  a  struggle,  or 
any  thing  to  indicate  suffering,  hi«i  spirit  gently  passed  away  to  its  eternal 
home. 

Mr.  Witherspoon  was  married,  in  the  year  1882,  to  Anne  Eliza,  daughter 
of  the  Hon.  Samuel  W^.  Goode,  of  Montgomery,  Ala.  They  had  three 
children,  all  of  whom  died  before  their  parents.  Mrs.  Witherspoon  died  at 
Greensborough,  in  the  autumn  of  1844,  aged  thirty-five  years.  She  was 
eminently  fitted  for  her  station,  and  was  in  every  respect  a  helpmeet  for 
her  husband. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  the  Minutes  of  the  Synod  of  Alabama,  at 
their  meeting,  October  25, 1845, — five  days  after  Mr.  Withen^poon's  death : 


7Q0  PRBSBTTESIAX. 

"  The  oommittea  appointed  to  prepare  a  minate,  in  consequence  of  the 
heavy  boreavementa  sustained  by  the  Synod,  in  the  death  of  the  three 
beloved  brethren,  B.  0.  Martin,*  F.  H.  Porter,t  and  T.  S.  Witherspoon, 
would  offer  the  following : — That  whilst  these  afflictive  dispensations  of 
Divine  Providence  are  to  us  wrapt  in  the  most  profound  mystery,  and  are 
Buch  as  to  fill  our  hearts  with  anguish ;  whilst  they  call  loudly  upon  every 
member  of  this  Synod  to  humble  himself  before  God,  it  is  certainly  a  cause 
of  gratitude  to  the  Great  Head  of  the  Church,  and  of  encouragement  to  us, 
to  learn  that  they  all  left  us  in  the  triumphs  of  faith,  with  the  full  assurance 
of  a  future  and  glorious  immortality.  We  have  only  to  pray  that  the  influ- 
ence of  their  good  example,  their  seal  and  attachment  to  the  cause  of  Christ, 
may  long  be  felt  upon  our  hearts,  and  upon  the  hearts  of  all  to  whom  they 
once  ministered." 


FROM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  NALL,  D.  D. 

Mobile,  May  80, 1857. 

Dear  Brother:  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that  it  is  your  purpose  to  include  a 
sketch  of  the  life  of  the  late  Rev.  Thomas  S.  Witherspook  in  your  work  com- 
memorative of  the  prominent  deceased  clergymen  of  our  country.  This  will 
be  a  service  most  acceptable,  not  only  to  his  friends,  but  to  the  churches  in  Ala* 
bama,  to  whom  the  name  of  Witherspoon  is  *'  as  ointment  poured  forth.'' 

At  the  time  of  my  licensure  by  the  Presbytery  of  South  Alabama,  Mr. 
Witherspoon  was  a  young  but  active  member.  From  that  time  till  his  death — a 
period  of  twelve  years  —  we  were  intimate  friends,  ever  communicating  most 
freely  on  the  various  duties,  and  trials,  and  difficulties,  incident  to  ministerial  life. 
In  the  providence  of  God,  we  were  thrown  together  in  the  performance  of  much 
missionary  work.  Many  were  the  protracted,  sacramental,  and  camp,  meetings 
we  conducted,  and  in  which  we  laboured  for  days  and  even  weeks,  with  those 
manifestations  of  the  Divine  presence  which  are  seen  in  the  awakening  and  edifi- 
cation of  God's  people,  and  the  conviction  and  conversion  of  the  ungodly — in  all 
which  he  was  a  **  true  yoke  fellow."  I  had  every  opportunity  of  knowing  him — 
of  knowing  him  in  the  private  walks, — even  the  closet  communings,  of  the 
Christian  minister.  Many  and  precious  have  been  our  seasons  of  private  devo- 
tion. Our  practice  was  to  retire  to  the  woods  and  engage  in  prayer  before  going 
into  the  pulpit,  and  then  from  the  pulpit,  to  make  our  way  to  the  woods  again. 
And  we  felt  that  this  was  the  secret  of  that  success  which  so  often  crowned  our 
labours. 

Mr.  Witherspoon  was  of  medium  height,  slender  frame,  thin  visage,  dark  skin, 
a  keen,  discerning  eye,  and  of  easy,  gentlemanly  manners.     Your  first  impres- 


Blok  Olds  Mabtih  wm  bom  in  Underhill,  Vt.,  April  18,  1806.  He  earlj  diseoyerad  s 
remarlsable  fondoess  for  books,  and  was  roady  to  make  any  saeriflee  for  the  indtiigenee  of  thii 
taste.  He  became  in  dae  time  a  student  at  the  University  of  Vermont,  where  he  enjoyed  a 
high  reputation  as  a  scholar,  and  graduated  in  1831.  The  next  year  he  was  licensed  to  preach 
by  the  Northwestern  Association  of  Vermont,  and  in  1833,  went  to  Alabama  as  an  Agent  of 
the  American  Sunday  School  Union.  On  the  27th  of  February,  1834,  he  was  received  under 
the  care  of  the  South  Alabama  Presbytery,  and  on  the  2l8t  of  November,  1885,  was  ordained 
and  installed  Pastor  of  Hopewell  and  Sandy  Kidee  Churches.  After  an  able,  self-denying, 
and  highly  successful  ministry  of  about  ten  years,  be  died  of  consumption  on  the  3d  of  Marah! 
1846.    His  death  bed  was  a  most  edifying  scene  of  Christian  faitli  and  triumph. 


181 

and  he  repeated  his  visit  in  l82l,  and  held  another  similar  meeting,    vn  noin  tnese  oeeasions, 

parents  carried  their  children  the  distance  of  thirty  miles,  to  have  them  baptised.    He  joined 

the  Presbytery  of  South  Alabama  in  the  spring  of  1828;  and  laboured  both  as  an  instruoter  of 

youth,  and  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  in  different  parts  of  the  Stete,  until  his  death,  which 

'Occurred  in  the  year  1845.    He  has  four  sons,  now  (1867)  ministers  of  the  Presbyteriaii 

Chnieh. 


THOMAS  SYDfiNHAlI  WITHERSPOON.  fQ^ 

mans  would  be  decidedly  faTountble,  and  subsequent  acquaintance  would  confirm 
them. 

Mr.  Witherspoon  was  capable  of  profound  and  laborious  thought,  though  he  did 
not  often  give  himself  to  severe  investigations.  Not  but  he  was  a  lover  of  books 
and  of  close  thinking;  but  in  those  days,  such  were  the  moral  and  spiritual  des- 
titutions of  the  Church  in  this  region,  and  such  the  Macedonian  cry  from  the 
whole  of  South  Alabama,  that  little  beyond  the  necessary  pulpit  preparations 
was  attempted  by  any  of  our  ministers.  Uis  mind  was  very  quick  in  its  opera- 
tions, and,  apparently  without  an  effort,  he  made  himself  familiar  with  any  sub- 
ject, if  not  master  of  it.  As  to  his  moral  character,  he  was  above  suspicion. 
He  **  hated  every  false  way." 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  at  once  argumentative  and  persuasive.  These  were  his 
leading  characteristics.  His  strong  arguments  and  tender  appeals  emphatically 
constituted  his  power  in  the  pulpit.  By  the  one,  he  disarmed  the  sinner;  by  the 
other,  he  led  him  to  the  Gross.  £ven  when  he  preached  the  terrors  of  the  ]aw, 
ho  did  it  in  such  an  affectionate  and  subdued  spirit,  that  you  could  not  resist  the 
impression  that  he  was  *'  speaking  the  truth  in  love." 

You  will  not  be  surprised,  after  what  I  have  already  said,  that  I  should  add— 
he  was  a  popular  preacher — popular,  not  because  of  eccentricities,  or  of  over- 
wrought, astounding  figures  and  illustrations;  for  of  these  he  had  none, — but  on 
account  of  his  real  substantial  excellence.  He  was  deservedly  one  of  our 
favourites.  We  admired  him  in  the  pulpit,  and  we  admired  and  loved  him  out 
of  it.  And  then  he  was  such  a  cheerful  Christian, — so  accessible, — so  at  home 
every  where  and  with  every  body.  I  have  no  doubt  but  this  was  an  important 
element  of  both  his  popularity  and  his  usefulness.  His  religion  was  not  of  the 
gloomy  and  morose  type.  The  young  approached  him  without  feeling  that  they 
werS  entering  a  religious  cloud.  With  him 'the  transition  from  the  pulpit  to  the 
social  circle,  and  from  the  social  circle  back  again  to  the  pulpit,  was  easy  and 
natural; — such  as  not  to  diminish  the  solemnity  and  authority  of  the  one,  or  to 
cast  a  shade  over  the  rational  enjoyments  of  the  other.  In  this  particular,  he 
was  truly  a  remarkable  man.  He  possessed  an  exhaustless  fund  of  anecdote, 
and  powers  of  mimicry  almost  unrivalled;  and,  on  fitting  occasions,  he  could  deal 
out  the  former,  and  bring  into  exercise  the  latter,  with  as  much  effect  as  any 
other  man.  But  there  was  never  the  least  approach  to  this  sort  of  indulgence 
in  the  pulpit;  though  I  have  seen  him  in  circumstances  in  which  his  irrepressible 
good-humour  had  full  play  almost  up  to  the  moment  of  his  entering  it. 

His  most  powerful  sermons  were  delivered  under  circumstances  which  pre- 
cluded the  possibility  of  previous  retirement.  An  instance  now  occurs  to  me: — 
By  the  appointment  of  Presbytery,  he  was  unexpectedly  called  to  preach  an 
Ordination  Sermon.  He  had  no  written  preparation  for  the  occasion,  nor  had 
he  even  selected  a  text.  We  took  tea  together — ^a  number  of  us — where  there 
was  quite  an  overflow  of  the  social  feeling;  and  Brother  Witherspoon  had  his 
full  share  in  it,  notwithstanding  he  was  to  be  responsible  for  the  main  service  of 
the  evening.  We  walk  together  to  the  house  of  God.  The  solemnities  of  the 
hour  are  upon  him.  "  What  shall  I  do  ? "  The  bow  is  unstrung  no  longer. 
*'  Separated  unto  the  Gospel  of  God,"  is  his  text.  A  more  powerful  and  appro- 
priate sermon  I  never  heard.  He  surpassed  himself.  Even  now,  after  the  lapse 
of  years,  the  remembrance  of  the  scenes  of  that  night  opens  afresh  in  my 
bosom  the  fountain  of  deep  feeling.  Said  a  prominent  lawyer,  on  leaving  the 
church,-^*'  Did  you  ever  hear  such  a  sermon  ?  When  he  closed,  it  was  as  much 
as  I  could  do  to  keep  from  applauding  him."  He  had  spoken  the  word  of  God, 
and  the  congregation  felt  its  power.  Do  you  say, — *'  Rash  man!  Why,  under 
the  circumstances,  did  you  comply  with  the  wishes  of  your  Presbytery  ?  Or, 
having  consented  to  do  so,  why  did  you  mingle  with  your  friends  in  their  blithe- 
gome  repartees  till  the  hour  of  worship  arrived?"     No,  he  was  not^rash— * 

Vol.  IV.       96 


n 


702  PBXSBTTEBIAK. 

neoessarily  cat  off,  as  he  vas,  from  his  secret  derotions*— no  opportnnitj 

previous  preparation, — he  knew  where  next  his  strength  lay — in  the  mimd'M 
rapidt  gruping  rebowid.  In  that  erening's  flow  of  spirit,  there  was  neither 
ti^fling  nor  irreverence^it  was  the  sparkling,  gushing  stream,  springing  up  at  its 
mountain  head,  soon  to  dash  away, — the  mighty  river,  giving  life  and  beauty  to 
the  valley  beneath.  That  he  consented  to  the  wishes  of  his  Presbytery  brings 
out  another  lovely  trait  of  his  character.  It  was  a  rule  with  him,  from  which  I 
never  knew  him  to  depart,  to  do  whatever  the  Prethytery  coiled  him  to  do.  The 
observance  of  his  ordination  "  promise  of  subjection  to  his  brethren  in  the  Lord,'* 
was  a  matter  of  conscience  with  him.  ^'  Brethren,  if  you  say  it  is  my  duty  to 
go  to  Africa,  God  helping  me,  I  will  go."  Under  the  operation  of  this  rule,— * 
for  I  assure  you  the  brethren  did  not  suffer  it  to  become  obsolete, — he  was,  for 
years,  the  working  member  of  the  Presbytery.  As  Stated  Clerk,  which  offiee 
ho  held  for  ten  years,  his  duties  were  laborious,  and  yet,  they  were  but  a  small 
portion  of  the  burdens  laid  upon  him.  Whatever  duty  we  assigned  him,  we  felt 
confident  that  he  would  do  it,  and  do  it  well.  Truly  he  was  a  most  valuable 
member  of  our  Ecclesiastical  Courts.  We  were  wont  to  look  up  to  him,  and  not 
without  good  reason — he  was  always  so  thoroughly  posted  in  all  Church 
matters. 

I  should  do  injustice  to  the  character  of  this  excellent  brother,  if  I  should  not 
say  a  word  in  reference  to  his  connection  with  the  subject  of  slavery.  He  was 
the  possessor  of  a  considerable  number  of  slaves — perhaps  thirty — whom  he  had 
received  by  inheritance.  But  he  treated  them  almost  with  the  affection  of  a 
father.  Instead  of  constantly  employing  an  overseer,  he,  for  the  most  part, 
employed  one  of  their  own  number,  a  venerable  old  pious  negro,  by  the  name  of 
Paul,  who  was  greatly  respected  by  the  whole  community,  and  withal  was  in 
some  sense  a  preacher, — to  take  the  general  direction  of  affairs  on  the  plantation; 
and,  under  his  superintendence,  every  thing  moved  on  in  the  most  quiet  and  har- 
monious way.  Many  years  before  his  death,  he  offered  to  set  them  free,  and  to 
pay  the  expense  of  their  passage  to  Liberia, — and  this  was  a  standing  offer  as  long 
as  he  lived;  but  they  uniformly  declined  it.  By  his  will,  he  presented  them  to 
Henry  Clay,  as  President  of  the  Colonization  Society,  to  be  sent  to  Liberia,  and 
his  will  has  accordingly  taken  effect. 

Such  was  Brother  Witherspoon,  as  I  knew  him.  The  Presbytery  thus  close 
their  obituary  notice  of  him: — "He  had  laboured  long,  and  faithfully,  and  well. 
He  fell  at  his  post,  on  the  field  of  labour,  beloved  of  the  Churches,  wept  for  by 
his  numerous  spiritual  children,  lamented  by  his  brethren  of  Presbytery,  and 
honoured  of  Qod.  His  was  a  bright  star,  that  suddenly  set  in  unclouded 
lustre.*' 

Yours  in  Christ, 

ROBERT  KALL. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLL^LM  H.  MITCHELL,  D.  D. 

FLonENOE,  Ala.,  May  26,  1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  only  objection  to  complying  with  your  request  is  that  I  feel 
myself  quite  incompetent  to  do  justice  to  the  excellent  cliaracter  which  you  ask 
me  to  delineate.  I  shall  content  myself  with  a  few  brief  notices  of  Mr.  Wither- 
spoon, and  shall  dismiss  the  subject  with  the  more  confidence,  as  I  know  that  it 
has  already  passed  into  the  hands  of  my  esteemed  friend,  and  the  bosom  friend 
of  Mr.  W.,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Kail,  whose  testimony  and  opinion  will,  on  every 
account,  be  worthy  of  all  acceptation. 

In  society  Mr.  Witherspoon  always  appeared  the  frank,  courteous.  Christian 
gentleman.  His  conversational  powers  were  remarkable,  and  his  good-humour 
oombin«l  with  his  good-sense  to  render  him  the  life  of  every  circle  into  which  bo 


THOMAS  SYDSMHAM  WITHERSPOON.  70^ 

thrown.  His  emotioiiRl  nttore  he  seemed  to  have  under  great  control;  and 
lie  could  pass  from  the  state  of  feeling  appropriate  to  ono  set  of  circumstances,  to 
tl&e  state  of  feeling  appropriate  to  another,  with  a  sort  of  graceful  facility  that  I 
b&Te  scarcely  witnessed  in  the  same  degree  in  any  other  person. 

As  a  preacher,  his  manner  was  pecoliarly  his  own.  Indeed  by  some  he  was 
accounted  deficient  in  manner.  His  voice  was  not  remarkable  for  either  depth 
i>r  compass.  His  utterance  was  exceedingly  rapid,  and  occasionally,  when 
excited,  indistinct.  But  though  he  did  not  possess  what  may  be  called  the 
graces  of  oratory,  he  had  that  which  was  far  better,  and  which  rendered  his 
speaking  immeasurably  more  impressive — I  mean  the  intense  earnestness  of  a 
man  who  deeply  felt  the  inspiration  of  his  subject.  There  was  no  attempt  at  fine 
Kpeaking-— no  roaming  over  the  fields  of  science,  or  revelling  amidst  the  flowers 
of  rhetoric,  to  astound  or  to  entrance  his  audience.  He  did  not  essay  to  soar  to 
"  untrodden  heights/'  nor  was  he  ever  subject  to  precipitous  or  perilous  falls. 
Hut  if  glowing  fervour  and  undaunted  boldness;  if  evangelical  thoughts  tersely 
and  appropriately  expressed;  if  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  presented  with 
remarkable  simplicity  and  striking  beauty  of  •illustration — if  these  constitute 
pulpit  eloquence, — then  Thomas  S.  Witherspoon  possessed  it  in  no  ordinary 

degree. 

"  No  stndied  eloquenM  vnm  there  ditplayed; 

''No  poeti7  of  language  lent  its  aid; 

**  Bat  plain  the  words  that  from  the  preacher  oame : '' 

Tet  you  could  not  listen  to  him  without  being  impressed  with  the  belief  that  his 
ruling  desire  was  to  convince  the  sceptic,  to  convert  the  ungodly,  and  to  quicken, 
edify  and  comfort  the  Christian. 

There  was  a  clearness  and  freshness  in  his  style,  and  a  vivacity  and  natural- 
ness in  his  manner,  which  rendered  him  attractive  to  all  classes.  He  was  espe- 
cially remarkable  for  his  power  of  illustration — indeed  I  am  not  certain  but  that 
this  was  the  most  prominent  characteristic  of  his  preaching.  He  dwelt  largely 
upon  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  but  always  exhibited  them  in  their  practical 
relations.  At  protracted  meetings,  and  during  seasons  of  revival,  he  was  much 
sought  after  by  his  brethren;  and  on  these  occasions  his  preaching  talents  always 
found  ample  scope,  and  were  exhibited  to  the  greatest  advantage.  When  he  held 
up  the  Gross  as  the  only  hope  of  a  lost  world,  there  was  sometimes  a  melting 
tenderness,  a  thrilling  power  in  his  utterance,  that  would  bring  the  tear  to  many 
an  eye.  He  was  emphatically  a  ready  man.  His  mind  was  a  well  furnished 
cabinet  in  which  all  the  materials  were  arranged,  assorted,  and  ready  for  imme- 
diate use;  and  hence,  let  the  exigency  be  what  it  might,  it  was  scarcely  possible 
that  he  should  be  taken  by  surprise. 

Mr.  Witherspoon  was  a  well  read  theologian.  For  the  eminent  men  and  stand 
ard  authors  of  our  Ghurch  he  had  a  high  veneration;  but  he  was  not  the  man  to 
bow  obsequiously  to  any  human  authority.  Not  that  he  was  a  hobby-rider,  or 
was  ambitious  to  appear  as  the  author  of  *' new-fangled  notions," — ^but  he 
thought  for  himself;  and  even  when  he  adopted  the  thoughts  of  others,  it  was 
not  till  he  had  carefully  digested  as  well  as  weighed  them  by  an  independent 
intellectual  process. 

Among  what  I  would  call  the  prejudices  of  Mr.  Witherspoon  was  his  great 
dislike,  especially  in  the  latter  part  of  his  ministry,  to  the  habit  of  preaching 
from  a  manuscript.  He  wrote  his  sermons,  but  he  neither  committed  them  to 
memory,  nor  carried  them  into  the  pulpit.  He  usually  read  them  oyer  two  or 
three  times,  and  then  left  them  in  his  study.  I  have  heafrd  him  ridicule  the  idea 
of  rea<fing  the  Gospel.  "Just  imagine  Paul" — he  would  say — **  reading  th$ 
Gospel  an  Mars  HiU  to  the  Jireopagitesl  "  I  have  seen  him  mimic,  in  a  most 
quizzical  manner,  a  preacher  poring  over  his  paper,  and  making  gestures  over  his 
head  at  the  people.  But,  in  doing  so,  he  did  not  intend  to  wound  or  offend  those 
who  adopt  this  mode  of  preaching,  but  to  dissuade  his  younger  brethren  Arom 


764  PRESBTTERIAK. 

it, — ^beHering,  as  he  did,  that  it  wm  fitted  greatly  to  diminish  the  effect  of  the 
pulpit  on  the  masses. 

The  piety  of  Mr.  Witherspoon  was  of  an  exceedingly  cheerful  type;  and  yet 
it  was  deep,  earnest  and  all  pervading.  There  was  no  sacrifice  that  he  was  not 
willing  to  make  to  truth  and  duty.  He  had  much  of  Christian  meekness,  ten- 
derness, and  loyeliness.  The  mirtbfulness  and  good-humour  which  were  so  natu- 
ral to  him,  and  which  so  much  delighted  his  friends,  were  often  to  himself  an 
occasion  of  deep  regret  and  remorse;  and  I  believe  it  was  no  uncommon  thing 
for  him  to  find  his  own  heart  burdened  somewhat  in  proportion  as  he  bad,  by 
his  almost  matchless  wit,  contributed  to  warm  and  exhilarate  the  spirits  of 
others. 

In  love  for  the  Church  of  our  fathers;  in  strong  desires  to  see  our  Southern 
Zion  arise  and  shine;  in  comprehensive  and  active  benevolence;  in  admiration  for 
consecrated  talents ;  in  warm  attachment  to  the  followers  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ; 
in  self-denying  and  vigorous  efforts  to  advance  the  interests  of  the  Redeemer's 
Kingdom, — I  may  safely  say  that  he  had  no  superior  in  Alabama.  His  fame  is 
that  of  an  humble  Christian,  a  true  Philanthropist,  an  able,  diligent  and  fiuth- 
ful  Minister  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 
I  remain,  my  dear  Sir, 

Very  truly  and  fraternally  yours, 

WILLIAM  H.  MITCHELL. 


■^•- 


SAMUEL  Mcculloch  Williamson.* 

1830—1846. 

Samuel  MoCitlloch  Williamson,  the  second  son  of  Benjamin  and 
Mary  Williamson,  was  born  in  Northampton  County,  N.  C,  on  the  7th  of 
May,  1804.  In  his  early  years  he  evinced  great  strength  and  ardour  of 
feeling,  was  quick  and  generous  in  his  impulses,  reckless  of  danger,  and  far 
from  any  thing  that  gave  promise  of  his  becoming  a  minister  of  the  Gospel. 
Having  been  prepared  for  College  at  the  Academy  at  Warrenton,  N.  C,  he 
entered  Yale  College  in  1819,  and  graduated  in  1823.  Soon  after  his 
return  home,  he  entered  upon  the  study  of  the  Law,  and  was  admitted  to 
the  Bar  in  1825.  The  next  year  he  removed  to  Tennessee,  and  commenced 
practice  in  partnership  with  John  Grundy,  son  of  the  Hon.  Felix  Grundy, 
with  every  prospect  of  early  attaining  to  eminence  in  the  profession.  A  few 
months  afterwards,  he  was  brought  to  a  saving  knowledge  of  the  truth  under 
the  ministry  of  the  Rev.  John  W.  Hall,  then  of  Murfreesbo rough,  and 
principally  by  means  of  readiug  Doddridge's  **Kise  and  Progress  of  Reli- 
gion in  the  soul."  Whilst  there  was  much,  in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  to 
tempt  him  to  remain  at  the  Bar,  he  became  convinced  that  it  was  his  duty 
to  preach  the  Gospel ;  and,  accordingly,  as  soon  as  practicable,  he  abandoned 
his  profession,  and  commenced  a  course  of  study  for  the  ministry.  Early 
in  1829,  he  went  to  Danville,  Ky.,  and  studied  under  the  direction  of  the 
Rev.  Gideon  Blackburn,  D.  D.,  until  some  time  the  next  year,  when  he  was 
licensed  to  preach  by  the  Shiloh  Presbytery. 

After  his  licensure,  he  travelled  and  preached  for  some  months  in  the 
Western  District  of  Tennessee,  and  among  the  Chickasaw  and   Choctaw 

•  MSS.  fkom  Bev.  D.  Irving  and  Kay.  J.  0.  Stedman. 


SAMUEL  MoGULLOOH  WILLIAMSON.  7^5 

IndUns.  Aboat  the  close  of  the  year  1830,  he  settled  at  Memphis,  Tenn., 
where  he  remained  three  years, — ^being  the  first  Presbyterian  minister  of 
that  place.  When  he  commenced  his  labours  there,  there  were  but  few 
dwellings^  and  not  a  church  edifice  in  the  town ;  and  the  state  of  morals  was 
Buch  as  to  give  little  promise  of  comfort  to  the  minister  who  should  dare 
to  faithfully  do  his  duty.  Mr.  Williamson,  however,  addressed  himself  to 
his  work  with  a  constancy  that  never  wavered,  and  a  firmness  that  never 
faltered  ;  and  the  consequence  was  that  vice  and  impiety  quailed  before  him. 
His  labours  were  soon  owned  of  his  Gracious  Master ;  the  First  Presbyte- 
rian Church  in  Memphis  was  established  through  his  instrumentality ;  and 
many  were  added  to  it  whom  he  was  permitted  to  recognise  as  the  seals  of 
his  ministry.  In  connection  with  this  charge  he  preached  at  two  other 
stations,  distant, — the  one  ten,  the  other  twenty-four  miles.  It  was  not 
uncommon  for  him  to  preach  five  times  a  week;  and,  in  order  to  meet  his 
appointments,  he  was  often  obliged  to  make  his  horse  swim  the  swollen 
streams  which  abound  in  that  part  of  the  country  in  the  spring  of  the  year. 
His  labours  as  an  Evangelfst  were  particularly  successful. 

He  left  Memphis  at  the  close  of  1833,  and  in  the  beginning  of  1834  com- 
menced his  labours  at  the  Mountain,  and  Covington,  where  he  remained 
several  years,  preaching  with  great  fervour  and  effect  to  two  congregations. 
This  custom  of  preaching  to  joint  congregations  he  continued  till  his  death, 
owing  to  the  sparseness  of  the  population,  and  the  scarcity  of  ministers  in 
that  portion  of  the  Southwest.  In  1838,  he  removed  to  Lagrange,  and 
supplied  the  Churches  of  Lagrange  and  Bethany  till  1842,  when  he  removed 
to  Somerville,  (in  the  neighbourhood  of  which  he  had  a  farm,)  still  preach- 
ing at  Bethany ;  and  in  the  supply  of  these  two  churches  he  continued  till 
his  death.  His  whole  ministerial  life  was  spent  in  Tennessee.  His  last 
illness  was  contracted  while  preaching  at  Bethany  on  an  excessively  warm 
Sabbath  in  the  summer.  He  lingered  about  two  weeks  after  the  first 
attack,  and'  died  with  perfect  composure  on  the  6th  of  July,  1846,  in  the 
forty- third  year  of  his  age. 

Mr.  Williamson  was  first  married,  in  1831,  to  Mary,  daughter  of  the  Kev. 
Robert  Chapman,  D.  D.,  formerly  President  of  the  University  of  North 
Carolina.  After  her  death,  he  was  married  a  second  time,  in  1841,  to  Mary 
Jane,  daughter  of  Stephen  K.  Sneed,  of  Lagrange,  Tenn.  He  had  three 
daughters  and  one  son  by  the  first  marriage,  and  one  daughter  by  the  second. 
His  son,  a  graduate  of  West  Tennessee  College,  is  now  (1857)  practising 
Law  in  Somerville,  Tenn. 

Mr.  Williamson  was  exceedingly  popular  in  each  of  the  congregations  to 
which  he  ministered.  He  was,  at  different  periods,  invited  to  several  larger 
and  more  influential  churches ;  but  he  chose  to  live  and  die  in  the  region 
where  he  commenced  his  ministry.  His  name  is  gratefully  and  reverently 
cherished,  not  only  by  those  who  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  his  stated  labours, 
but  by  those  to  whom  he  occasionally  ministered,  and  indeed  by  the  whole 
surrounding  Christian  community. 

FROM  THE  REV.  DAVID  IRVING. 

MoaaisTOWK,  K.  J.,  July  20;  1857. 
Dear  Sir:  The  task  you  have  assigned  me  is,  in  many  respects,  an  agreeable 
one.    From  the  time  of  my  first  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Williamson,  in  1S40,  till 


766  PRESBTTEBIAir. 

his  death,  I  was  either  an  attendant  upon  his  ministry,  an  inmate  of  his  hooae, 
or  in  correspondence  with  him,  so  that  I  became  thoroughly  conrersant  with  both 
his  inner  and  outer  life.    l*o  me  his  memory  is  most  precious. 

He  was  rather  below  than  above  the  medium  height,  slender  in  form,  with  a 
countenance  full  of  life  and  expression.  In  his  movements  he  was  quick;  in 
manners  dignified  and  polished, — ever  manifesting  in  his  intercourse  with  the 
world  the  true  Christian  gentleman.  Far  removed  from  stijQfness  and  formality, 
there  was,  on  the  other  hand,  nothing  light  or  trifling  in  his  demeanour.  He 
was  ever  natural,  in  all  circles,  and  on  all  occasions.  His  love  of  truth  was  most 
intense,  while  a  deep  religious  principle  pervaded  his  acts  as  a  man  and  a  Gospel 
minister. 

In  his  friendship  he  was  ardent,  unselfish  and  steadfast,  seekmg  the  good  of 
others  more  than  his  own.  In  his  disposition,  he  was  benevolent  and  affection- 
ate,  and  always  ready  to  grant  needed  assistance,  when  it  was  in  his  power. 
It  was  a  principle  with  him  never  to  refuse  those  who  solicited  alms,  even 
when  seemingly  unworthy;  for  he  used  to  say  that  he  would  rather  be  deceived 
many  times,  than  in  a  single  instance  turn  away  one  of  Christ's  ransomed  ones, 
unrelieved.  • 

But  whilst  there  was  a  peculiar  charm  about  his  private  and  social  life  that 
made  his  society  much  sought  after,  yet,  in  my  judgment,  his  greatness  was 
developed  chiefly  in  the  pulpit.  There  he  shone  pre-eminently.  He  was  not  a 
learned  theologian — he  was  too  practical  and  too  much  engaged  in  active  duties 
for  that;  neither  can  it  be  said  that  he  was  great  in  depth  and  reach  of  intellect — 
yet,  for  activity  and  energy  of  mind,  clearness  of  thought,  impressiveness  and 
earnestness  of  manner,  and  fervid  unaffected  eloquence,  he  had  not  his  superior 
in  the  pulpit,  or  at  the  bar,  in  the  whole  of  the  Western  District. 

As  a  man,  he  knew  not  fear.  But  whilst  he  was  bold  in  the  utterance  of 
truth,  it  was  associated  with  so  much  of  melting  tenderness  and  affection,  as  not 
only  to  gain  but  rivet  the  attention  of  his  audience.  His  preaching  was  practical 
and  experimental,  rather  than  technically  doctrinal;  and  some  of  his  appeals  to 
the  sinner  I  have  never  heard  surpassed  by  any  preacher  in  this  or  other  lands. 
Though  he  cordially  received  and  preached  the  doctrines  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  yet  they  were  so  presented  as  not  to  arouse  the  prejudices  of  those  who 
had  been  accustomed  to  look  at  some  of  them  through  a  distorted  medium.  I 
remember  an  instance  of  a  prominent  individual  who  had  no  sympathy  with  Cal- 
vinism, listening  to  a  sermon  preached  by  him  on  special  providence,  and  remark- 
ing afterwards  that,  as  Mr.  W.  unfolded  the  subject,  and  maintained  it  by  certain 
arguments,  his  judgment  assented  to  the  whole  as  true;  but  when,  at  its  dose, 
he  affirmed  that  all  who  believed  the  doctrine  in  the  manner  presented  must 
necessarily  believe  the  doctrine  of  ^*  divine  decrees,"  he  revolted  at  the  conclu- 
sion; and  he  afterwards  told  one  of  Mr.  W.'s  elders  that  his  minister  insidiously 
presented  ^*  those  horrible  decrees  "  in  such  a  manner  as  to  disguise  them,  and 
stealthily  obtrude  them  upon  those  by  whom  they  could  never  be  received. 

His  sermons  were  at  times  ornate  and  imaginative,  yet  his  imagination  was 
chastened,  and  he  never  indulged  it  except  to  give  the  greater  effect  to  the  truth. 
To  win  souls  to  Christ  was  evidently  the  grand  object  of  his  preaching.  He 
seldom  wrote  out  a  sermon  in  full,  and  he  never  preached  from  a  manuscript. 
He  was  a  fluent  speaker,  and  at  times  rapid,  though  distinct  in  his  enunciation, — 
having  a  clear,  silvery  toned  voice.  His  thoughts  were  uniformly  expressed  in 
appropriate  language  and  in  good  taste.  « 

He  was  a  laborious  minister,  ever  ready  and  willing  to  work  for  his  Master. 
Time  and  distance  were  not  thought  of,  if  he  could  accomplish  good.  His  minis- 
try was  a  successful  one,  and  in  periods  of  awakening  he  was  much  sought  after 
by  neighbouring  Churches,  when  he  would  labour  with  the  greatest  fervour  and 
assiduity.    On  such  oocasions  he  was  largely  endowed  with  that  wisdom  which  is 


SAMUEL  MoOULLOCH  WILLIAMSON.  fQ*J 

60  important  and  necessary  in  directing  inquirers  to  Christ.  He  had  a  quick 
insight  into  human  character,  and  seemed  to  read  the  inmost  workings  of  the  soul, 
and  seldom  was  he  deceived.  Thus,  whilst  an  acquaintance  of  my  own  was  under 
serious  impressions,  he  sought  to  engage  Mr.  W.  in  conversation:  but,  though  ho 
had  much  to  say  to  other  inquirers,  not  a  word  would  he  address  to  him.  This 
he  afterwards  told  me  was  the  very  treatment  he  needed — he  wished  to  shake 
oi'l  his  convictions  and  get  into  controversy;  but  Mr.  W.'s  conduct  was  the 
means  of  deepening  his  anxiety,  and  leading  him  to  the  Cross. 

A  slave  holder  by  inheritance,  at  one  time  he  had  serious  doubts  as  to  the  pro- 
priety of  the  relation — at  any  rate,  the  responsibility  was  greater  than  he  was 
willing  to  bear.  This  led  him  to  take  measures  for  the  emancipation  of  his 
slaves;  and,  for  this  purpose,  he  taught  them  all  to  read,  so  far  as  they  were  capa- 
ble of  being  taught,  famished  each  one  with  a  copy  of  the  Word  of  God,  and 
started  to  one  of  the  new  free  States  to  purchase  land  where  they  might  earn  an 
honest  livelihood.  But,  after  a  thorough  examination  into  the  condition  and 
privileges  of  the  free  blacks,  he  returned  home  with  a  saddened  heart,  deter- 
mined to  discharge  his  duty  faithfully  to  them  whilst  under  his  care,  until  the 
way  should  be  clear  for  sending  them  to  Liberia.  This  design  was  frustrated. 
Yet  he  was  ever  a  kind  and  indulgent  Master,  and  was  regarded  by  his  slaves 
with  strong  affection. 

The  last  time  I  saw  Mr.  Williamson  was  a  few  weeks  before  his  death,  when 
he  delivered,  at  my  ordination  as  an  Evangelist  to  India,  and  in  the  place  of  his 
early  labours,  a  charge  the  most  thrilling  and  impressive.  So  deep  were  his 
emotions,  at  times,  that  be  could  scarcely  proceed.  The  tones  of  his  voice,  and 
his  benevolent  and  tender  expression  of  countenance,  are  indelibly  impressed  on 
my  memory;  and  when  he  addressed  me  as  "  his  son  in  the  faith,"  and  pre- 
sented me,  near  the  close  of  his  charge,  with  a  beautiful  Bible,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion,— '*  The  Missionary's  Uope^ "  the  scene  was  touching  beyond  all  description, 
not  to  myself  only,  but  to  the  whole  congregation.  There  was  scarcely  a 
dry  eye  in  the  house.  A  few  weeks  more,  and  all  that  was  mortal  of  one  of  my 
best  and  dearest  friends,  and  one  who  was  instrumental  in  leading  me  to  the 
Saviour,  was  entombed,  to  gather  beauty  and  strength  for  the  resurrection. 
Though  dead,  he  lives  in  the  Church,  in  many  brought  through  his  agency  to 
Christ,  and  in  several  who  are  proclaiming  the  same  truth  he  loved  and  delighted 
to  preach. 

Long  will  his  memory  be  cherished  in  West  Tennessee,  as  an  eloquent  and 
•fRsctive  preacher,  a  feeling  and  loving  pastor,  an  honoured  friend,  a  devoted 
Christian,  and  a  highly  inflaential  man. 

Yours  sinoerely, 

DAVID  IRYINO. 


768  PRESBTTBRIAK. 


JAMES  MORRISON  ARNELL  * 

1830—1850. 

James  Morrison  Arnell,  •  son  of  Dr.  David  and  Mary  (Morrison) 
Arnell,  was  born  in  Goshen,  Orange  County,  N.  Y.,  on  the  25th  of  Septem- 
ber, 1808.  Both  parents  were  of  Scotch  and  Presbyterian  descent.  His 
father  was  somewhat  distinguished  as  a  medical  practitioner,  and  contrib- 
uted much  to  the  reputation  and  efficiency  of  the  Medical  Society  of  th€ 
county  in  which  he  lived.  The  early  years  of  the  son  seem  to  have  been 
those  of  a  quiet,  studious,  ambitious  boy,  with  much  love  for  study,  and 
little  for  the  ordinary  active  sports  of  youth.  The  "Night  Thoughts"  and 
**  Paradise  Lost"  were  among  his  favourite  books  at  this  period,  and  he 
read  them  with  a  discriminating  relish  of  their  beauties.  In  due  time  he 
became  a  member  of  Williams  College,  where  he  evinced  a  high  order  of 
talent,  and  took  rank  among  the  best  scholars  in  his  class.  He  graduated 
in  September,  1827,  on  which  occasion  he  delivered  a  Greek  Oration.  He 
subsequently  pursued  his  theological  studies  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Ezra  Fisk,  the  minister  of  his  native  place;  and  in  April,  1830,  be 
was  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of  Hudson. 

Shortly  after  his  licensure,  Mr.  Arnell  went  to  the  South,  and  for  six 
months  laboured  at  Tuscumbia,  Ala.  He  went  to  Tennessee,  in  the  spring, 
or  early  in  the  summer,  of  1831,  and  was  ordained  to  the  work  of  the  min- 
istry, and  installed  as  Pastor  of  Zion  Church,  near  Colombia,  in  that  State, 
on  the  31st  of  March,  1832.  Here  he  continued  a  devoted,  useful  and 
most  acceptable,  Pastor,  till  the  close  of  life. 

In  the  division  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  1837,  Mr.  Arnell  fell  upon 
the  New  School  side,  though,  if  the  tone  of  his  spirit  is  to  be  inferred  from 
the  few  productions  of  his  pen  which  I  have  seen,  he  could  have  had  little 
relish  for  controversy. 

Mr.  Arnell  died  of  pneumonia,  after  an  illness  of  several  weeks,  at  his 
residence  near  Ashwood,  Maury  County,  Tenn.,  on  the  4th  of  March,  1850. 
In  the  near  approach  of  death,  he  was  perfectly  tranquil  and  collected. 
When  he  saw  that  he  had  but  a  little  longer  to  live,  he  desired  his  famUy, 
and  those  of  his  friends  who  were  present,  to  come  near  to  him,  and  having 
calmly  bade  them  an  a£fectionate  farewell,  and  commended  them  and  him- 
self, with  an  unwavering  confidence,  into  the  hands  of  his  Redeemer,  he 
requested  his  attending  physician  to  place  him  in  the  most  comfortable 
position  for  the  dying  struggle.  When  that  struggle  was  nearly  over,  he 
was  asked  if  he  knew  Dr.  B.,  who  had  just  reached  his  bedside;  and  he 
replied  in  a  clear  voice, — **  Yes,  and  love  him  too."  Havbg  said  these 
words,  he  fell  asleep. 

Mr.  Arnell  was  an  earnest  friend  to  the  cause  of  edueation,  and  was 
untiring  in  his  efforts  to  promote  it,  in  the  comparatively  new  country  in 
which  his  lot  was  cast.  He  was  especially  interested  in  the  Columbia 
Female  Institute,  and  delivered  an  Address  before  it  in  1846,  which  was 
published,  and  which  is  characterized  by  a  rich  vein  of  poetic  beauty,  as 

•  Christian  Record,  1S50.-~MS.  from  bii  fOD. 


JAMES  HORRISOK  ARNELL.  709 

well  as  of  strong  practical  thought.  In  1847,  he  delivered  an  Address  before 
the  Literary  Societies  of  Jackson  College,  which  was  also  published,  and 
which  would  rank  well,  in  point  of  conception  and  execution,  with  the  best  of 
that  numerous  class  of  productions,  which,  in  these  latter  years,  have  almost 
deluged  the  country.  He  contributed  many  articles  to  the  literary  and 
religious  periodicals  of  the  day,  and  among  others,  a  series,  under  the  title 
of  **  Pulpit  Sketches,*'  to  the  Christian  Record,  which  are  rare  specimens 
of  beautiful  composition. 

In  April,  1832,  Mr.  Arnell  was  married  to  Jane  Frierson,  daughter  of 
Samuel  Mayes,  M.  D.  She  was  a  native  of  South  Carolina,  but,  from  1808 
till  the  time  of  her  death,  resided  in  the  Frierson  settlement, — the  place 
where  her  husband  preached  and  died.  They  had  five  children, — three  sons 
and  two  daughters.     Mrs.  Arnell  died  on  the  3d  of  May,  1854. 

FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  MACK. 

CoLViiBiA,  Tenn.,  May  16, 1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  Shortly  after  my  removal  to  this  place  in  1843,  I  became 
acquainted  with  the  Rev.  James  Morrison  Arnell.  lie  resided  about  six  miles 
West  of  this  town,  and  was  Pastor  of  the  Ziou  Presbyterian  Cliurch — a  church 
formed  by  a  colony,  which  came  early  in  the  present  century  from  South  Caro- 
lina. We  were  often  thrown  together,  occasionally  exchanged  pulpits,  and,  at 
various  times,  assisted  each  other  in  Sacramental  meetings. 

Mr.  Arnell  had  seemingly  a  frail  constitution.  He  was  full  six  feet  in  height, 
and  very  slender.  His  eyes  and  hair  were  black,  and  his  complexion  somewhat 
dark.  His  general  appearance  indicated  both  feeble  health,  and  a  delicate  physi- 
cal organization. 

Of  retiring  disposition,  he  was  not  always  drawn  readily  into  conversation. 
A  stranger  would  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  him  reserved,  if  not  distant.  He 
was  not  easy  of  accesS — still  he  was  not  unsocial.  When  congenial  topics  were 
introduced,  and  the  feelings  became  enlisted,  the  natural  reserve  disappeared, 
and  the  social  qualities  shone  forth  in  an  agreeable  and  entertaining  form. 

That  he  possessed  a  superior  mind,  those  who  listened  to  his  attractive  ser- 
mons can  testify.  He  was  an  earnest  student,  though  feeble  health  often 
required  him  to  desist,  for  a  time,  from  pursuing  arduous  mental  labour.  His 
mind  was  well  stored  with  the  material  connected  with  his  profession,  and 
the  varied  departments  of  literature.  Practice  gave  him  the  hand  of  a  ready 
writer.  And  his  productions,  considered  as  literary  efTorls,  to  say  nothing  of 
their  higher  character,  as  intended  to  promote  man's  wellbeing  and  God's  glory » 
deserve' no  ordinary  commendation. 

Mr.  Arnell,  as  a  preacher,  always  commanded  attention.  Though  his  elocu- 
tion was  not  of  the  highest  order,  his  discourses  had  an  interest  and  a  charm 
which  caused  any  mere  defect  in  delivery  to  be  easily  overlooked.  As  he  was 
distinguished  for  the  imaginative,  this  feature  of  his  mind  was  generally  promi- 
nent in  his  preaching.  Not  that  his  imagination  was  allowed  to  go  unbridled ; 
but  still,  gems  would  sparkle  as  he  pursued  his  theme,  and  fine  poetic  thoughts 
attract  the  listening  ear.  These  did  not  seem  laboured  for,  but  came,  as  if  they 
rose  unbidden.  They  were  in  the  mind,  and  they  would  invariably  work  them- 
selves out,  and  become  gracefully  interwoven  with  the  web  of  sober  truth,  which 
formed  the  staple  of  all  his  discourses.  They  startled  or  they  delighted ;  yet 
the  solemnity,  the  sincerity,  the  faithfulness,  of  the  preaoher,  showed  that  he  had. 
lorae  higher  end  to  gain  than  merely  to  present  a  beautiful  picture.  The  native 
genius  kindled  and  glowed,  while  he  evidently  sought  to  point  his  hearers  to 
Heaven. 

Vol.  IV.  07 


770  PRESBYTERIAN. 

Decision  was  a  marked  trait  in  his  character.  It  appeared  jn  pastoral  duties, 
in  Ecclesiastical  Courts,  and  in  his  general  intercourse  with  his  fellow-men. 

Mr.  Arnell  was  settled  with  only  one  people.  For  many  years  he  broke  unto 
them  the  bread  of  life.  Seldom  absent  from  home,  his  labours  were  confined 
principally  to  that  one  flock.  The  reputation  that  he  has  gained,  is  what  was 
acquired  by  influence,  not  exerted  abroad  by  personal  contact,  but  radiating 
chiefly  from  a  single  point. 

He  was  a  good  man.  Death  found  him  calm,  resigned  and  ready.  From  time 
to  time,  he  quietly  inquired  of  his  physician  respecting  the  progress  of  his  dis- 
ease. And  though  nature  put  forth  a  few  struggles,  the  last  moments  of  life 
were  like  the  spent  wave  dying  away  upon  the  shore. 

Respectfully  yours^ 

WILLIAM  MACK. 


■0^ 


REUBEN   TINKER* 

1830—1854. 

Revbin  Tinker,  a  son  of  Rafns  Tinker,  was  born  in  Chester,  Mass., 
on  the  6th  of  August,  1799.  As  his  physical  constitution  was  not  robust, 
and  he  evinced  a  more  than  ordinary  aptitude  for  business,  it  was  deter- 
mined, when  he  was  in  his  fourteenth  year,  that,  instead  of  following  the 
occupation  of  his  father,  who  was  a  farmer,  he  should  become  a  merchant ; 
and,  accordingly,  a  clerkship  was  obtained  for  him  in  a  store  in  his  native 
town.  Having  been  thus  employed  from  February,  1818,  to  August,  1817, 
and  wishing  for  some  better  advantages  of  education  than  he  had  hitherto 
enjoyed,  he  gave  up  his  clerkship,  and  became  a  member  of  Westfield 
Academy.  After  remaining  there  for  only  a  single  term,  he  was  again 
employed  as  clerk  in  a  store  at  Westfield  ;  and  in  the  autumn  of  1818,  he 
removed  to  Winsted,  Conn.,  where  he  continued  till  the  latter  part  of  the 
following  year,  acting  as  accountant  and  book-keeper  to  a  merchant. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1819,  and  during  an  extensive  revival  of  religion 
in  Winsted,  that  his  mind  took  a  permanently  serious  direction.  Though 
his  exercises  do  not  3eem  to  have  been  of  a  very  strongly  marked  character, 
they  were  such  as  to  inspire  him  and  others  with  the  hope  that  ho  had 
been  the  subject  of  a  gracious  renovation.  It  does  not  appear  that  he  had 
at  this  time  any  purpose  of  dcYOting  himself  to  the  ministry ;  for  the  same 
autumn  he  removed  to  Hartford,  and  engaged  in  another  mercantile  clerk- 
ship. Here,  on  the  6th  of  August,  1820, — ^his  twenty-first  birthday,  he 
united  with  the  Church  under  the  pastoral  care  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hawes. 
About  this  time  he  became  a  teacher  in  the  Sunday  School,  and  rejoiced 
greatly  in  the  opportunity  of  usefulness  thus  afforded  him. 

He  began  now  seriously  to  meditate  the  purpose  of  acquiring  a  liberal 
education,  with  a  view  to  becoming  a  minister  of  the  Gospel;  and  what 
seems  to  have  contributed  much  to  fix  the  purpoae,  was  the  reflection  that 
he  should  thereby  meet  the  most  ardent  wish  of  a  pious  mother.  In  Janu- 
ary, 1821,  he  commenced  the  study  of  Latin  under  the  instruction  of  Jere- 
miali  Humphrey,  still  retaining  his  position  as  a  clerk,  and  maintuning 

*  Memoir  prefixed  to  his  Bennons. 


RSUBElf  TINKER.  771 

himself  by  his  own  eamtngs.  In  April  following,  he  went  to  Amherst, 
Mass.,  to  prosecute  his  studies  at  the  preparatory  school;  and,  having  con- 
tinued in  connection  with  that  school  till  the  autumn  of  1823,  he  entered 
Amherst  College.  Here  he  maintained  an  excellent  standing,  both  as  a 
scholar  and  a  Christian,  through  his  whole  course,  and  was  graduated  with 
honour  in  1827.  He  supported  himself  during  this  period,  partly  by  teach- 
ing a  school,  and  partly  by  performing  some  humble  services  in  connection 
with  the  College ;  and,  on  one  occasion,  he  threw  his  last  quarter  of  a  dollar 
into  the  missionary  box,  *' wondering,"  as  he  said,  **if  it  would  not  prove 
a  good  investment,  and  bear  him  a  round  interest.*' 

In  October  after  his  graduation,  he  became  a  member  of  the  Auburn 
Theological  Seminary,  where  he  continued  till  the  close  of  his  course  in 
1830.  In  November  of  that  year,  he  was  ordained  to  the  Gospel  ministry, 
at  Chester,  his  native  place,  by  the  Mountain  Association,  with  a  view  to 
his  becoming  a  missionary  of  the  American  Board  at  the  Sandwich  Islands. 
He  seems  to  have  cherished  the  purpose  of  preaching  the  Gospel  to  the 
Heathen,  almost  from  the  time  that  he  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  the 
ministry. 

On  the  14th  of  November,  1830,  he  was  married  to  Mary  S.,  eldest 
daughter  of  Nathan  Wood,  formerly  of  Chester,  but  then  residing  in  Madi- 
son, 0.  The  ceremony  took  place  in  Chester,  in  the  Congregational  Church, 
at  the  close  of  the  afternoon  service, — Mr.  Tinker  having  preached  on  the 
occasion  a  Farewell  Sermon  to  his  numerous  friends  and  aoquaintanoes,  who 
had  come  to  hear  him,  as  they  supposed,  for  the  last  time. 

Mr.  Tinker  and  his  wife  embarked  for  the  Sandwich  Islands  in  the  ship 
New  England,  Captain  Parker,  which  sailed  from  New  Bedford  on  the  28th 
of  December,  1830,  and  cast  anchor  in  the  bay  of  Honolulu  on  the  5th  of 
June,  1831.  They  were  accompanied  by  several  other  missionaries,  and  all 
received  a  cordial  welcome,  not  only  from  those  who  had  preceded  them  in 
the  missionary  work,  but  especially  from  the  Queen,  who  took  an  early 
opportunity  to  testify  her  gratitude  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Evarts,  then  Secre- 
tary of  the  Board  under  whose  auspices  they  had  been  sent  out. 

Mr.  Tinker  reached  the  Islands  at  a  somewhat  critical  period.  It  was 
just  at  the  time  when  the  Queen  and  the  Christian  Chiefs  were  making  a 
most  vigorous  effort  to  suppress  intemperance ;  when  the  question  of  the 
expulsion  of  the  Jesuit  priests  had  become  one  of  absorbing  interest ;  and 
when  there  were  serious  political  troubles  growing  out  of  the  jealousies  of 
rival  Chiefs,  aggravated  by  a  strong  dislike  still  felt  in  many  quarters,  of 
the  influence  of  the  missionaries.  In  spite  of  all  the  existing  difficulties, 
the  cause  of  the  Gospel  was  rapidly  advancing,  and  so  encouraging  on  the 
whole  was  the  state  of  things,  that  the  next  year  a  large  reinforcement  was 
sent  to  the  aid  of  the  mission. 

It  was  determined,  shortly  after  Mr.  Tinker's  arrival,  that  he  should 
reside  temporarily  at  Honolulu, — the  reason  of  which  was,  that  he  had  been 
sent  oat  with  some  special  reference  to  the  establishment  of  a  new  mission 
at  Marquesas,  in  regard  to  which  there  was  still  some  uncertainty ;  and  it 
was  thought  desirable  that  he  should  remain  at  Honolulu,  that  he  might  be  at 
hand,  if  an  opportunity  should  offer  for  him  to  embark  on  that  enterprise. 
He,  therefore,  with  his  wife,  took  board  in  the  family  of  the  B«v.  Mr. 
Bingham,  and  was  occupied  in  studying  the  language,  and  preaehing  to  the 
foreign  residents  and  seamen  for  four  months.     At  the  end  of  tU0  tiae. 


772  PRESBYTERIAN. 

despairiDg  of  any  opportunity  to  go  to  the  Marquesas,  he  removed  to 
Lahaina,  and  laboured  there  as  Chaplain  for  seamen  until  June,  1832. 
Here  he  preached  his  first  sermon  to  the  natives  in  their  own  language,  in 
just  about  seven  months  after  his  arrival  in  the  country.  At  the  annual 
meeting  of  the  missionaries  in  1832,  the  project  of  the  Marquesian  mission 
was  again  considered,  and  three  missionaries,  of  whom  Mr.  Tinker  was  one, 
were  sent  out  on  an  exploring  voyage.  After  an  absence  of  about  four 
months,  during  which  time  they  visited  the  Society,  Georgian,  and  one  of 
the  Marquesian,  Islands,  they  returned  to  Honolulu, — the  result  of  their 
observation  having  been  to  satisfy  Mr.  Tinker  of  the  utter  inexpediency 
of  the  proposed  mission,  while  the  other  members  of  the  deputation  were 
disposed  to  look  upon  it  with  more  favour,  though  not  without  much 
doubt. 

Mr.  Tinker  remained  at  Honolulu  after  his  retum,  preaching  in  English, 
and  performing  other  services,  until  the  next  annual  meeting  of  the  mission, 
when,  notwithstanding  the  unfavourable  report'  that  was  made,  it  was 
resolved  to  carry  out  the  resolution  of  the  preceding  year  in  the  establish- 
ment of  a  mission  at  Nuhiwa,  one  of  the  Marquesian  Islands.  Mr.  Tinker 
was,  by  his  own  urgent  request,  excused  from  going  ;  and  those  who  actually 
went,  found  such  a  state  of  things  that  they  remained  but  a  short  time,  and 
at  last  barely  escaped  with  their  lives. 

Mr.  Tinker  was  now  stationed  at  Wailuku,  on  Maui,  as  the  associate  of 
the  Rev.  Jonathan  S.  Green ;  where  he  continued  in  the  performance  of 
various  kinds  of  missionary  labour  for  one  year. 

At  the  general  meeting  in  1834,  it  was  resolved  to  publish  in  the  native 
language  a  semi-monthly  newspaper,  devoted  to  the  interests  of  religion ; 
and  Mr.  Tinker  was  appointed  to  conduct  it.  In  this  service  he  was  occu- 
pied till  1838 ;  at  the  same  time  preaching  constantly  on  the  Sabbath,  and 
maintaining  a  weekly  lecture.  Some  difference  of  opinion  in  regard  to  cer* 
tain  matters  having  arisen  between  him  and  the  Prudential  Committee  at 
Boston,  he  dissolved  his  relations  with  the  Board  about  this  time,  and 
established  himself,  with  the  approval  of  his  brethren,  at  Koloa,  on  the 
Island  of  Kaui,  where  he  laboured  at  his  own  charges  until  he  returned  to 
this  country. 

After  residing  on  this  Island  about  two  years,  he  resolved  to  come  to 
America,  partly  to  make  provision  for  the  education  of  his  children,  and 
partly  in  the  hope  that  a  change  of  residence  might  remove  an  affection  of 
his  eyes  which  had  been  of  long  standing,  and  sometimes  almost  disqualified 
him  for  attending  to  his  duties, — fully  intending,  however,  after  a  short  visit, 
to  return  to  the  Islands  and  resume  his  missionary  labours.  He  embarked 
with  his  &mily  in  October,  1840,  and  landed  at  Falmouth  the  next  May. 

Mr.  Tinker  remained  in  the  New  England  States  and  in  New  York  about 
three  months,  and  then  went  with  his  family  to  visit  his  father-in-law,  at 
Madison,  0.  After  spending  some  time  in  visiting  friends  in  that  region, 
he  was  engaged  for  six  months  in  supplying  two  destitute  congregations  in 
Madison.  He  then  made  another  short  visit  to  New  York  and  New  Eng- 
land, after  which  he  returned  to  Madison,  and  resumed  his  labours  there, 
still  hoping  that  Providence  might  open  the  way  for  his  return  to  the  mis- 
sionary field.  But  the  difficulties  seemed  to  increase  rather  than  diminish  ; 
and  he  finally  came,  though  not  without  great  reluctance,  to  abandon  the 
idea  altogether. 


REUBEN  TINKER.  773 

Having  laboured  very  aooeptably  for  four  years  in  MadiBOD,  he  accepted 
a  call  from  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Westfield,  Chautauque  County, 
N.  Y.,  where  he  was  installed  as  Pastor  in  September,  1845,  and  continued 
to  labour  till  near  the  close  of  his  life. 

In  the  sammer  of  1853,  ho  began  to  be  somewhat  troubled  with  a  stiff- 
ness and  swelling  in  his  left  leg.  As  the  difficulty  increased,  and  seemed 
not  to  be  well  understood,  he  went  in  December  following  to  the  Hydro- 
pathic Institution  at  Clifton  Springs,  in  the  hope  of  being  benefitted  by  the 
treatment ;  but  it  was  without  any  good  effect.  On  his  way  home,  his  limb 
was  examined  by  a  physician  in  Buffalo,  who  pronounced  the  disease  to  be 
fungus  kfBmatodes, — the  most  malignant  form  of  tumour.  Shortly  after  this, 
be  went  to  Boston  to  consult  Br.  Warren  and  other  eminent  surgeons ;  but 
scarcely  had  he  arrived  there,  when  he  was  violently  attacked  with  malig- 
nant erysipelas,  which  brought  him  to  the  borders  of  the  grave.  He  recovered 
firom  that,  but  the  disease  in  his  limb  constantly  advanced  until  the  1st  of 
March,  1854,  when  it  became  manifest  that  nothing  but  amputation  could 
save  his  life.  The  operation  was  therefore  performed,  and,  as  was  sup- 
posed, with  eminent  success.  He  was  able  to  return  home  the  latter  part 
of  April,  and  on  the  first  Sabbath  in  May  he  preached  to  his  people  from 
the  text — **  0  Lord,  thou  hast  brought  up  my  soul  from  the  grave :  thou 
hast  kept  me  alive  that  I  should  not  go  down  to  the  pit." 

For  some  time  after  his  return  from  Boston,  confident  hopes  were  enter- 
tained by  himself  and  his  friends  that  his  malady  was  completely  eradicated ; 
but  before  the  close  of  summer  there  began  to  be  signs  of  its  reappear- 
ance ;  and,  on  visiting  Cleveland,  0.,  and  consulting  some  eminent  physi- 
cians there,  he  felt  obliged  to  resign  himself  to  the  prospect  of  a  speedy 
death.  His  last  sermon  was  preached  on  the  third  Sabbath  in  October ; 
but  he  continued  to  ride  out  almost  to  the  last.  He  had  anticipated  a  lin- 
gering death,  and  a  painful  struggle ;  but  his  Heavenly  Father  disappointed 
bis  fears.  He  died  with  the  utmost  calmness  on  the  26th  of  October,  1854. 
His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  D.  D.  Gregory,  a  former 
Pastor  of  the  Westfield  Church.     He  left  a  widow  and  seven  children. 

In  1855,  there  was  a  duodecimo  volume  of  Mr.  Tinker's  Sermons  pub- 
lished, in  connection  with  a  Memoir  of  his  life,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Thompson 
of  Buffalo.  One  or  two  of  his  Sermons  were  printed,  previous  to  his 
death,  in  the  National  Preacher. 

FROM  THE  REV.  M.  L.  P.  THOMPSON,  D.  D. 

BurrALo,  February  5,  1857. 

Dear  Sir:  It  affords  me  pleasure  to  learn  that  you  propose  to  give  a  place  in 
the  **  Annals  **  to  some  notice  of  the  late  Rev.  Reuben  Tinker.  All  who  knew 
him  will  judge  the  compliment  to  be  worthily  bestowed.  In  complying  with  your 
request  to  give  you  some  of  my  personal  recollections  of  him,  and  my  estimate 
of  his  character,  I  can  do  no  otherwise  than  to  avail  myself  of  what  I  have  before 
written  and  published,  in  a  biographical  sketch  accompanying  a  volume  of  his. 
sermons. 

My  own  particular  and  personal  acquaintance  with  him  began  about  three 
years  after  the  date  of  his  settlement  at  Westfield;  and  I  can  truly  say  that 
never,  in  the  entire  course  of  my  life,  did  I  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  man  in 
whom  I  found  more  to  admire  and  love,  with  less  to  censure  and  reprove.  He 
was  my  co-presbyter,  took  part  in  the  services  of  my  own  installation  in  this 


774  PRESBTTBRIAK. 

city,  and,  Westfield  being  only  sixty  miles  away,  or  rather  by  the  rail  road  com- 
putation of  distances,  ninety  or  one  hundred  minutes,  he  was  often  at  my  house, 
and  I  was  often  at  his.  I  knew  him  through  and  through.  He  was  a  man  to 
be  80  known,  for  he  was  frank,  open  and  sincere;  his  soul  spoke  through  his 
face,  and  his  heart  he  carried  in  his  hand.  He  was  loving,  trustful  and  true; 
full  of  genial  humour;  full  of  rich  and  racy  thought;  and  generally  where  the 
drcumstances  did  not  excite  his  constitutional  and  habitual  diffidence,  conversa- 
tional and  communicative.  I  always  found  him  prudent,  sagacious,  wise;  not 
high-minded;  not  heady;  not  a  man  who  delighted  in  by-paths  and  cross-way  a, 
ambitious  of  signalizing  himself  by  original  speculations  and  novel  theories 
and  unusual  modes  of  acting,  but  modest,  quiet,  unassuming;  choosing  to 
follow  rather  than  to  lead;  patient  to  listen,  rather  than  eager  to  speak;  easily 
persuaded,  yet  clear  in  his  own  convictions,  and  once  convinced,  immovable  as 
Gibraltar,  rejoicing  only  in  the  truth.  There  was  never  a  doubt,  and  never  could 
be  a  doubt,  that  conscience  and  the  fear  of  God  governed  him.  To  be  useful,  to  do 
good,  to  promote  Christ's  Kingdom, — these,  with  him,  were  the  ends  to  which  all 
other  ends  were  subordinate.  I  do  not  thus  write  as  a  mere  eulogist,  but  because 
what  I  say  is  the  tnUh.  Mr.  Tinker  was  just  such  a  man,  and  so  every  one  who 
knew  him  will  confess — "  An  Israelite  indeed  in  whom  was  no  guile." 

Go  to  Westfield;  ask  the  elders  of  the  church;  ask  the  private  members  of 
the  church;  ask  the  men,  ask  the  women,  ask  the  children;  ask  the  first  person 
you  meet,  old  or  young,  rich  or  poor,  black  or  white,  professor  of  religion  or  not 
professor  of  religion,  blacksmith  or  whitesmith,  believer  or  unbeliever, — ask  him 
and  he  will  tell  you  that  he  knew  no  ill  of  Mr.  Tinker.  You  will  get  nothing  to 
contradict,  but  every  thing  to  confirm,  the  character  I  have  given  of  him. 

Mr.  Tinker  had  been  in  Westfield  but  a  very  short  time,  when  the  house  of 
worship  belonging  to  his  congregation,  which  had  abundantly  served  them  before, 
was  found  to  be  too  small  by  far  to  accommodate  the  people  who  desired  to  profit 
by  his  ministry,  and  a  great  enlargement  was  made  upon  it;  yet,  in  its  enlarged 
state,  it  was  always  full  and  overflowing.  In  all  ways,  his  ministry  was  success- 
ful. The  church  rapidly  increased  in  numbers,  by  conversions  from  the  world. 
It  increased  in  intelligence,  in  liberality,  in  moral  power,  in  all  good  qualities, 
till,  from  being  small  and  feeble,  it  became  large  and  strong:  out  of  Bufiklo,  the 
largest  and  strongest,  and  incomparably  the  most  influential,  within  the  bounds 
of  the  Presbytery. 

Mr.  Tinker's  influence  was  not  confined  to  his  own  parish.  He  was  equally 
beloved  and  equally  desired  in  all  the  surrounding  country.  No  man's  judgment 
liad  greater  weight  with  the  churches  than  his.  No  man's  advice  was  more 
sought  in  times  of  difficulty.  There  was  not  a  place  in  which  a  peculiar  interest 
wns  not  excited,  if  it  was  announced  that  he  was  going  to  preach;  and  no  man  in 
the  Presbytery  was  likely  to  draw  a  larger  audience.  In  my  own  pulpit,  I  know 
none  was  welcomed  with  a  livelier  satisfaction.  As  a  preacher,  he  was  bold, 
original,  weighty.  There  was  a  freshness,  a  racy  humour,  a  keen  vivacity,  a 
spriglitliness  and  a  depth  of  thought,  in  his  sermons,  which  never  failed  to  enter- 
tain, and  delight,  and  edify  his  hearers;  withal,  an  unction  and  an  earnestness 
that  carried  to  every  heart  a  conviction  of  his  sincerity,  and  gave  a  peculiar 
power  and  pungency  to  the  truths  which  he  delivered. 

In  his  manner,  there  was  something  which,  at  first,  to  a  stranger,  was  fitted 
to  excite  a  smile.  I  do  not  know  how  to  describe  his  manner.  It  was  quick, 
nervous,  angular  and  jerking.  Ilis  motions  were  awkward,  apparently  from 
diffidence.  Ilis  inflexions  were  generally  inverted  and  reversed.  The  whole  man 
seemed  to  be  out  of  order.  A  friend  of  mine,  who  has  a  keen  perception  of  oddi- 
ties, said  that  when  Mr.  Tinker  was  under  full  headway  in  the  delivery  of  a  dis- 
course, he  was  always  reminded  of  a  rickety  old  steamboat,  impelled  by  a  great 
power  of  steam,  on  a  high-pressure  engine.    Tet  with  all  this,  a  stranger  could 


BEUBEN  TINKEB.  775 

scarcely  listen  to  him,  and  not  feel,  after  the  first  surprise  iras  over,  that  he  was 
listening  to  an  extraordinary  preacher;  and,  hoirever  much  offended  at  the  out- 
set, he  was  sure  to  be  delighted  at  the  end. 

Eloquent,  every  body  thought  him.  His  people  at  Westfield  regarded  him  as 
both  eloquent  and  elegant.  In  their  eyes,  his  rery  defects  of  manner  had  come 
to  be  attractive  graces;  and  it  will  be  long  before,  even  in  this  respect,  they  will 
find  his  equal.  I  do  not  know  but  they  will  be  offended  with  me  for  saying  that 
he  had  defects  at  all;  for  although  I  know  very  well  that,  when  he  first  came 
among  them,  there  were  some  who  doubted  whether  they  ever  could  be  reconciled 
to  his  odd  and  uncouth  ways  in  the  pulpit,  yet  I  am  persuaded  that  all  that 
has  long  since  been  forgotten;  and  I  doubt  if  the  most  fastidious  of  them  can 
now  recall  it.  When  he  returned  from  Boston,  not  long  before  his  death,  having 
left  a  limb  behind  him,  one  of  them  said, — *'  Well,  Mr.  Tinker  in  the  pulpit,  with 
one  leg  or  no  leg  at  all,  is  better  than  any  body  else  with  two."  So  they  all  felt. 
If  he  toos  a  Tinker,  they  said  he  tinkered  to  some  purpose,  and  they  reckoned 
him  no  mean  successor  of  the  great  tinker  of  Bedford  Jail.  I  do  not  think  I  have 
ever  known  an  instance  of  mpre  perfect  unanimity  in  a  congregation  in  loving  and 
honouring  a  pastor.  There  was  positively  no  exception,  in  this  respect,  among 
them.  1  do  not  know  how  often  I  have  heard  them  say — "  every  body  loves  Mr. 
Tinker." 

What  was  true  of  the  Westfield  people,  was  true  universally,  throughout  this 
entire  region,  of  all  that  knew  him.  While  he  was  in  Boston  for  the  amputation 
of  his  limb,  and  we  were  daily,  for  a  short  period,  expecting  intelligence  of  his 
death,  I  scarcely  met  an  acquaintance  in  the  street,  who  did  not  arrest  mo  with 
some  affectionate  inquiry  concerning  him;  and  in  our  prayer-meetings,  scarcely 
a  prayer  was  offered  that  did  not  include  some  tender  and  earnest  petition  for  his 
welfare. 

In  the  Presbytery,  no  man  was  more  beloved  by  his  brethren  or  more  respected. 
He  was  punctual  in  his  attendance  on  all  Presbyterial  meetings,  exemplifying  in 
his  own  practice  the  charge  which  he  delivered  to  me  at  the  time  of  my  installa- 
tion. He  said,  on  that  occasion — *'  Whoever  else  may  be  absent  from  aiiy  meet- 
ing of  the  Presbytery,  let  it  be  known,  for  a  certainty,  that  brother  Thompson 
will  be  there.  Bad  as  the  roads  may  be,  though  there  should  be  mud  to  the 
horses'  bridles,  let  your  fixed  habits  be  such,  that  when  one  who  does  not  know 
you  well,  shall  ask  of  another  who  does, — *Will  brother  Thompson  be  present.^  '— 
the  answer  will  be — *  Of  course  he  will — Brother  Thompson  is  always  in  his 
place.' " 

While  his  health  continued  firm,  Brother  Tinker  was  always  in  his  place.  I 
do  not  remember  of  his  being  absent  but  from  a  single  meeting,  and  that  meet- 
ing occurred  while  he  was  sick  in  Boston. 

He  did  not  ordinarily  participate  largely  in  Presbyterial  debates.  He  never 
spoke  on  questions  of  mere  order  and  form.  He  had  a  cordial  loathing  of  that 
caeoethes  loqusndi  whereby  some  men  render  themselves  nuisances  in  all  public 
bodies.  He  spoke  rarely  on  any  subject;  but  when  he  did  speak,  always  spoke 
well,  tersely,  compactly,  intelligently  and  exactly  to  the  point.  When  he  was 
done,  be  sat  down,  and  his  speeches  told.  He  was  a  true  son  of  Issachar — a 
man  **  that  had  understanding  of  the  times  to  know  what  Israel  ought  to  do; " 
and  we  always  listened  to  him  as  to  one  of  our  best,  wisest,  most  prudent  and 
sagacious  counsellors.  There  was  not  a  particle  of  what  is  called  ultraism  in  his 
whole  composition.  In  no  sense  whatever  was  he  a  radical,  but  rather,  tempe- 
rately conservative,--dispoBed  on  all  subjects  to  stand  by  the  old  ways,  and  to 
urge  his  brethren  to  do  the  same.  He  was  staid,  sober,  deliberate  and  grave; 
just  the  man  to  gain  and  hold  the  confidence  of  other  men,  and  to  wield  the 
infloenoe  which  he  always  did  wield  in  oar  ecclesiastical  assemblies. 


1 


776  PBSSBYTERIAN. 

He  was  an  eminently  modsst  man.  If  ever  the  apostolic  injunotion  to  ihinM 
other  men  better  than  ourselves  was  obeyed  by  any  man  in  this  world,  it  was 
obeyed  by  him.  This  trait  of  his  character  was  really  in  excess;  and  if  we  could, 
we  would  gladly  have  modified  it.  He  often  remained  silent  in  public  meetings 
when  he  sliould  have  spoken;  and  I  do  not  think  he  ever  did  rise  to  speak,  except 
under  the  pressure  of  a  deep  sense  of  duty.  When  every  eye  was  turned  upon 
him,  and  others  were  evidently  waiting  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say,  then  and 
always  with  marked  embarrassment,  he  would  get  upon  his  feet  and  speak  so 
well,  so  lucidly,  so  satisfactorily  to  all,  that  we  could  only  wonder  at  his  diffi- 
dence, and  regret  that  it  so  often  deprived  us  of  the  pleasure  and  advantage  of 
hearing  him.  When  expostulated  with,  he  a'ould  seriously  defend  himself  on 
the  ground  that  others  could  speak  better,  and  that  he  ought  not  to  occupy  the 
brethren's  time.  This  modesty  of  his  was  not  assumed,  but  real.  It  appeared 
always,  in  all  places  and  in  all  relations,  except  where  he  felt  himself  particularly 
and  personally  called,  in  the  providence  of  God,  to  stand  up  for  the  defence  of 
truth  and  righteousness.  Then,  he  was  bold  as  a  lion,  and  the  last  man  to  flinch. 
No  one  could  be  firmer  or  more  fearless  than  he,  wJieuever  he  realized  the  clear 
voice  of  duty  leading  him  on.  In  such  a  case,  he  was  ready  to  face  the  world, 
and  no  amount  of  opposition,  no  dread  of  shame  or  loss,  could  daunt  him. 

Of  his  piety,  8elf*distrust  was  an  eminent  characteristic.  He  doubted  himself. 
He  hoped  in  God,  yet  always  with  much  fear  and  trembling.  The  strongest 
expression  of  confidence  in  his  own  good  estate  that  I  ever  heard  from  him,  or 
ever  heard  of  his  using,  was  one  which  I  have  noticed  in  some  of  his  letters — 
*'  I  am  a  poor  sinner,  and  God  is  merciful  to  me."  A  sense  of  unworthiness 
overwhelmed  him;  and  if  he  hoped  at  all,  it  was  only  because  he  had  a  deeper 
sense  of  the  compassion  and  grace  of  Christ. 

His  piety  expressed  itself,  not  in  great  emotions  of  joy;  not  in  the  raptures 
of  hope,  nor  in  any  strong  declarations  of  love  and  devotion  to  God;  but  in  a 
steadfast  determination  to  do  God's  will,  and  in  consistent  and  earnest  Christian 
living.  He  was  remarkably  ecumenical  in  his  Christian  zeal.  His  charity  was 
expansive  and  took  in  every  thing  human.  **  We  must  not  live,"  he  won  Id  say, 
'*  for  our  own  parishes  or  for  our  own  country.  The  field  is  the  ioorld.  We 
must  think,  and  care,  and  pray,  and  toil,  tor  all  mankind.  We  must  have  hearts, 
like  Christ's,  to  take  in  the  whole  human  race." 

Said  a  young  man  to  me  recently,  now  a  practising  lawyer  in  this  city,  who 
once  boarded  for  a  year  in  Mr.  Tinker's  family — **  No  one  knew  Mr.  Tinker  who 
did  not  know  him  in  his  own  hoane"  It  was  really  in  his  own  house,  surrounded 
by  his  wife  and  children,  that  he  appeared  to  the  greatest  advantage.  There  all 
restraint  was  thrown  off,  and  he  was  all  Tinker.  The  whole  richness  of  the  man 
was  laid  open.  His  intercourse  with  his  family  was  of  the  easiest  and  pleasant* 
est  kind.  He  was  instructive,  and,  at  the  same  time,  amusing.  The  deep  and 
rich  vein  of  wit,  of  piquant  and  mirthful  humour,  which  remarkably  character- 
ized him  everywhere,  cropped  out  there,  in  the  midst  of  his  solid  conversation, 
more  frequently  and  largely  than  any  where  else.  His  wife  and  children  almost 
worshipped  him.  He  was  the  light  of  their  eyes,  and  the  joy  of  their  hearts. 
Yet,  like  a  true  Bishop,  **  he  ruled  well  his  own  house,  having  his  children  in 
subjection  with  all  gravity."  In  allowable  things,  his  indulgence  knew  no  limits. 
There  was  nothing  that  he  would  not  do,  to  promote  the  innocent  enjoyment  of 
any  members  of  his  household ;  yet  no  father  was  ever  more  stem  and  unyield- 
ing, when  parental  duty  and  Christian  principle  required  him  to  assume  this 
character.  He  knew  how  to  say  *'  no  "  as  well  as  to  say  '*  yes;  "  and  when  he 
said  *'  noj"  the  largest  and  the  smallest  understood  him.  His  nay  was  nay,  and 
no  entreaties  or  tears  could  make  any  thing  else  of  it. 

He  was  abundant  and  untiring  in  the  religious  instruction  of  bis  family,  and 
<exact  in  his  maintenance  of  family  religion  and  worship.    In  this  respect  I  con- 


REUBBN  TINKER.  777 

aider  him  to  hate  been  •  model  worthy  of  all  imitation;  and  the  resultjs  of  his 
faithfaiuess  appear  in  the  consistent  piety  of  each  of  his  grow^n  ap  children,  and 
in  the  religious  intelligence  and  conscientiousness  of  all  of  them. 

He  was  very  fond  of  music.  He  played  well  himself  ou  the  Tiolin,  and,  in 
family  worship,  often  accompanied  the  singing  with  that  instrument.  Sometimes 
a  daughter  accompanied  the  singing  on  the  piano  forte.  All  joined  in  that 
exercise;  and  one  could  not  avoid  feeling  that  the  melody  which  they  made,  was 
melody  in  their  hearts,  unto  the  Lord. 

Mr.  Tinker  was  a  fast  and  firm  friend.  Of  this,  I  had  a  personal  experience; 
and  the  volumes  of  his  correspondence,  maintained  with  various  persons,  through 
many  years,  with  some  from  his  young  manhood  to  the  day  of  his  death, 
abundantly  and  strongly  illustrate  it.  In  this  relation,  he  but  exemplified  the 
general  steadiness  and  reliableness  of  his  character. 

Much  might  be  added  to  the  above;  but  what  I  have  written  is  probably 
sufficient  for  your  purpose. 

I  am,  very  truly  and  sincerely. 

Your  friend, 

M.  L.  P.  THOMPSON. 


-♦•- 


WILLIAM  MAYO  ATKINSON,  D.  D  * 

1833—1849. 

William  Mato  Atkinson,  the  son  of  Robert  and  Mary  (Mayo)  Atkin- 
son, was  born  at  Powhatan,  on  James  River,  two  miles  below  Richmond, 
Ya.,  on  the  22d  of  April,  1796.  His  father  was  of  Quaker  descent,  and 
by  his  mother  he  was  connected  with  some  of  the  ancient  and  most  respect- 
able families  of  Virginia.  He  was  the  eldest  of  eleven  children.  His  early 
years  were  distinguished  by  fondness  for  books,  and  by  great  gentleness, 
docility,  and  loveliness.  At  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  entered  the  Junior  class 
in  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  and  graduated  in  1814.  He  then  returned 
to  Yirginia,  studied  Law  under  David  Robertson  of  Petersburg,  and  in  due 
time  was  admitted  to  the  Bar.  He  settled  in  the  practice  of  the  Law  at 
Petersburg,  and  continued  in  it  until  the  year  1833.  He  was  married  on 
the  10th  of  July,  1821,  to  Rebecca  Bassett  Marsden,  of  Norfolk,  Va., — 
a  lady  of  fine  intellectual  endowments  and  moral  qualities. 

In  the  summer  of  1822,  during  a  revival  of  religion  at  Petersburg,  he 
became  hopefully  the  subject  of  a  spiritual  renovation,  and  joined  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  then  under  the  pastoral  care  of  the  Rev.  B.  H.  Rice. 
Shortly  after,  he  was  chosen  an  elder  in  the  Church,  in  which  capacity  he 
officiated  for  some  time,  with  great  fidelity,  and  to  much  acceptance.  After 
some  years, — during  which  much  of  his  leisure  was  occupied  in  theological 
reading, — it  became  a  question  of  duty  with  him  whether  he  should  not 
relinquish  the  profession  of  Law,  and  enter  the  ministry;  and,  though  he 
saw  that  the  proposed  change  must  involve  a  great  pecuniary  sacrifice,  he 
quickly  resolved  to  make  it,  in  obedience  to  what  he  believed  to  be  the  higher 
claims  of  the  cause  of  Christ.  Accordingly,  after  a  few  months  ^  prepara- 
tory study,  which  was  carried  on  priuoipally  in  his  Law  offi^,  he  waa 

•  MS.  from  his  daughter.— Foote's  Sketches  of  Ya.,  2d  Series. 

Vol.  IV.  98 


778  PRBSBYTERIAH. 

licensed  to  preaoh  the  Gospel  by  the  East  Hanoyer  Presbytery,  on  the 
17th  of  June,  1833.  He  was  ordained  as  an  Evangelist  on  the  26th  of 
April,  1834. 

Shortly  after  his  licensure,  he  was  appointed  Agent  of  the  Virginia  Bible 
Society.  In  this  capacity  he  travelled  extensively  in  Virginia,  and  after  a 
year  or  two,  his  field  was  enlarged  so  as  to  include  several  other  of  the 
Southern  States.  While  thus  employed,  he  was  remarkably  successful  in 
raising  funds,  as  well  as  in  awakening  a  deeper  and  more  extensive  interest 
in  the  Bible  cause.  On  resigning  his  Agency,  he  supplied  vacancies,  for 
a  few  years,  in  Chesterfield  County,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  Petersburg. 
Towards  the  close  of  1838,  he  received  a  call  to  settle  as  Pastor  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church  in  Winchester,  and,  having  accepted  it,  his  installation 
took  place  on  the  first  Sabbath  in  February,  1839. 

The  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Jefferson 
College  in  1843. 

In  August,  1844,  his  wife  died,  having  been  the  mother  of  twelve  children, 
only  six  of  whom  survived  her.  He  remarked,  as  he  stood  gazing  with 
deep  emotion  at  her  lifeless  remains,  that  they  had  divided  their  children 
equally  between  them, — six  having  gone  with  her  to  a  happier  home,  and 
six  remaining  with  him  on  earth.  In  January,  1846,  he  was  married,  a 
second  time, — to  Betty  J.  White, — a  granddaughter  of  Judge  Robert 
White,  long  a  resident  of  Winchester.  By  this  marriage  he  had  two  chil- 
dren. 

In  the  spring  of  1846,  believing  that  it  would  be  for  his  greater  useful- 
ness, he  resigned  his  pastoral  charge,  and  accepted  an  Agency  for  the  Board 
of  Education  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  His  labours  in  that  cause  were 
very  great ;  and  these,  with  the  attendant  exposures  incident  to  travelling 
in  the  more  unhealthy  parts  of  the  Western  country,  gradually  undermined 
his  naturally  vigorous  constitution,  and  brought  him  to  his  grave,  when  his 
friends  and  the  Church  were  anticipating  for  him  many  years  more  of  active 
usefulness.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1848,  there  were  decisive  indica- 
tions tliat  his  lungs  had  become  diseased ;  but  he  rallied  sufiiciently  to  preach 
once  in  December ;  and  it  proved  to  be  the  last  time.  Early  in  February, 
1849,  his  disease  took  on  a  more  aggravated  form,  and  confined  him  to  bis 
bed ;  and,  on  the  24th  of  that  month,  in  all  the  serenity  of  Christian  faith 
and  hope,  he  passed  to  his  reward. 

Dr.  Atkinson  published  a  Sermon  delivered  at  the  installation  of  the  Bey. 
John  M.  P.  Atkinson  as  Pastor  of  the  Church  at  Warrenton,  Fauquier 
County,  Va.,  1844.  The  last  Sermon  he  ever  preached,  on  the  text, — **  For 
here  we  have  no  continuing  city,  but  we  seek  one  to  come," — ^was  also  pub- 
lished. 


PROM  THE  REV.  CHARLES  HODGE,  D.  D. 

PaiROETOH,  August  21, 1867. 

My  dear  Sir :  Dr.  William  M.  Atkinson  was  my  Senior  in  the  College  of  New 
Jersey.  He  took  a  high  stand  among  his  fellow-students.  His  talents  and 
attainments  commanded  their  respect,  his  amiability  secured  their  aficction,  and 
his  simplicity  and  humour  made  him  a  constant  source  of  amusement.  He  was 
therefore  an  universal  favourite.  He  had,  at  that  period  of  his  life,  a  very  deci- 
ded lisp,  which  rendered  his  conversation  the  more  attractive  and  racy.     Ho 


WILLIAM  MAYO  ATKINSON.  779 

was  exemplarj  in  his  moral  deportment,  and  although  not  a  professor  of  reli- 
gion, was  the  suhject  of  very  strong  religious  feelings.  Before  coming  to 
College,  he  had  in  some  way  fallen  under  the  influence  of  Romish  views,  and 
practised,  unknown  to  those  around  him,  a  good  deal  of  self-mortification. 
He  told  me  he  often  would  lie  all  night  over  the  rounded  tops  of , trunks  in  tbo 
most  uneasy  position  as  a  penance.  These  religious  feelings  soon  took  a  mora 
scriptural  direction,  without  losing  their  strength.  He  was  a  yery  influential 
member  of  the  American  Whig  Society,  (one  of  the  literary  institutions  of  the 
College,)  and  was  the  means  of  introducing  into  its  library  Doddridge's  Kise 
and  Progress  of  Religion,  and  otber  books  of  the  same  class,  which  to  my 
knowledge  were  blessed  to  several  of  his  fellow-students.  This  was  about  a 
year  before  the  revival  of  1815,  which  forms  so  interesting  an  epoch  in  the  his- 
tory of  Princeton  College,  and  was  doubtless  one  of  the  instrumentalities  blessed 
of  God  to  that  event.  Of  this  Atkinson  knew  nothing,  as  he  graduated  in 
1814. 

After  he  left  College,  I  did  not  meet  with  him  for  more  than  twenty  years.  I 
was  a  mere  boy  when  we  were  fellow-students,  and  he  had  made  a  pet  of  me; 
but  I  took  it  for  granted  that  he  would  forget  me  before  a  year  was  over.  But 
Atkinson's  heart  never  forgot.  £very  few  years  he  would  write  to  me,  and 
renew  his  old  associations  and  feelings.  About  the  year  1834,  or  1835,  a  large 
man  entered  my  study  and  stood  sometime  without  speaking.  At  last  he  said, — 
**  I  see  you  don't  know  me."  His  speech  bewrayed  him,  and  I  exclaimed  **  Wil- 
liam M.  Atkinson!"  The  twenty  years  were  annihilated,  and  we  were  to  each 
other  as  college  boys  again.  From  that  time,  and  especially  after  he  entered  the 
ministry,  I  saw  him  frequently,  and  continued  to  regard  him  to  the  day  of  his 
death  as  one  of  my  dearest  friends.  Others  who  knew  him  during  his  long 
practice  at  the  Bar,  can  tell  you  of  his  standing  in  his  profession.  You  ask  me 
for  my  personal  recollections  and  impressions,  and  to  them  I  conflne  myself.  He 
had  a  clear,  strong  mind,  and  excellent  judgment.  He  was  specially  versed  in 
English  literature,  and  in  the  niceties  of  the  English  language,  and  was  a  great 
ortboepist.  But  his  heart  made  him  what  he  was.  I  certainly  have  never 
known  a  man  freer  from  all  the  forms  of  pride  and  malice,  or  fuller  of  kind,  gen- 
erous and  aflcctionate  feelings.  I  never  knew  of  his  being  angry;  I  never  heard 
him  utter  an  unkind  or  a  disparaging  word  of  any  human  being.  He  never 
forgot  a  friend,  and  I  presume  he  never  had  an  enemy.  What  he  was  in  other 
aspects  and  relations,  I  had  little  opportunity  of  knowing,  but  as  a  friend  and 
as  a  man,  ho  was  well  nigh  peerless. 

Very  truly  your  friend, 

CHARLES  HODGE. 
PROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  PLUMER,  D.  D., 

PROrESSOa  in  THB  WESTKBN  THBOLOOIOAL  SJUriNABT. 

Allbghamt,  Pa.,  March  25, 1857. 

Dear  Brother:  I  think  it  was  in  the  spring  of  1829,  that  I  first  met  with  Mr. 
(afterwards  Dr.)  William  M.  Atkinson.  He  then  resided  in  Petersburg,  Va., 
and  practised  Law  in  the  Courts  of  that  town  and  of  adjoining  counties.  He 
was  also  an  elder  in  the  Tobb  Street  Presbyterian  Church  of  Petersburg.  From 
the  first,  I  was  struck  with  his  kindness  and  courtesy.  Indeed,  a  serious  doubt 
arose  in  my  mind  whether  so  extraordinary  an  interest  in  the  welfare  of  others 
oould  be  heartfelt.  My  subsequent  knowledge  of  the  man  satisfied  me  that  I 
never  had  known  a  more  candid  and  sincere  person.  Like  the  widow's  cruse  of 
oil.  bis  iove  increased  by  pouring  out. 

In  October,  1830,  I  became  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  which  he  was  an  elder. 
From  that  period  to  his  death,  our  relations  were  intimate,  and  to  me  exceed* 


780  PEBSBYTSRIAV. 

ingly  pleftsant*  At  thftt  time  there  was  felt  to  be  a  great  want  of  ministers  of 
the  Go«pely  especially  in  VirgiDia.  In  1831,  a  conversation  between  us  satisfied 
me  that  he  was  not  without  doubts  respecting  his  personal  duty.  In  the  Law  he 
had  suooeeded  well,  and  had  a  fair  prospect  of  rising  to  eminence.  Bui  he  said, 
in  substance,— ''  If  I  spend  my  life  as  a  lawyer,  I  shall,  at  its  close,  be  merely 
able  to  say,  I  have  earned  an  honest  livelihood  in  an  honourable  profession,  and 
I  leave  my  good  name  to  my  children.  But  in  the  ministry,  all  one's  energ}'^  is 
directed  to  the  advancement  of  Christ's  glory,  and  he  that  rcapeth  receiveth 
wages  and  gathereth  fruit  unto  eternal  life."  Not  long  after  this,  the  death  of 
a  lovely  child  taught  him  a  new  lesson  respecting  the  vanity  of  earthly  things. 
After  much  prayer,  and  a  severe  mental  conflict,  he  began  to  wind  up  his  profes- 
sional affairs,  and  to  pursue  the  necessary  studies  preparatory  to  the  work  of 
the  ministry.  So  far  as  I  could  judge,  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  seen  any 
one  enter  the  sacred  office  in  a  more  becoming  temper  and  spirit.  His  whole 
subsequent  life  showed  that  he  had  laid  his  foundations  deep  in  humility  aod 
trust  in  God;  and  I  can  truly  say  that  I  have  never  known  a  more  laborious  and 
devoted  minister  of  the  Gospel. 

I  have  never  met  with  a  more  amiable  human  being  than  Dr.  Atkinson;  and 
jet  he  was  far  removed  from  that  easy  good-nature  which  is  as  often  mischiev- 
ous as  useful.  I  have  seen  him  severely  tried,  but  his  sterling  principles  and  his 
decision  of  character  never  failed  him.  His  natural  talents  were  very  good. 
He  possessed  an  unusual  degree  of  common  sense.  His  piety  was  remarkably 
humble,  cheerful  and  gentle.  Above  most  he  was  unselfish.  He  did  not  love  to 
think  or  speak  of  himself.  The  death  of  a  child,  already  noticed,  occurred 
during  a  revival  of  religion.  In  Eastern  Virginia  it  is  usual  to  preach  a  Funeral 
Sermon  on  the  occasion  of  every  death.  Fearing  I  might  be  led  to  some  topic 
expressive  of  sympathy  with  his  family,  rather  than  to  truths  seasonable  to  the 
state  of  public  feeling,  he  wrote,  requesting  me  to  preach  on  I.  Tim.  i.  15, — 
**  This  is  a  faithful  saying  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,"  &o.  Things  of  this 
sort  characterized  the  man. 

Dr.  Atkinson  was  very  fond  of  young  people  and  children.  Great  numbers 
of  such,  besides  his  own  kindred,  regardc4  and  treated  him  as  a  dear  and  hon- 
oured relative.  He  was  truly  catholic  in  all  his  principles  and  feelings  towards 
God's  people  of  every  name. 

In  stature  he  was  above  the  average,  and  was  of  a  full  habit.  He  was  some- 
what near-sighted  and  wore  glasses.  In  pronouncing  some  words  he  li&ped  con- 
siderably. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  clear,  judicious,  instructive,  and  practical, — ^always 
animated,  never  overwhelming. 

He  was  a  very  useful  member  of  Church  Courts,  always  studying  the  things 
which  make  for  peace,  as  well  as  those  which  promote  truth  and  order.  I  have 
not  known  a  better  presiding  ofiicer  in  a  deliberative  assembly. 

I  never  lost  a  truer  friend.  Towards  the  dear  ones  of  his  own  family  who 
survive  him,  T  cherish  the  tcnderest  affection. 

Very  truly  yours, 

WILLIAM  S.  PLTTMBR. 

FROM  THE  RT.  REV.  THOMAS  ATKINSON,  D.  D. 

BISHOP  OF  THE   DIOGESB  OF  NORTH   CAROLINA. 

WiLHiNQTON,  June  15,  1857. 
Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  You  certainly  ought  not  to  think  that  you  are  asking  more 
of  me  than  I  am  bound  to  do,  when  you  request  my  aid  in  framing  a  commemo- 
rative notice  of  my  beloved  brother.  Indeed  I  feel  that  the  obligation  is  on  my 
side;  for  you  are  doing  that  for  his  memory  which  he  well  deserved,  but  which 
would  have  been  left  undone,  had  you  not  taken  it  in  hand. 


WILLIAM  MAYO  AtKlNSOK.  781 

My  brother,  preyious  tains  conversion ,  h»d  alwuys  been  an  amisble  snd  high- 
principled  inan,  and  was  never  what  would  be  commonly  considered  immoral  or 
dissipated;  but  being,  at  the  time,  a  joong  lawyer  of  acknowledged  talent,  and 
rising  in  his  profession,  of  a  large  connection  by  blood  and  alliance,  of  social 
temper,  and  of  great  personal  popularity,  he  was  in  danger  not  only  of  being 
confirmed  in  worldliness  of  character  and  habits,  but  of  becoming  8elf-4ndu]gent 
and  carelesH,  to  an  extent  which  the  world  itself  would  censure.  But  from  the 
time  that  religion  became  to  him  an  object  of  serious  interest,  it  became  the 
chief  concern  and  the  guiding  principle  of  life.  His  profession,  in  whieh  he  was 
qualified  to  shine,  and  in  which  he  did  obtain  considerable  success,  under  the 
immense  disadvantage  of  pursuing  it  with  a  heart  alienated  from  it, — ^this  pro- 
fession he  at  once  subordinated,  and  after  some  twelve  years  of  struggle,  entirely 
relinquished,  in  order  that  he  might  give  himself  absolutely  to  the  service 
of  his  Redeemer.  He  was,  I  think,  while  a  layman,  considwed,  more  than  any 
other  roan  of  his  time  in  that  wide  circle  in  which  he  was  known,  the  represen- 
tative of  the  Christian  cause  and  of  Christian  principle.  And  I  am  well 
persuaded  that  he  would  have  received  many  more  votes  than  any  other,  if  the 
question  had  come  to  be  decided  by  the  popular  voice, — not  who  should  be 
member  of  Congress  or  Goyernor,  but  who  was  the  best  man,  and  who  the  most 
zealously  affected  in  every  good  cause  in  all  that  region  of  country  in  which  he 
lired.  On  some  important  subjects  he  had  views  very  opposite  to  those  current 
around  him,  and  he  expressed  them  with  great  decision  and  plainness;  but  such 
was  the  charm  of  his  character,  such  the  winning  effect  of  his  own  benevolence, 
and  charity  in  judgment,  that  men  might  thoroughly  differ  from  him  on  impor- 
tant practical  questions,  and  yet  never  cease  to  love  him  and  trust  him.  Indeed 
it  was  observable  that  some  of  his  most  intimate  personal  friends  were  thns  his 
opposites  in  opinion.  This  very  superiority,  however,  in  his  moral  and  spiritual 
character,  detracted,  I  believe,  from  his  reputation  for  intellectual  ability.  It 
was  impossible  to  converse  with  him  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  without  perceiv- 
ing that  he  was  a  man  of  unusual  intelligence  and  fulness  of  knowledge;  but 
persons  inferior  to  him  in  these  respects,  had,  with  many,  a  higher  estimation, 
because,  on  other  grounds,  they  had  no  claim,  or  a  lower  claim,  to  admiration. 
There  is  a  jealousy  in  human  nature  which  makes  us  unwilling  to  believe  in  the 
union  in  one  character  of  many  distinct  excellencies.  We  grow  tired  of  hearing 
of  the  justice  of  Aristides,  and  we  revenge  ourselves  on  him  by  ostracising  him 
in  one  form  or  other.  If  a  man  be  a  Webster  or  a  Clay,  we  seek  satisfaction  on 
him  for  his  intellectual  superiority  by  dwelling  on  his  moral  infirmities:  if  he  be 
a  Washington  or  a  Wilberforce,  we  take  shelter  from  the  painful  brightness  of 
his  character,  by  denying  the  extent  or  the  splendour  of  his  intellect.  And  so  in 
the  more  ordinary  spheres  of  life — a  man's  acquaintance  will  not  tolerate  his 
being  very  much  their  superior  in  all  things.  If  they  allow  him  sense,  they  make 
some  deductions  from  his  goodness,  and  if  he  be  conspicuously  good,  then  he 
could  hardly  have  been  very  great.  Time  indeed  rectifies  much  of  this  injustice 
with  those  whose  names  become  historical;  but,  such  seems  to  be  the  first  recep- 
tion that  man  meets  from  man.  My  brother  was,  I  think,  and  was  generally 
considered,  remarkable  for  the  purity  of  his  motives,  his  high  sense  of  justice, 
the  compass  and  the  warmth  of  his  benoTolence,  and  the  fervour  of  his  piety. 
But  to  me  he  seemed  also  remarkable  for  the  originality  of  his  views,  his  acute- 
ness  of  thought,  the  variety  and  appositeness  of  the  analogies  that  he  saw,  the 
tenacity  of  his  memory,  and  perhaps,  above  all,  the  soundness  of  his  judgment. 
There  have  been  very  few  men  within  the  circle  of  my  observation  more 
consulted  than  he  was,  and  rery  few  whose  opinions  were  more  implicitly 
followed.  At  the  same  time,  he  was  as  remote  as  possible  from  a  desire  to 
arge  his  opinions  upon  others,  or  ft'om  prejudice  against  those  who  disagreed  with 
him.    I  was,  by  eleven  or  twelve  years,  the  younger  brother,  and  he  had  been  my 


782  PBJBSBTTEHIAir. 

gttArdkn;  yet,  while  he  uras  in  ooanectien,  and  in  aflfection,  thoroughly  a  Pres- 
byterian, my  own  views  caused  me  to  adhere  to  the  Episcopal  Church,  into 
which  we  had  both  been  baptized,  and  to  adopt  such  principles  concerning  it,  as 
caused  me  to  be  classed  with  High  Churchmen.  But,  meeting  frequently  as  we 
did,  and  conversing  unreservedly,  I  do  not  remember  a  word  passing  between  us 
which  was  inconsistent  with  the  most  cordial  fraternal  affection.  On  that 
subject,  his  brothers  and  sisters  were  about  equally  divided;  but  none,  I  belioTe, 
ever  felt  that  this  difference  at  all  influenced  their  love  and  veneration  for  htm,  or 
his  tender  affection  for  them. 

His  sermons  would,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  hardly  sustain  the  representation 
I  make  of  his  intellectual  superiority.  He  entered  on  the  ministry  in  middle 
life,  when  his  habits  of  thought  and  speech  had  been  formed.  Ue  had  great 
facility  in  extemporaneous  discourse,  and  some  prejudice  against  written 
sermons.  HiSt  therefore,  were  very  rarely  written,  and  not  even  much  preme- 
ditated; and  while  always  sensible,  instructive,  earnest,  and  sometimes  glowing, 
and  sometimes  pathetic,  yet  did  not  exhibit  generally  the  terseness,  the  vigour, 
and  the  felicitous  diction,  which  the  written  compositions  of  so  rich  and 
cultivated  a  mind  would  have  displayed. 

Nowhere  did  he  appear  to  greater  advantage  than  in  the  family  circle.  If  he 
had  any  fault  as  a  husband,  it  was  in  the  excess  of  his  conjugal  affection.  As  a 
father,  it  would  be  difficult  to  suggest  in  what  he  failed.  Never  were  children 
more  tenderly  dealt  with,  yet  never  was  more  implicit  obedience  rendered  by 
children.  Yet  with  so  much  to  admire  and  love  in  him,  he  felt  himself  an 
unworthy  sinner,  and  died  relying  (to  use  his  own  words)  on  Christ — his 
Gross — bis  Oorenant.  One  certainly,  that  he  left  behind,  felt  that  the  earth  was 
darker  to  him  for  the  rest  of  life. 

Faithfully  yours, 

THOMAS  ATKINSON. 


-•«" 


JOHN  A.  GRETTER * 

1833—1853. 

John  A.  Oretter,  the  son  of  Michael  and  Joanna  Qretter,  was  bom 
in  Richmond,  Ya.,  on  the  28th  of  September,  1810.  He  pursued  his 
studies  preparatory  to  entering  College,  in  his  native  city,  and  in  January, 
1827,  was  matriculated  in  the  University  of  Virginia,  where  he  remained  till 
he  was  graduated  in  July,  1829.  In  February,  1831,  he  went  to  Hunts- 
ville,  Ala.,  and  took  charge  of  the  mathematical  department  in  Mr.  Cr»w* 
ford's  school.  Here  he  remained  till  July  of  that  year,  when  he  returned 
to  Richmond  to  visit  his  friends,  with  the  expeotation  of  going  baek  to 
Huntsville,  and  becoming  Principal  of  the  school  in  which  he  had  been 
engaged.  But  a  change  now  passed  upon  his  character,  that  involved  a 
corresponding  change  of  his  plans  and  purposes,  and  gave  a  new  complexion 
to  his  life.  He  embraced  religion  as  a  practical  principle,  and  henceforth 
gave  evidence  of  living  under  its  power. 

In  August,  1831,  he  was  married  to  Mary  Wynn,  of  Charlottesville,  Va.; 
aod  in  October,  1831,  they  both  connected  themselves,  at  the  same  time, 

*  MS.  from  Hrt.  Gretter. 


JOHN  A.  GRETTER.  783 

vith  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in  Richmond,  then  under  the  pastoral 
care  of  the  Rev.  Stephen  Taylor.  Mr.  Gretter,  being  now  convinced  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  devote  himself  to  the  ministry,  abandoned  his  previous  plans 
of  life,  and  shortly  after  became  a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at 
Princeton.  But,  finding  that  a  Northern  climate  was  unfavourable  to  his 
kealih,  he  very  soon  returned  to  Virginia,  connecting  himself  with  the  East 
Hanover  Presbytery,  and  prosecuting  his  theological  studies  under  the  direc- 
tion of  his  Pastor,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Taylor.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  in  the 
autumn  of  1833,  and  was  ordained  in  September,  1834.  Soon  after  his 
ordination,  he  was  sent  as  a  missionary  to  Genito,  Powhatan  County,  Ya., 
where  he  laboured  with  great  acceptance. 

In  the  spring  of  1836,  he  removed  to  Greensboro',  N.  C,  as  mathematical 
instructer  in  the  Caldwell  Institute, — a  high  school  of  no  small  reputation, 
under  the  care  of  the  Presbytery  of  Orange.  Mr.  Gretter  was  a  thorough 
mathematician,  and  did  much  to  elevate  the  character  of  the  institution ; 
but  preaching  the  Gospel  was,  after  all,  his  favourite  work,  and,  accordingly, 
he  accepted  a  call  from  the  Congregations  of  Bethel  and  Gum  Grove,  nine 
and  twelve  miles  distant,  to  preach  to  them  on  alternate  Sabbaths.  This 
he  did,  to  their  entire  satisfaction,  for  several  years. 

The  next  and  most  important  period  of  his  life  was  that  of  his  connection 
with  the  Church  in  Greensboro.'  The  Rev.  William  D.  Paisley,  who  had 
been  chiefly  instrumental  in  building  up  this  Church,  and  had  for  many 
years  been  its  Pastor, — in  pursuance  of  a  resolution  which  he  had  formed 
long  before,  announced  to  his  people,  on  his  reaching  the  age  of  seventy, 
his  intention  to  retire  from  the  active  duties  of  his  office,  and  his  wish  that 
they  would  look  out  for  a  successor.  Mr.  Gretter  was,  with  great  unanimity, 
called  to  fill  this  place.  He  accepted  the  call,  dissolved  his  connection  with 
the  Caldwell  Institute,  and  in  April,  1844,  was  installed  Pastor  of  the 
Greensboro'  Church.  He  entered  upon  his  labours  with  great  zeal  and 
efficiency  ;  insomuch  that  many  of  his  congregation  were  apprehensive  that 
he  was  tasking  his  faculties  beyond  their  power  of  endurance.  And  as  he 
began,  so  he  continued  and  finished— ever  on  the  alert  to  improve  opportu- 
nities for  benefitting  his  flock,  and  helping  forward  the  great  cause  of  truth 
and  righteousness. 

In  March,  1853,  his  health  began  evidently  to  decline,  and  it  soon 
became  apparent  that  he  was  wasting  under  a  pulmonary  consumption. 
From  this  time  he  was  laid  aside  from  his  active  labours,  but  he  still  lost 
no  opportunity  of  advancing  the  spiritual  interests  of  his  flock.  While  his 
disease  was  in  progress,  he  made  his  last  visit  to  his  friends  in  Richmond ; 
but  was  very  desirous  to  return  before  his  death,  that  his  remains  might 
rest  among  the  people  of  his  charge ;  and  in  case  he  should  not  be  per- 
mitted to  return,  he  requested  that  his  body  might  be  removed  thither  for 
burial.  God  mercifully  granted  his  wish,  and  permitted  him  to  spend  his 
last  days  in  the  bosom  of  his  flock.  His  decline  was  marked  by  the  utmost 
Christian  composure,  and  an  unqualified  resignation  to  the  Divine  will.  He 
died  without  a  struggle  on  the  night  of  the  21st  of  January,  1853,  in  the 
forty-third  year  of  his  age.  A  Sermon  was  preached  at  his  Funeral  by  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Sherwood,  who  had  been  acting  as  a  stated  supply  to  the  Church, 
daring  Mr.  Gretter's  illness. 

Mr.  Gretter  was  the  father  of  ten  children,  eight  of  whom,  with  theix 
mother  survived  him. 


784  PBESBTTERIAK. 


FROM  THE  REV.  JAMES  H.  McNEILL, 

OHX  or  THE  BXCBETAEIX8  OT  THB  AMXBIOAK  BIBLB  SOOIBTT. 

Nxw  ToBK,  January  27, 1866. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  In  complying  with  your  request  I  shall  record  with  the 
brevity,  and  in  the  general  order,  which  you  suggest,  my  impressions  of  Mr. 
Gretter's  character  as  a  man  and  a  preacher,  formed  during  a  comparatively 
short,  but  quite  intimate,  acquaintance.  As  a  co-presbyter  and  friend,  my  inter- 
course with  him  by  correspondence,  mutual  ministerial  exchanges  and  visit£, 
joint  labours  on  Home  Missionary  ground,  and  in  other  ways,  was  such  that  I 
could  not  fail  to  learn  much  of  his  character,  even  as  I  did  not  fail  greatly  to 
admire  and  love  him. 

There  was  something  in  his  personal  appearance  and  address,  attractive  and 
engaging.  He  was  rather  below  the  medium  standard,  whether  of  height  or 
of  weight,  and  was  delicate  without  any  indication  of  debility.  His  complexion 
was  somewhat  dark;  his  hair  black  and  flowing}  his  eyes  of  the  same  colour, 
large  and  piercing;  his  mouth  broad  and  firm,  yet  flexible;  and  his  features 
generally,  though  not  regular  in  their  outline,  possessed  the  incomparably 
greater  charm  of  animated  and  varied  expression.  That  peculiar  charm  will 
probably  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who  ever  saw  him  under  the  influence  of 
strong  feeling.  On  such  occasions,  his  voice,  his  gestures,  his  very  attitude,  his 
whole  person,  were  'charged  with  animation,  and  combined  with  his  expressive 
features  to  enchain  attention  and  excite  sympathy.  Ordinarily,  his  manners 
were  easy  and  natural,  according  well  with  his  social  and  friendly  disposition. 
He  possessed  a  buoyancy  of  spirit,  an  unquenchable  ardour  of  temperament, 
which  made  him  a  pleasant  companion,  a  warm  friend,  and  an  active  leader  in 
all  enterprises. 

As  a  scholar,  Mr.  Gretter's  labours  were  expended  in  the  severer  fields  of 
mathematics  and  metaphysics,  rather  than  that  of  belles-lettres.  He  was,  how* 
ever,  a  man  of  much  literary  cultivation;  the  native  ardour  of  his  imagination  had 
been  sustained,  without  being  stimulated,  by  his  attention  to  classical  studies, 
while  the  faculty  of  clear,  logical  reasoning  had  been  developed  and  strengthened 
by  his  untiring  and  successful  pursuit  of  abstract  science.  He  was,  at  the  same 
time,  a  forcible  and  polished  writer  and  speaker.  One  of  the  last  books  he  ever 
read  was  Morell's  History  of  Philosophy;  and  his  remarkable  facility  and  fond- 
ness for  such  studies  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  its  perusal  occupied  but 
a  day  or  two,  and  was  completed  almost  without  interruption.  He  made  no 
parade  of  learning,  and  few  imagined  the  extent  of  his  attainments.  Those  who 
witnessed  his  examination  of  candidates  for  ordination,  at  meetings  of  Presby- 
ter}', have  often  been  surprised  at  the  thoroughness  with  which  he  reviewed  their 
classical  and  scientific  training.  All  his  literary  pursuits,  however,  had  refer- 
ence, immediate  or  remote,  to  Theology.  This  was,  with  him,  the  highest,  the 
all-embracing  science,  and  few  have  devoted  themselves  more  enthusiastically  to 
its  constant  study.  He  followed  the  best  examples  in  making  the  Sacred  Scrip- 
tures his  chief  tex^-book,  and  employed  much  of  his  time  in  their  methodical 
study.  My  first  introduction  into  his  library  interrupted  him  at  his  table, — the 
Greek  Testament  open  before  him,  and  the  Greek  Concordance  at  his  elbow;  and 
to  my  question,  he  answered  that  be  was  in  the  habit  of  thus  studying  the  Old 
and  the  New  Testaments  in  the  original,  and  enlarged  warmly  upon  the  advan- 
tages of  such  a  course.  His  familiarity  w^ith  the  writings  of  standard  theological 
authors  was  well  known;  and  he  was  among  the  first  to  procure  new  and 
valuable  works.  He  was  regarded  by  his  brethren  of  the  Synod  of  North  Caro- 
lina as  one  of  their  most  able  expounders  and  defenders  of  evangelical  troth. 


JOSS  A.  6RETTEIL  785 

But  It  was  as  a  preacher  that  he  was  most  generally  known  and  admired. 
His  delivery  was  eicceedingly  happy.  I  have  already  spoken  of  the  peculiar 
charm  of  his  animated  address — in  the  pulpit  this  was  most  remarkable.  The 
clear,  distinct  and  varied  tones  of  his  rich  voice  fell  upon  the  ear  like  music. 
With  perfect  ease  of  manner  he  introduced  his  subject;  its  discussion  was  con- 
ducted with  logical  exactness  and  deep  earnestness;  its  application  was  made 
with  almost  irresistible  power.  There  was  no  bawling  declamation,  nor,  on  the 
other  hand,  could  he  handle  the  Word  of  Life,  the  Sword  of  the  Spirit,  with  cold 
insensibility.  Though  his  energy  was  sometimes  almost  violent,  and  the  explo- 
sions of  his  voice  often  startling,  all  was  so  evidently  prompted  by  genuine 
feeling,  and  so  fully  justified  by  the  sentiment  he  uttered,  that  the  most  fastidi- 
ous forgot  to  object,  and  every  heart  responded  from  its  lowest  depths.  He 
strove  successfully  to  combine  those  two  great  elements  of  good  preaching, — 
clear  statements  of  doctrine,  and  pungent,  faithful  appeal.  He  knew  how  to 
make  doctrine  practical.  He  often  preached  before  Presbytery,  and  never  failed 
to  meet  the  high  expectations  of  his  brethren.  None  who  heard  it  will  soon 
forget  his  sermon  before  Presbytery,  at  Washington,  N.  0.,  from  Luke  v.  18^26. 
His  subject  was  the  ''forgiveness  of  sins;"  and,  after  developing  clearly  the 
idea  of  the  twenty-fourth  verse, — that  the  power  of  forgiveness  belongs  only  to 
God,  and  that  even  Christ  claimed  to  exercise  it  only  as  God,  giving  full  proof 
of  his  Divinity  by  the  miracle  He  wrought,  he  dealt  severely  with  the  Popish 
dogma  of  ''  Sacerdotal  Absolution."  It  was  a  great  effort,  and  deserved  to  be 
printed  and  circulated  in  Tract  form,  Us  Presbytery  ordered.  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, from  such  occasional  efforts,  that  I  learned  to  appreciate  most  highly  his 
excellence  as  a  preacher.  The  most  admirable  and  effective  sermons  I  ever 
heard  from  him,  were  preached  to  country  and  village  congregations,  where  his 
glowing  eloquence  was  excited,  not  by  the  gratified  attention  of  the  cultivated 
and  refined,  but  solely  by  the  grandeur  of  his  theme,  and  the  presence  of  multi- 
tudes, hungering  for  the  bread  of  life.  He  loved  to  preach,  and  his  severest 
labours  were  devoted  to  his  pulpit  preparations.  At  no  period  of  his  ministry 
did  he  confine  himself  wholly  to  the  manuscript,  and  during  the  last  two  or 
three  years  of  his  life,  he  dispensed  with  it  altogether.  These  unwritten  ser- 
mons, however,  were  as  carefully  studied,  as  methodical  in  their  arrangement, 
and  as  full  of  thought,  as  the  best  of  those  which  he  had  committed  to  paper, 
while  his  delivery  of  them  was  marked  by  even  greater  freedom  and  power.  My 
opinion  of  him  as  a  preacher  will  be  understood,  when  I  add  that  he  was  one 
of  the  best  I  ever  heard. 

His  pastoral  labours  and  success  were  equally  abundant.  The  Greensboro' 
Church  greatly  prospered  under  his  charge.  It  flourished  spiritually  and  tem- 
porally, and,  under  the  Head  of  the  Church,  it  was  indebted  chiefly  to  the 
untiring  energy  and  fidelity  of  its  Pastor.  I  will  mention  particularly,  as  an 
element  of  his  pastoral  influence,  the  unusual  prominence  which  he  gave  to  the 
Sacrament  of  Baptism.  Instead  of  taking  a  few  moments  for  its  administration, 
from  the  usual  morning  service,  he  regularly  appropriated  to  it  the  whole  after-^ 
noon  of  every  Communion  Sabbath.  All  the  baptized  children  and  youth  of' 
the  Church  were  assembled  with  their  parents  to  witness  the  rite,  which,  of 
course,  was  performed  in  the  usual  manner.  Mr.  Gretter  then  addressed  the 
children  in  explanation  of  the  ordinance,  reminding  them  of  the  Saviour's  claims, 
and  urging  them  to  become  his  followers.  He  then  turned  to  the  parents,  and, 
in  the  presence  of  their  children,  reminded  them  of  their  duty,  and  exhorted 
them  to  its  faithful  performance.  These  exercises,  conducted  with  his  affection- 
ate earnestness  and  solemnity  of  manner,  and  with  endless  variety  of  matter, 
were  productive  of  the  happiest  results.  The  blessing  of  God  attended  the 
Sacrament  thus  honoured;  family  religion  flourished;  and  the  Church  was  built 
up.     Equally  efiScient  was  he  in  the  discharge  of  all  other  duties  of  the  pastoral 

Vol.  TV.  99 


7S6  FBUBTXB&UJr. 

office.  He  was,  of  course,  greatly  endeared  to  his  people.  He  bad  bat  recent!  r 
occasioned  thorn  great  joy ,  by  declining  a  call  from  another  Church,  when  it  became 
evident  that  he  was  to  be  removed  by  a  power  which  none  can  resist.  He  had 
risen  in  the  pulpit  to  announce  his  text,  when,  to  his  surprise,  he  found  that  he 
could  not  speak.  After  an  ineffectual  effort,  he  sat  down,  and  while  his  devoted 
Session  crowded  around  him  in  the  pulpit,  his  equally  devoted  people  arose  in  a 
body,  unable  to  repress  their  anxiety  and  alarm.  He  never  preached  again. 
Before  the  close  of  another  year,  his  voice  was  hushed  in  death,  and  his  body 
borne  to  the  grave,  with  much  weeping,  by  those  for  whom  he  had  lived  and 
laboured,  and  among  whom  it  was  his  wish  to  be  buried. 

It  remains  for  me  to  say  a  few  words  of  his  influence,  beyond  his  own  Oon- 
{^regation,  in  the  several  judicatories  of  the  Church.  The  presence  of  such  a 
man  would  be  felt  in  any  assembly.  In  addition  to  the  traits  already  exhibited, 
he  possessed  a  quickness  of  apprehension,  a  facility  for  business,  a  command  of 
language,  and  a  thorough  appreciation  of  the  principles  of  Presbyterian  Church 
Government,  together  with  an  unusual  degree  of  independence  and  self-reliance, 
which  fitted  him  to  exert  a  leading  influence  in  deliberative  and  judicial  bodies. 
As  a  debater,  he  was  rarely  matched.  Some  of  his  speeches  in  the  Presbytery 
of  Orange,  or  the  Caldwell  Institute,  in  which  he  discussed  the  subject  of  edu- 
cation as  connected  with  religion,  and  the  importance  of  denominational  schools, 
were  fine  specimens  of  eloquent  argument.  Important  commissions  entrusted 
to  him  were  discharged  with  zeal  and  ability.  As  Chairman  of  the  Synodical 
Committee  on  Colportage,  he  directed  the 'operations  of  that  important  interest 
throughout  the  State.  He  was  much  engaged,  as  a  member  of  the  Committee  on 
Domestic  Missions  of  Orange  Presbytery,  in  promoting  the  cause  of  Church 
extension;  and,  in  short,  was  a  steady  supporter  of  all  the  benevolent  schemes  of 
the  Church.  It  was  most  painfully  folt,  at  the  first  meeting  of  Presbytery  after 
his  death,  how  much  of  their  interest  and  life  those  meetings  had  owed  to  his 
presence.  In  the  devotional  exercises,  the  part  which  he  took,  by  assignment, 
was  usually  prominent;  and  many  were  the  scenes  of  melting  tenderness,  when 
all  united  with  him  in  prayer,  or  received  from  his  warm  heart  the  word  of  frater- 
nal exhortation.  After  one  of  those  scenes  which  I  certainly  shall  never  forget, 
a  gentleman, — not  a  member  of  the  church,  who  was  present,  remarked  to  me, 
as  we  left  the  house, — **  I  should  like  to  know  that  Mr.  Gretter.  He  must  be  a 
noble  man."  And  such,  without  doubt,  he  was — noble  in  traits  of  the  heart, 
and  noble  in  intellectual  gifts  and  attainments.  If  little  known  beyond  the 
bounds  of  the  Synod  of  North  Carolina,  it  must  be  recollected  that  he  was  com- 
paratively young  in  the  ministry  at  the  time  of  his  death.  The  profound  grief 
which  that  event  occasioned  throughout  his  own  Synod,  was  a  sufficient  evidence 
of  their  high  appreciation  of  his  character  and  services.  The  sphere  of  his  influ- 
ence was  already  rapidly  enlarging,  and  had  he  been  spared  a  few  years  longer, 
his  many  distinguished  excellencies  would  have  been  acknowledged  throughout 
the  Church  at  large,  as  they  were  most  gratefully  by  the  churches  and  ministers 
of  his  adopted  State. 

I  have  said  nothing  directly  concerning  his  piety.  It  was  illustrated  by  the 
manner  of  his  life,  and  triumphant  in  the  hour  of  death.  He  loved  Jesus,  his 
-service,  his  ministers,  and  his  saints.  His  religion  was  without  ostentation, 
without  moroseness:  cheerful,  active,  and  manly.  I  was  with  htm  a  few  hours 
before  he  died,  and  received  the  assurance,  which  I  did  not  need,  of  his  peaceful 
frame.    Calmly  he  sank  to  rest  on  the  bosom  of  his  Lord. 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

JAMES  H.  McliEILL. 


NIOOOLAS  XUBXAY.  7g7 


NICHOLAS  MURRAY.* 

1839—1853. 

NiOHOLAS  MuRBAY,  a  SOD  of  William  and  Nancy  (Robinson)  Murray, 
was  bom  in  Brooke  County,  Va.,  on  the  5tb  of  February,  1809.  As  his 
father  was  a  farmer,  he  passed  his  early  years  at  work  on  the  farm,  at  the 
same  time  availing  himself  of  such  humble  means  as  he  oould  command  for 
acquiring  the  elements  of  an  education.  His  father  having  died  when  he 
(the  son)  was  only  seventeen  years  old,  and  his  mother  shortly  after,  he  and 
other  members  of  the  family  were  thrown  upon  their  own  efforts  munly  for 
support ;  and,  as  he  preferred  to  work  at  a  trade  rather  than  on  a  hxm,  he 
served  an  apprenticeship  of  two  or  three  years  to  the  saddler's  trade,  in 
Steuben ville,  0.  He  then  commenced  the  business  for  himself  in  West 
Liberty,  Ohio  County,  Ya.;  where,  by  his  correct  deportment,  he  secured 
the  favourable  regards  of  the  principal  people  of  the  place  and  vicinity. 

Here  he  began  to  develop  a  very  decided  taste  for  reading,  though  it  was 
chiefly  works  of  a  lighter  kind  that  now  attracted  him.  He  showed  also  a 
great  fondness  for  argument,  and  was  an  active  and  deeply  interested  mem- 
ber of  a  debating  club.  His  health,  about  this  time,  became  somewhat 
impaired,  and  a  pain  in  the  breast  rendered  it  difficult  for  him  to  work  at 
his  trade.  He  began  now  to  feel  a  strong  desire  for  a  liberal  education ; 
though  there  was  little  in  his  external  circumstances  that  seamed  to  favour 
it.  I  am  indebted  to  the  Kev.  Br.  John  McCluskey,  then  Pastor  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church  of  West  Alexander,  Pa.,  about  seven  miles  from  West 
Liberty,  for  the  following  details  of  Mr.  Murray's  experience,  from  the  first 
inception  of  the  purpose  to  obtain  a  collegiate  education,  to  his  actually 
becoming  a  member  of  Washington  College  : — 

**  I  first  met  young  Murray  at  a  Bible  class  within  the  bounds  of  my 
congregation,  and  my  attention  was  drawn  to  him  by  the  deep  interest 
which  he  manifested,  especially  in  the  explanations  which  were  given  of 
the  more  difficult  points.  At  the  close  of  the  exercise,  Murray  withdrew, 
without  our  being  introduced,  or  having  an  interview  with  each  other ;  but 
so  deeply  was  I  interested  in  his  appearance  that  I  was  not  a  little  desirous 
of  knowing  who  and  what  he  was.  On  inquiry,  I  learned  something  of  his 
previous  history,  and  also  his  strong  desire  to  obtain  a  liberal  education,  in 
connection  with  the  untoward  circumstances  which  seemed  to  forbid  the 
hope  of  it.  The  next  morning,  I  sent  a  request  to  him  that  he  would  call 
at  my  house,  on  the  Wednesday  following,  without,  however,  giving  him 
any  intimation  of  the  purpose  for  which  I  wished  to  see  him.  He  com- 
plied with  the  request ;  and  the  following  is  the  substance  of  the  convexBa- 
tion  that  passed  between  us : — 

^*  *  Mr  Murray,  I  have  learned  that  you  desire  to  obtain  a  liberal  educa- 
tion.' *  I  do.  Sir,  but  have  no  hope  of  getting  it'  '  Give  candid  and  full 
answers  to  the  questions  I  am  about  to  propose,  and  I  will  tell  you  whether 
you  can  get  an  education  or  not.' 

•  MSS.  from  Rev.  Dr.  MeCliukey,  Bev.  WiUiam  H.  Lcftar,  R«t.  Irwin  CanwD,  Pnftaor 
J.  J.  Browiuoii>  and  James  Paul,  Esq. 


7g8  FRESBTTEBIAK. 

'*  1.  *  Have  jou  any  engagements,  in  lore  matters,  wjth  any  ]adj  V  *  No, 
Sir.' 

•*  2.  *  Have  you  any  money  V     *  Not  a  dollar.' 

*•  3.  •  Are  you  in  debt  V     '  About  thirty  dollars.' 

*'  4.  *  Have  you  friends  who  would  aid  you  ?'  'I  know  of  no  one  who 
would  give  me  a  farthing.' 

*'  5.  *  Have  you  any  better  clothes  than  those  you  have  on  V  [Not  only 
threadbare  but  rent.]     '  No,  Sir;  these  are  the  best  I  have.' 

(» <Well,  my  young  friend,  it  is  a  hard  oase,  but  if  you  will  closely 
follow  my  directions,  I  will,  under  God,  secure  you  a  liberal  ednoation.  [  I 
clearly  saw  that  he  was  a  young  man  of  much  mental  activity,  and  of  great 
promise,  and  was  worthy  of  being  encouraged.]  Come  here  next  Monday, 
and  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  plan.'  In  the  mean  time,  I  visited  a  few 
families  of  my  congregation,  and  some  others  in  a  section  near  to  West 
Alexander,  and  obtained  for  him  a  small  English  school.  On  Monday  he 
came.     The  plan  was  submitted.     It  was  as  follows : — 

**  I.  *  You  will  go  with  me  to  the  store,  and,  on  my  credit,  get  yourself 
a  suit  of  clothes.  I  intend  that  you  shall  pay  for  them  as  soon  as  you  are 
able.' 

''  2.  *  You  arc  to  teach  a  small  English  school,  and  recite  two  lessons  per 
week  of  your  academic  studies  to  me,  in  my  study.  I  will  furnish  you 
books  and  tuition  gratis.' 

*'  3.  *  The  first  money  you  earn  must  be  used  in  payment  of  your  debt 
of  thirty  dollars.     So  much  of  the  plan  I  tell  you  now.' 

He  seemed  ihuch  pleased.  I  gave  him  a  Latin  Grammar,  and  he  went  to 
work.  He  gave  entire  satisfaction  in  his  school,  and  recited  his  lessons  to  me 
with  remarkable  accuracy — though  he  taught  six  hours  per  day,  he  advanced 
in  his  studies  more  rapidly  than  any  of  the  thirty  pupils  under  my  care  in 
regular  attendance  at  the  Academy.  I  soon  found  that  he  was  very  ignorant 
of  religious  truth,  and  had  been  much  neglected  in  this  respect  in  his 
younger .  days.  I  enjoined  upon  him  the  daily  reading  of  the  Bible.  I 
gave  him  the  Assembly's  Shorter  Catechism,  and  required  him  to  commit  it 
to  memory ;  and  then  Fisher's  and  Erskine's  Comments  on  the  Catechism. 
He  manifested  no  special  interest  in  the  salvation  of  his  soul  for  some  time ; 
though  he  regularly  attended  not  only  public  worship  in  the  church,  but 
the  Bible  Class  and  prayer  meetings.  But,  during  the  winter  of  1831,  he 
appeared  more  thoughtful  and  serious,  and  was  admitted,  on  an  examina- 
tion, to  the  full  privileges  of  the  Church  in  West  Alexander,  on  the  29th 
of  April,  1832.  He  was  baptized  on  Saturday,  and  on  the  next  day  took 
his  scat  with  the  professed  followers  of  our  blessed  Lord." 

Mr.  Murray  entered  Washington  College  in  1832,  and  very  soon  obtained 
a  Tutorship  in  the  College,  at  the  same  time  reciting  in  the  regular  classes. 
During  his  whole  collegiate  course,  his  standing  for  talent,  scholarship,  and 
deportment,  was  unusually  high,  and  he  graduated  with  the  first  honours  of 
his  class  in  1834. 

Immediately  after  his  graduation,  he  took  charge  of  an  Academy  in 
Winchester,  Va.,  in  connection  with  Mr.  (now  the  Bev.)  Irwin  Carson. 
Here  he  was  remarkably  popular  as  a  teacher,  as  well  as  in  social  life,  and 
was  universally  regarded  as  a  man  of  extraordinary  talents,  though  there 
seems  to  have  been  at  this  time  no  special  development  of  his  religious 
character. 


NICHOLAS  MURRAY.  789 

On  the  29th  of  December,  1885,— during  his  residence  at  Winchester, — 
he  was  married  to  Nancy  Carson  of  West  Alexander. 

Having  remained  at  Winchester  two  years  or  more,  and  thus  obtained  the 
means  of  pursuing  his  theological  course,  he  returned  to  West  Alexander  and 
studied  Hebrew,  Theology,  &c.,  for  a  while,  under  his  friend  and  patron.  Dr. 
McCluskey.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Washington 
on  the  2d  of  October,  1889.  But,  as  his  health,  by  reason  of  his  excessive 
application  to  study,  had  become  so  much  impaired  as  to  render  it  inex- 
pedient that  he  should  at  once  take  a  pastoral  charge,  he  resumed  his 
employment  as  a  teacher,  and  was  for  some  years  at  the  head  of  a  classical 
school  of  a  very  high  order  in  Wheeling,  Ya.  Thence  he  was  called  to 
take  charge  of  the  Academy  at  Grave  Greek,  Marshall  County,  Ya.;  and 
having  remained  here  a  short  time,  was  unanimously  appointed  in  1844, 
Professor  of  Ancient  Languages  in  the  College  at  which  he  had  been  gradua* 
ted.  He  accepted  this  appointment,  and  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his 
new. office  shortly  after.  He  was  ordained  as  an  Evangelist  at  Wellsburg, 
Ya.,  on  the  16th  of  April,  1845. 

Soon  after  his  removal  to  Washington,  he  accepted  a  call  from  the  neigh- 
bouring Church  of  Ten  Mile,  it  being  understood  that  he  was  also  to  retain 
his  Professorship.  He  began  now,  in  connection  with  the  most  exemplary 
attention  to  his  College  duties,  to  manifest  a  great  increase  of  Christian 
activity  and  fervour,  and  was  constantly  on  the  alert  to  devise  and  carry 
out  plans  for  elevating  the  standard  of 'Christian  feeling  and  action,  both  in 
the  College  and  among  his  Congregation.  His  labours  both  as  a  Professor 
and  a  Pastor,  were  highly  appreciated,  and  eminently  useful. 

At  the  meeting  of  the  Presbytery  of  Washington  in  October,  1852,  the 
ministers  were  appointed  to  labour  by  committees  of  two,  for  a  week,  in 
the  churches,  with  a  view  to  quicken  the  sensibilities  of  Christians,  and 
arouse  the  attention  of  the  careless.  Mr.  Murray  entered  with  great  zeal 
upon  the  discharge  of  that  duty.  He  was  designated  to  spend  one  week 
with  the  Church  in  West  Union,  in  company  with  the  Pastor  of  that 
Church,  the  Rev.  J.  Fleming,  and  the  next  week,  they  were  to  labour  at 
Upper  Ten  Mile  Church, — the  charge  of  Mr.  Murray.  Mr.  M.  preached 
with  great  power,  and  an  extensive  revival  of  religion,  in  connection  with 
his  labours,  ensued  in  both  Churches.  During  the  whole  winter  of  1852- 
-53,  his  labours  in  different  places  were  abundant,  and  were  character- 
ised by  a  zeal  that  seemed  almost  superhuman.  After  the  most  intense 
and  uninterrupted  labour  at  the  Church  of  Mill  Creek,  night  and  day,  for 
nearly  a  week,  he  left  for  Washington,  a  distance  of  nearly  forty  miles,  and 
rode  on  horseback,  exposed  to  a  cold,  violent,  March  storm.  He  was  com- 
pletely prostrated  when  he  reached  home,  and  was  immediately  attacked 
with  a  bilious  pleurisy,  which,  in  one  week  terminated  his  life.  He  suffered 
but  little  bodily  pain,  and  enjoyed  great  spiritual  peace  and  triumph.  He 
died  on  the  23d  of  March,  1853,  in  the  forty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  His 
remains  were  taken  for  burial  to  West  Alexander, — the  spot  which  was 
associated  with  some  of  the  most  interesting  events  of  his  life.  He  left  a 
widow  and  four  children. 


7&0  PRESBYTERIAK 


FROM  THE  REV.  H.  R.  WEED,  D.  D. 

Whseuho,  Ya.,  July  15, 1857. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  It  is  a  coincidence  somewhat  singular,  that,  just  at  the 
Ter J  time  that  the  Rer.  Mr.  Comingo  was  suggesting  to  you  in  Albany  that  the 
late  Professor  Murray  was  entitled  to  a  place  among  your  permanent  records,  I 
was  making  the  same  suggestion  to  my  family  in  Wheeling;  and  that,  while  he 
was  referring  you  to  me  for  an  article,  I  was  remarking  that  I  had  long  ago 
assigned  the  service  to  him,  and  expressing  the  conviction  that  he  ought  at  once 
to  perform  it. 

It  is  indeed  true  that,  for  a  number  of  years,  I  was  favoured  with  his  most 
intimate  and  confidential  acquaintance;  that  our  relations  to  each  other  were 
most  cordial  and  happy;  and  that  the  memories  of  him  are  deeply  engraven  in  my 
heart.  But  his  was  a  character  which  I  do  not  think  that  I  have  an  adaptation 
to  delineate  with  even  ordinary  Justice.  All  that  I  shall  attempt  must  be 
impromptu,  and  also  restricted,  leaving  Mr.  Comingo  to  supply  what  is  more 
important  from  the  recollections  of  his  preaching  in  the  closing  period  of  his  life, 
and  designed,  in  case  of  his  failure,  to  save  ftom  unmerited  oblivion  a  name 
deservedly  dear  to  many  on  earth,  and  that  shall  doubtless  shine  forever  as  a 
star  in  the  firmament  of  Heaven. 

My  personal  acquaintance  with  Nicholas  Murray,  I  may  say^  though  I  had 
repeatedly  seen  him  before, — commenced  on  hearing  his  Trial  Sermon  delivered 
before  the  Presbytery  of  Washington  at  the  time  of  his  licensure  to  preach  the 
Gospel.  His  theological  training  had  been  very  defective.  He  had  mostly 
studied  alone,  without  the  advantage  of  Professors  or  library,  and  amidst  other 
avocations  for  his  subsistence.  Yet  the  discourse  discovered  a  mind  of  superior 
order, — independent,  original  and  energetic.  It  aspired  to  high  points  of  Cal- 
vinistic  doctrine,  and  touched  them  with  a  bold  hand.  The  bearing  of  the  writer 
was  lofty,  controversial,  rather  defiant,  and  somewhat  ambitious — a  bearing 
adapted  always,  and  especially  in  a  young  man,  to  elicit  animadversion.  And  it 
did  not  fail  in  the  present  case.  The  members  of  Presbytery  all  felt  that  we  had 
a  candidate  before  us  that  needed,  and  was  able  to  bear,  criticism; — that  we  had 
to  do,  not  with  a  feeble,  flickering  taper  that  a  strong  breath  might  extinguish, 
but  with  a  vigorous  light  that  the  winds  would  only  fan  into  stronger  flame; — 
not  with  a  fragile  vessel  that  would  be  endangered  by  handling,  but  with  a  solid 
block  of  marble,  rather  rude  from  the  theological  quarry,  that  would  improve 
by  the  hammer  and  the  chisel.  Consequently  such  a  process  ensued  as  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  ever  witnessed  in  another  case.  Even  the  reviewers,  those 
harpies  of  the  press,  do  not  pounce  on  a  young  aspirant  to  fame  more  actively  than 
did  the  fatherly  and  fraternal  critics  now  on  poor  Murray.  Let  it  be  observed  too 
that  this  was  not  done,  as  is  often  the  case  in  Presbyteries,  in  the  dbatrad  (I 
suppose  for  their  own  improvement  in  the  critical  art) — that  is,  it  was  not  upon 
the  discourse  in  the  absence  of  the  candidate;  but  in  the  concrete — the  candi- 
date being  present,  and  both  himself  and  his  discourse  being  subject  to  criticism. 
The  spectators,  unused  to  the  plain  dealing  of  Presbyteries  with  their  candidates, 
regarded  this  process  as  most  unmerciful.  But  as  it  will  be  further  illustrative 
of  the  character  of  Murray,  it  ought  to  be  added  that  though  I  was  myself  per- 
haps more  unsparing  in  strictures  than  any  one  else,  instead  of  being  oflbnded, 
from  that  time  he  sought  my  society,  and  became  ever  after  my  most  attached 
and  devoted  friend.  Indeed  he  always  loved  an  honest,  faithful  frankness,  and  was 
too  magnanimous  to  suspect  an  evil  design  in  any  remarks  on  his  character  or 
performances,  that  he  could  construe  as  intended  for  his  benefit,  and  was  ever 
eager  to  secure  any  means  of  intellectual  or  moral  improvement  that  came  within 
nis  reach. 


NICHOLAS  MUBBAY.  791 

Ab^ut  the  Ume  of  bis  limnsufe,  or  soon  after,  he  bdcaxne  subject  to  seTers 
attacks  of  inflammatory  rheumatism,  which  so  disqualified  him  for  the  duties  of 
the  pastoral  office,  that  he  was  induced  to  devote  himself  to  the  instruction  of 
youth; — an  office  for  which  he  had  rare  qualifications,  and  in  which  he  was 
g^reatlj  beloved  by  his  pupils,  and  appreciated  by  his  patrons.  But  while  thps 
occupied,  he  often  preached  for  his  ministerial  brethren,  and  in  supply  of  vacant 
pulpits.  Several  years  of  this  period  he  passed  in  Wheeling,  where  I  had  occa- 
sional opportunity  of  hearing  him,  and  of  witnessing  the  deep  interest  with 
which  his  preaching  was  r^arded,  especially  by  the  more  intelligent  part  of  the 
community.  His  practice  now  was  to  write  his  sermons  with  great  care,  and 
deliver  them  menuniter;  and  so  careful  was  he  of  his  reputation  that  he  could 
not  be  induced,  iu  any  emergency,  to  preach  without  the  most  mature  prepara* 
tion.  His  rhetoric,  however,  much  exceeded  his  elocution.  In  the  former  he 
was  entirely  classical;  in  the  latter  he  laboured  under  some  natural  disadvantage 
of  voice,  and  his  manner  was  rather  constrained;  but  his  orthoepy  even  sur* 
passed  that  of  our  venerated  standard.  Dr.  Miller  himself.  Indeed,  in  every 
thing  pertaining  to  the  English  language,  it  might  almost  be  affirmed  that  he 
was  a  perfect  scholar. 

In  preparing  his  discourses,  he  was  not  only  studious  of  his  style,  but  there 
was  an  excitement  of  mind,  a  concentration  of  his  powers,  and  an  energy  of 
thought,  too  great  for  his  frail  body.  He  could,  however,  in  the  freedom  of 
private  correspondence,  relax  himself,  and  write  not  only  carrente  caktmo,  but 
with  an  ease  and  humour  that  were  health  to  the  flesh  and  marrow  to  the  bones. 
A  specimen  before  me  will  afford  an  illustration,  and  it  may  properly  be  intro- 
duced here  to  exhibit  another  phase  of  his  character,  well  remembered  by  his 
intimate  friends — I  mean  his  love  of  occasional  merriment,  and  his  hearty  laugh 
in  the  private  social  circle.  The  events  referred  to  are  of  such  notoriety  as  to 
need  no  comment.     The  letter  is  dated  at  Washington,  Pa.,  March  11, 1852. 

**  Dear  Doctor:  I  have  been  very  anxious  to  know  what  you  think  of  this  great 
world  and  our  country,  just  lYOw,  since  Kossuth  has  turned  tliem  both  upside 
down,  and  the  IVheeling  Bridge  has  become  a  'nuisance.'  Have  you  been 
looking  on  all  the  while,  calm  as  a  May  morning,  or  have  you  felt  like  shoulder- 
ing your  musket  to  march  against  the  JRuasian  bear,  or  the  Pittahurgera,  as 
the  case  may  be?  I  have  not  heard  of  your  making  a  speech  to  the  ladies y  or  any 
other  crowd  of  onr  feUow-dtizena  in  behalf  of  the  Great  Magyar,  and  '  material 
aid'  for  Hungary,  nor  yet  of  your  having  joined  a  crusade  against  the  Bridges 
over  the  Monongahela!  Perhaps  the  newspapers  have  not  done  you  justice.  By 
the  way,  think  of  two  millions  of  Presbyterians  in  Hungary  to  be  trodden  down 
and  crushed  by  a  combination  of  monstrosity,  humbuggcry,  and  old  grannyism, 
such  as  that  namesake  of  mine — the  little  man  in  his  uncle's  breeches,  and  Pio 
Nino  of  Goeta  memory!  Ought  we  to  sympathize  with  the  oppressed;  or  leave  it 
to  God,  in  his  own  time  and  way,  to  vindicate  their  cause  against  their  oppres- 
sors? Let  me  stop,  however,  or  you  will  think  that  I  am  more  than  half  carried 
awa}'  with  the  Hungarian /iM'or. 

'*  Our  quiet  little  burg  has  not  been  sufficiently  stirred  by  the  commotions  from 
without  to  throw  up  any  thing  of  interest  enough  to  be  noted.  We  have  heru 
within  ourselves,  however,  a  world  of  our  own:  a  kind  of  college  world,  in  which 
we  have  had  a  small  share  of  noi$y  and  belUgereTit  demonstrations.*  But  these 
have  now  pretty  much  disappeared,  and,  making  no  account  of  the  scarred, 
wounded  and  missing,  we  are  at  length  left  with  something  less  than  one  hun- 
dred promising  youth  in  comparative  quiet. 

'*  We  have  indeed  had  one  event  to  record,  that  to  our  community  was  one  of  no 
ordinary  interest, — i .  e.,  the  death  of  the  venerable  Doctor  McOonaughy .   He  was 

*  fiefarrlDg  to  mne  diitorbanoea  among  the  itudenti  In  GoUege. 


792  PRSSBYTERIAH. 

beyond  all  doubt  a  good  man;  and  if  there  i«  a  home  for  the  pions  beyond  this 
world  of  sin  and  sorrow,  we  cannot  question  that  he  has  exchanged  for  its  holy- 
rest,  the  toils  of  his  long  and  well  spent  life. 

'*  In  the  church  here  there  is  nothing  of  particular  interest.  Have  you  any  thing 
good  this  winter  in  yours?  I  am  not  without  hope  that  we  may  again  have  a 
good  time  in  our  church  at  Ten  Mile  on  our  approaching  Communion.  CertmUy 
ifed  it  in  my  heart  to  long  and  fray  fat  it.  What  a  glorious  thing  is  a  revival 
of  religion!  *' 

The  friends  of  Professor  Murray  will  readily  perceive  in  this  extract  the  internal 
evidence  of  his  authorship,  and  be  reminded  how  contiguous,  in  his  case,  lay  the 
elements  of  jocularity  and  seriousness, — how  entirely  compatible  in  him  were 
the  love  of  merriment,  and  the  deepest  sense  of  religion;  and  how  easily  and 
naturally  he  could  pass  from  the  most  laughing  enjoyment  of  the  one  to  the  exer- 
cise of  the  strongest  emotions  of  the  other,  fiut  further, — ^by  the  close  of  the 
extract,  in  connection  with  its  date,  we  are  reminded  of  a  great  and  important 
change  that  occurred  in  his  religious  history  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  by 
which  his  ministry  was  divided  into  two  distinct  periods.  One  was  to  the  other 
as  the  ministry  of  John  tlie  Baptist  to  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel  after  the  out- 
pouring of  the  Spirit.  Our  friend  had  never  before  witnessed  a  special  revival  of 
religion.  But  now  it  pleased  God  to  visit  the  congregation  in  which  he  preached, 
and  many  other  congregations  in  the  Presbytery  of  Washington,  with  a  glorious 
season  of  refreshing,  and  Professor  Murray,  though  long  before  this  date,  1  doubt 
not,  a  converted  man,  was  signally  honoured  both  in  sharing  and  promoting  this 
memorable  work  of  grace.  lie  had  before  been  baptized  with  water  unto 
repentance,  but  now  he  was  baptized  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  fire.  His 
preaching  had  alwa^'s  been  in  form  evangelical, — but  in  the  former  period, 
though  there  was  much  of  the  spirit  and  power  of  Elias,  there  was  little  of  the 
simplicit}'  and  pathos  of  the  Apostles.  Richard  Cecil,  in  his  life  of  the  Hon.  and 
Rev.  W.  B.  Cadogan,  remarks  that,  at  an  early  stage  of  his  progress,  **  while  he 
reasoned  of  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judghient  to  come,  he  was  said  to 
have  done  it  in  too  harsh  a  tone.  He  had  light  enough  to  perceive  that  men  were 
far  gone  from  God,  but  he  had  not  himself  sufficiently  tasted  the  sweetness  of 
that  dispensation  of  mercy,  which  furnishes  the  strongest  argument  for  bringing 
them  back  again.  There  is  a  hard,  dry,  and  repelling  mode  of  reproof,  which 
tends  rather  to  shut  up  the  heart  than  to  open  it.  The  tempest  may  roar,  and 
point  its  hail-shot  at  the  traveller;  but  he  will  rather  wrap  himself  closer  in  his 
cloak  than  quit  it,  till  the  sun  breaks  out  again."  Bating  the  harshness  alleged 
against  Cadogan,  this  remark  was  applicable  to  Murray;  and  there  was  a  time 
when  it  was  said  of  his  preaching, — **It  is  too  intellectual  and  ambitious:  it 
lacks  heart  and  self-consecration."  At  that  time  he  could  scarcely  sacrifice  a 
classic  sentence  to  save  a  soul;  but  now  he  could  say, — '*  I  count  all  things  but 
loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus,  my  Lord."  Ue  had 
always  preached  Christ;  but  oh,  how  differently!  He  had  preached  Him  as  the 
Baptist  did :  **  This  is  He  of  whom  I  spake,  and  Ikneto  himnot.  But  now  he  saw 
and  bare  record,  and  with  his  admiring  eyes  upon  Him,  he  cried  to  his  hearers, — 
Behold,  the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world!  This  illumi- 
nation of  our  brother's  mind — to  borrow  again  the  language  of  Cecil — was  not 
that  cold  apprehension  of  evangelical  truth,  in  which,  like  the  moonshine  of  a 
frosty  night,  much  may  be  seen,  but  nothing  grows;  but  was  like  the  light  of 
the  sun,  vivifying  and  expansive."  He  had  become  a  child  of  the  light  and  of 
the  day,  a  child  not  of  the  moon  but  of  the  sun;  and  now,  with  the  beloved  dis- 
ciple, he  could  say, — "  That  which  we  have  seen  with  our  eyes,  which  we  have 
looked  upon,  and  our  hands  have  handled  of  the  word  of  life,  declare  we  unto 
you,  that  ye  also  may  have  fellowship  with  us;  and  truly  our  fellowship  is  with 
the  Father  and  with  his  sou  Jesus  Christ."    Before  this  change  came  over  him, 


KKIfiOLAS  MURBAY.  "J^ 

"before  he  had  received  this  special  wieiion  from  the  JEMy  One,  he  could  preadi 
httt  seldom,  and  not  without  the  most  finished  preparation;  but  now  he  could 
adopt  the  maxim  of  the  venerable  Dr.  Livingston, — *'  Semper  paratus,'*  and  if 
necessarjr,  like  the  present  young  Whitefield  of  London,  preach  e^wy  day  and 
electrify  the  crowds  that  flocked  to  hear  him.  Before,  he  was  more  ambitious  of 
preaching  to  the  higher  classes  of  society,  and  they  especially  were  his  admirers; 
but  now  **  the  common  people  heard  him  gladly;  **  and  if,  as  in  the  case  of  Spur* 
geon,  it  was  contemptuously  said  *^  the  rabble  ran  after  him,"  he  too  could  cry, 
then  **  God  save  the  rabble." 

It  ought  to  bo  added  that  all  the  zc&l  which  he  now  displayed  was  character* 
ized  by  unfeigned  humility,  and  a  most  lovely  Christian  spirit. 

Most  truly  and  affectionately  yours, 

H.  R.  WEED. 


FROM  THE  REV.  H.  G.  COMINGO. 

Stett  BEN  VILLI,  O.,  Jnly  27, 1857. 

My  dear  Sir:  At  your  suggestion  and  request,  I  most  cheerfully  sketch  a  few 
recollections  of  the  late  Professor  Nicholas  Murray.  As  a  member  of  the  same 
Synod,  and  as  a  Trustee  of  the  College  with  which  he  was  connected,  I  was 
brought  frequently  in  contact  with  this  remarkable  person,  and  formed  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  him,  lasting  for  several  years.  In  the  earlier  part  of 
this  period,  I  often  heard  him  preach,  and  saw  him  in  the  official  relation  he 
sustained  to  the  College.  As  a  preacher,  he  was  accustomed,  at  that  time,  to 
make  the  most  elaborate  preparations;  and,  by  laborious  processes  of  memory, 
always  so  commanded  these  preparations  that  he  delivered  sermons — ^somewhat, 
in  character,  like  those  of  Bishop  Butler,  without  the  aid  of  a  single  note.  I 
always  heard  him  with  admiration  and  surprise;  yet,  over  all  this  polished 
diction  and  powerful  logic,  there  seemed  to  be  an  icy  coldness, — even  though  he 
spoke  with  great  emphasis  and  animation.  As  a  teacher,  he  was  most  accurate 
and  thorough, — laying  deep  and  broad  the  grammatical  basis  of  each  language  in 
the  minds  of  his  classes,  and  exploring  the  profoundest  depths  of  its  philosophy. 
His  pupils,  who  were  at  all  disposed  to  avail  themselves  of  their  advantages, 
I  believe  were  almost  universally  distinguished,  when  brought  in  contact  with 
the  graduates  of  other  colleges.  He  was,  at  this  period,  a  person  of  unbounded 
ambition,  and  his  own  accuracy  and  critical  skill  presented  to  his  mind  a 
constant  temptation  to  expatiate  upon  the  imperfections  and  inaccuracies  of 
others.  The  indulgence  of  this  habit,  connected  with  a  natural  vein  of  face- 
tiousness,  often  served  to  wound  the  feelings  of  his  brethren,  and  lessen  their 
complacency  in  his  society. 

The  few  last  months  of  his  life  have  a  special  interest  connected  with  them, 
and  to  this  period  I  wish  more  particularly  to  confine  my  remarks.  He  was 
employed  in  preaching  to  a  church  within  a  few  miles  of  Washington,  which 
has  been  signally  blessed  with  revivals  of  religion.  In  one  of  these.  Professor 
Murray  was  permitted  to  labour,  with  great  interest, — perhaps  about  a  year 
before  his  death.  At  that  time,  he  was  the  subject  of  remarkable  exercises,  that 
resulted  in  a  most  striking  change  in  his  views  and  feelings,  as  well  as  in  his 
prayers  and  ministrations.  He  became  pre-eminently  a  man  of  faith.  When 
he  opened  his  lips  to  address  the  throne  of  grace,  he  seemed  to  stand  at  the  very 
gate  of  Heaven;  and  when  he  preached,  it  appeared  that  his  mind  was  so 
absorbed  svith  the  person,  ofiices,  and  mediatorial  glory,  of  the  Redeemer,  that 
his  soul  was  literally  on  fire.  The  burden  of  all  his  messages  was  Christ  and 
Him  crucified.  In  my  correspondence  with  him  about  preaching  in  my  congre- 
gation, the  winter  before  his  death,  I  was  profoundly  impressed  by  the  striking 
change  in  the  tone  of  his  letters — instead  of  sarcasms  and  criticisms,  almost 

Vol.  IV.  100 


791  F&BSBYTJ&1UAN. 

every  sentence  indiented  an  ouUlowing  ef  hit  love  to  Christ,  and  his  gloving 
zeal  in  his  cause,  connected  with  a  childlike  humilitj  that  at  onoe  amazed  me, 
and  toached  mj  ovrn  heart  with  a  strange  power. 

At  the  appointed  time,  in  February — only  about  six  weeks  before  his  death, 
he  came  to  preach  to  my  congregation,  during  a  Communion  season.  He  was 
full  of  fervour  and  zeal  for  his  Master.  He  spoke  freely  of  his  change  of  views, 
and  the  glory  with  which  the  Cross  had  recently  been  invested  to  his  mind  and 
heart,  and  of  his  surprise  that  it  had  never  burst  upon  him  before.  When  he 
preached  his  first  sermon  on  this  occasion,  the  text  of  which  was,  ''  If  any  man 
thirst,  let  liim  come  unto  me  and  drink,"  several  persons  were  present  who  had 
known  and  heard  him  before,  and  they  were  amazed  at  the  wonderful  change  in 
the  manner  and  spirit  of  the  man.  He  occupied  almost  every  moment  of  his 
time,  in  his  room,  during  his  stay  at  my  house,  in  prayer  and  preparation.  At 
very  late  hours  of  the  night,  he  was  walking  his  room,  and  overwhelmed,  as  I 
incidentally  learned,  with  such  glowing  contemplations  of  his  Saviour,  that  sleep 
fled  from  his  eyes.  Tlie  services  were  deeply  interesting.  I  think  I  have  never 
heard  any  man  preach  with  such  pathos  and  power  as  he  did  in  these  successive 
sermons.  Hardened  unbelievers  and  scoffers  admitted  that  they  could  not  refrain 
froui  tears.  Some, — and  men  too  who  were  unused  to  weep, — alleged  that  they 
staid  away  because  they  could  not  control  their  feelings.  I  heard  of  one  obdu- 
rate infidel,  who  was  chained  to  his  seat  under  one  of  his  sermons, — who  whis- 
pered to  his  companion  that  he  would  give  any  thing  to  be  out  of  that  place. 
In  his  conversations  at  the  fireside,  he  was  constantly  recurring  to  the  efficacy 
of  prayer,  and  to  the  great  importance  of  faith, — strong,  earnest,  realizing  iaith. 
He  spoke  with  decided  disapprobation  of  his  former  course  of  uncharitableness 
and  severity,  and  exhibited  in  his  remarks  of  others  a  gentle  and  kindly  spirit. 
A  considerable  number  of  persons  were  deeply  impressed,  and  led  seriously  to 
inquire  what  they  should  do  to  be  saved,  during  these  exercises.  For  these 
especially  he  felt  the  deepest  interest,  and  sent  to  me  frequent  communications, 
bearing  specific  and  encouraging  messages  to  each  one,  adapted  to  the  peculiar 
phase  of  his  case.  The  most  affectionate  sympathy  he  uniformly  expressed, 
for  those  engaged  in  the  pastoral  work.  To  such,  in  the  surrounding  region,  he 
was  ever  ready  to  go,  even  for  many  miles,  through  cold  and  rain,  that  he  might 
cheer  them  on  in  their  work,  and  assist  them  by  his  labours.  His  greatest 
delight  was  to  point  men  to  that  Saviour  who  is  both  able  and  willing  to  .save  to 
the  uttermost.  Just  before  his  death,  he  was  present  where  about  one  hundred 
were  admitted  into  a  neighbouring  Church,  at  one  Communion  season.  This  was 
a  joy  to  his  soul  almost  too  great  to  be  borne.  I  think  it  was  from  this  church 
that  he  returned  to  languish  a  few  days  and  die.  Immediately  after  he  was  taken 
ill,  he  became  convinced  that  his  work  was  done.  His  expressions  of  confidence 
and  joy  in  the  Saviour,  were  most  rapturous  and  cheering;  and  thus  he  took  his 
flight  to  the  presence  of  Him  whom  he  so  dearly  loved  to  preach  to  dying  men, 
and  whom  he  most  earnestly  longed  to  behold, — persuaded  that  he  should  see 
Him  as  He  is,  and  be  like  Him.  The  last  year  of  his  life,  in  religious  experience 
and  ministerial  usefulness,  I  doubt  not,  greatly'  exceeded  all  the  jears  that  had 
preceded. 

In  the  recollection  of  this  remarkable  experience,  I  am  oflen  ready  to  say, — 
what  stupendous  results  would  accrue  to  our  sin-ruined  world,  were  the  entire 
ministry  baptized  with  a  similar  measure  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  sent  forth  to 
their  work  with  like  zeal,  faith,  earnestness,  and  power. 

Very  truly  and  faithfully  yours, 

HENBT  G.  COMINGO. 


FRA50IS  S.  SAMPSON.  795 


FRANCIS  S.  SAMPSON,  D.  D  * 

1839—1854. 

Francis  S.  Sampson  was  the  son  of  Eichard  Sampson,  a  distingaislied 
agriculturist  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Dover  Mills,  in  the  County  of  Gooch- 
land, Ya.  He  was  born  in  November,  1814.  At  the  age  of  sixteen,  he 
Tvas  placed  at  the  school  and  in  the  family  of  the  Rev.  Thornton  Ilogers,t  of 
Albermarle,  who  was  his  maternal  uncle.  Up  to  this  time,  he  had  devoted 
Limself,  without  much  restraint,  to  youthful  vanities  and  follies,  and  bad 
indulged  in  a  habit  of  profane  swearing.  But  finding  himself  now  in  a  reli- 
gious atmosphere,  his  mind,  by  an  almost  imperceptible  influence,  gradually 
took  on  a  serious  tone,  and  for  about  twelve  months  he  was  in  a  state  of 
deep  religious  concern ;  though,  from  the  fear  of  ridicule,  he  studiously 
concealed  his  feelings,  and  sometimes  struggled  against  them.  In  the 
spring  of  1881,  he  chanced  to  hear  a  Sermon  from  the  Rev.  B.  F.  Stanton, 
then  of  Prince  Edward,  from  the  text — **  Secret  things  belong  unto  the 
Lord  thy  God  ;"  and  the  effect  of  it  was  to  fill  him  with  apprehension  and 
distress,  and  induce  a  resolution  to  seek  more  earnestly  the  salvation  of  his 
soul.  But  the  fear  of  reproach  and  the  love  of  sin  still  continued  to  operate ; 
and,  on  being  sneeriugly  charged  by  one  of  his  school-fellows,  who  had 
observed  in  him  a  change  of  deportment,  with  **  getting  pious,*' — in  order 
to  vindicate  himself  from  such  a  suspicion,  he  uttered  a  terrible  oath.  But 
no  sooner  had  it  passed  from  his  lips,  than  his  remorse  became  intolerable, 
and  he  was  overwhelmed  with  anxiety  lest  he  had  committed  the  unpardon- 
able sin.  This  was  the  immediate  harbinger  of  the  joy  and  peace  in  believ- 
ing. He  now  cast  himself,  as  he  believed,  upon  his  gracious  Redeemer, 
and  entered  with  full  purpose  of  heart  on  the  way  to  Heaven.  His  uncle, 
who,  until  this  time,  had  not  even  suspected  that  he  had  any  serious  thoughts, 
but  had  deprecated  the  influence  of  his  profaneness  upon  hts  own  family, 
was  equally  surprised  and  delighted  to  be  informed  by  a  written  communi- 
cation from  him,  of  the  great  change  of  which  he  hoped  he  bad  become  the 
subject.  It  was  to  the  influence  of  Mr.  Rogers'  daily  example,  more  than 
any  thing  else,  that  young  Sampson  attributed  his  conversion. 

He  made  a  profession  of  religion,  and  became  a  member  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  in  Charlottesville,  then  in  charge  of  the  Rev.  Francis  Bow- 

•  Memoir  hj  Dr.  Babney.— MSS.  from  Mrs.  Dr.  J.  H.  Rice,  and  Rof.  William  S.  White, 
D.  D. 

t  Thorxtox  Roobrs  viM  bom  of  Presbjterian  parents,  in  the  Coantj  of  Albermarle,  Ya., 
December  24, 1793.  The  first  olassioal  school  he  attended  was  conducted  at  Gordonsville,  Ya., 
hy  the  celebrated  Dr.  James  Waddel.  He  iabseqiiently  attended  another  olawioal  school,  of  a 
very  high  order,  taught  near  his  father's,  by  a  Mr.  William  Robertson ;  but  he  never  entered 
College.  He  was  made  a  ruling  elder  at  an  early  age,  under  the  ministrations  of  the  late  Rev. 
William  J.  Armstrong,  D.  D.  His  occasional  addresses  in  prirate  meetings  were  so  pertinent 
and  excellent  as  to  l^id  some  of  his  friends  to  suggest  to  him  the  idea  of  devoting  himself  to 
the  ministry;  and  he  finally  yielded  to  the  suzgcstion,  and,  after  prosecuting  his  theological 
studies  under  many  disadvantages,  wae  licensed  oy  the  Hanover  Presbytery,  in  1829.  He  con- 
tinned  to  reside  on  his  small  farm,  and  to  preach  to  the  people  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  heard 
him  with  great  pleasure  and  profit.  In  August,  1833,  he  was  ordained  at  Gordonsville,  in  the 
same  house  of  worship  in  which  Wirt  heard  that  incomparable  eflbrt  fh>m  the  ''blind  preacher.*' 
The  little  fiock  of  which  he  now  took  the  spiritual  oversight,  neatly  loved  htm,  and  reoeived 
much  benefit  from  his  ministrations.  But  ho  was  not  permitted  to  serve  them  long.  Jost  one 
irear  after  his  ordination,  he  was  attacked  with  a  fever,  of  which  he  died  Septemoer  1,  1834. 
He  was  an  eminently  devout  and  godly  man,  and  his  death-bed  presented  a  wonderfbl  iUostra* 
tion  of  the  all -sustaining  power  of  Christian  faith. 


796  PRS3fiTTERIAK. 

man,  on  the  18th  of  August,  1881.  On  the  10th  of  September  following, 
he  entered  the  University  of  Virginia,  and  continued  his  studies  there  till 
July,  1836,  taking  a  very  extensive  and  thorough  course,  not  only  in  the 
academic  departments,  but  in  the  schools  of  Junior  Law,  Anatomy,  and 
Physiology,  and  securiog  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  which  was  then 
attained  by  very  few.  The  influence  of  the  University  of  Virginia  was  at 
that  Mine  wholly  adverse  to  the  culture  of  religious  feeling ;  and  yet,  by  his 
conscientiousness  and  decision  on  the  one  hand,  and  his  courtesy  and  kind* 
ness  on  the  other,  he  succeeded  at  once  in  exhibiting  a  fine  example  of  the 
Christian  graces,  and  in  securing  the  respect  and  attachment  of  even  those 
who  had  no  sympathy  with  his  religious  convictions  or  feelings. 

On  the  9th  of  November,  1886,  Mr.  Sampson  became  a  member  of  the 
Union  Theological  Seminary,  Va.  Here  also  his  course  was  marked  by 
great  diligence  and  success  in  study,  and  by  an  eminently  consistent  and 
devoted  Christian  life.  On  the  resignation  of  Professor  Ballantine,  in  the 
spring  of  1888,  he  was  appointed  teacher  of  Hebrew,  and  from  that  time 
continued  to  peiform  other  duties  of  the  Oriental  department.  He  was 
licensed  to  preach  by  the  East  Hanover  Presbytery,  in  October,  1839,  and 
was  ordained  as  an  Evangelist,  by  the  same  Presbytery,  in  October,  1841. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1846,  he  sufifered  a  severe  attack  of  pleurisy, 
which  was  occasioned  immediately  by  fatigue  and  exposure  in  preaching, 
but  probably  owed  its  more  remote  origin  to  excessive  and  protracted  appli- 
cation to  study.  Though  the  disease  for  a  time  seemed  likely  to  have  a 
fatal  issue,  it  was  finally  subdued ;  but  his  constitution  received  a  shock  from 
which  it  never  recovered.  In  the  summer  of  1848,  he  crossed  the  ocean, 
and,  after  spending  nearly  a  year  in  Europe,  chiefly  at  the  Universities  of 
Halle  and  Berlin,  in  the  prosecution  of  his  Oriental  studies,  he  returned  in 
August,  1849.  In  October,  1848,  he  was  elected  Professor  of  Oriental 
literature  and  languages  in  the  Seminary  with  which  he  had  been  con- 
nected ;  but  he  had  for  many  years  performed  the  work  of  a  full  Professor, 
though  with  the  title  and  compensation  of  an  assistant. 

He  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Hampden  Sidney 
College  in  1849. 

Though  Dr.  Sampson,  on  his  return  from  Europe,  was  so  much  invigora- 
ted in  health  as  to  relieve  his  friends,  in  a  great  measure,  from  anxiety  in 
respect  to  him,  he  was  soon  attacked  by  a  nervous  fever,  which  left  him 
with  some  threatening  indications  of  pulmonary  disease.  But  though  his 
bodily  system  was  evidently  much  disordered  and  enfeebled,  he  continued 
to  perform  his  official  duties ;  and  for  a  few  of  the  last  months  of  his  life, 
cheered  on  by  the  increasing  prosperity  of  the  Seminary,  and  the  fresh 
tokens  of  favour  it  was  receiving  from  the  ministers  and  the  churches, 
he  seemed  to  address  himself  to  his  various  duties  with  more  than  his 
former  vigour  and  cheerfulness.  When  some  of  his  friends  ventured  to 
expostulate  with  him  for  over-tasking  his  strength,  he  answered — **  Perhaps 
I  have  but  a  few  days  or  weeks  more,  in  which  to  do  my  task.  I  must 
work  the  works  of  Him  that  sent  me  while  it  is  day.'*  These  solemn  and 
earnest  sayings  of  his  proved  sadly  prophetic. 

On  Sunday  the  2d  of  April,  1854,  he  preached  in  the  College  Church, 
in  the  absence  of  the  Pastor,  and  with  a  degree  of  power  and  fervour, 
which  he  had  rarely,  if  ever,  exhibited.  After  the  services  of  the  day,  he 
retired  to  rest,  apparently  in  his  usual  health — his  last  act  having  been  to 


FRAKGIS  S.  SAMPSON.  797 

administer  io  ibe  oomfoii  of  a  siok  servant.  Before  the  next  morning, 
he  was  taken  seriously  ill,  and  his  disease  proved  an  insidious  and  fatal 
pnenmonla.  After  a  week  of  great  suffering, — endured,  however,  with  the 
utmost  patience,  and  an  entire  confidence  in  the  grace  and  faithfulness  of 
God,  he  died  on  Sabbath  afternoon,  the  9th  of  April,  in  the  fortieth  year 
of  his  age.  On  Tuesday  following,  he  was  borne  to  the  grave,  in  the 
Seminary  burying- ground,  by  the  hands  of  his  pupils,  and  in  the  presence 
of  an  immense  multitude,  which  seemed  like  one  vast  congregation  of 
mourners. 

Dr.  Sampson  was  married  in  1840,  to  Caroline,  daughter  of  llussell 
Dudley,  of  Kichmond,  Ya.  They  had  six  children, — ^four  sons  and  two 
daughters. 

In  1851,  Dr.  Sampson  delivered,  at  the  University  of  Virginia,  a  lecture 
on  **  the  authority  of  the  Sacred  Canon,  and  the  integrity  of  the  Sacred 
Text,*'  which  was  afterwards  published,  in  connection  with  the  series  of 
which  it  formed  a  part.  In  1856,  there  was  published,  under  the  editorial 
supervision  of  his  successor.  Dr.  Dabney,  a  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  which  he  had  prepared,  and  which  shows  that  he  was  no 
ordinary  proficient  in  Biblical  learning. 


FROM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  L.  DABNEY,  D.  D., 

paoiEssoa  in  the  union  theolooioal  ssxinabt,  va. 

Union  Thbologioal  SnnNAav,  > 
February  17,  1867.  J 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  My  first  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Sampson  was  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1837,  when  he  was  a  Junior  student  in  this  Seminary,  and  I  a  youth 
attending  the  exercises  of  Hampden  Sidney  College  hard  by.  The  College  enjoyed 
that  summer  a  powerful  revival,  in  which  not  only  the  Professors,  but  some  of 
the  students  of  the  Seminary,  laboured  in  concert  with  the  officers  of  the  former 
institution.  Dr.  Sampson  then  gave  me,  on  one  or  two  occasions,  some  Chris- 
tian counsel  of  a  very  sober,  judicious  and  afibctionate  character.  At  the  close 
of  one  of  these  interviews  in  my  room,  as  I  had  begun  to  exercise  a  trembling 
hope  in  Christ,  he  put  in  my  hands  the  little  tract  of  Dr.  Ashbel  Green,  entitled 
"Questions  and  Counsel  for  young  Converts,^'  — marking,  as  he  did  so,  with  his 
pencil,  the  sentence  where  the  venerable  author  urges  his  readers  to  go  over  the 
questions  weekly.    This  tract  was  of  great  use  to  me. 

In  1844,  T  returned  to  this  place  as  a  student  of  Divinity.  Dr.  Sampson  then 
held  the  post  of  assistant  Professor,  teaching  the  Ilebrew  language  and  exposi- 
tion, the  department  of  Biblical  Introduction  generally,  and  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews.  I  sat  under  his  instruction  throughout  my  whole  course  with  great 
profit;  and,  in  common  with  my  comrades,  visited  him  and  his  amiable  wife  in 
our  seasons  of  recreation,  and  enjoyed  much  personal  conversation  with  him. 
After  I  entered  the  active  labours  of  the  ministry,  (in  an  adjoining  Presbytery,) 
I  met  liim  occasionally  at  Synods,  and  always  with  pleasure. 

In  the  spring  of  1853,  I  was  elected  to  the  Professorship  of  Church  History 
and  Government  in  the  Seminary.  He  immediately  wrote,  most  cordially  urging 
me  to  accept  the  post.  This  I  ultimately  concluded  to  do,  and  beaime  his 
Colleague  in  August  of  that  year.  A  large  part  of  the  summer  vacation  imme- 
diately preceding  my  entrance  on  my  labours  in  Prince  Edward,  we  spent 
together,  at  watering  places,  and  at  my  house  in  Western  Virginia.  He  at  once 
received  me  as  an  equal  to  his  intimacy,  with  an  unaffected  cordiality  and  sim- 
plicity which  speedily  effaced  all  remains  of  the  feeling  of  pupilage,  that  was  left 


7W  PSBSBTTERXiLK. 

from  my  inferior  relaiioDt  to  him  a  lew  ymn  bef#r0.  He  v»s  then  full  Prolesaor 
of  Oriental  Literature.  He  had  been  g^reaUy  afflicted  by  feeble  health,  but  was 
apparently  recuperating,  and  was  buoyed  up  by  lively  animal  spirits,  the  most 
constant  and  delightful  Christian  joys,  and  bright  hopes  of  the  coming  prosperity 
of  his  fayourite  institution.  His  studies  had  not  led  him  at  all  into  my  depart- 
ment of  instruction  since  his  own  licensure;  but  I  received  from  him  invaluable 
aid,-— coming  to  my  work,  as  I  did,  raw  and  unskilled.  Although  he  had  been, 
for  fifteen  years,  wholly  devoted,  as  it  seemed,  to  his  favourite  studies,  he  was 
about  as  well  informed  in  my  department  as  you  would  expect  to  find  the  very 
best  Divinity  student  on  the  day  he  presents  himself  for  trial,  with  all  the  addi* 
clonal  power  and  breadth  of  thought  which  he  derived  from  his  mature  trainiog. 
Thanoeforward,  until  his  death  the  next  April,  we  were  next-door  neighbours,  in 
constant  and  most  familiar  professional  and  social  intercourse.  We  oonfenred 
together  of  all  our  interests,  and  all  the  subjects  of  inquiry  which  occupied  our 
minds.  Thus  my  acquaintance  speedily  grew  into  an  affection,  (which  it  is 
my  pride  to  believe  he  reciprocated,)  such  that  I  have  little  hope  I  shall  ever 
enjoy  many  like  it,  this  side  of  Heaven.  I  may  say  indeed,  in  the  graphic  words 
which  describe  the  friendship  of  Jonathan  and  David, — *'  My  soul  was  knit  with 
his  soul."  And  ever  since  his  death,  my  heart  has  not  ceased  to  respond  to  the 
wail  of  David  for  his  friend, — **  I  am  distressed  for  thee  my  brother — very  plea- 
sant hast  thou  been  unto  me;  thy  love  to  me  was  wonder  Ail,  passing  the  love  of 
women."  I  have  enjoyed  therefore  the  fullest  opportunities  for  knowing  him. 
My  only  disqualification  for  making  a  judicious  estimate  of  his  character  is  the 
pairtiality  of  my  affection. 

Dr.  Sampson  was  in  person  light  and  graceful,  and  of  a  florid  complexion. 
His  personal  habits,  as  to  diet,  sleep,  and  recreation,  were  simple,  methodical  and 
temperate,  without  being  ascetic.  His  dress  was  scrupulously  neat  and  appro- 
priate, without  the  faintest  approach  to  display.  In  his  approaches  to  his  fellow- 
men,  there  was  the  happiest  union  of  unaffected  modesty  and  graceful  quietude 
with  Christian  dignity.  Yet  his  was  a  dignity  which  repelled  no  advances  of 
affection  or  confidence,  nor  any  thing  but  impertinence.  His  friends  who  most 
desired  to  see  him  shine  in  society,  as  his  solid  worth  entitled  him,  sometines 
accounted  him  too  modest.  Yet,  with  a  modesty  which  almost  amounted  to 
diffidence,  he  was  the  farthest  of  all  men  (Vom  a  timid  or  truckling  expression  of 
his  opinions.  When  an  erroneous  sentiment  which  he  conceived  to  be  of  any 
importance,  was  theust  upon  him  in  conversation,  he  most  distinctly  defended 
his  own  opinion,  with  a  singular  union  of  inflexible,  even  impracticable,  mental 
honesty,  and  courteous  deference.  He  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  be 
wheedled  into  the  softening  of  a  truth  down,  or  the  admission  of  a  faint  shade 
of  the  error  he  had  been  opposing,  by  any  of  the  blandishments  of  politeness, 
or  by  the  fear  of  seeming  too  pertinacious.  Much  of  the  singular  amiability  of  his 
social  character  is  no  doubt  to  be  attributed  to  the  influence  of  grace.  Had  he 
grown  up  unconverted,  he  would  have  been  known  as  a  man  of  high  and  deter- 
mined temper,  of  energetic  will,  and  persevering  activity.  Divine  grace  softened 
what  was  violent,  and  refined  what  was  valuable,  in  his  temperament,  until  the 
result  was  a  rare  and  lovely  union  of  the  strong  and  the  sweet. 

One  of  Dr.  Sampson's  most  striking  and  valuable  traits  was  his  methodical 
industry.  To  any  one  who  knows  his  anoe8tr}^  it  is  very  plain  that  this  quality 
was  received  from  them,  both  by  inheritance  and  inculcation.  That  whatever  is 
worth  doing  is  worth  doing  well;  that  each  task  must  be  done  with  one's  might 
in  just  so  much  time  as  is  needed  to  do  it  perfectly,  and  no  more;  that  no  task  is 
to  be  left  till  all  is  perfected  which  can  be  done  to  advantage — these  were  the 
rules  of  working  which  he  carried  with  him  from  the  time  of  his  boyhood  to  the 
school,  the  University,  the  study,  the  lecture-room.  The  same  thoroughness,  the 
same  deep  ploughing,  the  satne  complete  harrowing,  the  same  utter  esiirpfttioa 


FBAMCXS  S.  &AJIF80X.  799 

of  obsttructions,  the*  s»me  perfect  finish  which  characterized  the  farm  of  hia 
lather,  prerailed  iu  hia  scholarship  and  instructions. 

One  of  the  roost  prominent  traits  of  Dr.  Sampson's  Christian  character  was 
the  uniformity  and  healthfuhness  of  his  devotional  spirit.  While  his  private 
habits  iu  this  matter  were  covered  with  a  sacred  veil,  which  none  dared  to 
attempt  to  lift,— drawn  alike  by  the  reverence  and  the  modesty  of  his  spirits- 
has  profiting  WAS  so  outwardly  evident  to  all,  that  no  one  could  doubt  his  dili- 
gence in  the  closet.  While  his  brief  diary  laments  occasional  spiritual  declen- 
sions, there  is  reason  to  believe  that  he  never  knew  what  it  was  to  lose  the 
assurance  of  hope;  and  that  the  flame  of  devotion  burned  in  him  with  a  glow 
unusually  steady.  In  public,  his  prayers  were  eminently  edifying  to  believers^ 
marked  by  scriptural  tone,  humble  sincerity,  appropriateness  and  comprehen- 
siveness. But  to  know  the  sweetness  of  his  spirit  of  prayer  fully,  one  must  have 
enjoyed  the  privilege  of  being  an  inmate  of  his  house,  and  frequenting  his  domes- 
tic altar.  Family  prayers  were,  in  his  house,  no  hurried,  unmeaning  form.  The 
whole  air  and  tone  of  the  exercise  showed  deep  sincerity  and  earnestness.  After 
a  daily  catechising  of  children  and  servants,  the  reading  ot  the  Word  of  God, 
and  a  hymn  of  praise,  he  bowed  his  knees  with  a  composed  awe  and  seriousness, 
which  seemed  to  communicate  itself  to  all  the  circle.  W^hat  deep  sincerity,  what 
discrimination  and  justice,  what  point,  what  fulness,  what  grave  tenderness, 
characterised  those  prayers,  as  he  brought  before  the  throne  of  grace  his  house- 
hold— his  children,  his  servants,  his  relatives,  his  bretliren  in  Christ,  the  Semi- 
nary, the  Chnrch,  and  the  whole  interests  of  a  perishing  world ! 

Dr..  Sampson  was  eminently  conscientious  in  every  thing,  and  in  nothing  more 
than  in  the  use  of  property.  Whether  his  circumstances  were  scanty  or  afflucnt,- 
he  was  simple  in  his  tastes,  unostentatious  in  his  person,  and  economical  from 
principle.  In  accordance  with  the  general  system  of  all  his  habits,  he  kept  an 
exact  account  of  all  expenditures— a  thing  which  is,  indeed,  a  necessary  founda- 
tion for  the  proper  practice  both  of  Christian  liberality  and  Christian  economy. 
He  was  economical  only  in  order  to  have  the  means  to  be  liberal.  His  Christian 
hospitality  was  overflowing;  and  it  was  truly  the  hospitality  of  a  Christian  min- 
ister, designed  not  for  its  own  display,  but  for  the  bestowal  of  comfort  on  others. 
To  every  cause  he  gave,  always  with  the  heart,  and  when  his  means  became 
ample,  with  the  hand,  of  a  prince.  It  was  one  of  the  secrets  which  his  Christian 
modesty  never  roToaled,  that  he  kept  a  strict  account  between  himself  and  God, 
in  which  all  sources  of  income  were  stated  with  scrupulous  exactness,  and  a  fixed 
and  liberal  portion  of  the  same  was  set  apart  to  alms -giving;  and  this  account 
was  balanced  with  as  much  regularity  as  his  bank-book.  Meanwhile,  he  was 
not  without  the  pretext,  which  many  professors  of  religion  find,  for  stinting  their 
liberality,  in  the  claims  of  a  growing  family. 

I  must  say  something  of  Dr.  Sampson  as  an  instructer;  for  in  his  practical 
skill  in  this  department  was,  I  think,  his  peculiar  yalue  to  the  Church  in  our  day. 
I  hesitate  not  to  say  that,  as  a  master  of  the  art  of  communicating  knowledge, 
he  was,  in  my  Tiew,  unrivalled.  It  was  not  that  his  lectures  presented  those 
grand  sayings  which  electrify  for  the  moment,  nor  that  any  one  of  his  efforts  pro- 
duced on  the  pupil  an  impress  of  pre-eminent  talent,-*-but  there  was  just  the 
oombination  of  that  justness  of  mind,  steady  animation,  thorough  knowledge, 
patience  and  tact,  which  give  the  highest  skill  in  teaching,  both  as  it  is  a  trade 
and  as  it  is  a  science.  He  was  equal  to  its  profoundest  researches.  He  shunned 
none  of  its  most  irksome  drudgeries.  One  of  the  foundation  stones  of  his  suc- 
cess was  his  own  indisputable  scholarship.  No  man  ever  passed  through  one  of 
his  classes,  without  a  profound  and  admiring  conviction  of  this.  Another  was  in 
his  aii&iling  animation  and  vivadty  of  mind,  which  was  so  keen,  eyen  on  sub- 
jects usually  esteeoied  dry,  as  to  seem  unaccountable  to  many.  The  exertion  of 
foioe  and  body  which  he  uvcoiiaeioaBly  employed*  when  thoroughly  warmed  t« 


800  PU8BTTSBIAN. 

his  work,  was  oftea  the  subject  of  playful  remark  between  him  and  his  colleagues. 
This  aoimation  communicated  itself  to  his  pupils, — so  that  usually  their  highest 
diligence  was  exerted  in  his  department,  though  it  was  one  not  most  attractiTe  to 
all  minds.  But  to  this  result,  another  quality,  which  is  invaluable  to  the  teacher, 
also  contributed.  This  was  the  energy  of  his  own  will,  which  pressed  on  towards 
the  objects  of  his  exertion  with  an  impetus  which  swept  all  along  with  it,  and 
communicated  its  own  life  to  the  most  sluggish.  In  every  act  of  his  in  the  class 
room,  there  was  expressed  the  idea  of  work;  and  all  who  frequented  it  soon  felt 
instinctively  that  it  was  not  the  place  for  loitering.  It  might  be  said  that  his 
watchword  was  thorouf;hnB88,  With  an  admirable  patience  he  expounded  his 
subject  so  as  to  make  it  luminous  to  the  weakest  eye;  and  if  his  questions 
revealed  the  fact  that  there  was  still  some  one  who  did  not  fully  comprehend,  he 
would  resume  his  explanation,  and  repeat  in  varied  forms,  till  his  ideas  were 
thoroughly  mastered.  Out  of  this  habit,  and  the  propensity  of  his  mind  to 
thorough  work,  probably  grew  that  which  might  have  been  considered  his  pro- 
minent fault  as  an  instructer.  His  explanations  sometimes  degenerated  into 
excessive  amplification,  which  became  wearisome  to  those  who  had  given  him  a 
moderate  degree  of  attention  from  the  beginning;  and  he  thus  unduly  protracted 
his  prelections. 

His  intercourse  with  his  pupils  was  marked  by  a  happy  union  of  modest  dig- 
nity, which  repelled  improper  encroachments,  and  cordial,  ingenuous  kindness, 
which  conciliated  confidence.  In  his  presence,  each  one  felt  that  there  was  a  sim- 
plicity and  candour  which  set  the  stamp  of  reality  on  every  kind  sttention.  It 
is  believed  that  there  is  not  one  of  his  pupils  who  did  not  feel  for  him  not  only 
respect,  but  warm  affection;  and  many  can  join  in  the  sad  words  of  one  who 
remarked,  when  speaking  of  his  death, — **  Well  I  never  expect  to  meet  with 
another  minister  of  the  Gospel  whom  I  shall  love  and  revere  as  I  did  that  man.*' 
Often  it  was  a  subject  of  wonder  to  his  colleagues  how  so  much  affection  could 
be  retained  from  those  towards  whom  he  exercised  so  much  fidelity  in  admon- 
ishing. 

The  distinctive  traits  of  his  expository  instructions  may  perhaps  be  described 
as  justice  of  thought,  neatness,  and  impartiality  of  mind.  He  believed  the  plenary 
inspiration  of  the  Scriptures.  His  soul  loved  their  spiritual  truths;  and  often  in 
the  lecture-room  he  soared  away  from  the  dry  dissection  of  words  and  proposi- 
tions into  regions  of  devout  meditation,  and  made  his  class  foi^t  for  the  time 
the  exercises  of  the  head,  in  the  nobler  exercises  of  the  heart. 

Dr.  Sampson's  preaching  exhibited  always  the  lucid  order,  and  the  animatios 
of  mind,  which  marked  every  thing  that  he  produced.  His  best  sermons  rose  to 
a  grade  of  excellence  which  is  seldom  displayed  in  any  part  of  the  Church.  And 
it  was  an  excellence  which  was  most  appreciated  by  the  most  cultivated  and 
mature  minds.  Whilst  there  were  other  preachers  who  would  be  more  sought 
aiter  by  the  masses,  he  was  preferred  by  the  men  of  thought  and  acquirement. 
His  plans  of  discussion  were  marked  by  a  just  and  comprehensive  view,  which 
showed  both  the  profound  Theologian,  and  the  ripe  Biblical  scholar,  who  had 
drunk  deep  into  the  spirit  of  the  Word  of  God.  His  propositions  were  usually 
stated  with  singular  accuracy  and  beauty  of  language;  but  it  was  a  beauty 
rather  logical  than  theoretical,  rather  chaste  than  florid.  Indeed  his  whole 
method  of  discussion  wore  an  appearance  of  directness  too  severe  to  admit  of 
any  license  or  ornament.  Yet  in  the  judgment  of  all  those  who  are  capable  of 
appreciating  a  felicitous  purity  and  aptness  of  language,  and  thoughts  of  vigors 
ous  symmetry,  many  passages  in  his  sermons  rose  to  the  highest  grade  of  elo- 
quence, coupled,  as  they  were,  with  his  genuine  fervour  and  fire.  His  preaching 
was  rich  in  matter,  and  eminently  scriptural,  such  as  is  best  fitted  to  feed  the 
spiritual  mind.  It  was  always  remarkable  for  its  elegance  and  elevation,  which 
were  never  tarnished  by  any  thing  coarse  in  allusion,  ludicrous  in  as8octstion»or 


FRANCIS  S.  SAMPSON.  301 

■ 

bangting  in  structure.  But  it  was,  the  least  of  all  men's,  a  finical  elegance.  It 
was  rather  that  ot  an  energetic  and  lofty  simplicity.  That  men  of  strictly  scho- 
lastic training  and  pursuits,  should  excel  in  the  particular  work  of  the  pulpit,  is 
rather  the  exceptiou;  but  he  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  brilliant  of  these 
exceptions.  By  the  intelligent  public  his  preaching  was  even  as  highly  esteemed, 
as  his  professional  labours  were  by  intelligent  students. 

Dr.  Sampson  could  not  be  called  a  genius.  lie  was  what  is  far  better, — a  man 
of  high  talent.  His  mind  presented  nothing  that  was  salient  or  astonishing.  But 
this  was  not  so  much  because  there  was  not  power,  as  because  it  was  power  sym- 
metrically developed,  llis  was  just  one  of  those  excellent  minds,  which  grow 
most  and  largest  by  good  cultivation.  In  wide  and  adventurous  range,  his 
speculative  powers  were  not  equal  to  those  of  some  other  men;  but  in  power  of 
eorrect  analysis,  in  soundness  of  judgment  and  logical  perspicuity,  he  was  supe- 
rior to  all  I  have  ever  known  except  a  very  few.  Indeed  when  a  speculative 
subject  was  fully  spread  out  before  his  mind  for  consideration,  his  conclusions 
seemed  to  be  guided  by  a  penetration  and  justness  of  thought  almost  infallible. 
This  consideration  was  deliberate,  and  his  decision  was  very  rarely  expressed 
with  haste,  or  even  with  promptitude.  Hence  his  writings  and  conversation 
never  exhibited  any  of  that  paradox,  or  that  bold  novelty  and  dangerous  original- 
ity, which  are  too  often  mistaken  for  greatness.  His  talents,  if  they  had  less 
to  awaken  an  empty  astonishment  and  admiration,  were  far  safer,  more  reliable 
and  more  useful.  It  was  hard  for  any  thing  sophistical  or  unsatisfactory  to 
escape  detection  under  his  steady  gaze.  He  was  particularly  free  from  that  com- 
mon fault  of  many  minds  of  large  grasp, — the  adopting  of  major  propositions  so 
large  that  they  will  contain  the  conclusion  which  the  reasoner  desires  to  derive 
from  them ;  but  at  the  same  time  so  shadowy,  that  they  contain  he  knows  not 
how  much  more. 

In  his  powers  of  arrangement  he  was  undoubtedly  superior  to  any  man  I  have 
ever  known.  In  his  mind  the  elements  of  thought  seemed  to  group  themselves 
always,  and  spontaneously,  into  the  most  philosophical  order  possible,  with  a 
regularity  like  that  of  the  atoms  of  limpid  water,  when  they  crystalize  into 
transparent  ice. 

The  efforts  of  Dr.  Sampson's  imagination  were  rather  of  that  kind  which  Mr. 
Macaulay  describes  in  Sir  James  Mackintosh.  They  consisted  not  so  much  in 
the  original  grouping  of  elements  into  new,  but  life-like,  forms,  as  in  selecting 
appropriate  forms  already  shaped  out,  from  the  stores  of  a  well  furnished  memory. 
In  those  severer  exercises  of  imagination,  which  are  required  in  mathematical 
thought,  and  in  the  bodying  forth  of  scientific  conceptions,  this  faculty  was  emi- 
nently distinct  and  vigorous.  But  in  its  more  poetic  exercises  it  was  limited. 
His  power  of  calling  up  that  species  of  illustration  which  is  flowing  and  grace- 
ful, was  scanty;  and  while  the  operations  of  his  faculties,  especially  in  lecturing 
and  preaching,  were  unusually  fervent,  it  was  rather,  so  far  as  it  was  not  spirit- 
ual, the  dry  heat,  if  I  may  so  term  it,  of  intellectual  animation,  than  the  glow 
of  genial  fancies.  And  yet  there  were  a  few  occasions  on  which  he  showed  a 
high  measure  of  the  graphic  or  pictorial  power;  which  might  indicate  that  this 
faculty  was  rather  disused  by  him  than  lacking  in  him.  Another  of  his  mental 
peculiarities  has  been  already  hinted — his  almost  impracticable  honesty.  He 
could  never  be  induced  to  accept  a  proposition,  unless  it  wholly  commended  itself 
to  his  mind  as  true.  His  memory  was  most  retentive,  for  all  things  which  were 
arranged  in  it  by  any  logical  association;  but  for  things  sole,  or  merely  verbal,  it 
was  sometimes  treacherous. 

Upon  the  whole,  considering  the  admirable  justness  and  perspicuity  of  his 
mind,  its  vigour  and  accuracy  in  analysis,  its  wonderful  capacity  for  philsophi- 
cal  arrangement,  and  the  energy  of  its  purposes,  he  might  have  been  truthfully 
called  a  man  of  great  powers.    The  symmetry  of  those  powers,  his  modesty  in 

Vol.  IV.  101 


g02  PRESBTTERIAK. 

their  display,  Ihc  very  accuracy  of  thought  which  expressed  all  those  paradoxi- 
cal brilliaiices  that  catch  the  admiration  of  the  crowd,  forbid  that  he  should  be 
promptly  appreciated.  Ilcnce  his  proper  grade  will  probably  only  be  assigned 
hiin  by  those  who,  like  myself,  had  opportunities  to  contemplate  his  mental 
powers  deliberately.  But  it  is  my  sober  judgment,  —  a  judgment  formed 
maturely,  in  advance  of  that  warm  personal  attachment  which  I  shall  ever  esteem 
one  of  the  chief  blessings  and  honours  of  my  life,  that  Dr.  Sampson,  for  his  par- 
ticular work,  possessed  capacities  unsurpassed  by  any  man  which  our  country 
has  produced,  and  equalled  by  very  few. 

With  Christian  regards. 

Sincerely  yours, 

ROBERT  L.  DABNEY 


-♦•- 


WILLIAM  COWPER  SCOTT.* 

1840—1854. 

William  Gowper  Scott,  the  eldest  son  of  the  Rey.  William  N.  Scott, 
and  a  grandson  of  the  Eev.  Archibald  Scott,  successively  ministers  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church  in  Virginia,  was  born  in  Martinsburg,  Berkeley 
County,  Va.,  on  the  13th  of  January,  1817.  His  mother,  whose  maiden 
name  was  Nancy  Daniel^  was  a  native  of  Charlotte  County,  in  the  same 
State.  When  he  was  four  years  old,  his  parents  moved  to  Hardy  County, 
where  his  father  entered  upon  a  wide  and  laborious  missionary  field,  in 
which  he  spent  a  long  and  useful  ministerial  life.  He  gathered,  as  the 
fruits  of  his  ministry  there,  three  Presbyterian  Churches,  and  still  (1856) 
lives  and  labours  among  a  people  whom  he  has  served  thirty  four  years. t 
The  scenery  of  this  county  is  strikingly  bold  and  beautiful.  Mountains  of 
towering  height  and  startling  abruptness  are  separated  by  valleys  of  almost 
enchanting  beauty.  The  population  of  this  region,  having  long  been  shut 
up  in  their  valleys,  constitute  a  society  peculiar  indeed,  but  distinguished 
for  rural  plainness  and  great  moral  worth.  It  was  here,  amid  such  scenes, 
and  under  the  eye  of  pious  and  judicious  parents,  that  William  C.  Scott 
spent  the  most  impressible  period  of  his  life. 

He  was  conducted  through  his  academic  course,  principally  by  his  father, 
who,  to  support  his  family  and  educate  his  own  children,  had  opened  a 
school,   which  ho  continued,   with  occasional  brief  intervals,   for   twenty 

*  MS.  from  bia  brother,  Rer.  John  A.  Soott. 

f  Since  this  sketch  fras  written,  the  yenerable  maa  hero  roferred  to  hu  deoenaed.  He  ww 
born  in  Augasta  County,  Va.,  Maroh  4,  1789;  wai  taooearively  nnder  the  instroetion  of  the 
Ker.  Samuel  Brown  and  the  Rev.  William  Galhoon,  and  wa<  ultimately  aNociar«d  a«  Tutor  with 
the  latter.  Ho  completed  his  olossioal  course  at  Waehineton  College  about  the  year  1810.  He 
studied  Theolocy  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Moses  Ho|^,  and  after  his  licensuro  bj 
the  Lexington  Preebyteiy,  engaged  somewhat  extensively  in  missionary  service  in  his  satire 
State.  Soon  after  his  marriage  in  18 U,  he  took  up  bis  roai deuce  in  Berkeley  County,  when 
he  opened  a  Female  Academy.  Hero  he  continued  teaching  with  great  success,  and  supplyinc 
vacant  churohes  on  the  Sabbath,  till  1822.  In  1818,  he  was  oraained  by  the  Prosbytery  of 
Winchester  as  an  Evangelist*  In  the  spring  of  1822,  he  romoved  bis  fkmilv  to  Lvney's  Greek, 
in  Hardy  County,  whero  he  spent  the  rest  of  his  life.  About  two  yean  beforo  his  death,  be 
withdrew,  on  account  of  bodily  infirmity,  from  the  nastoral  charge  of  the  churohes  he  bad 
gathered.  He  died  on  tlie  24th  of  January,  1857,  in  his  sixty -eighth  year.  He  wuc  distin- 
guished for  solid  and  weU-direoted  powara,  for  aaneity  aotiva  pwty^  and  an  emiowtly  nsfU 


WILLIAM  OOWPER  SCOTT.  803 

yean,  and  whioh  proved  a  source  of  incalculable  benefit  to  the  whole  aur- 
rounding  country.  Though  he  did  not  evince  any  unusual  precocity  of 
mind,  he  was  apt  to  learn,  and  made  commendable  progress  in  all  his  studies. 
His  faculties  were  remarkably  well  balanced,  from  their  earliest  develop- 
ment;— neither  reason  nor  imagination,  neither  the  practical  nor  the  philo- 
sophical, having  the  ascendancy,  but  all  existing  in  admirable  proportions. 
The  effusions  of  his  pen,  even  in  boyhood,  showed  at  once  a  fine  talent  a4 
description,  and  a  nice  power  of  discrimination.  His  soul  was  exquisitely 
alive  to  harmony — ^it  seemed  to  be  his  ruling  passion,  and  it  impelled  and 
guided  his  powers  in  all  their  excursions  in  the  realms  both  of  nature  and 
of  grace.  He  was  never  wanting  in  either  physical  or  moral  courage.  But 
such  was  the  restraining  power  of  his  educated  conscience,  that  casual 
observers  might  have  construed  his  carefulness  of  conduct  into  a  want  of 
due  intrepidity.  His  moral  courage  was  predominant,  and  it  never  failed 
him  in  any  emergency. 

In  October,  1831,  he  attended  a  meeting  of  the  Synod  of  Virginia,  in  its 
sessions  at  Harrisonburg,  in  company  with  his  parents,  and  some  young 
friends  from  his  father's  charge.  A  revival  of  religion  commenced  in  con- 
nection with  the  meeting  of  Synod,  and  continued  for  several  weeks ;  and 
it  was  at  this  time  that  young  Scott  became  hopefully  a  subject  of  renew- 
ing grace.  Shortly  after,  a  revival  took  place  in  his  father's  congregation, 
in  which  he  not  only  took  a  deep  interest,  but  bore  an  active  part.  He, 
together  with  many  of  his  youthful  associates,  united  with  his  father's 
church  in  the  spring  of  1832.  It  was  about  this  time  that  he  seems  to  have 
become  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he  was  called  to  preach  the  Gospel. 

In  due  time,  he  became  a  member  of  South  Hanover  College,  Ind.  where 
he  continued  until  he  graduated  in  1837.  During  his  college  course,  he  was 
distinguished  for  his  exemplary  deportment,  not  less  than  his  success  in 
study  and  his  marked  intellectual  developments.  In  the  autumn  of  the 
year  that  he  graduated,  he  entered  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  Ya., 
as  a  student  of  Divinity,  and  passed  through  the  regular  throe  years'  coarse. 
Here  the  depth  of  his  piety,  the  high  literary  merit  of  his  performances, 
and  the  vigour  and  originality  of  his  intellect,  marked  him  as  a  candidate 
for  the  ministry  of  no  ordinary  promise.  In  April,  1840,  he  was  licensed 
to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of  Winchester.  About  the  same 
time,  he  was  married  to  Martha  H.  Morton,  of  Charlotte  County.  The 
next  summer  he  spent  in  the  mountains  of  Virginia,  labouring  in  connec- 
tion with  his  father,  and  visiting  some  vacant  churches.  He  was  called  to 
the  charge  of  Bethel  Church,  which  had  been  founded  by  his  grandfather, 
in  the  Valley  of  Virginia.  But,  declining  the  call,  he  became,  during  the 
ensuing  autumn,  a  stated  supply  to  three  churches  on  Staunton  River, — 
namely.  Providence  in  Halifax  County,  and  Cub  Creek  and  Bethesda  in 
Charlotte  County.  The  following  year  he  was  called  to  the  pastoral  chaise 
of  the  Churches  of  Providence  and  Bethesda,  and  was  ordained  by  the  West 
Hanover  Presbytery  at  Providence,  in  May,  1842.  He  resided  here  from 
the  autumn  of  1840  till  the  spring  of  1846,  when  he  accepted  a  call  from 
the  Church  in  Farmville,  Va.  Before  he  had  been  three  years  in  Farm- 
ville,  a  bronchial  disease  had  so  far  developed  itself,  that  he  was  compelled 
to  resign  his  charge,  and  abstain  entirely  from  all  public  service.  He  now 
retired  to  a  small  fiirm  which  he  owned  in  the  bosom  of  his  first  congrega- 
tion.   After  two  years^  abstinence  from  the  pulpit, — during  which  he  was 


304  PRESBYTERIAN. 

industrionslj  employed  in  doing  good, — in  study,  in  teaching  school,  in 
writing  for  the  literary  and  religious  journals,  and  in  acts  of  Christian 
kindness  in  his  neighbourhood, — he  was  able  again  to  preach,  and  was  called 
with  perfect  unanimity  to  become  a  second  time  the  Pastor  of  the  Bethesda 
Church.  This  church  enjoyed  the  first  and  the  last  of  his  earthly  labours. 
Ho  was  actively  engaged  in  the  extension  of  the  congregation,  when  his 
Master  interposed,  and  called  him  up  to  higher  services  in  the  Church 
triumphant. 

Mr.  Scott  died  of  typhoid  fever  on  the  23d  of  October,  1854,  after  a  week's 
illness.  His  latter  end  was  not  only  peace  but  triumph.  His  Funeral  Ser- 
mon was  preached  by  the  E.ev.  J.  S.  Armistead,  D.  D.  He  left  a  widow 
and  four  small  children, — all  of  them  sons. 

The  most  important  and  enduring  memorial  that  Mr.  Scott  has  left  of  his 
talents  and  character,  is  a  work  published  in  1858,  entitled  *^  Genius  and 
Faith.'*  The  subject  of  the  work  was  suggested  to  him  by  his  observing  in 
College  the  tendency  of  many  young  men  to  divorce  these  two  qualities,  as 
if  they  were  incompatible  with  each  other.  It  became  with  him  a  favourite 
subject  of  contemplation,  until,  at  length,  during  the  period  that  he  was 
obliged,  on  account  of  ill  health,  to  suspend  his  labours  in  the  pulpit,  he 
embodied  the  results  of  his  reflection  in  a  volume  which  is  a  treasury  of 
invaluable  thought,  and  in  respect  to  which  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether  the 
poetical,  the  philosophical,  or  the  Christian,  element  has  the  predominanoe. 


FROM  THE  REV.  J.  S.  ARMISTEAD,  D.  D. 

CuMBERLAyD  CouNTT,  Ya.,  August  22, 1866. 

My  dear  Sir:  My  opportunities  for  knowing  the  Rev.  William  C.  Scott  were 
uncommonly  good.  My  acquaintance  with  him  began  while  he  was  a  student 
in  our  Seminary  in  Prince  Edward,  and  was  continued,  and  became  more  inti- 
mate, during  his  whole  ministerial  life.  For  several  years^  while  he  was  settled 
at  Farmville,  he  was  my  nearest  neighbour  in  the  ministry, — our  churches  being 
only  divided  by  the  Appomattox  River.  TTe  had  frequent  exchanges  of  very 
pleasant  professional  labour, — ^he  preaching  to  my  people,  and  I  to  his.  And  after 
the  failure  of  his  health  at  Farmville,  and  his  return  to  his  first  pastoral 
charge  in  Charlotte  County,  I  had  several  opportunities  of  visiting  him,  and 
preaching  to  his  people,  which  I  always  embraced  with  great  pleasure.  I  cor- 
dially loved  him;  for  he  was  a  man  to  be  loved,  as  well  as  honoured. 

His  intellect  was  of  high  character,  and  was  cultivated  and  furnished  with 
more  than  ordinary  care.  His  perceptions  of  truth  were  clear;  and  as  his  mind 
was  well  trained,  and  strictly  logical  in  its  operations,  his  views  of  Christian 
doctrine  were  symmetrical  as  well  as  thoroughly  evangelical.  He  held  and 
expressed  no  half-formed  opinions  in  Doctrinal  Theology.  He  surveyed  the 
whole  domain  of  revealed  truth,  and  had  clear  perceptions  of  the  beautiful  and 
perfect  symmetry  that  pervades  it. 

I  have  known  but  few  theologians  who  understood  better  than  he  did,  the  har- 
monious relations  and  nice  adjustments  of  every  part  of  Divine  truth  to  the 
whole,  or  who  were  more  careful  to  give  to  every  doctrine  and  precept  its  proper 
place.  This  was  clearly  seen  by  intelligent  hearers  and  readers,  both  in  his 
preaching  and  in  his  writings.  His  reason  bowed  humbly,  reverentially,  and 
obediently  to  the  Word  of  God,  because  his  heart  was  right.  Few  men  that  I 
have  known,  understood  better  than  he  did,  what  is  the  legitimate  province  of 
human  reason,  in  the  investigation  of  spiritual  truth,  and  therefore  few  men  had 
clearer  views  of  such  truth.    He  discarded  utterly  the  figment,  that  man  is  not 


WILLIAM  COWPER  SCOTT.  805 

to  emploj'  most  vigorously  his  intellectual  faculties  when  he  comes  to  the  study 
of  God's  holy  word — that  his  reason  is  to  be  sacrificed  to  his  faith.  But  while 
he  acted  on  the  principle  that  God  authorizes  and  commands  us  thoroughly  to 
investigate  the  grounds  of  our  faith,  he  realized,  at  the  same  time,  that  He  with- 
holds from  us  all  authority  to  exalt  our  reason  as  a  rule  of  judgment  y—d\sctiTd- 
ing  or  retaining  doctrines  propounded  for  our  belief,  as  they  may  or  may  not, 
accord  with  our  taste,  or  our  capacity  of  perfect  comprehension.  Hence,  hia 
reception  of  the  truth  was  intelligent,  and  his  love  for  it  was  ardent,  and  its 
power  over  him  was  sanctifying  and  comforting.  He  saw,  and  admired,  and 
illustrated  in  his  consistent  piety,  the  supreme  excellence  and  perfect  harmony 
which  pervade  the  whole  revealed  truth  of  God. 

This  was  the  secret  of  his  power  as  a  preacher,  and  his  grand  recommendatioo 
fts  a  writer.  His  whole  character  was  strongly  built  on  religious  principle;  and 
had  it  pleased  God  to  give  him  the  physical  health  and  strength  which  are  neces* 
sary  for  the  exhibition  of  high  and  sustained  emotion,  he  would  have  been  oda 
of  the  most  impressive  and  powerful  preachers  of  his  day.  But  feeble  as  his 
constitution  was,  and  naturally  modest  and  retiring  as  was  his  disposition,  he 
felt  the  necessity  of  restraining  emotion,  and  of  learning  to  husband  his  resour* 
ces.  It  was  impossible,  however,  not  to  see  that  in  his  case  there  was  a  close  and 
most  important  connection  between  clear,  strong,  spiritual  perceptions  of  Divine 
truth,  and  a  holy  and  humble  walk  with  God.  How  lovely  his  character  was 
in  this  respect,  and  how  earnestly  he  laboured  to  form  others  to  the  same  charac- 
ter, there  are  still  many  living  witnesses. 

His  character  as  a  Christian  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  his  views  of  Divine 
truth.  It  may  generally  be  assumed  as  true,  that  no  man  is  better  than  his 
principles;  and  that  a  man  who  adopts  correct  views  of  truth,  intelligently  and 
honestly,  will  illustrate  them  by  a  consistent  and  holy  life.  This  was  eminently 
true  of  my  lamented  friend.  He  was  a  modest,  diffident,  retiring  man;  but  he 
was,  at  the  same  time,  a  fearless  advocate  of  the  true,  the  beautifhl,  the  holy  in 
human  character,  and  a  lovely  example  of  what  he  taught  to  others.  It  may 
safely  be  said  that  few  Christians  reached  higher  excellence  of  personal  character, 
in  all  the  relations  of  life,  than  he  did. 

As  a  man  of  highly  cultivated  intellect,  of  correct  literary  taste,  and  of  manly 
scholarship,  he  contributed  his  share  to  the  literary  reputation  of  his  native 
State,  and  of  his  country.  His  published  volume  on  **  Genius  and  Faith,"  or 
the  connection  between  genuine  Poetry  and  true  Religion,  has  settled  his  claim 
to  distinguished  authorship.  It  is  a  work  which  very  few  scholars  could  have 
produced.  It  deserves  to  live,  not  merely  for  the  noble  views  of  truth  which  it 
strikingly  and  vigorously  exhibits,  but  for  the  high  literary  merit  which  has, 
with  remarkable  unanimity,  been  accorded  to  it. 

With  high  regard,  yours  very  truly, 

J.  S.  ARMISTEAD. 


FROM  THE  REV.  C.  R.  VAUGHAN,  D.  D. 

Lthchbvrg,  Va.  August  18, 18S6. 
Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  My  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  William  C.  Scott  began 
during  the  sessions  of  West  Hanover  Presbytery,  at  the  time  I  came  under  its 
care  as  a  candidate  for  the  ministry,  in  1845.  We  had  an  agreeable  occasional 
intercourse  during  the  time  of  my  continuance  in  Union  Seminary, — he  being 
then  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  Farmville,  and  I,  during  a  portion  of  my  time, 
boardin{^  at  my  father's  in  that  place,  where  I  enjoyed  the  privil^;e  of  sitting 
under  his  ministry.  In  1847, 1  graduated  and  received  license.  In  the  fall  of 
Chat  year,  I  was  commissioned  as  a  missionary  to  the  slaves  of  Cumberland  and 
rince  Edward, — my  head-quarters  and  his  appointments  in  the  month  being  in 


806  PRESBTTERIAN. 

Farmville.  Baring  a  period  of  eighteen  months,  or  thereabouts,  I  was  in  familiar 
and  almost  daily  contact  with  Mr.  Scott,  then  Pastor  in  Farmville.  We  became 
Terjr  intimate.  Our  intercourse  was  of  the  freest  character.  The  congenialitj 
of  our  views  and  feelings  on  many  important  subjects  drew  us  into  more  than 
usual  freedom  and  confidence  of  association.  In  a  word /I  may  well  say  that 
there  are  only  one  or  two  ministers  with  whom  I  may  claim  a  more  intimate 
acquaintance,  or  a  more  fraternal  relationship. 

Mr.  Scott  was  a  man  of  decided  ability,  great  refinement  of  taste,  vigorous 
powers  of  logical  discrimination,  combined  with  a  nearly  equal  degree  of  poetic 
talent'— he  was  a  fine  writer,  and  a  speaker  of  very  pleasing  address,  when  in 
the  full  flush  of  health.  His  preaching  was  always  marked  by  careful  prepara- 
tion,  by  clearness  and  accuracy  of  statement,  by  uncommon  elegance  of  compo- 
sition, with  occasional  bursts  of  great  poetic  beauty  and  devotional  enthusiasm. 
His  style  as  a  writer  was  highly  finished,  though  somewhat  impaired  occasionally 
by  a  slight  mannerism  in  the  structure  of  his  sentences.  His  manner  in  the 
pulpit  was  generally  calm  and  dignified,  with  flashes  of  sudden  passion,  which 
elevated  him  to  a  very  striking  degree  of  oratorical  power.  He  spoke,  for  the 
most  part,  from  a  manuscript,  though  he  extemporized  often  with  decided  effect. 
The  highest  power  of  his  intellect  was  perhaps  the  power  of  philosophical  analy- 
sis, which  he  possessed  to  a  very  uncommon  degree.  His  work  on  the  relations 
of  Poetry  and  Religion  will  convey  a  high  impression  of  his  analytic,  as  well  as 
of  his  imaginative,  faculty,  to  any  competent  critic. 

Mr.  Scott  was  hindered  by  excessive  modesty  from  taking  the  public  position 
to  which  his  talents  entitled  him.  A  shy  and  retired  student,  he  delighted  in 
nothing  so  much  as  the  seclusion  of  a  retired  position,  the  company  of  his  books, 
and  the  opportunity  to  indulge  the  impulses  of  his  own  mind.  His  diffidence 
was  a  marked  feature  in  his  character,  and  deprived  him  of  much  both  of  honour 
and  usefulness,  that  were  fairly  within  his  reach.  He  was  distinguished  by  the 
amiabilit}'-  of  his  feelings,  and  the  unobtrusive  excellence  of  his  whole  character- 
He  was  an  occasional  contributor  to  the  religiou.s  papers,  and  to  the  Southern 
Messenger,  in  which  his  work  on  Genius  and  Faith  originally  appeared:  on  that 
work,  however,  all  his  claims  to  literary  reputation  must  rest.  Many  a  book  has 
brought  both  fame  and  fortune  to  its  author,  without  one  tithe  of  the  thought  or 
merit  of  composition,  contained  in  this  fine  philosophical  review. 

Mr.  Scott  was  tall  and  well-made  in  person,  with  large  and  masculine  features, 
an  eye  not  distinguished  by  brilliancy  or  power  of  any  sort,  and  a  forehead  of 
very  fine  development,  in  both  size  and  shape.  His  manners  were  strongly- 
marked  by  the  kindness  as  well  as  the  modesty  of  his  character.  I  regard  him 
as  having  been  decidedly  among  the  first  men  in  the  Synod  of  Virginia,  in  point 
of  real  intellect  and  substantial  excellence. 

Yours  truly, 

C.  B.  VAUGHAK. 


WALTER  MACON  LOWBI£.  g07 


WALTER  MACON  LOWRIE. 

1841—1847. 

FROM  THE  REV.  R.  W.  DICKINSON,  D.  D. 

N«w  YoBK,  December  10,  1850. 

Rev.  and  dear  Sir :  In  complying  with  jour  request  to  furnish  for  youi 
work  a  sketch  of  the  life  and  character  of  the  late  Walter  M.  Lowrie,  I  thank 
you  for  the  opportunity  it  gives  me  to  render  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
one  in  whose  mission  I  was  naturally  led  to  take  a  special  interest  from  the 
circumstance  that,  in  the  providence  of  God,  I  was  called  to  officiate  hoth 
on  the  occasion  of  his  licensure  and  of  his  ordination.  My  acquaintance 
with  him  began,  when  he  was  taken  under  the  care  of  our  Presbytery,  as  a 
candidate  for  the  holy  ministry ;  but  since  his  decease  it  has  been  my  privilege 
to  see  various  letters  from  some  who  were  intimately  acquainted  with  him 
in  early  life,  which  embodied  their  reminiscences  of  his  College  life  and 
Seminary  course.  His  letters  and  journals,  however,  as  edited  by  his 
father,  the  Hon.  Walter  Lowrie,  are  the  sources  whence  I  have  drawn  most 
of  the  material  for  the  following  sketch. 

In  the  life  of  Walter  Macon  Lowrie  who  was  born  February  18, 
1819,  in  Butler,  Pa.,  nothing  claims  our  special  notice  until  we  reach  the 
period  of  his  conversion.  This  occurred  in  the  winter  of  *84-5,  during  a 
remarkable  revival  of  religion  in  Jefferson  College,  of  which  he  had  been  a 
member  since  the  fall  of  '33.  He  was  among  the  first  of  the  students  then 
brought  to  a  sense  of  their  character  and  condition  as  dinners  ;  but,  before 
he  had  attained  peace,  and  even  while  labouring  under  the  greatest  distress 
of  mind  on  account  of  the  hardness  of  his  heart,  he  spoke  of  the  revival  as  a 
'*  work  that  would  tell  over  the  world.''  His  exercise  of  mind  at  the  time, 
however,  differed  not  from  the  general  experience  of  converted  youth, 
excepting  that  his  chief  difficulties  arose  from  the  fact  that  he  had  not  those 
'*  deep  and  pungent  convictions,'*  nor  those  **  high  exciting  joys,"  which 
are  sometimes  felt, — nor  was  it  to  be  expected  that  he  should, — considering 
the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  educated  by  his  parents,  tlie  exemplary 
oorreotness  of  his  life  from  his  boyhood,  and  the  evenness  of  his  tempera- 
ment. Strange  perplexities  too  thronged  his  mind,  while  contemplating 
the  duty  of  communing  at  the  table  of  Jesus.  He  felt  there  '*  was  some- 
thing wrong  within  him;"  he  knew  not  what,  ** unless  it  was  that  spiritual 
pride  had  inflated  his  heart."  But  at  last  **  all  his  difficulties  vanished, 
and  his  mind  was  filled  if  not  with  joy,  yet  with  a  peace  that  passeth  under- 
standing." 

But  He  who  had  called  him,  designed  to  prepare  him  for  an  arduous  and' 
trying  service ;  and  it  was  neoessary  to  this  end  that  he  should  have  a  deeper 
insight  of  his  own  heart,  and  a  more  operative  sense  of  his  need  of  sancti- 
fying grace.  A  bitter  experience  awaited  him,  and  that  under  circum- 
stances most  favourable  to  the  exercise  of  faith  and  love.  While  again 
partaking  of  the  emblems  of  Chnst's  broken  body  and  shed  blood,  his  mind 
was  so  assailed  by  distressing  thoughts  that  his  hope  became  as  the  giving 


gOg  PKESBTTSRIAN. 

up  of  the  ghost.  Yet,  miserable  as  be  was,  that  Commanion  proved  to  be 
most  profitable.* 

Shortly  after  this,  the  incident  of  his  meeting  an  old  negro  woman 
occurred,  which,  though  it  may  appear  to  some  too  simple  to  be  formally 
noticed,  is  not  without  its  signifioance.  No  collegian  who  had  not  become 
««a  new  creature,"  would  have  stopped  to  converse  on  the  subject  of 
religion  in  connection  with  the  missionary  cause  with  such  a  person,  muck 
less  noted  her  words,  and  derived  a  lesson  from  her  attainments  in  piety.  It 
intimates  in  signs  which  cannot  be  mistaken,  that  lowliness  of  spirit  which 
is  so  essential  in  Christian  character ;  that  quick  perception  and  high  esti- 
mate of  personal  religion  which  mark  the  new  born  soul ;  a  docility  which 
foreshadows  high  spiritual  attainments :  and  a  sympathy  with  the  mind  that 
was  in  Christ  Jesus,  which  may  soon  be  developed  in  acts  of  self-denial. 

''  The  child  is  father  of  the  man." 

Though  he  had  at  first  thought  that  his  new  relation  to  the  Church  *'  would 
make  a  great  difierenoe  in  his  choice  of  a  profession,''  he  was  at  a  loss  to 
know  whether  he  should  then  examine  the  question,  as  to  his  duty  to  become 
a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  or  defer  it  to  the  close  of  his  collegiate  course ; 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  canvassed  the  subject,  together  with  the  plan 
which  he  proposed  to  follow,  evinced  more  than  ordinary  discrimination  and 
forethought. 

Life  is  too  short  to  justify  delay  in  the  choice  of  a  profession,  by  one 
who  has  been  awaked  to  a  sense  of  life's  great  end.  No  mind  is  competent 
to  the  mastery  of  every  branch  of  literature  and  science.  No  one  can 
become  equally  eminent  or  successful  in  every  department  of  human  toil ; 
nor  does  the  mind  ever  work  to  equal  advantage  when  turned  from  the 
pursuit  to  which  it  had  for  years  addressed  its  powers.  There  is  great 
force  in  the  reason  assigned  by  young  Lowrie  that  he  might  concentrate  his 
powers,  and  make  all  things  tend  to  this  one  object.  Men  fail,  not  so  much 
from  want  of  mind,  as  from  the  misdirection  of  their  talents;  nor  so  much 
from  want  of  moral  principle,  as  of  fixedness  of  purpose.  Unity  of  aim 
implies  perseverance,  and  without  resolute  diligence  the  greatest  powers  are 
vain.  Both  success  and  eminence  in  any  relation  can  be  almost  invariably 
traced  to  an  early  choice  and  inflexible  purpose.  It  is  worthy  of  note, 
therefore,  how  the  work  of  the  Gospel  ministry  took  possession  of  young 
Lowrie's  mind.  It  was  not,  however,  as  a  means  of  livelihood,  or  as  a  pro- 
fession by  which  he  was  to  gratify  personal  ambition  and  rise  to  distinction. 
He  was  to  enter  the  ministry  from  a  sense  of  duty — to  do  good  to  perishing 
men,  not  to  enrich  or  elevate  self.  And  though  he  showed  great  decision 
and  energy,  it  was  the  seal  of  his  **new  heart  and  right  spirit,"  that  ren- 
dered him  proof  against  those  temptations  to  loitering  and  indecision  to 
which  young  men  so  often  yield,  only  to  regret  in  after  life.  From  the 
hour  of  his  decision  he  never  lost  sight  of  his  object.  It  quickened  his 
perceptions,  roused  his  energies,  guided  his  selection  of  books  and  company, 
and  while  deepening  his  interest  in  his  religious  privileges,  led  him  to 
assume  the  superintendence  of  a  neighbouring  Sunday  school,  to  take  an 
active  part  in  the  **Brainerd  Evangelical  Society,*'  and  also  in  the  ''Society 
for  Inquiry,"  and  in  these  Societies  which  were  connected  with  the  College, 

•See  Memoir  of  Walter  M.  Lowrie— Edited  by  hif  father,  the  Hon.  Walter  Lowrie,  pp. 
10, 11,  '^*^ 


WALTBR  MACOK  L 

to  devbe  ways  and  means  for  promoting  a 
among  bho  religious  students,  and  a  more  hearty 
foreign  missions. 

The  subject  of  missions  seems  to  have  taken  strong  hold  of  his  mind 
from  the  hour  he  made  choice  of  the  ministry  as  his  profession.  ''  Some* 
thing  seems  to  be  telling  me,"  he  writes  to  his  father,  ''  when  I  think  of 
you  all,  that  I  must  endeavour  to  spend  as  much  time  with  you  as  I  can 
iww;  for  when  I  am  settled  in  life,  I  shall  have  very  few  opportunities  of 
being  with  you.  I  do  not  anticipate  much  temporal  pleasure  or  ease,  and 
perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  I  should  now  learn  to  deny  myself  as  at  any  time ; 
but  still  I  find  an  unwillingness  to  entertain  the  idea  of  totally  denying 
myself  your  company.  However,  I  hope  that  if  it  shall  ever  be  incumbent 
on  me,  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  leave  even  father  and  mother,  and  all  to 
whom  I  aui  bound  by  the  ties  of  nature.  I  hope  you  are  all  in  good 
health.  Would  that  I  had  the  same  hope  in  relation  to  matters  of  more 
importance.  I  can  do  nothing  but  pray,  and  yet  in  my  condition  I  am  more 
fit  to  have  prayers  offered  for  myself  than  to  offer  them  for  others." 

At  last,  after  having  scrutinized  his  motives,  solicited  paternal  counsel, 
and  soup;ht  wisdom  from  the  Most  High,  he  comes  to  so  clear  a  sense  of  his 
duty,  that  a  load  is  taken  from  his  mind.  Nor  is  it  less  worthy  of  note, 
that  he  came  to  this  decision  in  the  place  where  only  two  years  before  he 
was  on  the  point  of  abandoniDg  his  hope :  while  commemorating  the  deatli 
of  Him,  who  came  into  our  world  '*to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was 
lost." 

It  may  be  thought  that  so  great  interest  in  religious  matters  must  have 
interfered  with  his  regular  studies,  and  that  he  was  too  much  under 
religious  excitement  to  enjoy  a  healthful  tone  of  piety.  This,  in  repeated 
instances,  has  been  the  effect  of  a  revival  of  religion  in  a  College;  but 
whatever  importance  may  be  attached  to  religion,  a  neglect  of  study  cannot 
be  justified  ;  since  the  primary  duty  of  a  collegian  is  to  meet  the  requisi- 
tions of  the  course,  and  thus  prepare  himself  for  public  life.  That  must  be 
enthusiasm,  not  piety,  which  impels  one  to  merge  his  studies  in  devotional 
meditation  and  meetings.  But  Lowrie's  religion  gave  to  study  the  aspect 
of  duty,  and  his  decision  on  the  great  question  only  rendered  him  the  more 
determined  to  overcome  all  difficulties  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  It 
was,  however,  much  to  his  surprise,  (and  his  allusion  to  the  circumstance  is 
with  characteristic  modesty,*)  that  he  was  ranked  among  the  first  of  his 
class  in  scholarship,  and  appointed  to  deliver  the  Valedictory.  He  bade 
farewell  to  the  scenes  of  his  College  life  in  October,  1837, — having  spent 
five  years  in  Cannonsburg ;  during  which  time  he  had  acquired  a  good 
education,  chosen  the  good  part,  eicerted  a  salutary  influence,  resolved  on 
his  employment  through  life,  and  prepared  himself  to  enter  on  his  theologi- 
cal course.  What  could  such  a  youth  have  had  to  regret  as  he  looked 
back  ?  Several  things  it  would  seem ;  '*  and  yet  there  is  nothing  I  regret 
so  much  in  my  course  in  College,  as  that  I  did  not  try  to  secure  the  affec- 
tions of  young  non-professors,  and  lead  them  to  delight  in  the  pleasures  of 
the  mind,  and  especially  those  of  the  soul.  It  makes  my  heart  ache  to 
think  how  many  opportunities  of  doing  good  I  neglected  to  improve.     Yet 

*  Memoir,  p.  17* 
Vol.  IV.  102 


SIO  PBBSBTTfiltlAK. 

perhaps  were  I  ever  00  sUaated  again,  I  ebooid  aot  as  brfore.    SKU  it  does 
seem  as  if  I  would  try  uxid  do  better." 

While  in  College,  Mr.  Lowrie  called  on  a  young  man,*  in  relation  to 
soma  interest  of  one  of  their  8oeieties.  Though  alike  the  subjects  of  the 
sajne  reviya),  neither  had  much  knowledge  of  the  other ;  while  each  through 
difidenoe  had  said  little  to  any  one  as  to  his  own  private  feelings  on  the 
safaject  of  personal  religion.  Both  had  been  sighing  for  Christian  inter- 
course,  and  had  alike  struggled  with  pent  up  feelings.  Soon  after  their 
meeting,  they,  in  some  way  equally  unexpected  to  either,  got  into  conversa- 
tion on  their  respective  experience  of  the  grace  of  God ;  and  so  absorbed 
did  Mr.  Lowrie  become,  that  the  object  of  his  errand  was  lost  sight  of  in 
**  the  sweet  and  holier  topic  of  Christ's  love.*'  The  mutual  interest  in  each 
other  awakened  by  this  interview,  speedily  led  to  another,  and  still  another, 
and  thus,  in  that  oneness  of  views  and  feelings  which  true  Christian 
experience  alone  inspires,  commenced  a  friendship  which  united  their  hearts 
and  identified  their  plans.  They  were  wont  to  converse  and  pray  together, 
to  exercise  in  company,  and  act  in  concert,  and  being  alike  interested  in 
promoting  their  own  personal  piety  and  advancing  the  cause  of  Christ,  both 
at  last  gave  themselves  in  purpose  to  the  missionary  work,  and  held  them- 
selves in  readiness  to  go  wherever  God  might  call  them.  College  friend- 
ships often  yield  to  other  interests ;  but  in  this  case  there  was  no  abatement 
of  affection  and  no  diminution  of  confidence.  To  no  one  out  of  his  own 
family  was  Lloyd  more  warmly  attached,  while  **  the  thought  of  being 
saved  with  his  friend  often  filled  bis  soul  with  a  pure  delight."  Lowrie 
had  formed  other  friendships;  but  to  Lloyd  he  was  wont  to  unbosom 
bis  secret  thoughtSj  and  to  him,  next  to  the  inmates  erf  hifr  own  family, 
wont  to  write  just  as  he  felt ;  and  the  reason  seems,  to  hare  been  that  with 
him  he  had  spent  so  many  soul-subduing  hours  in  Christian  fellowship,  and 
enjoyed  a  foretaste  of  that  world  where  perfect  love  and  friendship  forever 
reign.  The  spring  before  he  left  College,  he  unexpectedly  met  Lloyd  and 
joined  him  in  a  walk.  The  day  was  beautiful  and  all  nature  inviting. 
Lifting  their  thoughts  above  the  scenes  through  which  they  passed,  Heaven 
became  the  subjeoii  of  their  conversation,  and  from  the  manner  in  which 
both  in  after  years  adverted  to  this  conversation  by  the  way,  they  must 
luKve  then  expeiieneed  Bome  anticipative  sense  of  the  joys  of  Heaven.  This 
walk,  however,  left  an  ineffaceable  impression  on  Lowrie 's  mind.  It  served 
to  invigorate  his  fsath^  to  brighten  his  hopes,  and  sometimes  in  his  hours  of 

*  The  individual  referred  to  was  John  Llotd.  He  was  born  in  Huntingdon  County,  Pa., 
October  1,  1813.  He  entered  JeSerson  College  in  the  sprine  of  1834;  xni^e  a  profeadon  of 
religion  in  the  teoondsenioa  of  bis  ooane;  and  graduated  with  diatiaetion  in  September,  1839. 
Having  spent  two  years  in  teaching  in  Western  Pennsylvania,  in  order  to  provide  means  tor 
proseonting  his  theological  studies,  be  entered  the  Seminary  at  Princeton  in  November,  1841, 
and  during  his  oourse  aeted  as  Tutor,  for  a  session,  at  the  College  at  £a«ton,  Pa.,  including  hia 
first  vacation  at  the  Seminary  in  1842.  In  the  autumn  of  18&,  he  plaoed  himself  under  the 
eare  of  the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  and  the  field  of  labour  assigned  to  him  was  China. 
Bnring  his  last  session  in  the  Seminary,  he  was  licensed  by  the  Presbytery  of  New  York ;  bat 
he  transferred  his  relation  to  the  Presbytery  of  Huntingdon  from  which  also  he  received  ordina- 
tion, a  short  time  before  departing  on  his  mission.  He  sailed  trota  New  York  in  company  with 
three  other  missionaries,  on  the  22d  of  June,  1844,  and  arrived  at  Macao  in  October  following. 
In  November,  he  proceeded  to  Amoy,  where  he  became  very  happily  associated  with  several 
missionaries,  both  fknm  England  and  fh>m  the  United  States.  He  addressed  himself  now  with 
mat  diligence  and  success  to  the  study  of  the  lanruage,  and  soon  aoqnired  lo  mnehkBowladga 
dT  it  as  to  be  able  to  enter  advantageously  upon  his  missionanr  work.  On  the  22d  of  Norem- 
ber,  1848,  he  was  attacked  with  typhus  fever,  which  had  a  iatal  termination  on  the  6th  of 
December,  just  four  years  to  a  day  from  the  time  of  his  arrival  at  Amoy.  He  possessed  a 
vigorous  mind,  an  equable  temperament^  an  amiable,  generoni  spirit  and  an  eameit  doTottoai 
to  the  best  interests  of  his  fellow  men. 


WALTBB.KACOV  LOTBIE.  8^X1 

gloom  and  despondency^  ti  rose  on  hi»  memovy,  lil»  a  bright  ▼iaion,  to 
revive  his  sinking  spirits,-  jiod  incite  kim  to  peneveranee. 

I  have  thus  alluded  to  the  occaaion  and  the  nature  of  this  friendship, 
because  most  of  his  letters  from  the  time  of  his  leaving  College  to  the  oom* 
pletion  of  his  theological  coarse  were  addressed  to  Mr.  Lloyd ;  but,  thongh 
so  many  letters  passed  between  them,  and  they  held  such  delightful  com- 
munion, they  did  not  meet  again  for  nnny  years,  and  then  under  curoum- 
stances  peculiarly  interesting  and  doubly  gratifying. 

On  entering  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  he  formed  but  few 
acquaintances  and  went  but  little  in  society.  This  was  owing  rather  to  hia 
greater  fondness  for  study  than  for  company, — ^his  stronger  inclination  to 
meditate  than  to  converse.  Though  remarkably  affectionate,  he  was  pecu- 
liarly reserved ;  so  much  so,  that  his  manner,  at  times,  had  the  appearamM 
of  being  assumed  ,*  and  to  this  may  be  traced  his  wonted  taoitomity  in  his. 
intercourse  with  strangers  in  after  years,  and  his  want  of  freedom  ia 
oonversing  on  the  subject  of  religion  with  those  with  whom  he  was  not  par- 
ticularly acquainted.  This  was  subsequently  a  matter  of  regret  with  Mr. 
Lowrie,  yet  not  without  its  advantage  during  the  period  of  his  proparfttory 
course.  In  keeping  him  aloof  from  company,  it  threw  him  more  on  him* 
self,  rendering  him  more  susceptible,  serious,  and  meditative — fostering 
the  love  of  study  and  the  habit  of  solitary  thought.  No  one  ever  entered 
the  Seminary  with  more  conscientious  views,  or  pursued  his  studies  with 
more  unwearied  assiduity.  Hence  his  order  for  the  day,  and  his  regularity 
and  constancy  in  exercise.  He  would  even  journey  on  foot,  for  the  sake 
of  securing  a  greater  stock  of  health  against  the  demands  of  the  ensuing 
session,  though  at  the  same  time  he  improved  his  vacations.  During  one 
of  these  he  re-arranged  the  Seminary  Library,  and  made  a  new  catalogue,-^ 
a  work  of  no  ordinary  labour,  yet  to  one  of  his  fondness  for  books  and  love 
of  order,  not  without  interest.  During  another  he  prosecuted  the  study  of 
the  Hebrew ;  not  because  his  advantages  in  the  Seminary  were  not  suffi- 
cient, but  on  account  of  Nordheimer's  reputation  as  a  teacher,  and  his  desire 
to  perfect  himself  in  that  branch.  Hence  also  be  availed  himself  of  such 
society  as  would  further  him  in  his  plans  for  aelf-improvement ;  and  the 
same  may  be  observed  in  the  charaeter  of  his  miscellaneous  reading,  and  in 
the  manner  in  which  he  spoke  of  such  books  as  he  had  read,  or  the 
sermons  which  he  had  heard.  It  was  always  some  character,  some  thought . 
or  sentiment,  throwing  new  light  on  religions  experience,  on  the  meaning. 
of  a  passage  of  Scripture,  or  on  the  nature  of  his  contemplated  work,  that 
arrested  his  attention. 

I  ani  not  aware  how  much  time  he  spent  in  solitary  prayer,  or  that  he 
kept  a  diary  of  the  changes  in  his  views  and  feelings.  To  one  of  hia 
introspective  cast  of  mind,  this  might  have  fostered  modes  of  thoaght  and 
feeling  at  variance  with  his  comfort  and  his  usefulness ;  and  if  this  be  not 
equivocal  in  its  tendency,  there  was  the  less  necessity  for  a  diary  in  his 
case,  as  he  was  in  habits  of  familiar  and  confiding  intercourse  with  kindred 
spirits.  The  more  he  reflected  on  the  work  to  which  he  had  given  himself, 
the  more  he  felt  the  necessity  of  a  deeper  religious  spirit,  in  order  to  hia 
effective  preparation,  and  therefore  was  inclined  to  write  bitter  things 
against  himself :  his  coldness  at  times  amaied  as  well  as  distressed  him; 
nor  is  it  surprising  that  it  should,  considering  his  elevated  conceptions  of 
Divine  truth,  and  the  importance  he  attached  to  the  missionary  work. 


gl2  FBISSTTSBIAK. 

Tkottgh  often  depressed,  he  wae  seldom  despondent ;  at  tinies  rery  happj, 
and  again  fearing  the  deeeitfalness  of  sin,  or  shrinking  from  the  tempta- 
tions and  trials  to  which,  in  imagination,  he  might  one  day  be  ezpo:<ed. 
*'  Sometimes,  when  I  think  of  these  things,"  said  he  to  a  friend,  '*  I  feel 
inclined,  if  it  were  the  will  of  my  Master,  jnst  to  lie  down  and  die.  The 
thought  of  haying  to  spend  eight  or  ten  years  in  this  wieked  world  is  not 
very  pleasing ;  bat  if  it  be  my  Master's  will,  I  will  cheerfully  obey.*' 
Meanwhile,  whatever  his  difficulties  on  the  score  of  his  own  piety,  he  seems 
never  to  waver  or  regret  his  course ;  on  the  aontrary,  attains  to  clearer 
views  of  his  duty,  and  at  last  feels  that  he  would  rather  die  than  not  be  a 
missionary. 

During  his  collegiate  course  his  thoughts  had  been  turned  toward  China ; 
but  now  Africa,  as  a  field  for  missionary  labor,  claims  much  of  his  atten- 
tion. The  fact  that  so  few,  if  any,  were  willing  to  go  there, — ^that  the 
most  of  those  who  had  gone  had  died,  seemed  only  to  kindle  his  ardour, 
and  establish  him  in  his  choice.  Still,  though  most  decided  in  his  views,  he 
is  willing  to  defer  to  the  counsels  of  age,  and  to  the  decision  of  the  Board  ; — 
thus  giving  evidence  of  a  mind  capable  of  exercising  a  calm  judgment,  and 
at  the  same  time  of  that  modesty  and  humility  so  much  to  be  admired  in 
youth.  He  had  all  along  thought  that  he  should  be  willing  to  go  wherever 
duty  might  point,  and  now  he  is  willing  to  go  even  to  ''  the  white  man^s 
grave." 

His  interest  in  the  missionary  cause,  however,  did  not  interfere  with  the 
prosecution  of  his  studies.  On  the  contrary,  when,  in  April,  1841,  he 
appeared  before  the  Second  Presbytery  of  New  York  to  be  exanjined  for 
licensure,  it  was  evident  to  all,  from  his  explicit  and  satisfactory  replies  to 
every  question  put  to  him,  that  he  ipust  have  diligently  availed  himself  of 
his  preparatory  advantages.  What  his  own  thoughts  and  feelings  were  in 
relation  to  his  licensure  we  have  no  means  of  ascertaining.  There  was 
deep  solemnity  in  his  aspect,  and  when,  after  the  usual  prayer  on  such  occa- 
sions, the  Moderator  said, — **  In  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
by  the  authority  which  He  has  given  to  the  Church  for  its  edification,  we  do 
lieense  you  to  preach  the  Gospel," — he  bowed  his  head  and  wept. 

After  this,  he  went  forth  to  make  trial  of  his  gifts,  and  until  the  autumn, 
was  engaged  in  preaching.  During  this  period  he  visited  the  missionary 
station  among  the  Chippewas.  This  tour  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
many  places,  and  of  forming  not  a  few  valuable  acquaintances,  and  wherever 
he  went,  his  visits  were  not  less  gratifying  to  others  than  profitable  to 
himself.  Perhaps  no  persons  remember  him  with  more  affection  than  they 
whose  acquaintance  he  formed  during  the  time  that  intervened  between  his 
licensure  and  his  ordination.  This  took  place  on  the  9th  of  November, 
1841,  in  the  Grand  Street  Presbyterian  Church.  I  recollect  the  time  and 
the  place — the  solemnity  of  the  candidate  and  the  emotions  of  those  vrho 
officiated  on  the  occasion.  He  was  my  junior  by  many  years,  yet  he  had 
decided  on  a  course  which  few  of  us  had  ever  contemplated.  We  were  sur- 
rounded by  friends,  and  comforts,  and  privileges ;  he  was  about  to  give  up 
all  that  is  dear  to  the  natural  heart,  and  go  forth  to  live  and  labour  and  die 
among  the  abodes  of  degraded  pagans ! 

In  the  mean  time,  the  Exeoutive  Committee  of  the  Board  of  Foreign 
Missions  had  taken  into  consideration  his  application  to  be  received  as  a 
missionary,  and  to  be  sent  out  nnder  their  care.     In  his  application  he  had 


WALTBR  MAGOR  LQWRIE.  gl3 

expressed  his  desire  to  go  to  Africa ;  bnt  there  were  special  reasons  for 
reinforcing  the  China  Mission.  One  of  the  missionaries  had  died,  and  it 
was  apprehended  that  the  Mission  wonld  be  defeated  nnless  some  one  could 
be  speedily  procured  ;  nor  was  it  easy  to  find  any  one  who  could  go  there 
with  advantage.  The  language  was  yery  difficult  to  be  acquired, — trans- 
lations of  the  Scriptures  into  Chinese  were  to  be  effected,  and  it  was  thought 
that  Mr.  Lowrie  had  peculiar  talents  and  qualifications  for  such  a  task. 
Notwithstanding  his  deference  to  the  judgment  of  the  committee,  their 
decision  was  to  him  a  matter  of  surprise  and  regret.  To  the  last  he  had 
looked  forward  to  poor  benighted  Africa,  and  now  to  turn  his  face  toward 
China,  seemed  like  abandoning  the  cherished  hope  of  years.  But  not  my 
tinll,  Lb  the  sentiment  of  his  heart.  He  is  sent  ;  and  this  thought  serves  all 
along  to  sustain  and  encourage  him. 

Mr.  Lowrie  bade  farewell  to  his  country  with  no  intention  of  ever 
returning ;  and  his  friends  took  leave  of  him  with  little  or  no  expectation 
of  ever  seeing  him  again  on  earth.  A  free  passage  having  been  generously 
offered  to  him  by  the  owners  of  the  ship  Huntress,  he  embarked  in  that 
noble  vessel  on  the  19th  of  January,  1842.  But  we  need  not  here  lose 
sight  of  him.  We  may  follow  him  in  his  course  through  the  pathless 
waters,  mark  his  actions,  discern  his  feelings,  and  read  hb  thoughts.  At 
the  request,  and  to  gratify  the  wishes,  of  his  mother,  he  kept  a  journal  of 
the  voyage;  and  had  I  been  his  fellow  passenger,  I  could  hardly  have 
enjoyed  so  intimate  an  acquaintance  with  him  as  may  be  derived  from  its 
perusal.  It  shows  the  training  to  which  he  had  been  subjected,  the 
resources  of  his  mind,  the  versatile  adaptedness  of  his  powers :  how  the 
love  of  home  enhances  the  love  of  Heaven ;  how  the  sensibilities  of  the 
man  are  refined  by  the  acquisitions  of  the  scholar  and  the  affections  of  the 
Christian  ;  how  the  desire  of  doing  good  triumphs  over  the  discomforts  of 
shipboard  and  all  temptations  to  indolent  quietude  ;  how  prudence  tempera 
zeal,  and  gentleness  wins  prejudice,  and  cheerfulness  recommends  religion : 
what  advantage  the  Christian  scholar  has  in  spending  his  time,  and  in 
deriving  instruction  and  enjoyment  from  every  passing  object  and  any 
trifling  incident.  It  is  written  without  effort  and  without  design, — ^like  the 
spontaneous  expression  of  one's  cherished  hopes  and  inmost  feelings  to  a 
bosom  friend,  or  the  particular,  though  not  tedious,  narration  of  our  travela 
to  one  whose  varying  countenance  reveals  the  interest  that  is  taken  in  all 
we  saw,  and  said,  and  did.  It  is  a  transcript  of  the  successive  phases  of  his 
mibd  and  heart,  natural,  truthful  and  vivacious — embracing  beautiful  sen- 
timents and  profitable  suggestions,  touching  allusions  and  mirthful  pas* 
sages,  scenes  of  grandeur  and  incidents  of  life — showing  the  man,  as  he 
was  on  shipboard,  in  his  weakness,  and  in  his  strength,  without  either  con* 
cealment  or  exaggeration — the  Christian,  in  his  moments  of  extatic  elevation 
or  of  gloomy  depression — the  youthful  missionary,  as  the  home  he  had  left, 
with  all  its  tender  memories,  rose  before  the  eye  of  his  mind,  or  the  land 
whither  he  was  going  cast  its  dark  shadows  over  his  soul ;  now  aiming  to 
know  more  of  the  mind  and  will  of  Him  who  had  sent  him  forth,  from  the 
precious  pages  of  his  own  word — now  improving  his  opportunities  of  doing 
good  to  those  around  him — now  looking  through  nature  up  to  nature's 
God,  and  anon  wafted,  as  on  eagle's  wings,  to  that  world  <*  where  there  is 
no  sea." 


;gl4  FBEgBTTSfilAK. 

While  perusiog  hia  j^uroal,  I  have  been  etmck  with  the  thought  hov 
much  may  be  accompliaked  on  shipboard ;  what  attainments  may  be  made ; 
what  a  salutary  influence  may  be  exerted.  It  shows  the  enviable  supezi- 
ority  of  the  Christian  scholar  as  a  voyager  on  the  great  deep ;  how  every 
.branch  of  knowledge  may  there  be  brought  into  requisition,  and  bo  made 
the  means  of  widening  one's  field  of  observation  and  inquiry — thus  not 
merely  relieving  the  monotony  of  shipboard  life,  but  opening  sourees  of 
ever  varying  interest  and  instruction ;  especially  the  great  advantage  he 
possesses  for  improving  and  enjoying  a  long  voyage,  whose  mind  is  enlarged 
by  the  discoveries,  fortified  by  the  principles,  and  animated  by  the  hopes, 
of  the  Gospel.  How  interesting  does  the  youthful  missionary  appear, 
when,  through  the  medium  of  his  journal,*  we  contemplate  him  a  solitary 
voyager,  going  forth  for  purposes  with  which  few  if  any  on  board  can  truly 
.sympathize,  conscious  of  no  wavering*  though  often  sensible  of  his  iusoffi- 
.oienoy,  no  regret,  though  his  eyes  are  often  suffused  with  tears  !  He 
arrived  at  Macao^Jday  27,  1842 ;  but  his  stay  there  was  brief;  for  as  he 
had  been  directed  to  proceed  to  Singapore  as  soon  as  he  had  made  himself 
acquainted  with  the  existing  state  of  things  in  China,  he  left  Macao  on  the 
18th  of  June,  in  the  Sea  Queen,  bound  for  that  port.  It  would  seem  as 
if  he  had  some  presentiment  of  what  awaited  hira,  during  his  voyage  down 
the  China  sea.t  How  affecting  are  his  reminiscences  of  the  parting  !  How 
comforting  to  him  the  thought  that  he  was  not  on  his  own  errand ; — that 
He  who  had  sent  him  forth  would  strengthen  him  for  whatever  sufferings 
he  might  be  called  to  endure.  How  true  is  it  that  by  those  events  which 
often  perplex  and  confound  the  children  of  God,  *'  He  is  demonstrating  his 
power  over  them,  and  showing  them  that  they  are  not  the  masters  of  their 
own  lot."  It  is  the  great  end  of  all  his  dealings  with  them,  to  convince 
them  of  their  absolute  subjection  and  dependance, — sometimes  by  involving 
them  in  unforeseen  difficulties,  or  baffling  all  their  calculations,  to  disclose  to 
them  the  depths  of  their  hearts,  and  then  again  by  wrenching  the  heart 
with  agony  to  test  their  faith  and  love. 

Mr.  Lowrie  regarded  the  time  spent  on  board  of  this  vessel,  as  a  **  season 
of  chastisement,"  yet  '*of  great  and  unniingled  mercy."  He  might  not  see 
how  the  interests  of  the  Chinese  mission  could  be  promoted  by  such  delay ; 
but  was  satisfied  that  good  would  be  the  result.  He  was  acting  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  home  instructions  which  he  had  received ;  anxious  to  reaoh  the 
brethren  at  Singapore,  and  commence  operations.  While  he  tarried^  the 
juission  languished  from  want  of  aid ;  idolatry  was  riveting  its  chains  around 
immortal  minds,  and  men  who  had  lived  without  God  were  hourly  going 
liown  to  death  without  hope ;  and  why  did  not  He  who  holds  the  winds  and  the 
waves  in  his  hands  speed  him  on  his  way  ?  Was  it  an  intimation  from  Provi- 
dence that  he  had  mistaken  the  path  of  his  duty  ?  Then  the  calms  and  the 
adverse  winds  to  which  Paul  himself  was  subjected,  and  the  storms  by 
which  his  life  was  jeoparded  during  his  voysge  to  Eome,  should  have  been 
viewed  by  the  Apostle  in  the  same  light.  Or  was  it  a  trial  of  his  faith  and 
patience?  Paul  himself  mast  have  had  a  greater  trial,  for  seeminglj 
greater  interests  requited  his  speedy  arrival  at  Rome.  Placed  in  such  oir- 
onmstanoes,  Mr.  Lowrie  was  aeoessarily  impelled  more  than  ever  to  devoat 
meditation  and  study ;  and  it  was,  indeed*  a  SQuvee  of  the  purest  oonsola- 

•  8ee  Memoir  pp.  71—129. 

t  S«e  Memoin.    Voyafe  on  the  Chin*  m«9  pp.  lilj  154. 


WALTJBR  MACOM  LOWRIE.  gig 

ttoa  *t»ii4  encotiragemetft  to  ind  that  h&  was  in  all  i>r()biibiliey  ttot  so  ssverely 
tried  as  th^  great  Apostle  to  the  Gentiles  had  been ;  that  the  aooouDt  which 
Paul  gave  of  his  voyage  to  Home,  was  almost  word  for  word  applicable  to 
his  own  voyage  to  Singapore.  We  shall  yet  see  him  moviog  &mid  scenes 
of  varied  and  thrilling  interest ;  but  we  love  to  bring  him  before  the  eye  of 
our  miad,  as  be  was  in  that  noisome  craft, — amid  that  wretched  crew,--** 
on  that  boisterous  sea, — without  a  friend  with  whom  he  could  exchange 
thought, — without  an  opportunity  of  doing  good  to  those  whose  language 
he  could  not  understand — there,  with  no  other  companion  than  his  old  BibU! 
Its  truths,  its  counsels,  its  promises,  all  are  doubly  precious  to  his  soul* 
We  feel  for  him  in  his  loneliness,  but  unless  he  had  been  thus,  he  would 
not  have  been  brought  so  near  to  God.  We  sympathize  with  him  in  the 
absence  of  his  privileges;  but  had  he  enjoyed  them,  he  would  not  have 
been  able  to  enter  with  so  much  cordial  interest  into  the  aspirations  of  holy 
men  of  old :  so  true  is  it  that  without  being  placed  in  cireumstanoes  of  sore 
trial,  Christians  can  never  fully  appreciate  the  value,  or  know  the  precious- 
ness  of  God's  holy  word.  That  old  Bible  of  his !  what  light  does  it  reflect 
on  his  character  and  errand!  A  missionary  with  his  Bible  is  one  sent  of 
God  and  not  of  man;  a  missionary  studying  his  Bible  is  one  who  respects 
the  mind  and  will  of  God ;  a  missionary  brought  in  the  providence  of  God 
to  discover  a  deeper  meaning  and  a  more  precious  view  in  some  passage  of 
the  Bible  is  the  man  to  preach  the  Bible  from  experience  and  the  heart. 
Instructions  from  home  are  of  little  value  compared  with  instructions  from 
the  sacred  page ;  letters  from  home  of  but  little  use  to  comfort,  if  the  great 
things  which  God  has  written  to  bis  servants,  do  not  secure  permanent  inte- 
rest ;  the  company  of  missionary  associates  can  but  relieve  for  a  time,  if  the 
company  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles  be  not  habitually  valued ;  while  this 
Book,  in  the  light  which  it  throws  on  the  darkest  hour,  in  the  consolations 
which  it  imparts  to  the  sorrowing,  in  the  thoughts  which  it  may  awaken  in 
the  solitude  of  our  condition,  and  in  the  sweet  and  precious  promises  which 
it  unfolds,  may  make  amends  for  the  absence  of  all  earthly  friends  and  per- 
sonal comforts ;  and  Mr.  Lowrie's  experience  of  its  preciousness  in  the  hour 
of  need  is  an  evidence  of  its  truth,  as  well  as  of  the  sincerity  of  his  belief. 
(Memoirs  p.  145-158.) 

By  the  10th  of  July,  the  vessel  had  gone  half  the  distance  from  Macao 
to  Singapore ;  but  after  this  her  progress  was  impeded  by  currents  which 
soon  became  too  strong  to  be  resisted.  The  Monsoon  blew  with  great  vio- 
lence ;  for  several  days  no  observations  could  be  taken ;  and,  after  crossing 
and  re-crossing  their  track  for  thirty-one  days,  ^ey  found  themselves  on  the 
11th  of  August,  only  one  hundred  miles  nearer  Singapore  than  they  were 
on  the  10th  of  the  preceding  month.  Finding  at  last  that  they  could  not 
make  head  against  the  currents,  and  that  their  provisions  were'  nearly 
exhausted,  they  very  reluctantly  turned  about,  and  shaped  their  course  for 
Manilla,  where  they  arrived  in  safety  on  the  3d  of  August,  after  a  voyage 
of  sixty-six  days  from  Macao. 

Through  his  anxiety  to  reach  Singapore  with  as  little  delay  as  possible, 
and  at  the  same  time,  retaining  no  very  pleasing  impressions  of  the  Sea 
Queen's  speed  and  accommodations,  he  took  passage  in  another  vessel,  and, 
aa  he  thought,  with  a  better  prospect  of  reaching  Singapore.  This  vessel 
was  wrecked ;  and  his  narrative  of  the  disaster  and  of  his  wonderful  escape 
will  abundantly  repay  perusal.    After  a  most  graphic  description. of  the 


816  PRESBTTERIAlf. 

perils  to  wbicb  they  had  been  exposed,  and  finding  himself  safe  on  the  land, 
he  adds, — *^  It  was  a  scene  worthy  of  the  painter's  skill — our  little  boat  fast* 
ened  to  the  trees,  our  scanty  baggage  piled  upon  th*e  shore,  and  oarselves 
under  the  custard  apple*trees,  standing  with  upturned  faces,  while  the  rain 
dropped  upon  our  bare  heads  as  we  lifted  up  our  voices,  and,  I  trust,  our 
hearts,  to  that  G-od  who  had  brought  us  through  the  dangers  we  never 
expected  to  survive." 

Well  might  Mr.  Lowrie  repeat  to  himself  one  of  his  favourite  texts :  **  It 
is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to  direct  his  steps."  The  Sea  Queen  in  which 
he  had  started  for  Singapore  did  not  reach  there  in  less  than  a  hundred  and 
twenty  days  from  Macao;  while  the  vessel,  (the  Oneida,)  which  did  not 
leave  Macao  till  three  weeks  after  the  Sea  Queen,  arrived  at  Singapore 
before  he  reached  Manilla  remained  two  months,  and  returned  in  November. 
Had  Mr.  L.  gone  in  her,  it  would  not  only  have  saved  him  an  immense 
amount  of  suffering,  but  might  have  altered  the  whole  course  of  his  life. 
Such  was  his  own  impression,  as  he  recalled  the  reasons  for  his  preferring 
the  Sea  Queen — the  scenes  through  which  he  had  passed,  and  found  himself, 
after  the  lapse  of  four  months,  again  in  Macao,  without  having  seen  the 
place  whither  he  had  been  sent.  It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  he  should 
feel  somewhat  perplexed  with  the  affairs  of  the  mission.  Still,  he  did  not 
yield  to  despondency.  The  recent  lessons  which  he  had  been  taught,  ena- 
ble him  to  say  from  the  heart, — 

"  I  sure 
**  Have  had  enough  of  bitter  in  my  cap 
*'  To  show  that  never  was  it  his  design 
'*  Who  placed  me  here  that  I  should  live  at  ease, 
**  Or  drink  at  pleasure's  fountain.    Henceforth  then 
**  It  matters  not,  if  storm  or  sunshine  be 
"  My  future  lot:  bitter  or  sweet  my  cup. 
"  I  only  pray,  God  fit  me  for  the  work  i 
'*'  God  make  me  holy  and  my  spirit  nerve 
"  For  the  stern  hour  of  strife  !" 

The  mission  at  Singapore  having  been  abandoned  for  sufficient  reasons, 
Mr.  Lowrie  resided  in  Macao  more  than  two  years ;  where,  in  addition  to 
the  prosecution  of  the  Chinese  language,  making  such  observations  of  the 
country  as  were  necessary  to  the  selection  of  favourable  points  for  missionary 
stations,  and  such  an  acquaintance  with  the  character  and  customs  of  the 
people  as  would  tend  to  facilitate  his  future  operations,  he  preached  regularly 
once  a  Sabbath  to  a  small  congregation  of  English  and  Americans.  His 
sermons  were  admirably  adapted  to  profit,  and  his  manner  was  peculiarly 
solemn.  Such  was  the  testimony  of  his  friend  Lloyd,  who  had  the  happi- 
ness of  joining  him  on  heathen  ground  toward  the  close  of  the  year  1844. 
It  was  while  in  Macao,  that  he  experienced  some  change  in  his  views  on 
the  subject  of  the  Millenium.  He  had  come  to  the  belief  that  the  Jews 
would  be  restored  to  their  own  land,  and  began  to  lean  to  the  opinion  that 
Christ  would  again  visibly  appear.  But  my  limits  will  not  permit  me  to 
enter  into  particulars,  nor  even  to  advert  to  the  various  things  which  have 
arrested  my  notice  while  perusing  his  copious  and  minute  letters.  On  the 
2l8t  of  January,  1845,  he  left  Macao,  and,  after  having  been  a  while  detained 
at  Hong  Kong,  arrived  at  Ningpo,  the  final  plaoe  of  his  residence  and 
labours,  on  the  11th  of  April,  1845.  While  there,  he  was  most  indus- 
triously and  usefully  employed,  and  made  great  profioiency  in  the  study  of 
the  language.      Though  he  had  not  equalled  some  of  his  colleagues  in 


WALT£R  XAOON  LOWRIE.  817 

speakmg,  yet  he  bad  thrown  much  light  on  the  colloquial  language.  Even 
in  relation  to  speaking  the  language,  he  seems  at  last  to  have  overcome 
every  difficulty,  as  is  evident  from  the  fact  that,  for  some  time  previous  to 
his  leaving  Ningpo,  he  had  heen  preaching  to  the  Chinese.  But  his  chief 
attention  was  directed  to  his  preparation  for  usefulness  through  the  medium 
of  the  written  language.  Hence,  not  only  his  translations  of  parts  of  the 
New  Testament  and  a  considerable  portion  of  the  Catechism,  but  his  advance-* 
ment  in  a  plan  for  a  Dictionary  of  the  Chinese ;  and  had  his  life  been  pro- 
longed, he  would,  in  all  probability,  have  completed  so  great  a  work.  No  one, 
however,  can  form  any  adequate  idea  of  his  life  and  labours,  who  has  not 
perused  hb  letters.  These  constitute  an  autobiography  as  complete  as 
he  himself  could  have  written ;  and  they  are  the  more  valuable  because 
written,  with  but  few  exceptions,  for  the  special  eye  of  those  to  whom  he 
felt  free  in  laying  bare  his  inmost  thoughts  and  daily  practices.  He  knew 
that  nothing  that  concerned  him  and  his  work  would  be  uninteresting  to 
them ;  and  as  he  felt  assured  of  their  sympathy  and  prayers,  we  may  regard 
his  letters  in  the  light  of  conversations  with  absent  friends.  The  life  of 
every  man  is  made  up  of  detail ;  and  it  is  only  from  every  day  life  that  we 
can  truly  judge  of  any  one's  character.  We  cannot  know  what  he  is  until 
we  see  him  where  there  is  no  motive  either  to  conceal  or  to  display ;  and  as 
a  man  is  in  private,  such  is  his  true  moral  character.  He  may  not  know 
himself,  but  they  who  are  around  him  from  day  to  day,  know  him  better 
than  he  knows  himself;  and  in  like  manner,  as  a  man  is  in  the  judgment 
of  the  inmates  of  his  own  dwelling,  such  is  he  in  the  unrestrained  familiarity 
of  epistolary  intercourse  with  bosom  friends ;  and  though  many  have 
endorsed  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Spratt  that  letters  between  relatives  and  special 
friends  are  scarce  ever  fit  to  see  the  light,  as  in  such  letters  *^  the  souls  of 
men  appear  undrest,"  yet  these  are  the  very  letters  which  are  most  essential  to 
enable  us  to  judge  with  accuracy  of  the  Christian  missionary.  No  Christian, 
unless  he  has  schooled  himself  into  a  morbid  monotony  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing, can  always  appear  the  same.  Whatever  his  attainments  in  personal 
'  piety,  the  strength  of  his  self-denying  purpose,  or  the  diligence  of  his 
habits,  there  are  times  when  the  peculiarities  of  his  temperament,  or  the 
natural  cast  of  his  disposition,  will  be  strikingly  seen ;  and  I  am  free  to 
say,  in  relation  to  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  that,  in  my  view,  his  piety  is 
not  less  fervent,  because  it  is  occasionally  mingled  with  a  strain  of  native 
tenderness  and  innocent  gaiety ;  his  devotion  to  his  work  not  less  real, 
because,  in  his  hours  of  intermitted  application,  he  could  enter  with  zest 
into  cheerful  converse  or  epistolary  chat ;  his  affection  for  his  Master  not 
less  .deep  and  abiding,  because  he  could  interest  his  absent  friends  in  the 
arrangements  of  his  house  and  the  supply  of  his  table :  even  his  occasional 
moments  of  utter  loneliness  are  not  at  variance  with  his  sense  of  the  value 
of  God's  favour ;  nor  those  feelings  which  bordered  on  despondency  incon- 
sistent with  a  pure  and  holy  zeal.  A  missionary,  like  the  Hindoo  man-god, 
may  have  jirt  in  him  to  bum  up  somewhat  of  the  sins  and  miseries  of  the 
world ;  but  so  long  as  he  himself  carries  into  the  field  '*  of  substantial, 
laborious  operation''  the  infirmities  of  a  fallen  nature,  all  his  hopes  may 
fail  him,  and  leave  him  spiritless  for  a  time  '*  amid  the  iron  labour." 

One  of  the  most  pleasing  traits  in  Mr.  Lowrie's  character  was  his  dispo- 
aition  to  allay  the  natural  anxiety  of  those  who  loved  him  most,  by  interesting 
them  in  all  that  appertained  to  his  mode  of  living  and  daily  employments— 

Vol.  IV.    103 


%l%  PRESBTTEfilAK. 

hiB  tender  thoaghtftilneas  of  them  even  when  most  fattgaed  by  the  labours 
of  the  day.  And,  in  this  connection,  it  is  important,  as  well  as  gratifying, 
to  reeali  his  unabated  concern  for  the  advancement  of  religion  at  home ;  his 
deference  to  his  Presbytery  in  giving  them,  of  his  own  accord,  an  aoeount 
of  himself ;  his  joy  on  receiving  the  intelligence  of  his  brother's  conversion 
and  the  liberal  gift  to  the  mission ;  his  statements  in  relation  to  the  mis- 
sionary  work ;  his  advice  to  those  who  contemplated  the  work  in  China ;  hui 
anxiety  to  welcome  new  labourers ;  his  interest  in  the  cause  of  Sabbath  School 
instruction,  which  led  him,  notwithstanding  the  pressure  of  his  engagements, 
to  write  a  series  of  letters  to  children  ;*  in  the  action  of  the  General  Assem- 
bly, as  evinced  by  his  appropriate  reflections  on  receiving  the  Minutes  ;t  and 
especially  his  aim  to  rectify  all  false  or  romantic  views  of  the  missionary's 
life  and  work ;  as  appears  from  his  masterly  essay  on  Missions.^  That  cause 
must  have  been  dear  to  him,  which  enabled  him  to  control  as  affectionate  a 
heart  as  ever  beat  in  the  human  bosom.  That  mind  could  not  have  been 
limited  in  its  range  or  narrow  in  its  devotion,  which  enabled  him  to  keep 
in  practical  view  the  vital  connection  between  the  prosperity  of  the  Chun^ 
in  America  and  the  Church  in  China ;  to  do  so  much  towards  awakening  in 
the  bosoms  of  Christians  at  home  a  deeper  interest  in  the  cause  of  Missions, 
while  bending  all  his  energies  to  the  advancement  of  the  cause  abroad; 
even  while  pressed  down  by  a  sense  of  the  magnitude  of  his  own  work,  to 
realize  the  responsibilities  of  Christians  in  America;  and,  while  surveying 
with  a  tearful  eye  the  wide-spread  desolations  around  him,  to  feel  for  poor 
benighted  Africa. 

His  powers  of  observation  were  no  less  remarkable  than  the  largeness  of 
his  views,  and  the  purity  of  his  sentiments ;  his  power  in  recalling  past 
scenes,  or  in  availing  himself  of  any  branch  of  knowledge,  than  his  ability 
to  apply  himself  with  unremitting  assiduity.  That  he  could  study  so  many 
hours  a  day,  investigate  different  subjects,  superintend  the  missionary  press, 

do  most  of  the  writing  for  the  mission,  prepare  a  sermon  every  week, at 

first  in  English,  and  afterwards  in  Chinese;  and  in  the  mean  time  turn  off 
so  many  letters  to  different  persons  on  a  great  variety  of  topics,  and  keep 
such  copious  journals,  was  owing,  I  apprehend,  to  his  method  in  study,  his 
equanimity  in  temperament,  and  ability  to  turn  from  one  subject  to  another 
without  distraction;  to  the  quickness  of  his  perceptions  and  the  vividness 
of  his  reminiscences ;  to  his  facility  alike  in  learning  and  in  writing  rather 
than  to  any  extraordinary  powers.  He  could  not  be  idle.  If  not  able  to 
engage  in  some  regular  task,  he  penned  a  letter,  or  added  to  his  journal ; 
noted  some  fact  or  classified  some  flower.  Every  thing  on  which  his  eye  fell 
awakened  some  pleasing  association  or  suggested  some  useful  thought.  The 
varied  aspects  of  the  country,  its  products  and  its  commerce,  as  well  as  the 
manners  and  customs  of  the  people,  all  in  turn  and  at  suitable  times,  inters 
ested  his  attention  and  furnished  him  with  valuable  information  for  future 
use.  He  was  not  less  fond  of  order  than  averse  from  interruptions. 
Wherever  domesticated,  each  part  of  the  day  had  its  allotted  task ;  and 
each  thing  in  turn  was  to  be  done  and  well  done ;  at  times  applying  him- 
self with  injudicious  severity,  but  seldom  loitering  or  listless,  now  exercis- 
ing with  the  buoyancy  of  youth,  and  then  entering  with  equal  relish  into 

*  See  Letters  to  Sunday  Sdiool  ohildrea*      x 

J  Memoir,  p.  416. 
Memoir,  p.  445. 


WALTER  MACON  LOITRIE.  g29 

the  pleasures  of  the  soeial  oirole,  or  even  the  sports  of  childhood ;  some- 
times blending  the  advantage  of  conversation  with  healthfal  recreation, 
and  then  again  availing  himself  of  his  knowledge  of  botany  or  hia  love  of 
music  to  relieve  the  solitariness  of  hia  walk  or  the  loneliness  of  his  abode. 
His  conceptions  almost  equalled  the  force  of  actual  perceptions ;  his  sus- 
ceptibility to  all  the  deeper  emotions  of  the  soul,  and  at  the  same  time,  his 
quick  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  his  playfnlnesa,  his  aptness  in  seising  the 
strong  points  of  a  character  or  of  a  scene,  and  his  facility  in  narration  and 
description,  all  fitted  him  for  a  striking  dramatic  writer,  or  a  charming 
writer  of  travels.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  his  habits  of  laborious  and 
untiring  application,  coupled  with  his  general  scholarship  and  great  facility 
in  the  acquisition  of  language,  fitted  him  in  an  especial  manner  for  the  task 
of  commenting  on  the  Scriptures, — of  translating  them  into  the  Chinese, 
and  even  of  framing  a  Dictionary  of  that  tongue.  But  even  his  intellectual 
powers  and  acquirements  sink  in  comparison  with  his  holy  faith  and  self* 
denying  seal.  It  is  his  missionary  spirit, — his  steady  devotion  to  his  object 
amid  all  trials  and  difficulties,  that  impresses  us  with  sentiments  of  unaf- 
fected regard  for  his  character ;  and  it  is  in  this  light  that  we  love  to  con- 
template him.  Though  fond  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  alive  to  the 
attractions  of  literature,  he  seems  to  have  been  only  the  more  charmed  by 
the  richness  and  variety  of  the  Scriptures.  As  the  Iliad  was  to  Alexander 
during  hia  marches  through  the  East,  so  was  the  Book  of  Books  to  Lowrie 
in  his  journey ings  and  labours  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  final  subjugation 
of  the  heathen  to  the  King  of  Kings.  It  is  refreshing  to  &ith  to  contem- 
plate such  a  spirit;  never  forgetting  his  spiritual  birth-day,  yet  remember-' 
ing  his  constant  need  of  Divine  guidance  and  succour,  realizing  that  it  is 
not  in  man  that  walketh  to  direct  his  steps,  yet  exercising  all  due  vigilance 
and  forethought ;  lamenting  his  own  deficiencies,  yet  hoping  in  the  salvation 
of  God ;  ever  panting  after  the  rest  of  Heaven,  yet  neglecting  none  of  the 
duties  of  life.  As  he  knew  not  what  a  day  would  bring  forth,  it  was  his 
practical  maxim  to  "  live  by  the  day" — to  go  on  as  if  he  were  to  live  to 
see  the  fruits  of  his  toils,  and  yet  to  die  daily.  Uniting  diligence  in  action 
with  dependance  in  feeling,  prayerfulness  of  spirit  with  rectitude  of  life ; 
grave  without  austerity,  and  cheerful  without  frivolity ;  resolute  in  purpose 
yet  childlike  in  his  sympathies ;  and  though  firm  in  his  conclusions,  modest 
in  his  utterance  and  humble  in  his  walk, — ^he  seems  to  have  been  pre-emi- 
nently fitted  for  influence  in  the  Mission  and  usefulness  in  his  field. 

Having  been  appointed  one  of  the  delegates,  he  is  on  the  eve  of  setting 
^ut  for  the  Convention  at  Shanghai.  That  Convention  would  be  composed 
of  Medhurst,  Boone,  Bridgeman  and  Stronarch.  He  knew  that  he  would 
be  the  youngest  member,  and  on  that  account  thought  that  he  would  have 
nothing  to  do  but  **  to  sit  still  and  listen;"  or  if  the  services  should  be 
protracted,  that  he  would  continue  his  studies.  He  looked  forward,  how- 
ever, with  more  than  ordinary  interest  to  the  principal  question  which 
would  probably  occupy  the  time  of  the  Convention,  and  that  was,  the 
proper  Chinese  term  for  the  Elohim  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  the  Theos 
of  the  New.  He  had  written  on  the  subject  for  the  November  and  Decem- 
ber numbers  of  the  Chinese  Bepository,  1846  ;  and,  though  it  might  seem 
presumption  in  him  to  differ  from  Dr.  Medhurst,  he  was  convinced  that  to 
continue  the  use  of  the  Chinese  Skang'te  or  the  word  Te  for  the  true  Qod, 
was  only  to  confirm  the  Chinese  in  their  idolatry.    In  his  view,  Shin  was 


g20  PRESBTTERIAK. 

the  only  word  tbat  eonveyed  the  true  idea  of  God ;  and  bad  ii  not  been  for 
bis  intense  anxiety  to  settle  this  all-important  word,  be  would  greatly  baye 
preferred  remaining  at  Ningpo, — so  attached  bad  he  become  to  his  work 
there,  and  po  desirous  of  prosecuting  his  studies.  It  is  remarkable  that  in 
the  very  letter  in  which  he  unfolded  these  views,  be  should  have  alluded  to 
the  loss  which  some  of  the  brethren  of  the  Mission  had  sustained  by  hav- 
ing their  books  fall  into  the  hands  of  pirates.  The  pirates  had  become 
exceedingly  bold,  and  on  this  account  **  he  knew  not  how  he  should  get  to 
Shanghai."  But  taking  the  route  by  Chapoo,  which  "he  considered  an 
open  route,'*  he  arrived  in  safety  at  Shanghai,  the  first  week  in  June,  1847, 
and  was  entertained  by  Bishop  Boone.  He  had  remained  there  for  nearly 
two  months,  engaged  with  his  associates  in  the  great  object  for  which  they 
had  convened,  when  he  was  sent  for  to  return  to  Ningpo  with  reference  to 
certain  occurrences  at  that  station.  Accordingly,  he  left  Shanghai,  and 
thinking  to  expedite  his  return,  engaged  at  Chapoo,  on  the  19th  of  August, 
a  regular  passenger-boat  to  carry  him  and  his  attendants  to  Ningpo.  As 
the  wind  became  unfavourable  soon  after  the  vessel  set  sail,  **it  was  neces- 
sary to  beat,  and  the  boat  sailed  about  twelve  miles  in  a  southeasterly 
direction,  when  suddenly  a  vessel  was  seen  bearing  down  upon  them  very 
rapidly.  The  boatmen  became  alarmed,  and  would  have  turned  back,  had 
not  Mr.  L.  endeavoured  to  allay  their  fears  ;  and,  as  the  vessel  approached, 
he  showed  a  small  American  flag  which  he  had  with  him  ;  but  to  no  pur- 
pose. After  a  discharge  of  fire-arms,  the  pirates  boarded  the  boat  with 
swords  and  spears,  and  began  to  thrust  and  beat  all  who  stood  in  the  way. 
They  then  broke  open  every  thing,  and  took  such  things  as  they  wished, — 
even  stripped  the  Chinesemen  of  their  clothes  ;  but  Mr.  L.  they  did  not 
touch,  and  so  collected  was  he  that  he  gave  thetn  his  key  to  prevent  their 
breaking  open  his  own  trunk.  But  at  last  they  stripped  and  beat  his  own 
servant,  which  so  overcame  him  that  he  went  upon  deck  and  seated  him- 
self on  the  windlass  to  await  the  issue.  It  is  not  known  by  what  motive 
the  pirates  were  influenced  in  resolving  on  his  destruction.  It  might  have 
been  from  the  impression  that  he  was  a  man  of  influence,  and  would  exert 
himself  against  them  with  the  authorities ;  or,  swayed,  as  such  people 
usually  are,  by  some  ruthless  superstition,  they  might  have  thought,  the 
sacrifice  of  a  foreigner  would  propitiate  their  idol-god.  This  seems  the 
more  probable  reason,  as  he  was  the  only  one  on  board  on  whom  they 
sought  to  lay  violent  hands  ;  but  how  shall  I  record  the  manner  in  which 
they  executed  their  dark  purpose  I  There  is  to  my  mind  something  pain- 
folly  affecting  in  his  condition.  But  a  few  years  before  he  was  kneeling  on 
consecrated  ground,  surrounded  by  Christian  fathers  and  brothers  who  laid 
their  hands  on  his  head,  and  by  solemn  prayer  set  him  apart  to  the  work 
of  the  Gospel  ministry  in  pagan  lands — ^now,  pirates  come  about  him,  and 
with  merciless  hands  seize  and  overpower  bim,  and  oast  him  into  the  raging 
sea.  In  his  extremity,  he  naturally  made  for  the  vessel,  but  the  threaten- 
ing spears  of  his  assulants  caused  him  to  breast  the  billows,  and  after  a 
£ew  brief  struggles,  he  sank  to  rise  no  more  until  the  sea  shall  give  np  its 
dead. 

Thus  ended  ihe  missionary  career  of  Walter  M.  Lowrie — a  man,  who 
left  behind  him  few  equals, — ^no  superior  in  the  field ;  who,  though  young 
in  years,  was  old  in  wisdom  and  ripe  in  experience ;  who  had  never  made 
an  enemy  nor  alienated  a  friend ;  by  his  judgment  and  fidelity  had  won  tka 


WALTER  MACON  LOWRIE.  g21 

esteem  and  confidence  of  all  his  oompeere ;  by  his  assiduity  had  mastered 
the  most  difficult  of  all  the  written  languages,  and  prepared  himself  to  act 
with  efficiency  in  the  work  of  evangelising  the  Chinese. 

We  have  followed  him  in  his  short  journey  through  life,  marked  his  pro- 
ficiency in  study  and  growth  in  grace,  noted  the  warmth  of  his  heart  and 
the  strength  of  his  purposes,  seen  him  breaking  away  from  the  tics  of  home 
and  country,  going  forth  alone  to  the  land  of  idols,  devoting  himself  with  an 
energy  that  could  be  shaken  by  no  trials ;  attaining  to  a  high  degree  of 
scholarship  and  a  high  position  of  influence  and  usefulness;  taking  his 
place  in  the  convention  for  the  translation  of  the  Scriptures ;  and  when  our 
hopes  of  him  were  raised  to  the  utmost,  we  have  seen  the  waves  of  the 
China  Sea  close  over  him :  but  his  character  survives ;  his  example  lives  ; 
his  memory  shall  not  perish  ;  though  the  noble  monument  erected  for  him 
by  his  missionary  brethren  at  Ningpo  should  crumble  into  dust. 
I  remain,  dear  Sir, 

With  sentiments  of  the  highest  esteem, 

Yours  very  truly, 

B.  W.  DICKINSON. 


-♦♦- 


JOHN  HUMPHREY,  D.  D  * 

1841—1854. 

John  Humphrey  was  the  third  son,  and  fourth  child,  of  the  Rev. 
Heman  Humphrey,  D.  D.,  and  was  born  in  Fairfield,  Conn.,  March  17, 
1816.  When  he  was  less  than  two  years  old,  his  father  removed  with  his 
family  to  Pittsfield,  having  accepted  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Congrega- 
tional Church  in  that  place;  and,  after  remaining  there  nearly  six  years,  he 
removed,  in  the  autumn  of  1823,  to  Amherst,  in  consequence  of  having 
been  chosen  to  the  Presidency  of  Amherst  College.  It  was  here  that  his 
son  John  had  his  classical  education, — ^having  the  advantage  of  living  under 
the  paternal  roof,  not  only  while  he  was  fitting  for  College,  but  during  his 
whole  college  course.  In  his  boyhood,  he  was  distinguished  especially  for 
his  genial  disposition,  and  his  superiority  in  athletic  sports ;  and  those  who 
knew  him  then,  and  in  subsequent  life,  recognised  in  the  boy  the  germ  of 
those  fine  traits  which  so  adorned  and  elevated  the  character  of  the  man. 
He  entered  Amherst  College  in  1832,  and  was  graduated  in  1835, — having 
sustained  an  excellent  reputation  for  scholarship  and  general  deportment. 

The  year  following  his  graduation  he  spent  as  Principal  of  an  Academy 
in  Prattsburg,  N.  Y.  Here  he  was  eminently  successful  as  a  teacher,  and 
the  Trustees  of  the  institution  would  gladly  have  retained  him  in  their  ser- 
vice ;  but,  having  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  the  ministry,  he  felt  unwill- 
ing to  delay  any  longer  his  immediate  preparation  for  it.  Accordingly,  he 
left  his  school  at  the  close  of  the  year,  and  in  the  autumn  of  1836,  entered 
the  Junior  class  of  the  Andover  Theological  Seminary.  In  the  following 
summer,  owing  to  Professor  Stuart's  ill  health  and  consequent  inability  to 

^  MS.  from  his  father. — Memoir  bj  Rev.  Dr.  Badington. 


§22  PRESBTTIRIAK. 

iefteh,  he  proseonted  his  stadUs  afe  theSemisftry  on  EMt  Windsor  Hill.  In 
the  autumn  of  that  year  (1837)  he  aocepted  a  Tutorship  in  Amherst  Col- 
lege, which  brought  him  again  to  reside  under  his  father's  roof.  Here  he 
continued  till  sometime  in  1839,  in  the  latter  part  of  which  year  we  find 
him  again  pursuing  his  studies  at  Andoyer.  He  completed  the  prescribed 
course  in  the  autumn  of  1841,  and  immediately  after  accepted  an  invitation 
to  supply  for  a  season  the  Congregational  Church  in  South  Berwick,  Me., 
then  vacant  by  the  recent  lamented  death  of  William  Bradford  Homer. 
Here  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  highly  intelligent  community ;  and 
he  seems  to  have  been  very  happy  for  the  time  in  his  ministrations,  though 
there  were  some  reasons  why  he  chose  to  remain  there  but  a  few  months. 
Afier  leaving  South  Berwick,  he  supplied  a  vacant  pulpit  for  some  time  in 
Springfield,  Mass. 

In  the  spring  of  1842,  he  made  a  journey  to  Kentucky,  in  fulfilment  of 
a  long  cherished  purpose,  partly  to  visit  his  brother  who  was  Pastor  of  a 
Church  in  Louisville,  and  partly  to  gratify  his  curiosity,  and  extend  his 
acquaintance.  He  was  absent  on  this  tour  for  several  months,  and  it  seems 
to  have  accumulated  for  him  a  rich  treasury  of  pleasant  and  enduring  recol- 
lections. On  bis  journey  Westward,  he  visited  Washington  for  the  first 
time,  where  he  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Webster,  then  Secretary 
of  State,  and  other  of  the  magnates,  and  of  seeing  and  hearing  \nuch  that 
interested  him ;  though  he  seems  to  have  been  impressed  with  the  idea  that 
worldly  greatness  loses  nothing  by  being  contemplated  at  a  distance. 

In  October,  1842,  Mr.  Humphrey  preached,  for  the  first  time,  in  the  pul- 
pit of  the  Winthrop  Church,  Charles  town,  Mass.  This  was  a  young  but 
prosperous  congregation,  which  had  been  gathered  chiefly  by  the  labours  of 
their  first  Pastor,  the  Kev.  Daniel  Crosby,*  whose  declining  health  had  now 
left  them  without  a  settled  ministry.  Mr.  Humphrey's  labours  here  proved 
highly  acceptable,  and  the  congregation  proceeded  almost  immediately  to 
make  out  for  him  a  call.  Though  he  hesitated  not  a  little  in  respect  to  his 
duty,  from  an  apprehension  that,  with  his  indifferent  health  and  limited 
experience  in  the  ministry,  he  should  be  inadequate  to  the  labours  and 
responsibilities  of  the  place,  he  ultimately  accepted  the  call,  and  was 
ordained  Pastor  of  the  Church  sometime  in  the  month  of  November.  On 
the  2d  of  July,  1845,  he  was  united  in  marriage  to  Lucy  Y.,  daughter  of 
William  Henderson,  of  Thomaston,  Me., — a  union  to  which  he  traced  ever 
after  his  dearest  earthly  joys.  They  had  three  children, — one  of  whom 
died  before  the  father. 

Mr.  Humphrey's  ministry  at  Charlestown  continued  between  four  and  five 
years.  During  this  period,  be  laboured  with  great  fidelity  and  acceptance; 
but  his  failing  health  at  length  admonished  him  of  the  necessity  of  at  least 

*Dakiel  Crosby  was  born  in  Hampden,  He.,  Oetober  8,  1799;  was  graduated  at  Tale  Col- 
lege  ill  1823;  finished  his  theological  oonrse  at  Andover  in  1826;  was  ordained  Pastor  of  the 
GoDgregntional  Church  in  Conway,  January  31,  1827;  resigned  his  charge  July  24,  IS^3\  was 
installed  Pastor  of  the  Winthrop  Church^  Charlestown,  August  14,  1833;  resigned  his  second 
charge  in  May,  1842,  when  he  entered  upon  editorial  duties  at  the  Mission  House  in  Boston,  in 
behalf  of  the  American  Board.  He  continued  to  reside  in  Charlestown  till  his  death,  which 
ooourred  on  the  28th  of  February,  1843,  in  the  forty-fourth  year  of  his  age.  He  published  a 
small  work  on  the  **  Character  of  Christ,"  Mid  sereral  occasional  Sermons.  The  Rer.  Dr. 
David  Greene,  who  preached  his  Funeral  Sermon,  which  was  published,  represents  him  as  har- 


resigned  to  the  will  of  God  in  the  prospeot  of  his  departiue 


JOHN  HUMPHREY.  828 

abridging  his  labours.  Accordinglj,  in  the  spring  of  1847,  he  resigned  his 
pastoral  charge,  and  left  Charlestown.  After  devoting  some  time  to  relaxa* 
tion, — most  of  which  he  spent  with  his  father,  who  had  now  returned  to 
reside  in  Pittsfield, — his  health  seemed  so  much  invigorated  that  he  felt 
justified  in  attempting  to  resume  his  labours;  and,  accordingly,  about  tho 
beginning  of  February,  1848,  he  accepted  an  invitation  to  preach  to  the 
Presbyterian  Church  in  Bingharoton,  N.  Y.  The  result  was  that  they  gavo 
him  a  call,  which  he  accepted ;  and  in  the  early  part  of  October  following, 
he  was  installed  as  their  Pastor.  Here  he  remained  till  the  spring  of  1854; 
and,  after  struggling  for  a  year  and  a  half  with  poor  health,  he  was  obliged 
again  to  ask  for  a  dismission,  which  took  place  in  March  of  that  year. 

On  leaving  Bioghamton,  he  accepted  an  appointment  to  a  Professorship 
in  Hamilton  College,  to  which  was  attached  the  pastoral  care  of  the  stu- 
dents,  and  he  fondly  hoped  that  a  few  months'  relaxation,  in  connection 
with  a  sea  voyage,  would  enable  him  to  enter  upon  duties  every  way  so 
congenial  with  his  tastes  and  habits.  Accordingly,  he  sailed  for  Europe  in 
April ;  but  the  effect  was  by  no  means  what  he  and  his  friends  had  hoped 
for.  After  passing  a  few  days  in  London,  he  went  to  Paris,  where  he 
became  so  ill  that,  for  a  short  time,  he  was  unable  to  travel ;  but  he  soon 
made  his  way  back  to  Liverpool,  and  embarked  on  his  homeward  voyage. 
He  reached  Pittsfield  in  June,  in  a  state  that  forbade  the  hope  not  only  of 
his  recovery,  but  of  his  life  being  continued  beyond  a  brief  period.  He 
gradually  declined  during  the  summer  and  autumn,  always  sustained  by  the 
serene  and  joyful  hope  of  a  better  life,  until  the  22d  of  December,  when  he 
gently  laid  aside  the  earthly  tabernacle.  His  Funeral  Sermon  was  preached 
by  the  Kev.  Samuel  Harris,  then  Pastor  of  the  Second  Congregational  Church 
in  Pittsfield. 

Though  it  was  my  privilege  to  be  somewhat  acquainted  in  Dr.  Humph- 
rey's family  in  my  early  life,  and  the  early  part  of  his  ministry,  it  was  two 
or  three  years  before  the  birth  of  his  son  John  ;  and  I  think  I  never  met 
thb  son  till  after  he  had  reached  manhood,  and  entered  the  ministry. 
Indeed  I  never  saw  him  but  a  few  times,  and  then  only  when  he  was  a 
caaual  visitor  at  my  house ;  but  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  even  slightly  known 
and  soon  forgotten.  Possibly  some  might  say  that  he  had  no  very  strong 
points  of  character — perhaps  not  in  the  common  acceptation  of  that  phrase; 
certainly  not  in  the  sense  of  singularity  or  eccentricity ;  but  he  had  what 
was  far  better — he  had  fine  qualities  of  both  mind  and  heart,  which  so 
admirably  blended  and  harmonized,  that  though  their  combined  influence 
was  as  silent  and  gentle  as  the  dew,  yet  it  was  far  reaching,  irresistible,  and 
in  the  highest  degree  benign.  It  was  impossible  to  hear  him  converse,  or 
preach, — I  had  almost  said  to  look  at  him  when  he  said  nothing,  without 
feeling  one's  self  in  contact  with  **a  spirit  of  power,  of  love,  and  of  a 
sound  mind."  With  a  lively,  gentle  and  genial  spirit,  and  the  most  con- 
siderate regard  for  every  one's  feelings,  he  united  a  peculiarly  delicate  and 
yet  vigorous  mind,  a  large  fund  of  general  knowledge,  fine  powers  of  con- 
versation— all  that  was  necessary  to  render  him  a  most  agreeable  companion. 
It  was  evident  too  that  he  had  learned  much  in  the  School  of  Christ;  and 
that  while  he  thankfully  enjoyed  earthly  blessings,  his  heart  was  chiefly 
upon  his  treasures  above.  I  never  heard  him  preach,  though  he  preached 
for  me  once  or  twice  with  great  acceptance;  but  no. one  can  read  his 
published  Sermons  without  recognising  in  them  the  marks  of  an  exceedingly 


g24  PBESBTTEBIAN. 

'well-balanced  and  riohlj-stored  mind,  as  well  as  of  a  spirit  deeply  imbaed 
with  a  sense  of  eternal  realities. 


FROM  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  J.  BUDINGTON,  D.  D. 

BaooKLTH,  February  16, 1857. 

Rey.  and  dear  Sir:  My  recollections  of  the  Rev.  John  Humphrey  date  back 
substantially  to  the  beginning  of  his  ministry,  although  I  had  known  hiui  before. 
He  had  a  short  but  beautiful,  and  I  will  add,  successful,  life;  for,  dying  though 
he  did  in  early  manhood,  and  amid  the  promises  of  larger  achievements,  the 
fruits  ho  matured  were  by  no  means  inconsiderable. 

As  a  preacher,  he  was  both  attractive  and  impressive, — ^his  style  blending,  in 
happy  proportions,  strength  with  beauty,  precision  of  diction  and  logical  sequence 
of  thought  with  the  graces  of  a  flowing  rhetoric.  His  manner  in  the  pulpit  was 
grave,  yet  animated;  unaffectedly  simple,  but  indicative  of  a  controlled  enthu- 
siasm, and  often  awakening  a  like  emotion  in  the  hearer.  His  delivery  was 
rendered  more  effective  by  the  beaming  light  and  sweetness  of  his  countenance. 
It  was  a  face  expressive  of  high  and  clear  intelligence,  and  always  radiant  with 
kindly  and  cheerful  feeling;  but  when  his  mind  glowed  with  the  sacred  tbemes 
of  the  pulpit,  his  face  became  luminous  as  with  the  light  of  the  spirit  within. 

His  religious  character  appears  to  have  been  a  silent  and  steady  growth  from 
infancy  up;  and  it  is  the  more  instructive  and  encouraging  to  the  Church  o§  God, 
that  a  character  beginning  thus  in  the  household  baptism  of  a  Christian  minister, 
should  have  ripened  into  such  beautiful  proportionateness,  and  borne  the  choicest 
fruits  of  Christian  discipleship.  Mr.  Humphrey  never  could  tell  the  time  of  his 
conversion,  or  if  he  fixed  upon  some  deeper  experience  in  his  ripening  youth,  it 
became  evident,  in  the  light  of  earlier  and  after  days,  that  such  experience  was 
the  conscious  development  of  a  previous  growth,  rather  than  the  original  implan- 
tation of  ChriKtian  principle.  Ilis  experience  is  a  proof*  and  his  character  a 
bright  illustration,  of  the  fact  that  a  Christian  home,  as  it  is  the  first  appoint- 
ment of  the  God  of  nature,  so  it  is  the  most  efficient  institution  of  the  God  of 
grace,  to  train  up  his  children  for  his  Kingdom.  A  father's  lessons  proved  the 
ministry  of  grace  to  his  son;  and  a  mother's  knee  was  the  first  altar  at  which 
he  bent. 

His  death  was  thoroughly  natural, — in  simple  keeping  with  his  character  and 
life.  Loving  life,  and  even  longing  for  it,  he  frankly  said  that  if  it  were  led  to 
his  choice,  he  should  chose  to  live  longer,  but  his  supreme  choice  was  to  have 
God's  wmU  done,  and  with  cheerful  hope  he  awaited  the  last,  having  full  confi- 
dence that  all  God's  orderings  concerning  him  would  prove  infinitely  wise  and 
good.  The  submission,  as  intelligent  as  it  was  unrepining,  with  which  he  bore 
the  sufferings  that  carried  him  to  the  grave,  was  all  the  more  beautiful,  because 
it  co-existed  with  a  desire  to  live,  and  with  an  interest  unabated  in  his  plans  of 
usefulness.  It  was  obvious  that  he  felt  the  joy  as  well  as  the  necessity  of  sub- 
mission; there  came  out  from  his  meek  and  chastened  spirit  a  radiance  as  rich 
and  beautiful  as  streams  from  the  sunset  skies  of  October.  It  is  really  sur- 
prising, how,  over  a  nature,  by  original  constitution  and  long  culture,  so  mild 
and  loving,  such  a  change  should  have  passed  through  the  ripening  processes 
that  herald  the  approach  of  death,  heightening  all  that  was  beautiful  in  that 
nature,  and  teaching  us  that  the  least  in  God's  upper  Kingdom  of  glory  is 
greater  than  the  greatest  among  the  children  of  earth.  Humility,  ever  a  promi- 
nent grace  with  him,  was  constantly  deepening  itself  in  the  heart,  and  the  desire 
rising  uppermost  to  lay  all  at  his  Master's  feet.  He  had  no  raptures  in  dying, 
but  a  peaceful  confidence  of  entering  Heaven.  It  was  the  departure  of  the  beloved 
disciple;  love  settling  down  into  the  consciousness  of  etwnal  peace.    He  was 


JOHN  HUMPHREY.  825 

likened,  and  by  no  forced  comparison,  to  the  Apostle  John — ^it  was  applied  to 
him  frequently  during  his  life;  but  in  his  last  sickness,  the  resemblance  came 
out  so  strongly  as  to  force  itself  upon  every  heart.  Whether  his  mind  was  run- 
ning upon  the  words  of  the  Apostle  John,  or,  as  seems  most  likely,  tides  of  the 
same  warm  affection,  which  made  John  the  beloved  disciple,  were  rising  in  his 
soul,  he  fell  into  the  same  modes  of  address,  calling  those  about  him  "children," 
and  speaking  to  them  with  inexpressible  tenderness.  No  one  who  gazed  upon 
him  when  the  long  anticipated  change  transpired,  will  ever  forget  "  the  expres- 
sion of  blissful  wonder  that  came  into  his  eyes,"  as  the  fading  forms  of  earth 
were  supplanted  by  visions  that  made  death  no  longer  a  sacrifice,  but  an  adoption 
and  coronation  among  the  sons  of  God. 

I  regret,  my  dear  Sir,  that  I  am  unable  to  convey,  in  a  brief  letter,  any  Jtister 
conception  of  my  friend's  beautiful  character, — beautiful  in  the  original  endow- 
ments and  adjustments  of  nature,  and  more  beautiful  in  the  training  of  grace, 
which  so  early  fitted  him  for  the  companionship  of  the  skies.  But  if  this 
unworthy  tribute  to  his  memory  shall  subserve  any  of  your  purposes,  it  is  quite 
at  your  disposal. 

Very  respectfully  yours, 

WILLIAM  J.  BUDINGTON. 

FROM  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  HARRIS. 

PBOTBSflOa  IH  THE  BANGOR  THEOLOGICAL  8EMINART. 

Bahoor,  Me.,  January  8, 1867. 

Dear  Sir:  I  am  very  willing  to  comply  with  your  request  to  write  to  you  res- 
pecting Mr.  Humphrey,  for  I  always  love  to  think  and  speak  of  his  beautiful 
character.  Our  acquaintance  commenced  at  Andover.  After  our  separation 
there,  I  seldom  met  him  till  the  later  years  of  his  life;  but  I  remember  him,  in 
both  our  earlier  and  our  later  intercourse  as  remarkable  for  amenity  of  manners, 
gentleness  and  affectionateness,  sweetness  of  temper,  refinement  and  delicacy 
of  feeling,  scholarly  culture,  and  a  beautiful  harmony  of  mental  development  and 
moral  character.  He  was  a  man  that  drew  every  body's  love.  He  occasionally 
preached  in  my  pulpit.  His  sermons  always  left  the  impression  of  great  com- 
pleteness and  finish:  there  was  nothing  which  one  wished  to  alter,  erase,  or  add; 
and  they  were  always  purifying  and  elevating  in  their  gentle  influence,  and 
breathing  with  spiritual  life. 

The  latter  months  of  his  long  illness  were  spent  at  his  father's  house  in  my 
parish.  The  nature  of  his  disease  made  him  incapable  of  much  conversation  or 
mental  effort.  He  sat  much  of  the  time  leaning  his  head  on  a  pillow  on  the 
back  of  a  chair  before  him;  and  in  this  posture,  which  made  his  sufferings  more 
tolerable,  he  wore  away  the  painful  hours,  always  with  a  hopeful  serenity,  and  a 
patient  and  loving  submissiveness,  which  revealed  in  new  lustre  the  beauty  of 
his  character.  Two  or  three  days  before  his  death,  in  reply  to  a  remark 
respecting  Christ,  he  said  to  me  with  emphasis, — *'  I  do  trust  him."  I  said, — 
"you  have  preached  Christ;"  he  replied, — "Tes,  would  that  I  had  preached 
him  more, more;"  he  added, — "the  doctrines  which  I  have  preached  give  me 
comfort  and  strength;  I  wish  I  had  preached  them  more  faithfully."  He  after- 
wards said  thoughtfully, — "I  have  no  raptures;  I  have  peace;  I  trust  I  shall 
enter  Heaven."  And  so  this  "  beloved  disciple  " — ^for  thus  he  was  often  called—* 
passed  away  to  his  rest. 

With  much  respect,  sincerely  yours, 

SAMUEL  HARRIS. 
Vol.  IV.  104 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX 


Of  THX 


NAM£S  OF  THE  SUBJECTS. 


■♦♦■ 


A.  TOL. 

Adams ,  John  Watson,  D.  D...  IV. 
Alexander,  Archibald,  D.D..  III. 

Alexander,  Caleb III. 

Alison,  Francis,  D.  D III. 

Allison,  Patrick,  D.  D III. 

Anderson,  John,  D.  D III. 

Andrews,  Jedediah III. 

Armstrong,  Amzi,  D.  D IV. 

Armstrong,  James  Francis,..  Ill* 
Armstrong,  William  Jessup, 

D.D IV. 

ArncU,  James  Morrison IV. 

Ashmead,  William IV. 

Atkinson,  William  Mayo, 

D.D IV. 

Axtell,  Henry,  D.  D IV. 

B. 

Badger,  Joseph III. 

Baird,  Thomas  Dickson IV. 

Balch,  Hezekiah,  D.  D III. 

Balch,  Stephen  Bloomer,  D.D.  III. 
Baldwin,  Elihu  Whittlesey, 

D.D.  IV. 

Barr,  Thomas IV. 

Barr,  William  H.,  D.D IV. 

Baxter,  George  Addison,  D.D.  IV. 

Beatty,  Charles III. 

Bishop,Robert  Hamilton,D.D.  IV. 
BlackDurn,  Gideon,  D.  D....  IV. 

Blair,  John III. 

Blair,  John  Dunburrow III. 

Blair,  Samnel HI. 

Blair,  Samuel,  D.  D III. 

Blatchford,  Samnel,  D.  D. . . .  IV. 

BIythe,  James,  D.  D III. 

Bostwick,  David III. 

Boyd,  William HI. 

Bradford,  Ephraim  Putnam.  IV. 

Brainerd,  David HI. 

Brainerd,  John III. 

Breckenridge,  John,  D.  D. . . .  IV. 

Brown,  John,  D.D III. 

Brown,  Matthew, D.D.LL.D.  IV. 

Brown,  Samuel IV. 

Bruen,  Matthias IV. 


PAes. 

^688 
612 
405 

78 
258 
588 

10 
155 
889 

610 
768 
641 

777 
458 


473 
476 
808 
408 

572 
442 
884 
192 
119 
820 

48 
117 
459 

62 
268 
158 
591 
181 
444 
373 
118 
149 
645 
536 
266 

74 
648 


TOL.  PAOB. 

Bnell,  Samnel,  D.  D III.  102 

Buist;  George,  D.  D IV.  71 

Bull,  Norris,  D.  D IV.  615 

Bullard,Artema8,D.  D IV.  748 

Burr,  Aaron III.  68 

C. 

Caldwell,  David,  D.  D III.  259 

Caldwell,  James III.  222 

Caldwell,  Joseph,  D.D IV.  178 

Cameron,  Archibald IV.  168 

Campbell,  Alexander  Augus- 
tus   IV.  651 

Campbell,  John  Poage,  M.  D.  III.  626  < 

Campbell,  Joseph,  D.  D IV.  429 

Carmichaol,  John III.  228 

Carrick,  Samuel III.  438 

Carroll,  Daniel  Lynn,  D.  D.. .  IV.  697 

Cater,  Richard  B.,  D.  D IV.  520 

Cathcart,  Robert,  D.  D III.  559 

Chamberlain, Jeremiah, D.D.  IV.  590 

Chapman,  Robert  Ilott,  D.  D.  IV.  95 

Chester,  John,  D.  D IV.  401 

Christmas,  Joseph  Stibbs. .. .  IV.  662 

Clark,  Daniel  A IV.  460 

Clark,  Joseph,  D.  D III.  446 

Coe,  Jonas,  D.  D III.  576 

Coffin,  Charles,  D.  D IV.  246 

Cooper,  Robert,  D.  D III.  270 

Cowell,  David III.  66 

Cross,  Robert III.  21 

Cummings,  Charles III.  285 

Cummins,  Francis,  D.  D III.  418 

Cunningham, RobertM.,D.D.  IV.  58 

Cuyler,  Cornelius  C,  D.D...  IV.  432 

D. 

Davenport.  James III.  80 

Davidson,  Robert,  D.  D III.  822 

Davies,  Samuel III.  140 

Davis,  Henry,  D.  D IV.  224 

Dickey,  Ebenezer,  D.D IV.  188 

Dickey,  John  M IV.  514 

Dickinson,  Jonathan III.  14 

Doak,  Samuel,  D.  D III.  892 


828 


ALPHABETICAL  INDSZ. 


TOL. 

Pod,  Albert  Baldwin,  D.  D..  lY. 

Dod,  Thaddeus IIL 

Dnffield,  George,  D.  D III. 

Danlap,  James,  D*  D III. 

E. 

Elder,  John III. 

Ewing,  John,  D.  D III. 

F. 

Finley,  Robert,  D.  D IV. 

Finley,  Samuel,  D.  D III. 

Flak,  Ezra.  D.  D IV. 

Fitch,  Ebenezer,  D.  D III. 

Fllnn,  Andrew,  D.  D IV. 

Foot,  Joseph  Ives,  D.  D IV. 

G. 

Gallaher,  James IV. 

Giddings,  Salmon IV. 

Gilbert,  Eliphalet  Wheeler, 

0.D IV. 

Gillespie,  George III. 

Gilliland,  James IV. 

Glendy,  John,  D.  D IV. 

Goulding,  Thomas,  D.  D IV. 

Graham,  Samuel  Lyle,  D.  D.  IV. 

Graham,  William III. 

Green,  Ashbel,  D.  D III. 

Green,  Jacob III. 

Gretter,  John  A IV. 

Grier,  Nathan III. 

Griffin,  Edward  Dorr,  D.  D..  IV. 

H. 

Hall,  Charles,  D.  D IV. 

Hall.  James,  D.  D III. 

Henderson,  Robert,  D.  D. . .  III. 
Henry,Thoma8Gharlton,D.D.  IV. 
Hewat,  Alexander,  D.  D....  III. 

Hill,  William,  D.  D III. 

Hillyer,  Asa,  D.  D III. 

Hoge,  John  Blair IV. 

Hoge,  Hoses.  D.  D III. 

Hoge,  Samuel  Davies, IV. 

Hopkins,  Asa  Theodore,  D.D.  IV. 
Humphrey,  John IV. 

I. 

Inglis,  James,  D.  D IV. 

Irwin,  Nathaniel, IIL 

J. 

Jennings fObadiah,  D.  D IV. 

Johnston , John,  D.D IV. 

K. 

Kennedy,  Samnel III. 

King,  John,  D.  D III. 

Kirkpatrick,  John, IV. 

Knox,  Hugh,  D.D III. 

KoUock,  Henry,  D.  D IV. 

L. 

Lacy,  Drury III. 


FASB. 

787 
866 
186 
422 


770 
216 


126 
96 
467 
611 
276 
669 


688 
604 

696 
19 
187 
229 
491 
622 
866 
479 
185 
782 
462 
26 


780 

881 
628 
688 
246 
668 
683 
448 
426 
488 
741 
821 


278 
888 


649 
894 


176 
281 
610 
180 
268 


606 


TOL. 

Lamed,  Sylvester IV. 

Latta,  James,  D.D III. 

Lanrie,  James,  D.  D IV. 

Lindsley,  Philip,  D.  D IV. 

Linn,  John III. 

Linn,  John  Blair,  D.  D IV. 

Lowrie,  Walter  Macon IV. 

Lyle,  John IV. 

Lyle,  Matthew III. 

M. 

Mackie,  Josias III. 

Macurdy,  Elisha IV. 

Mair,  Hugh,  D.  D IV. 

Makemte,  Francis III. 

Marques,  Thomas IV. 

Martin,  Samuel,  D.  D IV. 

Mason,  Erskine,  D.D IV. 

Mason,  John  Mitchell,  D.  D..  IV. 

Matthews,  John,  D.  D IV. 

McCalla,  Daniel,  D.  D III. 

M'Chord,  James IV. 

McConaughy,  David,  D.  D.. 

LL.D :  IV. 

McCorkle,  Samuel  Eusebius, 

D.D III. 

McDowell,  William  Anderson, 

D.D IV. 

McGregore,  James  and  David.  III. 

Mclntyre,  John IV. 

McKmght,  John,  D.  D III. 

McMillan,  John,  D.D III. 

McN  ish,  George III. 

McPheeters,  William,  D.  D. .  IV. 
McWhir,  William,  D.  D.  •  . .  III. 
McWhortcr,  Alexander.  D.D.  III. 

Miller,  John III. 

Miller,  Samuel,  D.  D III. 

Mitchel,  James III. 

Moorhead,  John III. 

Morrison,  William,  D.  D III. 

Muir,  James,  D.D III. 

Murray,  Nicholas IV. 

N. 

Nelson,  David,  M.  D IV. 

Nelson,  Samuel  Kelsey IV. 

Nevins,  William,  D.  D IV. 

Nisbet,  Charles,  D.  D III. 

0. 

Oocom,  Samson III. 

Ogden,  Uzal,  D.  D IV. 

P. 

Palmer,  Benjamin  Morgan, 
D.D :  IV. 

Parker,  Edward  Lutwyche. .  IV. 

Parsons,  Jonathan III. 

Patillo,  Henry IIL 

Patterson,  James IV. 

Patterson,  Joseph III. 

Pazton,  William,  D.  D III. 

Perrine,  Matthew  La  Rne, 
D.D IV. 

Porter,  David,  D.  D III. 


PAOB 

656 

199 
314 
465 
875 
210 
807 
178 
S29 


5 

241 
744 

1 

88 

118 

705 

1 
292 
320 
487 

199 

846 

495 

27 
418 
871 
860 

18 
801 
489 
208 
169 
600 
480 

44 
436 
616 
787 


677 
415 
629 
460 


192 
864 


841 
410 
47 
196 
428 
622 
564 

287 
496 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX. 


829 


TOL. 

Porter^Samnel III. 

Potto,  William  Stephens^D.D.  IV. 

Power,  James,  D.  D III. 

Prime,  Ebenezer III. 

R. 

Ralston,  Samuel,  D.  D lY. 

Ramsey,  Samuel  Graham...  lY. 

Rankin,  John III. 

Read,  Thomas,  D.  D III. 

Reese,  Thomas,  D.  D III. 

Reid,  William  Shields,  D.  D.  lY. 

Rice,  David III. 

Rice,  John  Holt,  D.  D lY. 

Richards,  James,  D.  D lY. 

Roan,  John III. 

Robinson,  John,  D.  D lY. 

Robinson,  William III. 

Rodgers,  John,  D.  D III. 

Roe,  Azel,  D.  D III. 

Romeyn,  John  Brodhead, 

D.D lY. 

Rosbrngh,  John III. 

S. 

Sampson,  Francis  S.,  D.  D. .  lY. 

Sanford,  Joseph lY. 

Scott,  Archibald III. 

Scott,  William  Cowper lY. 

Sloss,  James  Long lY. 

Smith,  Caleb III. 

Smith,  John  Blair,  D.  D III. 

Smith,  Joseph III. 

Smith,  Robert,  D.  D III. 

Smith,  Samuel  Stanhope, 

Urn    i/.,    1jIu»  I/>.  ....a  *..•••     All. 

Speece,  Conrad,  D.  D lY. 

Spencer,  Elihu,  D.  D III. 

Spencer,  Ichabod  Staiith,D.D.  lY. 

Sproat,  James,  D.  D III. 

Stanton,  Benjamin  Franklin.  lY. 
Stephenson,  James  White, 

D.D III. 

Storrs,  Charles  B lY. 

Strain,John III. 


PAGB. 

589 

728 

826 

80 


146 
160 
860 
801 
881 
888 
242 
825 

99 
129 
113 

92 
154 
282 

216 
250 


795 
655 
887 
802 
581 
146 
897 
274 
172 

885 
284 
165 
710 
125 
524 

550 
487 
215 


T.  VOL. 

Taggart,  Samuel III. 

Taylor,  Stephen,  D.D lY. 

Tennent,  Gilbert III. 

Tennent,  John III. 

Tennent,  William III. 

Tennent,  William  (Second)..  III. 
Tennent,  William  (Third)...  III. 

Tinker,  Reuben lY. 

Turner,  James III. 

w. 

Waddel,  James,  D.  D III. 

Waddel,  Moses,  D.D I Y. 

Watson,  John lY. 

Weeks,  William  R.,  D.  D... .  lY. 

Wharey,  James I Y. 

Whelpley,  Philip  Melancthon.  lY. 

Whelpley,  Samuel lY. 

White,  Henry ,  D.  D lY. 

Williams,  Joshua.  D.  D lY. 

Williams,  Samuel  Porter. . . .  lY. 

Williamson,  Samuel  McCul- 
loch I Y. 

Williston.  Seth,  D.  D.'. ..... .  Iy! 

Wilson,  Henry  Rowan,  D.  D.  IY. 

Wilson,  James  Patriot,  D.  D.  IY. 

Wilson,  John  Makemie,  D.  D.  IY. 

Wilson,  Joshua  Lacy,  D.  D..  IY. 

Wilson,  Lewis  Feuilleteau.. .  III. 

Wilson,  Matthew,  D.  D III. 

Wilson,  Robert  G.,  D.  D IY. 

Winchester,  Samuel  Gover. .   IY. 

Wltherspoon,  John,  D.  D. .. .  III. 

Witherspoon,  Thomas  Syden- 
ham   IY. 

Woodhull,  John,  D.  D III. 

Wool  worth,  Aaron.  D.  D....  III. 

Y. 

Tale,  Elisha,  D.  D IY. 

Z. 

Zubly,  John  Joachim,  D.  D. .  III. 


PAOB. 

877 

678 

85 

41 

28 

52 

264 

770 

581 


285 
68 
205 
478 
601 
499 
880 
691 
186 
870 

'764 
140 
800 
853 
90 
808 
570 
178 
122 
754 
288 

758 
804 
468 


848 


219 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX 


Of  TBI 


NAMES  OF  THOSE  WHO  HAVE  FURNISHED  ORIGINAL  LETTERS. 


■♦♦- 


A. 

Adams,  TVilHam,  D.  D. 
Alexander^  Archibald,  D.  D. 
Alexander,  James  W.,  D.  D. 
Allan,  Hon.  Chilton. 
Allen,  William,  D.  D. 
Anderson,  Isaac,  D.  D. 
Andrews,  Silas  M.,  D.  D. 
Armistead,  J,  S.,  D.  D. 
Atkinson,  Rt.  Rev.  Thomas,  D.  D. 

B. 

Baird,  Robert,  D.  D. 

Balch,  Rev.  Thomas  B. 

Barnard,  Hon.  Daniel  D. 

Barnes,  Rev.  Albert. 

Beatty,  Charles  C,  D.  D. 

Beck,  Theodoric  Romeyn,  LL.  D. 

Beecher,  Rev.  Henry  Ward. 

Beecher,  Lyman,  D.  D. 

Beman,  Nathan  S.  S.,  D.  D. 

Borrien,  Hon.  John  Macpherson,  LL.  D. 

Bethune,  George  W.,  D.  D. 

Blatchford,  Thomas  W.,  M.  D 

Boardman,  Henry  A.,  D.  D. 

Bowie,  Hon.  Alexander. 

Boyd.  A.  H.  H.,  D,  D. 

Bradford,  Thomas,  Esq. 

Brainerd,  Thomas,  D.  D. 

Breckenridge,  R.  J.,  D.  D. 

Brown,  Rev.  I.  V. 

Brown,  James  M.,  D.  D. 

Brown,  Matthew,  D.  D.,  LL.  D. 

Brown,  Rev.  William. 

Budington,  William  J.,  D.  D. 

Burnet,  Hon.  Jacob. 

Butler,  Hon.  B.  F. 

C. 

Calhoon,  Rev.  WflUam  C. 
Calhoun,  Hon.  John  C,  LL.  D. 
Campbell,  A.  £.,D.  D. 
Campbell,  Hon.  David. 
Campbelli  John  N.,  D.  D. 


Capers,  William.  D.  D. 
Camahan,  James,  D.  D. 
Carroll,  D.  L.,  D.  D. 
Caruthers,  E.  W.,  D.  D. 
Chapman.  R.  H.,  D.  D. 
Church,  Alonzo,  D.  D. 
Clay,  Hon.  Henry. 
Cleland,  Thomas,  D.  D. 
Coffin,  Charles,  D.  D. 
Collins,  Stephen,  M.  D. 
Colton,  Calvin,  D.  D. 
Comingo,  Rev.  Henry  G. 
Condict,  Rev.  Aaron. 
Condict,  Hon.  Lewis. 
Condit,  Robert  W.,  D.  D. 
Conkling,  Hon.  Alfred. 
Cooley,  Timothy  Mather,  D.  I>. 
Cox,  Samuel  H  ,  D.  D. 

D. 

Dabney,  Robert  L.,  D.  D. 
Dana,  Daniel,  D.  D. 
Dana,  Rev.  William  G. 
Danforth,  Joshua  N.^D.  D. 
Davidson,  Robert,  D.  D. 
Davis,  Henry,  D.  D. 
Day,  Jeremiah,  D.  D.,  LL*  D. 
Dewey,  Chester,  D.  D. 
Dewitt,  Thomas,  D.  D. 
Dewitt,  William  R.,  D.  D. 
Dickinson,  Baxter,  D.  D. 
Dickinson,  Richard  W  ,  D.  D. 
Dickson,  Samuel  H.,  M.  D. 
Du  Bois,  Rev.  Robert  P. 
Duffield,  George,  D.  D. 
Duncan,  John  M.,  D.  D. 
Duncan,  Mrs.  M.  G.  L. 
Dunning,  Rev.  Halsey. 

K 

Early,  John,  D.  D. 
Elliott,  David,  D.  D. 
Ely,  Ezra  Stiles,  D.  D. 
Emerson,  Rev.  Daniel  H. 
Emenon,  Ralph,  D.  D. 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX. 


832 


Engles,  William  M.,  D.  D. 

F. 

Fairchild,  E.R.,  D.  D. 
Fillmore,  Hon.  Millard. 
Fine,  Hon.  John. 
Finney,  Rev.  William. 
Fisher,  Samuel;  D.  D. 
Fiske,  John,  D.  D. 
Forman,  S.  J.,  Esq. 
Forsyth,  John,  D.  D. 
Frelinghuysen,  Hon.  Theodore. 
FuUerton,  Rev.  Hufl^  S. 

G. 

Giflford,  Archer,  Esq. 
Gilchrist,  Rev.  Adam. 
Gildersleeve,  Rev.  Bei\|amin. 
Goodrich,  Hiram  P.,  D.  D. 
Graham,  Samuel  L.,  D.  D. 
Gurley,  Rev.  Ralph  R. 

H. 

Hall,  Francis,  Esq. 
Hall,  John,  D.  D. 
Hall,  J.  W.,  D.  D. 
Hal8ey,L.  J.,  D.  D. 
Halsey,  Luther,  D.  D. 
Handy,  Rev  Isaac  W.  K. 
Harden,  Hon.  Edward  J. 
Harris,  Rev.  Samuel. 
Harrison,  Elias,  D.  D. 
Hatfield,  Edwin  F.,  D.  D. 
Headley,  Rev.  Joel  T. 
Hennen,  Alfred, Esq. 
Hill,  Rev.  Timothy. 
Hill,  William,  D.  D. 
Hillyer,  Asa,  D.  D. 
Hodge,  Charles,  D.  D. 
Hoge,  James,  D.  D. 
Hogc,  Moses  D.,  D.  D. 
Holmes,  James,  D.  D. 
Howard,  Rev.  George  A. 
Hurlbut,  Rev.  Joseph. 


I. 


Irving,  Rev.  David. 

J. 

Jacobs,  J.  A.,  Esq. 
Jacobus,  M.  W.|  D.  D. 
Janeway,  Jacob  J.,  D.  D. 
Jeffery,  William,  D.  D. 
Johns,  Hon.  Eensey. 
Jones,  C.  C,  D.  D. 
Jones,  Joseph  H.,  D.  D. 
Judd,  Gideon  N.,  D.  D. 
Junkin,  George,  D.  P. 

K. 

Kane,  Hon.  John  Eintsins. 
Kavanaugh,  Hubbard  H.,  D.  D. 
Kinckle,  Rev.  W.  H. 
King,  Hon.  Mitchell. 
Kirk,  Edward  N.,  D.  D. 
Knox,  John,  D.  D. 


Kollock,  Shepard  K.,  D.  D. 
Krebs,  John  M.,  D.  D. 

L. 

Lacy,  Drury,  D.  D. 
Latta,  Rev.  James. 
Laurie,  James,  D.  D 
Leland,  Aaron  W.,  D.  D. 
Lewis,  Tayler,  LL.  D. 
Ley burn,  John,  D.  D. 
Lindsley,  Philip,  D.  D. 
Little,  Rev.  Henry. 
Longstreet,  Hon.  Angostus  B. 
Lord,  John  C,  D.  D. 
Lumpkin,  Hon.  Joseph  H. 

Mack,  Rev.  William. 
Maclean,  John,  D.  D. 
Magie,  David,  D,  D. 
Mathews,  James  M.,  D.  D. 
Matthews,  William  C,  D.  D. 
McCartee,  Robert,  D.  D. 
McClure,  A.  W.,  D.  D. 
McCoUum,  Rev.  James  J. 
McConaughy,  David.  D.  D.,  LL.  D. 
McCorkle,  Francis  A.,  D.  D. 
McDowell,  John,  D.  D. 
McFarren,  Samuel,  D.  D. 
McGill,  A.  T.,  D.  D. 
McGuffey,  W.  H.,  D.  D. 
McLane,  J.  W.,  D.  D. 
McMaster,  E.  D.,  D.  D. 
McMullen,  R.  B.,  D.  D. 
McNeill,  Rev.  James  H. 
Melville,  Miss  C.  M. 
Meredith,  J.,  Esq. 
Miller,  Samuel,  D.  D. 
Mitchell,  William  H.,  D.  D. 
Moodey,  John,  D.  D. 
Morehead,  Hon.  J.M. 
Morrison,  Rev.  James. 
Morrison,  Robert  H.,  D.  D. 
Murray,  Nicholas,  D.  D. 

N. 

Nail,  Robert,  D.D. 
Nash,  Hon.  F. 
Neill,  William,  D.D. 
Nelson,  Hon.  Samuel. 
Nisbet,  Hon.  Alexander. 
Nott,  Eliphalet,  D.  D. 

0. 

Olmsted,  Denison,  LL.  D. 
Osgood,  Samuel,  D.  D. 

P. 

Packard,  Rev.  Theophilas,  Jr. 
Palmer,  B.  M.,  D.  D. 
Park,  E.  A.,D.  D. 
Patton,  William,  D.  D. 
Peck,  J.  M.,  D.D. 
Phoenix,  Rev.  Alexander. 
Pierce,  George  E.,  D.  D. 
Plumer,  W.  S.,  D.  D. 
Potts,  George,  D.  D. 
Potto,  Hon.  S.  G. 


833 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX. 


Potts,  William  S.,  D.  D. 
Prime,  S.  I.,  D.  D. 
Parviauce,  Robert,  Esq. 

R. 

Ralston,  Mrs.  Lettioe. 
Kamsev.  J.  6.  M.,  M.  D. 
Keid.  William  S.,  D.  D. 
Kice,  Mrs.  Dr.  John  H. 
Riddle,  D.  H.,  D.  D. 
Rodgers,  R.  K.,  D.  D. 
Ross,  Frederick  A.,  D.  D. 
RoweH,N.,M.  D. 
Ruffncr,  Henry.  D.  D. 

S. 

Savage,  Kev.  Thomas. 
Schenck,  Rev.  W.  E. 
Scott,  James,  D.  D. 
Scott,  Rev.  William  N. 
Seward,  Rev.  John. 
Seward,  Hon.  W.  H. 
Silliman,  Benjamin,  LL.  D. 
Skinner,  Thomas  H.,  D.  D. 
Smith,  Asa  D.,  D.  D. 
Smith,  B.  M.,  D.  D. 
Smith,  Joseph,  D.  D. 
Smith,  Rev.  R.  C. 
Smyth,  Thomas,  D.  D. 
Snodgrass,  William  D.,  D.  D. 
Spring,  Gardiner,  D.  D. 
Stedman,  Rev.  J.  O. 
Steel,  Robert.  D.  D. 
Stevenson,  John  M.,  D.  D. 
Storrs,  R.  S.,  D.  D. 
Storrs,  R.  S.  Jr.,  D.  D. 
Strong,  Hon.  Oliver  R. 
Stnart,  Robert,  D.  D. 
Swain,  Hon.  D.  L.,  LL.  D. 


T. 

Talmage,  S.  K.,  D.  D. 
Taney,  Hon.  R.  B. 
Tate,  Rev.  Robert. 
Thompson,  M.  L.  P.,D.  D. 
Todd.  Hon.  Charles  S. 
Tacker,  Mark,  D.  D. 
Turner,  Rev.  Jesse  H. 

V. 

Van  Buren,  Hon.  Martin. 
Vaughan,  C.  R.,  D.  D. 
Venable,  Hon.  A.  W. 
Vermilye,  T.  E.,  D.  D. 

Waddel,  J.  N.,  D.  D. 
Waldo.  Rev.  Daniel. 
Wall,  Rev.  Edward. 
Wallace,  Rev.  B.  J. 
Waterbury,  J.  B.,  D.  D. 
Weed,  Henry  R.,  D.  D. 
White,  W.  S.,  D.  D. 
Wiley,  Charles,  D.  D. 
Wilkes,  Henry,  D,  D. 
Willard,  Samuel,  D.  D. 
Williams,  G.  W.,  Esq. 
Wilson,  James  P.,  D.  D. 
Wilson,  R.  G.,  D.  D. 
Wilson,  Samuel  B.,  D.  D. 
Wisner,  William,  D.  D. 
Withington,  Leonard,  D.  D. 
Wood,  James.  D.  D. 
Woodworth,  Hon.  John. 
Wylie,  Andrew,  D.  D. 

Y. 

Teomans,  J.  W.,  D.  D. 


f ol.  IV. 


105 


1 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX 

Of 

NAMES  INCIDENTALLY  INTRODUCED  INTO  THE  TEXT  OR  THE  NOTES. 


YOL.     PAOB. 

Adams,  James III.  821,822 

Adams,  Roger IV.        688 

Alexander,  Joseph III.        881 

Alison,  Hugh III.        266 

Allen,  Carey III.        663 

Allen,  Timothy III.  182,188 

Anderson,  Isaac,  D.  D IV.  65 

Anderson,  James Ill,  19 

Andriis,  Joseph  R IV.        565 

Archibald,  Robert IV.        118 

Arthur,  William III.  207,208 

Axtell,  Daniel  C IV.        454 

Axtell,  Henry IV.  454,455 

Balch,  Hezekiah  J III.        417 

Balch,  James III.        417 

Bannatyne,  >Mnian IV.        815 

Barber,  Jonathan III.  82 

Barr,  Joseph  W IV.  445,446 

Birch,  T.  L IV.209,210 

Black,  John IIL        556 

Blackburn,  James  Uervey...  IV.  57 

Blatchford,  Henry IV.  162,163 

Blatchford,  John,  D.  D IV.  168,164 

Blythe,  Samuel  Davius III.        594 

Boardman,  William IV.        657 

Bovd,  Adam IIL        180 

Boyd,  Alexander III.     29,80 

Boyer .  Stephen III.        424 

Bradford,  Moses IV.        875 

Brainerd,  Nehemiah III.        149 

Brice,  John III.        278 

Brown,  John III.        8«8 

Brown,  Jonathan IV.        411 

Brown,  Mrs.  Mary  Moore ....  IV.     78,79 

Burnet,  £U>nzar IV.        890 

Galhoon,  William III.        237 

Campbell,  George  A IV.        Co4 

Chapin,  Joel IV.        141 

Chapman.  Jedediah IV.  95 

Clark,  John  F III.        448 

Clark,  Matthew III.  28 

Close,  John III.         83 

Coe,  John  R Ill         577 

Collins,  Daniel III.        498 

Condict,  Aaron IV.     88,39 

Condit,  Joseph  D IV.  89 


TOL.  PAOV. 

Creaghead,  Alexander III.  75 

Craig,John IV.  286 

Crawford,  James IV.  511 

Crosby,  Daniel IV.  822 

Cunningham,  Joseph  P IV.  60.61 

Cushing,  Jonathan  P IV.  524 

Cutler,  Calvin IV.  414 

Davenport,  John III.  80 

Davenport,  John III.  92 

Davis,  Reuben  H IV.  121 

Davis,  Samuel III.  8 

Davis,  William  C IV.  122,123 

Dickson,  John IV.  277 

Doak,  JohnW III.  894 

Donnel,  Samuel III.  281 

Du  Bois,  Uriah III.  200 

Dunlap,  William III.  424 

Eaton,  Sylvester .IV.  405 

Edmestou,  William III.  130 

Erskiue,  George   IV.  254 

Erwin,  Benjamin IV.  198 

Finley,  James III.  101 

Finley,  John  E Ill  101 

Finley,Robert IV.  58 

Foster,  William III.  202 

Freeman,  Jonathan..! IV.  894 

Giles,John III.  487 

Glass,  Joseph IV.  452 

Grier,  Isaac » . . . .  III.  272 

Grier,  James 111.466,467 

Grier,JohnF III.  407 

Hampton,  John III.  2 

Hanna,  John III.  277 

llarker,  Samuel III.  118 

llaydon,  Daniel, IV.  310 

Hayes,  Amasa  A IV.  414 

Hazard,  Joseph III.  108 

Hemphill,  Samuel HI.  U 

Hempstead,  Stephen IV.  507 

Henry.  John HI.  5 

Hervey ,  William IV.  40 

Hill,  George IV.  242 

Hillhouse,  James IV.  758 

Iliudman,  Francis III.  863 

Hogg,  John III.  79 

Horton,  Azariah III.  188,184 


M         I 


836 


ALPUABETICAL  INDEX. 


TOL.  PAOB. 

Houston,  Samuel III.  613 

Howe,  John IV.  615| 

Hughofl,  James III.  277  , 

Hughes,  Thomas  E IV.  444  ' 

HulljJamesF IV.  501 ! 

Hume,  James  W ii IV.  563  i 

Hume,  William IV.  553  , 

Huntting,  Jonathan  ........  III.  104 

Iluntting,  Nathaniel III.  104  • 

liuntting,  Nathaniel III.  104 

Huston,  Alexander III.  300 1 

IngersoU,  Samuel  B IV.  629,630 

Jennings,  Jacob .IV.  549 

Jewett,  David III.  192 

Johnes, Timothy   III.  16 

Johns,  Evan IV.  666 

Jones,  Eliphalet III.  81 

Kennedy,  John  II IV.  260 

Kennedy,  Robert IV.  260 

Kenned V.  Samuel III.  551,552 

Ker,  Jacob III.  360 

Ker,  Nathan IV.  894 

Kerr,  William IV.  121 

Kilpatrick,  Joseph  D IV.  601 

King,  Andrew IV.  397 

King,  Junius  B IV.  521 

King,  Richard  U IV.  154 

Kirkpatrick,  William III.  259 

Lansing.  Dirck  C III.  407 

Latta,  Francis  A III.  205 

Latta,  John  E III. 205.206 

Latta,  William III.  205 

Legraud,  Nash III.  564 

Lewis,  Amzi IV.  155 

Lloyd,  John IV.  810 

Lumpkin,  Thomas IV.  830 

Mahon.  William IV.  808 

Martin',  Elon  0 IV.  760 

Mason,  Ebenozer IV.  9 

McAden,  Hugh III.  260 

McCaule,  Thomas  H III.  550,551 

McDowall,  Alexander III.  178 

McDowell,  Benjamin IV.  495 

McDowell,  John,  LL.  D III.  188 

McG ready,  James III.  278 

Mc Henry,  Francis III.  120 

McKennan,  William III.  274 

McKnight,  Charles III.  115 

McKnight,  Washington III.  878,874 

McMaster.  Samuel III.  861 

McNair,  Malcolm IV.  421 

McPherrin,  John IV.  242 

McRee,  James III.  822 

Montgomery,  John III.  893 

Montgomery,  Joseph III.  846 

Moor,  Solomon IV.  874 

Morgan,  Joseph III.  19 

Morrison,  George IV.  121 

Murray.  John III.  50 

Orr.  Robert III.  14 

Palmer,  Elihu  IV.  399 

Parker,  Thomas IV.  410 

Phillips,  Ebenezer III.  469 

Pierson,  John III.  16 

Porter,  Francis  H IV.  760 


TOL.  TXQM, 

Porter^  Samuel III.  541 

Potts,  George  Charles III.  615 

Priestley,  James IV.  169 

Prime,  Benjamin  Y III.  31,32 

Prime,  Nathaniel  S.,D.  D...  III.  32 

Ramsey,  William Ill  123 

Rankin,  Adam Ill .  626,627 

Rice,  Benjamin  II.,  D.  D...   IV.  625 

Rogers,  Thornton IV.  795 

Rowland,  John III.  58 

Sample,  Nathaniel  W III.  654 

Scott,  William  N IV.  802 

Smith, David III.  280 

Smith,  Robert  F.  W III.  89S 

Smith,  Sampson HI.  130 

Smith.  WilliamR III.  173 

Smith;  William  R HI.  174 

Snodgrass,  James IV.  257 

Suodgrass,  James IV.  550 

Snowden,  Gilbert  T III.  341 

Siiowden,  N  athaniel  R. . . . . .  III.  341 

Snowden,  Samuel  F III.  841 

Steele,  Julius III.  513 

Stockton,  Joseph IV.  243 

Strong,  Thomas III.  407 

Sumner,  Joseph,  D.  D IV.  630 

Tallmadge,  Benjamin HI.  85 

Taylor,  James  B IV.  330 

Taylor,  Nathaniel III.  3 

Templin,Terah IV.  169 

Tennent,  Charles III.  28 

Tennent,  William  M.,D.D..   III.  26.27 

Thacher,  Washington III.  406 

Thomson,  John III.  22 

Todd,John III.  144 

Townsend,  Jesse IV.  572 

Treat,  Joseph III.  132 

Treat,  Richard  HI.  100 

Turner,  William  L III.  582,583 

Vaill, Joseph IV.  26 

Vance,  James IV.  309 

Vance,  William IV.  809 

Waldo,  Horatio IV.  630 

Wallis,  James IV.  60 

Walton,  William  C 111.666,566 

Waugh,  Samuel III.  876 

Welsh,  James III. 592,593 

Whclpley,  Samuel  W IV.  882 

White,  Henry IV.  768 

White,Robert IV.  121 

Whiton,  John  Milton IV.  413 

Whiton,  OtisC IV.  418 

Wick,  William IV.  443 

Wilbur,  Backus IV.  259 

Williams,  Richard III.  498 

Williamson,  William IV.  452 

Wilson,  Alexander  E IV.  92 

Wilson,  James III.  160 

Wilson,  John III.  8 

Wilson,  Samuel IV.  124 

Wood,HalsevA    IV.  525 

Woodhull,  George  S III.  806 

Woolsey,  Benjamin III.  81 

Wright,  Alfred IV.  843 

Younglove,  John,  D.  D IV.  97 


47  7  4 


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