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Digital file copyright by Cornell University
Library 1994.INTRODUCTION
The Committee appointed by the congregation of the Presby-
terian Church of Catskillto publish, with their pastor’s consent,
the sermon preached by him on the 18th of July, have thought
it would be pleasant to those who assisted in adorning the church
for that occasion, and to all who enjoyed the admirable results
of their labors, to put into this more permanent form some ac-
count of the decorations taken from the descriptions given at the
time in our local newspapers.
The members of the church and congregation of Christ’s
Church, Catskill (Presbyterian), celebrated on Sunday last, and
on the following Monday evening, the completion of the twenty-
fifth year of the Rev. Dr. Howard’s pastorate among them. We
learn that the preparations were carefully kept secret from him
and his family in order that the surprise might add something
to their pleasure. By special request he entered the church by
the front door. In the vestibule he stood astonished to find
the auditorium transformed into a wonder of verdure and bloom.
We will not attempt to give all the particulars of the elaborate
decoration. There were large arches of evergreens over the
aisles crested with ferns. Between the windows brackets co-
vered with mosses and pensile vines upheld growing flowers.
A mass of graceful verdure hung from the ceiling by green
wreaths midway in the body of the church. All the windows
were surrounded by a border of arbor-vitse and hemlock. Be-
fore the pulpit stood a large cross of white lilies and crimson
12
flowers. The pulpit itself was draped in long drooping ferns
intermixed with evergreens and the blossoms of the smoke-tree ;
and across the front of the pulpit and the platform a large
grape-vine, bearing its fruit, hung in graceful festoons. This
wealth of verdure made a fine back-ground for the cross, and
against it the white and crimson flowers stood out in strong
relief. On the newel-posts of the platform were large and
drooping fuchias in full bloom, and at the south side of the pul-
pit, in front of the vestry door, stood a widely branching oleander
covered with white blossoms. The columns which support the
arch of the pulpit alcove were wholly concealed by ferns, branch-
ing at the top into graceful capitals — a new idea for the
architects — and between them over the pulpit in letters of ever-
green was a clause of the ancient benediction — “ The Lord bless
thee, and keep thee ! ” Sentences completing the benediction
were affixed to the side-walls of the church between the windows,
in green and beautifully formed old English capitals. “ The Lord
make His face to shine upon thee.” “ The Lord be gracious unto
thee.” “ The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee.” “ The
Lord give thee peace.” These mottoes, so happily chosen, ap-
peared to give expression to the sentiment which pervaded the
occasion.
At the west end of the auditorium the orchestra was hidden
by vines of various foliage, and on the centre of it, screening the
organist, stood a large harp covered with mosses and brightened
by blue larkspurs. And even this was not all of it, for there
were baskets and vases of flowers (some exquisite ones on the
pulpit, and the pulpit-table), and ferns and evergreens and trail-
ing vines everywhere. The whole interior of the beautiful church
was a bewilderment of graceful, fragrant beauty.
We must not forget the significant dates affixed to the walls
on either side of the pulpit arch in bold and well-formed figures
of evergreen ;%on the north side 1850, and on the south, 1875,
measuring the duration thus far of the present pastorate.
A word ought to be said of the general effect of the decora-
tion, for quite apart from the beauty of the details which we
have imperfectly described, there was a breadth and a largeness
of form in the whole arrangement which made it impressive as
well as beautiful.3
The pastor stood for some time silently gazing at the scene
before him, and trying, we suppose, to take in all its meaning,
and then slowly made his way up the aisle, and under the arches
toward the pulpit. As he entered the organist struck up a
welcoming ‘ Introit.’ The church was crowded, many who were
unable to obtain seats or standing-room going away. An ap-
propriate opening piece was sung by the choir.1
When the Dr. advanced to open the services on his part, his
voice and manner showed that this unexpected proof of affection
from his people had greatly moved him. After the Invocation,
and the Doxology “ Praise God from whom all blessings flow ”—
sung without announcement, and sung with a will by the standing
people — a part of the 116th Psalm was read ; and then the
services followed the usual order. The sermon was mainly a
historical and biographical sketch, outlining the progress of the
church from its organization to the present time.
On Monday evening there was first a social gathering in the
Sunday school rooms, which were transformed by a removal of
the chairs into two spacious parlors the walls of which were taste-
fully decorated ; then a concert in the church, followed by a
presentation to the pastor of Appleton's Encyclopedia, new
edition, bound in full Russia ; and a handsome sum of money.
These gifts were accompanied by many kind words to the reci-
pient from Rev. Dr. Thompson, of the Reformed church, H. G.
Hadden Esq., who made the presentation in a happy little speech,
Hon. Rufus H. King, and others,— Dr. Howard warmly respond-
ing to their expressions of attachment and esteem. At about
10 o’clock they all returned to the parlors, where the ladies had
provided ample and excellent refreshments. The whole affair
was admirably managed, and will be a pleasant thing to re-
member.
1 We may here say that the music throughout the services was unusually
fine. Miss H. Austin, formerly a member of this choir, and now the lead-
ing soprano in Dr. Van Dyke’s church, Brooklyn, sang several solos, and
assisted in the choruses. An excellent tenor, from New York, who had
volunteered his services, and the fine bass of Mr. James Moore of Hudson,
in addition to the usual choir, increased the interest of this portion of the
services, and Mr. Clarence Sage, the organist, sustained the reputation he
has acquired both in New York and Brooklyn.SERMON
BY THE
Rev. George A. Howard, d.d
ON THE
TWENTY-FIFTH ANNIVERSARY
OF HIS
gfastattatioa as Hasten; of (Christ's dimwit,
CATSKILL, N. Y.
JULY 18th, 1875
DSERMON
“ And THOU SHALT REMEMBER ALL THE WAY WHICH THE LORD
thy God led thee.”—Deut. viii : 2.
There is a peculiar pleasure in tracing any movement of im-
portance — though its importance he hut local — from its source
down along its varied way, and observing its progress and de-
velopment. And this pleasure we all know to he greatly in-
creased if the movement is associated with our personal interests
and experiences. If .you come upon a spring in the woods and are
told that the rill which trickles from it and loses itself among
the dead leaves and the underbrush is the beginning of the
stream which flows near by your childhood’s home, it awakens
a strong and special interest. And if you follow its course out
into the meadow and winding in among the hills, gradually in-
creasing as it receives one affluent and another, ’till it deepens,
and is full of hidden life, and now over rough rapids, and now
darkly through narrow channels, shows constant changes, and
broadening its bed and growing in volume flows under bridges,
and reaches cultivated lands, and the activities of human life
appear upon its banks, your interest increases with its growth.
And this the more because you have lived by it so many happy
years, and your father and mother lived by it, and your brothers
and sisters and comrades and early friends played with you beside
it, and floated with you on its familiar yet ever-changing waters.
“ It is our creek,” you say, “ that I have been tracing from its
head-spring down ! ”
It has been suggested to me that it would meet the wishes of
not a few who listen to me this morning, and be not inappro-
priate to this occasion, if I should briefly sketch the rise and
development of this Church to which many of us are attached
by ties that have been multiplying and strengthening through
quietly eventful years. We must crave the indulgence of those8
who may be with us as guests this morning if we speak famil-
iarly, as of family affairs in which they cannot take the interest
that we feel, and mention names and incidents, which though
thronged with associations to some of us, will be but names and
commonplace events to them. I shall however only sketch —
and rapidly sketch — this history ; and moreover instead of
following the stream through all its course, I shall lead you to it
only here and there, where it receives some decisive change.
Let me take you back to the beginning of this century. The
slopes of Catskill eastward from Main street, are covered with
great plumy pine-trees and sturdy cedars. They are all unen-
closed, and winding paths thread along the irregular sides and
over the wooded crests of the hill, by which, on Saturdays es-
pecially, the young folk find pleasant shady walks to the river-
shore. These hills are cut by two bosky ravines winding upwards
and partly through them, in one of which some of you who are
before me trod the tortuous path to a little school-house nestled
in among the trees. The settlement of the village was at first
along the shores of “ the Catskill.” The hill-sides and the ridge-
way, now so populous, were out of town. With many old Dutch
families there had gradually mingled an immigration from New
England, mainly from Connecticut. There was no church edi-
fice nearer than Leeds (then called Madison) and that was the
old stone Dutch church which still stands, founded on a rock,
in the midst of that village. There was no church organization
whatever at this time with its centre at Catskill. Doubtless in-
formal religious meetings were held, but of these there would
be no record. A well-drawn document 1 written in a clerkly
hand, but unfortunately without date, now lies before me which
shows that the need of a church here began to press upon the
people so that they were moved to decisive action. It is signed
by one hundred and two names, each an autograph, among
which are Stephen Day, Thomas Hale, William Brown, Hiland
Hill, Ira Day, John Grant, Thos. B. Cook, Richard Hill, Lyman
Hall, Orrin Day, Isaac Dubois, Nathaniel Hinman, James Gra-
ham, George Hale, Benjamin W. Dwight, Caleb Croswell, Ellis
Thompson, Nathan Elliot, James Powers, Thomas P. Grosvenor,
1 See Appendix, D.9
John Doan, Philo Day, Peter Osterhout — and many others, the
mere mention of whose names would call up the past vividly
before you.
“ Whereas a union of some kind,” they affirm somewhat in the
spirit of their fathers, “Whereas a union of some kind is neces-
sary in order to support religious order and public worship, we
who hereunto subscribe our names, inhabitants of the town of
Catskill do agree to form ourselves into a religious society under
the name or title of ” -------and here there was left a blank,
which was afterwards filled in with different ink and by a dif-
ferent pen with the admirably chosen and most Catholic name
“ Christ’s Church of Catskill,” our corporate name to this day.
“ And to carry this into effect,” they say, “ we further agree to
meet at the Academy 1 in Catskill on the 7th day of February
next, to choose our Trustees, and do other business which may
be proper to be done in said meeting.” They then provide for
the necessary expenses of the proposed church by agreeing to
be taxed according to their several estates. As the meeting
appointed on February 7th, met on that day in 1803, this paper
was probably drawn up and signed in the preceding January —
possibly a new year’s thought and act. The organization in some
form takes place on the 7th February 1803, and it was probably
determined after a comparison of views that it should be in its
ecclesiastical order a Presbyterian church, for I find it before
any pastor is chosen designated as “The Society commonly
called the Presbyterian Society of the village of Catskill.” A
Rev. Mr. Coles appears to have preached to them for a few
months. But on the 7th of June in the year of this organization
the Rev. David Porter, then over forty years of age, was invited
to “ preach on probation.” And pleasing the people he received
a call in August of the same year, on a salary of four hundred
dollars, “ with the privilege of teaching a school.”
This call was accepted, and the installation took place the fol-
lowing month.
David Porter — that child and sage ! Portly, wise, dignified,
clear-thoughted, shrewd, abrupt, of few words, and much caution,
1 This was a brick building standing back of the site of the old Methodist
church in Thompson street.
210
but so simple, so kind hearted, so unselfish, so humble before
God, so truthful, and earnest, all revered him and yet loved him,
all sat docile at his feet, and received without resentment his
solemn rebukes, and yet felt that they must watch over him and
take care of him. From this man came the formative influences
which gave trend and character to the church, and made its name
in his day honorable and prominent. He served the church as
its pastor until the 15th of June 1831, nearly 28 years — when
being 70 years of age he resolutely resigned and gladly gave his
place and work to another. He devoted himself for many years
subsequently to procuring funds for the different Benevolent
Societies which were at that time established. He was, I think,
the most respected and best beloved getter of money that ever
went from house to house, and from town to town. His appli-
cations were seldom unsuccessful, and each of them was adapted
to the special character and circumstances of the person with
whom he had to deal. During the first five years of his ministry
there was no church edifice. The congregation met in the Court
House. The foundations of the building in which we worship
to-day were laid in the year 1808. Its auditorium was almost
square. In the galleries and beneath them, were square pews —
the idea of the family unity being more prominent than was
well for the unity of the congregation. The ceiling was arched,
(parts of it still remain high above the frescoed ceiling which
now gives a friendlier aspect to the church), and that arch was
supported by columns. The pulpit was modeled after the pre-
vailing fashion, a candlestick in which the angel of the church
was set to shine; high and narrow, with little space for the move-
ments of modern extemporizers.
This interior was remodeled more than thirty years afterward,
and made then as it remained for more than thirty years again,
until it was changed in 1870 into the comely form and furnish-
ing which it now presents. The exterior of the building con-
tinued unchanged until 1853. I remember it well. It was broken
up by sixteen small windows, four on each side above the gal-
leries, and four below. It sadly needed painting. There was
no piazza nor porch in front. Three plain steps led up to the
doors, which were ornamented above by arched fan-lights painted
black, in imitation of glass with darkness behind it, and the11
doors were garnished by large wrought-iron handles and latches.
The bellfry was low, and the heavy iron that crested and
adorned it had been set awry by the boisterous winds.
I may add to these statements in regard to “ the Meeting-
House,” (as those who built were wont to call it), that the lecture
room adjoining was built in 1826. It was lighted, when I came
here, by small oil lamps in tin reflectors, and the seats — as a
terror to late comers — faced the door. It was greatly improved
in 1852, and took its present attractive shape in 1873.
But this is all external, and of but superficial interest.
Dr. Porter was an unwavering believer in the truths of the
Gospel. His was no “ double-mind.” He was deeply in earnest.
His theological views, being somewhat of the Hopkinsian school,
were well thought out, and lay in his mind logically consistent,
clear, and sharply defined, and were declared without hesitancy
and with ‘ an accent of conviction5 which made most of his hearers
listen to them as to indisputable and ultimate truths. He ex-
alted the sovereignty of God ; he magnified his great and holy
name, and spoke with awe of his infinite power and justice and
glory. His sense of human sinfulness, and of what it cost and
meant to save a soul, were in elf able. No language was strong
enough to express them ; and the way was indeed narrow and
the gate was strait, hard to find and difficult to walk in. “ If I
am ever saved,” he was accustomed to say, and with unmistaka-
ble sincerity, “ if I am ever saved it will astonish the universe ! ”
“ My sins are like mountains piled upon mountains.” Though
what they were was known by none but himself and God. He
had many sore bereavements and afflictions, and-his great heart
was keenly sensitive to them. He lived — though greatly broken
in body and mind — for six months after my installation. I saw
him frequently ; and any reference to his sorrows would bring
the tears to his eyes, and often agitate him with sobs that he
could not repress : but he would say “ I needed them all,” and
bowing his head upon his chest he would add, with a gesture
that permitted no waiting, “ Pray ! ” To an elder who was ex-
pressing his sympathy, and comforting him with the thought
that these were but the trials of probation, and that we should
thank God for them when we got to heaven and reaped their
benefit, he raised his wet eyes filled with questioning astonish-12
ment, looked at him silently a moment, and then in a hushed
voice said, “ Do you expect to get to Heaven ? It is a great
thing to say, sir ! It’s a great thing to say ! ”l And he felt it.
He thought it always. He impressed his conviction of it on his
people ; by argument, by scripture proofs, by illustration, by
earnest dogmatic assertion and pungent exhortation. The child-
ren grew up under a sense of the awfulness of God’s majesty, and
the terror of his justice and wrath toward guilty man, ruined by
the fall, and in love with the sin that was bred in his soul and
congenial to his depraved nature. God’s grace to any was an
amazing thing, and the salvation of a single soul, brought to be
justified by faith in Jesus Christ, was an abundant reason for
joy among the angels. And the joy was chiefly because God
had glorified himself by this sovereign act of mercy.
Two marked revivals occurred under his ministry. One in
the year 1821, and one just at the close of his faithful pastorate
in 18 31. In the first fifty-one persons (among whom were Samuel
L. Penfield, and Francis Sayre, subsequently elected elders of
this church), made a profession of their faith.
The revival of 1831 was in sympathy with the wide-spread
religious interest which swept through the land and so greatly
strengthened and advanced the cause of evangelical religion in
the United States. It was doubly precious to the heart of Dr.
Porter, and burdened it with a joy almost too great to bear.
It came as the answer to his prayer and the fruit of his laborfe,
and came as a crown of victorious rejoicing just as he had de-
termined to retire from the field in which he had fought the
good fight and kept the faith. The holy gladness of that year,
when ninety-four passed over publicly into the ranks of the
soldiers of the cross, lighted up all his future way. Among
these converts were some of you who are listening to my voice
to day ; and some who were very dear to you, but who now are
not, because God has taken them.
This church then received an impulse which it has not lost.
We feel it now, we are quickened and impelled by it, and it
furnished a life and strength to the church without which it
could not have prospered. Thank God for revivals ! Wisely
1 See Appendix, A.13
conducted, and faithfully followed up by Christian oversight and
sound instruction they do a work of immeasurable worth. They
are like decisive battles the effects of which are felt for genera-
tions. I know well that they are not the only methods of the
church’s growth, and that it is injurious to wait for them as if
they were. By parental faithfulness, by the earnest zeal of
Sunday school teachers, by the prayerful efforts of Christian men
and women watchful to win souls to Christ, by religious books,
by the silent “ word of God,” and by the steady work of the
Christian ministry, in the pulpit and out of it, one by one those
whose hearts have been dead unto God may be brought to turn
to him and live. In illustration of this I may be permitted just
here to break through the chronological sequence of my sketch to
state, that in the last revival, which has so encouraged and re-
joiced us, we received a smaller number to our communion than
had been received a few at a time, during the four years that
immediately preceded it.
Turning back therefore to the resignation of Dr. Porter — a
resignation reluctantly accepted by his people, and mitigated
only by the fact that he was still to reside among them a re-
vered father and a trusted counsellor — we are not troubled to
find that there was no religious interest to be compared with
that of 1831, nor any that could be called “ a revival,” for many
subsequent years. The church however strengthened and grew ;
with some storms to break its branches, but with none to dis-
turb its roots, with some frosts and droughts to check its grow-
ing, but with none to threaten its life.
The immediate successor of Dr. Porter was the Bev. Thomas
M. Smith, from Troy, Bristol Co., Mass. Subsequent to his
ministry here he was a Professor, (of Greek, I think), in Kenyon
College, at Gambier, Ohio. A scholarly, gentle, refined, and
studious man, fitted for quiet scenes and peaceful work, and
well adapted to follow up the emotional impulses of the great
revival by his instructive lectures and sermons. After a little more
than ten years he resigned ; settled for a time in New England,
again and then uniting with the Episcopal Church was called to
his professorship. Shortly after my settlement here he delivered
an admirable lecture to us, preparatory to our communion, and
manifested an undiminished interest in this church which he had14
so acceptably served. His son, the Rev. Dr. John Cotton Smith
of New York city, eloquently preaches there — and we are glad to
know it — the same evangelical doctrines which his father
preached from this pulpit.
My immediate predecessor — The Rev. Dr. Gideon N. Judd —
was installed pastor of this church in the spring of 1840, and
occupied the pulpit until the fall of 1849. He had been greatly
successful in his early ministry in the large Presbyterian Church
in Bloomfield, New Jersey, his labors there being rewarded by
repeated and great accessions to its communion. Previous to
his settlement here he was known to Dr. Porter, and greatly
loved by him. Serious, devoted, filled with a sense of his duties
and of the Christian dignity of his office, “ a sermon,” as those
who revered and loved him used to say, “ a sermon even as he
walked through the streets,” he was yet a hearty lover of nature,
rejoicing in the scenes which here surrounded him, fond of trees
and shrubs, and flowers, and spending much of his leisure in
cultivating them. He was largely, I judge, what used to be
called ‘ a doctrinal preacher discarding the ornaments of rhe-
toric, and in a Amice whose even tones and pathetic modulations
we still can hear, making good his arguments by scripture texts
and orthodox assertions. Respected by all, by many greatly
loved, he was too much removed perhaps — by a great sorrow
in part, and in part by the mould in which his mind had been
cast — from the secular life, from the busy turmoil of thought
and action, which had increased with the secular progress of
the people. But his work was earnestly, methodically, and faith-
fully done, as many of you who hear me will bear witness ; and
in his ministry of nine years seventy-six were received into the
church on profession of their faith, seven being the largest num-
ber received at any one time. Some of those whom he led to
the Saviour have met him in heaven ; and some remain with us,
faithfully engaged still in the work which they began under his
persuasion and instruction.
After he left Catskill he was settled at Montgomery in this
state, where having labored with success for a few years he
peacefully fell asleep and entered into his rest. His grave is in
Bloomfield. Some years ago I stood by it alone and thoughtful,
memories interchanging with anticipations. In this burial place15
the three churches of which he had been the pastor united to
honor him. One gave the ground — a large, circular plot in the
Cemetery there — one the iron railing which encloses it, and one
the monument which records his name.
I heard him speak in the pulpit but once. The occasion may
not be readily forgotten. It was on that impressive day when two
prominent men — a pastor, long loved and revered, and his be-
loved and faithful elder — who had died in one and the same
hour were buried together from this church. That hushed and
crowded assembly is before me now, and I recall with much
distinctness the services of that most solemn day. For six
months I had then been your pastor, and both of these venerated
men had become interwoven with my brief experience. I find
by the record that the resolution, which doubtless because of
him who offered it was unanimously adopted, and by reason of
which I am here to-day, was presented to the congregation by
one of these, whose name is very dear to us, Samuel L. Penfield.
He was a man to lean upon when you needed support, and to
trust implicitly at all times. I was with him when surrounded
by the members of his large and beloved family he breathed his
last. His death was the hopeful, peaceful death of the righteous
man. Leaving that hallowed room I hastened to the bed-side
of Dr. Porter to find that he too had just passed away. I had
prayed with him so often, I had received from the broken, but
still majestic old man so many expressions of interest and affec-
tion, that I felt bereaved and bowed down under an added
burden as I knelt once more beside him and prayed — not now
for him, (I gave thanks in his behalf) — but for the poor, blind
widow, loved and revered by all, who in her old age wept silently
at my side.
Twenty-jive years/ Memory flits back over them all in an in-
stant, and the incidents of the first of them are as vivid and near
almost as the events of yesterday. It is a large part of any
human life, and yet how brief it seems in retrospect !
In one of his thoughtful speculations the philosopher Locke
supposes that there may be among the angels some who are en-
dowed with capacities which enable them — to use his own
compact language — “ to retain together and constantly set16
before their minds as in one picture all their past knowledge at
once.”
With our idea of what the life-time of the higher angels has
been this is an immense conception. And when we think of
their happy experiences, their clear and quick intelligence, and
their opportunities for gathering knowledge — of God, of His
works, and of each other — this “one picture” filled in with an
infinitude of details stretches out on every side without any defi-
nite limits. To call up parts of their knowledge, and at separate
times, until the whole was reviewed without loss, would imply
capacities far beyond our own ; but to keep it before them
“ constantly,” and the whole of it, is a thought for one who loves
to muse among the possibilities.
It demanded, as you know, the help of records and monuments
and ceremonial observances and commemorating days, to enable
the children of Israel to remember “ all the way in which the
Lord their God had led them” for forty years. We forget
more than we remember. I do not say that all the past is not
inscribed on the tablets of our memory, and is possible to re-
collection; but practically we forget the most of it. Any rounded
human life includes experiences, and observations, and thoughts,
that written out would make a library. Nor is it necessary that
one should have been possessed of unusual powers, or have been
placed in any great centre of human activities, or have traveled
widely and in differing countries, to make this true. Common
minds in quiet places gather more than can be set down in any
biography. And what they permit to slip from the hold of
memory, and to disappear from her retrospective gaze, make up
the most of the life that has gone by. We remember in outlines.
It is happily ordered for us, I think, that important scenes and
events are more clearly recalled by us, than the transient circum-
stances and feelings with which they were associated ; and that
we remember results, while the struggles and pains and appre-
hensions which may have preceded them and led to them are
wholly forgotten. The vines and the trees which the rain
nourished into strength abide, and stand fruitful under the sun-
light ; but the rain itself, that fell in" gloomy days, absorbed
and exhaled has disappeared. All our painful experiences, I
judge, fall into oblivion more readily than our joys. It is diffi-17
cult to recall with any vivid distinctness the physical pains that
we suffered a few years ago ; or the doubts that troubled us, or
the anger that tossed and vexed our minds, or the bitterness of
the disappointments which drained away our strength and cour-
age. Bright hours are vivid still ; dark hours are obscure, and
give perhaps but pleasing shadows to the picture of the past.
And so it comes to pass that when we look far down and back
over the way that we have been led, as one might look down
from our mountain cliffs, the steep and high hills that we climbed
with painful toil are foreshortened almost to a level with the
plain, and the rough places are made smooth, and the winding
road that delayed us is the more beautiful for its windings, and
if the distance gives vagueness and the loss of many details, it
also imparts softness and tenderness to the scenes of our retrospec-
tion.
This holds largely true indeed in regard to our review even
of a single year. If we live aright we gather the grain into the
garner, and let the plough turn under the stubble and the weeds.
There are however sacred sorrows that our hearts will not
permit us to forget ; we do not desire to forget them ; they are
dear to us : they are indissolubly linked to affections and ex-
periences which we cherish so fondly and revert to so often that
they have become prominent and permanent features in every
review of our lives. And yet through God’s mercy the haze of
distance may lightly veil what it does not hide, and soften the
sharpness of our losses and their first anguish, so that we may
come to gaze back upon them at last with a sadness which is not
discordant with our present happiness, nay, that may make it
holier and deeper. It is a part of “ the way in which the Lord our
God hath led us.” And if whenever memory points us to our
bereavements, hope appears also and directs our thought to
heaven, our great sorrows and disappointments may become our
inspirations.
Comparatively few of those who welcomed me to this church
in 1850 are with us now. To one who left us then, if he should
come back to us to day, ,very many in this audience would be
strangers. And in answer to his inquiries after one and another,
of how many should we have to say “ he is dead” “ she is dead ; ”
“ God has called them home.”
318
Of the nine elders who then composed the session but one
remains. It carries me back with strange power to that be-
ginning of my ministry to recall them. Samuel L. Penfield,
serious, earnest, honest, wise and good ; Ezra Hawley, who had
so much* of the quaintness, and the formal but kindly courtesy
and hospitality of the olden time, and who in earlier years had
been a man of such energy and thrift ; dear Dr. Brace, the be-
loved physician,” whose sympathy brought healing to so many
hearts, and whose smile or truthful word gave hope to so many
whose minds were darkened by unspoken fears. It were too
little to say that he died without leaving an enemy ; all who
knew him were his friends, and his patients were his brothers
and sisters and children.
Edgar B. Day — I name them in the order of their departure,—
the man of unquestioning faith, frank, efficient, generous, and
faithful, always at his post, and so helpful in counsel, in the
prayer-meeting, in the Sabbath school, (of which for thirty years
he was the superintendent), and in all that pertained to the
interests of the church, that he seemed to be a stone in the arch
that could not be spared from it.
Francis Sayre, “Father Sayre,” we called him, stalwart in form,
strong-willed, and tender-hearted, with a gentleness beneath his
strength that could win and keep the love of those who knew
him well. His character was not the rock beneath the moss,
the iron hand beneath the glove of silk, but just the reverse of
these. He was like an oriental house whose strong walls, un-
pierced by windows toward the street, protect a garden and a
fountain in the inner court, open to the sky, and innermost
rooms where the affections of the family life are cherished and
become intense. He was never absent where duty required his
presence. If few attended a meeting of the church he was one
of the few. He prayed often with us, and though it was always
the same prayer it was a grand one; it had the sweep and the
majesty of a Hebrew Psalm. Then, after an interval during
which death had not invaded the number of our session, three
of its members were taken within two or three years,— James
Millard, the honest and successful man of business, who in his
active days took a prominent part in the temporal interests of
the church, generous in giving, strong and true in his friendships,19
and having not a little of his old pastor’s humility and reverence
before God. Caleb Day, whose clear intellect even disease did
not cloud; fluent, theological, self-reliant, and decided; cherish-
ing to the last a strong attachment to the church, and awaiting
death as calmly — I might say even as cheerfully — as he would
await the coming of a welcome friend. And then, last of all,
one who had left us many years before, and was dead to us,
though living, the modest, honest, intelligent, kind-hearted,
saving, reticent Scot, John Lockie.
By the bedside of most of these I knelt when they were dying,
and to all of them I had debts of gratitude for words and deeds
of kindness.
And to how many more am I indebted whom with these I
have led here in worshiping God ! My people have given me an
almost untroubled ministry. I have troubled them, indeed, far
more than they have troubled me. All my predecessors were
men of experience in the ministry, and came to you with the ad-
vantages of previous labors, and a store of sermons. I came to
try your patience as a novice. After preaching twice on the
sabbath that followed my ordination and installation I had not
a sermon in the visible world, and very few in my brain. Your
kindness made the burden as light as it could be made, but, liter-
ally, it nearly killed me. With but few exchanges — sometimes
not one in a year — and little help of any kind, I wrote two ser-
mons every week — conscientiously long, and as thorough as I
could make them — and a third I prepared as laboriously to de-
liver as a lecture on Wednesday evening. I loved the work.
But there was necessarily added to it my correspondence, and
my pastoral labors. To become acquainted with my people, to
visit the sick, to speak and pray with the dying, and at funerals,
to comfort the bereaved, to sympathize with all the depressed
and troubled and sorrowing, and to instruct and guide differing
minds that came to me inquiring, or whom I sought out and en-
deavored to lead aright, labors all so new to me, and so con-
stant, and often so crowded together, that the days and evenings
seemed too short — and were too short — and the nights were
taxed to lengthen them, sometimes to the dawn.
The vacations recruited me in part, and thrice your kindness
interposed, and gave me intervals of longer rest.20
With it all, I know that I would not have exchanged it at any
time for any other life. And this not a little because you have
given to your pastor liberty of thought and action, and those
evidences of docile appreciation and of responsive and quick
affection which, (under only God’s directer gifts), are his best
reward. I have lived as unconstrained, as free, so far as I know,
from unfriendly criticism or remark, as I could have lived had
the tie between us been only that of neigborly kindness. I have
had to contend with no pettiness, and no obstacles have been put
into my path. Three times, and in effect five times, I have been
called away and you would not let me go. In your homes I
have always met a cordial welcome ; you have admitted me to
be a partaker of your joys, and yet more of your most sacred
sorrows. Almost every one of your dwellings is a volume of
memories to me, and scenes rise up before my mind which did
I permit myself to dwell upon them would recall the tears I shed
with you when passing through them, and the ahguish which I
endured while your hearts were bleeding. How many are wait-
ing for us ! How home-like heaven has grown ! How the attrac-
tions of earth, strong as they are to us, are becoming counter-
balanced. Faithful, happy, loving Christian souls, a great num-
ber who once worshiped with us here are watching for our
coming, to worship with them there.
When I became your pastor the number of communicants on
the records of this church was one hundred and fifty-five ; and
although we have lost largely — many more than the member-
ship I have named — by death, and by removal to other churches,
it is now three hundred and thirty-four.
Three hundred and sixty have been received into the church
since July, 1850, two hundred and fifty of them on profession
of their faith. This encourages us the more because our labors
have extended to but a small portion of our small community,
and other churches have divided the land with us and reaped in
the same field. We rejoice, and ever will rejoice in their pros-
perity, and pray only that we and they may have the mind of
Christ, and work thoroughly with Him.
And now I should be unjust to you did I not in closing speak
of your benefactions. For local purposes, and for distant objects
your hands have been open, You have led in free advance all21
the other churches in our village. I wish you had given even
more generously ; and most earnestly I wish that not a dollar
of debt remained on this fair house to mar its beauty. But
steadily you have done well, and He who loveth a cheerful giver
finds many a one to love among you. Both the Sabbath school
and the church have felt the incitement of their new conditions,
furnished to them by your liberality.
The Sabbath school, under wise management and faithful
teachers, within less than a decade has almost doubled its num-
bers, and has felt in every way the impulse of the interest mani-
fested in its prosperity by the church.
One hundred and twelve have been added to our communion
by profession during the last five years — many of them coming
from the Sunday school — and from this progress we have re-
ceived inspiration to hope and pray that better years may be
before us. Is not God willing ? And are we not ?
I have many things yet to say, but the imperfect work must
end. I have not spoken of dear old Mrs. Croswell1 — that quaint,
sincere, pious, venerated servant of God—and of many other
godly and devoted women who labored with us, and with those
who preceded us, to maintain and advance the cause of true reli-
gion here. I have not spoken of her who, devising a liberal
thing, gave us our organ, and whose gentle spirit so recently
welcomed the release of death, and took its flight to join and re-
joice in higher services. We do not forget them. vAnd did the
time permit it would be very pleasant to dwell upon their cha-
racters and works. Of the living, we may not speak. The Lord
knoweth them that are his. They do not labor unnoticed ; and
they have their present and abundant reward as the first-fruits
of the harvests which shall enrich their immortality.
We heartily thank God to-day for all his mercies toward us.
We thank him for our peace and our great unity : We thank
him for the charity which impels us to clasp hands with Christ-
ians of other names, and to bid them God-speed in the best of
their labors.
We thank him for many, many pleasant memories ; we thank
him for sanctified sorrows ; we thank him for the great hope
1 See Appendix, C.22
which brightens the future and illumines Eternity, and for com-
panionship on our way to the inheritance of light. We trace
these gifts of his grace up to one Fountain Head, we follow them
all back to “ His Unspeakable Gift.” “ And now unto Him who
is able to keep us from falling and to present us faultless before
the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise
God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power,
both now and ever, Amen !”APPENDIX.
A.
A slight sketch of Dr. Porter which I wrote for the third
volume of The Annals of The American Pulpit at the request
of its beloved and accomplished editor, the Rev, Dr. William
B. Sprague, is here republished at the suggestion of the com-
mittee, who have thought that it would interest many who have
not access to the valuable work in which, it was originally pub-
lished.
Dr. Sprague had asked me to write more especially of his
personal appearance and characteristic manner and original
quaintness and shrewdness : “ Write just how he looked, and how
the people thought about him, and what they say of him,” and
this I did — knowing that only a supplement wras desired to the
discriminating and graver delineation of his character and work
which had been prepared by my immediate predecessor, the Rev.
Gideon N. Judd, D.D.	G. A. H.
Catskill, March 15, 1855.
Rev. and Dear Sir: I am but imperfectly qualified to give
you the sketch of Dr. Porter’s personal appearance and pecu-
liarities which you have requested. I did not see this remarkable
man until his mind and body were broken down by disease and
the infirmities of age. I well remember him however as he ap-
peared when I first entered his room. He was seated in an arm-
chair which was furnished with wheels, a man of great bulk, his
fine compact head sunk upon his breast in thought or slumber,
and the soft breeze of mid-day wdiich was blowing in through
the open window near which he sat lifting and slightly disar-
ranging his thin white hair. When roused and made acquainted
with my presence he raised his head — looked at me inquiringly
a moment — and then a light of welcome and pleasure came into
his eyes and he extended his hand heavily with a cordial “ How
d’do ? ” His voice was deep and full. They placed a chair for
me near him, and though he said but little during the interview
which followed, and occasionally dropped his head and sunk into
an apparent reverie, I discovered more than once that while I24
was conversing with others who were in the room he was listening,
and watching my countenance, and examining me from head to
foot. He praised his people — they were truly his until he died —
and said a few abrupt kind words to me as associated with them,
but he entered into no connected conversation. When I rose to
take leave of him he requested me by a monosyllable to pray,
and uniting in the prayer with evident emotion he responded at
the close with a quick audible Amen.
As he lived until the subsequent January I had frequent in-
terviews with him. His words were always few I am told, and
at this time he usually conveyed his thoughts and wishes in short
ejaculations. Once or twice he spoke in my presence more at
length, and on one occasion I remember with much enjoyment
of his own humor. His sensibilities were readily excited. He
had had three noble sons, and all of them were in the grave.
Any illusion to them deeply affected him, and at times when
attempting to speak of them himself he would weep and sob in
a manner which showed that time had done but little to mitigate
his grief. All his people were strongly attached both to him
and to his aged, afflicted and most amiable wife, who was a
model of the Christian gentlewoman, and they loved to visit
them ; nor they only — persons of several denominations often
met in his pleasant room, and though he spoke but little at such
times he yet received great pleasure from their respectful and
affectionate attentions. To the last he was fond of children,
and when, every Sabbath afternoon, his grand children as they
were returning from church came in to see him it was pleasant
to witness his enjoyment of their presence and affection.
He sat during these closing months of his long life most of
the time by the window I have mentioned. He could not stand
even for a moment, his ankles were too weak to support his
great weight. He was wheeled into another room to his meals,
and occasionally in pleasant weather was drawn out on to the
broad “ stoop ” of the front door which then commanded a fine
view of the mountains. He was very kind to me, and before
long manifested an affectionate confidence which touched me
greatly and drew me to him. I remember that when he became
more acquainted with me he often spoke to me of his great sin-
fulness. “ I am a miracle of grace, sir,” he would say, “ a
miracle of grace.” When he saw me rising from my chair to
take leave of him he would usually fix his eyes upon me with a25
peculiar expression for a moment, and then exclaim, with a
decisive inclination of the head, “ Pray ! ”
He declined very gradually, and died at last so peacefully
that his wife, who was holding his hand, only discovered his de-
parture by the cessation of his breath, which in her blindness
her quick ear instantly detected. The Rev. Dr. Murdock of the
Reformed Dutch Church was engaged in prayer at the time by
his side, and at the same moment I was kneeling by one who
had been his pupil and friend and elder, and who entered heaven
the same hour. They were buried at the same time, and on the
day of their funeral all the stores in the village were closed, and
the church in which Dr. Porter formerly preached was crowded
to excess, many who came from a distance being unable to ob-
tain an entrance. The esteem in which he had been held was
so great that the years of his incapacity and retirement had left
him more of it than is possessed by most men in the fullness of
their strength.
You will see by what I have thus far written how imperfectly
I knew this revered and peculiar man from my own observation.
In conversing with others about him I have frequently asked
“ How did he look and act and speak in his active days, and
what was the secret of his great power?” But I cannot fully
answer these questions yet. Those who knew him well would
invariably smile when his name was mentioned, and sometimes
quietly laugh when I tried to draw them out, and say “01 can-
not describe him. He was the most peculiar man I ever knew.
Nobody was in the least like him. You cannot put him into
words. He was the oddest man you ever saw. A thousand
infinitessimal peculiarities marked the expressions of his counte-
nance, and the inflexions of his voice, and his gestures, and every
thing about him.” Then they would speak warmly of his over-
flowing kindness, his generosity, his originality, his pure and
ardent piety. And again a smile would come upon their faces,
and then there would follow some anecdote of his oddness or his
shrewdness. He unquestionably exerted a very powerful forma-
tive influence on the inhabitants of Catskill and of the surround-
ing country. To this day his opinions are quoted as authority.
His theology was decisively Hopkinsian. He loved to magnify
the sovereignty and majesty and glory of God. His intellect
was logical and clear, his opinions decided and fixed, and his
will indomitable. I should judge that he well understood the
426
springs of human action, and that he possessed a remarkable
quickness and tact in touching and controlling them. But with
these traits he singularly combined the simplicity and sincerity
of a child. His heart was unusually gentle, and kind, and affec-
tionate. And if you add to these characteristics a quiet, assured
reliance upon his own judgment, and the ability to use the power
of silence (which he frequently employed with no little effect),
you will have as correct an idea of his mental peculiarities as I
can gather from conversations with those who knew him best.
As to his personal appearance, when he walked abroad it must
have arrested the eyes of every stranger. His head was finely
shaped, and was often said to be like the first Napoleon’s ; but
his neck was short, his body large and fleshy, and his legs, which
were unusually small, were set off by being tightly encased in
small clothes, and beneath the knees in black silk hose. He
carried a large cane, and his motions were quick, nervous and
awkward.
When he stood in the pulpit and became interested in his
sermon his short dense sentences jerked out with a nod, and his
strange and violent gestures and his stamping foot, would call
up a smile upon the faces of all who were not accustomed to
them. Clergymen sitting behind him in the pulpit and feeling
the restraint of facing a congregation were often unable to con-
trol their countenances. But he was wholly unconscious of these
effects — he was absorbed by his subject — and by his thought
and earnestness he would soon gain the serious attention of all
his hearers.
In the lecture room, I am told, his manner was still more re-
markable. He frequently spoke with his cane in hand, and
brought it down at the same time with his emphatic foot, bending
his whole body to give force to the action. He would walk to
and fro upon the platform, and becoming more excited as he
spoke would sometimes descend to the floor of the room, step
over a bench to arrive at an open space, walk up and down there
for a while, step over another bench opposite to the former, and
so return to the desk on the farther side —- continuing and closing
his address without the slightest consciousness apparently of
what he was doing with his peripatetic body. When he called
upon any one to pray he would frequently add in a tone more
of command than of request, “ Be short! ” His own prayers and
speeches were very brief, but they were comprehensive and in-27
structive. He wasted no words, and his thoughts were new and
freshly combined and expressed in striking language. When
speaking he separated the clauses of his sentences by hyphens
of silence — if I may so express it—and thus, though otherwise
his utterance was rapid, his thoughts stood out distinctly, and
every word told upon the listener.
Notwithstanding all his eccentricities he was regarded by his
people with unbounded reverence. No one dictated to him, no
one remonstrated with him. He took counsel with himself, and,
with only some deference to forms, carried through that on which
he had determined without opposition — and the people felt that
this was right and best. The children caught and exaggerated
this veneration of their elders, and appear to have regarded him
as a superior being. One remembers — and tells it with a smile
at her former self — how she thought his person and dress the
standard of ministerial appearance, looking with low esteem and
some suspicion upon small and thin men who wore loose panta-
loons. Another always associated him with the highest moun-
tain of the Catskill range. Another had very confused and
interchangeable ideas of Dr. Porter and the Saviour. Another,
for an awful year or two, thought he was God. When he met
them and stopped, as was his custom, and took their hands be-
tween his thumb and the tips of his fingers and said in his kind,
absent-minded way “ How d’do child,” it awed them, and was
an event to be remembered. As they grew older and began to
understand his sermons this reverence continued, and a good
deal of it remained as long as he lived. At one time he cate-
chized the children occasionally on Saturday afternoon ; but he
never got much beyond the first page, they say, and whenever
there was the slightest hesitation in answering a question he had
a pleasant habit of answering it himself, and saying, “ Very well,
child, very well.”
A few anecdotes chosen from the many which are told of him
may further illustrate his eccentricities.
In later years he was singularly absent-minded. He was ac-
customed to pray with his eyes open, and many queer things,
are narrated as the consequences.
One evening at a “ neighborhood meeting ” his prayer was
drawing to its conclusion when he saw before him a young lady
to whom he was greatly attached and who had returned that
day after a long absence. Suddenly, and without ending the28
prayer, to the astonishment of all present he crossed the room
and extended his hand exclaiming in a voice of hearty pleasure
“ Why ! How d’do ?” He was totally unconscious of the irregu-
larity, and no thought of it subsequently embarrassed him. On
another occasion somewhat later in life he was praying in the
presence of several clergymen and a large audience at a union
prayer-meeting for colleges. Always interested in the religious
welfare of students he had been excited by the statements which
had just been made, and was pleading fervently for the spirit
of prayer in the churches, and was enforcing his petition by
“ arguments,” when suddenly changing from prayer to exhorta-
tion he exclaimed to the standing assembly, bringing down hand
and foot to enforce his words, “Yes, brethren, we must pray
more ! That’s what we want. More prayer ! More prayer ! ”—
and after a few more sentences he turned to the clergyman who
had been speaking and said, “ Go on sir ! go on.”
He had much of the harmless wisdom which is so useful to
one who has to deal with men, and some of the facts narrated
to me illustrate his “ management.” He could not be induced
to converse upon any subject, or to express an opinion about it,
when he thought silence the better course. With a dull, unin-
terested look he would' seem to be unconscious of the speaker’s
words and almost of his presence. When the questioner ceased
there would follow a dead pause. “ Don’t you think so, doctor ?”
No answer ; no consciousness. Then waking up suddenly from
his apparent abstraction he would speak of something wholly
remote from the subject of the inquiry, or conveying a subtile
reproof for meddling with it.
He never gave a reproof direct, but at times he would suggest
a censure that was not easily forgotten. A young man who had
recently become a professor of religion was standing one Sabbath
with his companions near the front door of the church. The con-
versation had become trifling and he was laughing—perhaps
somewhat boisterously —at a jest that had been uttered, when the
doctor who stood at a little distance from the group with the
clergyman who was to preach for him, called the young man by
name, and beckoned him to approach. When he came near he in-
troduced him to the stranger, mentioning his name in full, and
saying in a marked and serious manner— “ a member of the church,
sir, a member of the church ! ” The youth in later years became an29
elder in that church, and he told me that the influence of this
rebuke had never left him, he felt it yet.
When the doctor was three-score years and ten he determined
to resign his charge ; its duties oppressed him. He spoke of his
intention to a number, but no one moved in the matter. They
did not want to part with him. “ It would hardly seem Sunday ”
to go to church and hear another man preach. At last one
Sabbath he requested the congregation to remain after the bene-
diction. The service being closed he descended from the pulpit,
and standing behind the communion table with his hands upon the
back of a chair looked slowly round upon the congregation until
all was expectation. His head sunk upon his chest for a moment,
then he raised his eyes, and exclaimed in a firm earnest voice,
u Three things ! I must have a colleague ; I must resign ; or I
must die ! ” and sat down. He preferred to resign and be wholly
released from the responsibilities of the pastorate, but the dis-
cussion which followed his laconic speech -led to no decisive action
at that time. Subsequently it was agreed that he should put the
question of his resignation to vote. For the sake of his successor
he wished it to be decided without apparent reluctance and with-
out a dissenting voice. This he secured in the following manner.
The call to the Rev. T. M. Smith was made and at his request
accepted, without any reference to the fact that he himself was
still pastor of the church ; and at the installation he was appointed
to deliver the charge to the people. His address — ardent and
full of affection and gratitude and rejoicing hope — was calcu-
lated to draw out the hearts of his people towards himself, but
near the close of it he suddenly stopped. The house in the hush
of expectation became perfectly still. Then in an abrupt but
subdued manner he broke the silence by saying, “ I have a re-
quest to make. You may think — I might have made it — be-
fore. For reasons of my own—I preferred to reserve it — for
this time — and place. It is the last request I shall make — as
your pastor. It is a request of mutual good-will — and for your
sake — not less than my own. I make it — not that I love you
the less — but the more ; and it is fitting — that I do it. I am
confident — you will meet my views, and that the Presbytery
will ratify your action. The vote I now ask you to pass is, that
1 be dismissed, strictly so ,(from my pastoral charge of this church
and congregation. In this vote I hope there will be but one
voice — I am persuaded there will be. The assembly is all30
seated — and I now put the question. Those of this church and
congregation in favor of granting the request will signify it —
by keeping their seats” Before they had time to recover from
their surprise he added— “ the clerk will he so good as to record
the vote as unanimous / ”
After resigning the pastorate he became the very active and
efficient agent of several of our benevolent societies, and collected
large sums for them in Catskill and in the adjacent country.
He approached each man, l am told, in a different way. Some-
times he would think it best to name a specific amount saying
“ It is a good cause, sir — a good cause — but you mustn’t give
too much — don’t let your feelings, cany you too far — fifty
dollars is enough, sir.” Left to himself the donor would pro-
bably have fixed upon five. A schooner just arrived from blew
York is being moored to the wharf. The captain and owner
has been one of the doctor’s boys. The doctor quietly waits for
the leisure moment and secures the captain’s attention. “ Fine
vessel — very fine —own the whole of her?” “Yes, doctor.”
“ Large freight — crowded deck — very large freight—how much
will you get for it ? ” The captain somewhat reluctantly names a
goodly sum. “ Profitable voyage — don’t you think you ought to
do something for the Lord ? ”	“ What do you want me to do,
doctor ? ” The doctor feels for his subscription book, and replies
“make your father here a life-member of the Bible Society —
thirty dollars — don’t want the money now — don’t want the
money.” And the name being written he did not fail to collect
the subscription. He was irresistible. Those who knew his
way whenever he began to draw out from them the proofs
of their prosperity would often cut short his approaches by
saying with a smile of surrender—“How much shall I give,
doctor? ” None loved him the less because of what he got from
them ; they knew him to be unselfish, and thoroughly in earnest,
and he taught them a lesson in giving which they did not for-
get — nor want to forget. He had more than a passing purpose,
and pleasure, in winning the close-fisted to generosity. He
was told of one man, a wealthy farmer, who had said he was
“ determined to give him nothing that year, any way.” Shortly
before harvest the doctor made it convenient to stop at his house.
He soon interested him in the operations of the society for which
he was then collecting, but nothing was said about a subscrip-
tion. He remained to dinner, and before the repast was over31
the man’s mind was filled with the noblest missionary views ;
to spread the glad tidings of salvation was made to appear the
great work and joy of the Christian life. After dinner they
walked out upon the piazza. “ Whose farm is that, sir ? ” said
the doctor, extending his hand with a wide gesture toward a
large tract crowded with ripening grain. “ That is mine.”
“Yours ? A large farm — beautiful farm ! ” After a pause during
which .the doctor was looking round with sincere admiration upon
the scene of tilth and beauty, he exclaimed : “ Whose farm is
that, way over by those woods, sir ? ” “ That is mine too.” “ Fine
meadows — very large farm — very valuable farm. Who owns
the woods ! ”	“ They belong to me, sir.” “ TTmph ! ” Changing
his position so as to command another view he said after a while,
“Your neighbor has a heavy crop there — very rich land —
whose is that, sir ?”	“ W ell,” the man answered, growing a
little restless, “ my farm goes about as far as you can see,
doctor, that’s all mine.” “ All yours !” Then turning upon
him with a serious and almost reproachful look he said, “ God
has done a great deal for you ; what are you going to do for
Him ?” A pause ensued which seemed to repeat the question
and demand an answer. I do not know the reply, but as the
result of the interview the doctor carried away the farmer’s
subscription for a larger amount than ever. He seldom failed.
These are but a few of the many anecdotes which the people
love to tell of him. He seemed to be absolutely self-forgetting,
and with all his self-reliance — an unconscious self-reliance —
he was a truly humble man. To the end of his life he spoke with
sincerity and sadness of his great sinfulness. “ It is an ocean
without a shore,” he would say, “ My trangressions are like
mountains piled upon mountains.” “ I hope to be saved, sir,” he
once said to Dr. Dickinson, “ but I am an awful sinner, sir,” (the
good old man) — “ an awful sinner. If I am seen in Heaven,
sir, it will astonish the universe !” And this he said with such
sincerity and earnestness that for a moment his visitor was con-
fused and at loss for a reply. A few months before his death
an elder of his church called to see him and in the course of the
conversation remarked “ Ah well, doctor, when we go to Heaven
we shall leave all these sorrows behind us.” The old man
straightened up and looked at him with apparent wonder ; he
scanned him onee or twice from head to foot, wide-eyed and
amazed, and then exclaimed with an emphasis on every word,32
“ Do—you—expect—to—get—to—Heaven !” Then shaking his
head and withdrawing his gaze he added, “ It’s a great thing to
say sir, a great thing to say.”
He was greatly loved. “ The dear old man !” said one who
had been speaking of his kindness and generosity. u He was
one of the best men in the world,” say others. I am often caused
to regret that I did not share with my predecessors the pleasure
of knowing him in the days of his vigor and activity. I could
then have met your request by a fuller and more accurate ac-
count of this singular, influential, and venerated man.
With affectionate esteem,
G. A. Howard.
APPENDIX B.
Orrin Day Esq. died in 1846, four years previous to the
installation of the present pastor of Christ’s Church. But he
was for more than a generation so prominent and important a
member and officer in this church, and exerted so much influ-
ence in our community, that it seems proper that his honored
name should not be unnoticed here. He was an elder of this
church from an early period of its history, and under three of
its four pastors. And to no man is the church more indebted
for generous assistance, for wise counsels, for consistent piety,
and for faithful and constant service. Nothing was permitted
to stand in the way and prevent his performance of duty. The
services of the church on the Sabbath, or on other days, found
him regularly in his place. He was a man to rely upon without
fear of disappointment. He had much to do in sustaining and
promoting the prosperity of our village. He came to Catskill
in 1791, and engaged in mercantile pursuits when the external
trade of the place extended very far beyond its present limits.
His integrity, accuracy, promptness, and discernment made him
the most successful merchant in the county, and in 1812, he
established himself as a private banker. Cautious, exact, just,
and honest he became widely known and trusted. In 1831
he organized The Tanner’s Bank of Catskill, and became its
president. This office he held until his death ; the popularity,
soundness, and steady prosperity of the bank resulting mainly
from his wise and faithful management.33
A cheerful, happy, and devoted father and friend ; full of
business ; active in the church ; and the willing counselor of
many, he yet found time for general interests. He was one of
the philanthropic men who in 1816 founded the American Bible
Society, invited to take part in this great work by such illustri-
ous men as John Mason, Eliphalet Nott, William Jay, Philip
Milledoler, J. Fennimore Cooper, Gardiner Spring, Joseph
Hornblower, Jedediah Morse, and others. By a vote of its
Board of Managers he was made a Life Director of the society.
He was a corporate member of the American Board of Commis-
sioners for Foreign Missions. He early took a decided stand in
favor of the cause of Temperance, and by his example, his per-
sonal efforts, and his liberal contributions, promoted its advance-
ment. He was a generous patron of the Union Theological
Seminary of Hew York city ; and he was an intelligent and
interested supporter of every good cause that appealed to him.
He was a clear minded, kind hearted, unwavering, practical
Christian. Wasting nothing in display, making no provision for
selfish indulgences, avoiding unsafe and feverish speculations,
he was enabled to be a constant and cheerful giver, and yet to
leave an ample fortune to his descendants. He lived to the age
of seventy-one years, and left to his heirs his example and his
influence as the most valuable legacy of all that they inherited.
APPENDIX C.
Extracts from a biographical notice of an esteemed and pro-
minent member of Christ’s Church, which was prepared for
another occasion, will be welcome to not a few of those into
whose hands this pamphlet will fall.
DIED — In Catskill, on the 7th inst., at the residence of Mrs. Caroline Wey, Mrs. Ruth
Croswell, widow of the late Dr. Thomas O’H. Croswell, aged 96 years, 10 months and
15 days.
Her long life was passed in a most eventful period of the
world’s history, and especially of that portion of the world in
which we are most deeply interested. She was born in Litch-
field, Connecticut, the 22d of February, l^S. Her life more
than spanned the entire era of our national existence up to the
time of her death. Born the year of that celebrated act which
first decisively shaped the popular sentiments that eventually
534
led to our independence, when the war of the revolution broke
out she was a girl of ten years, and when it ended a young lady
of seventeen.
During this eventful struggle her brother, John Pierce, was
the pay-master general of our forces, obtaining the appoint-
ment through the personal solicitations of the commander-in-
chief himself, who being assured of both his ability and his
integrity put forth special, and to him unusual efforts to secure
his election to this important post. He held the office through-
out the war ; discharging its duties so as to meet the approbation
of Washington, and to receive from the representatives of the
people a vote of thanks with the commendation that he had so
fulfilled his trust that “ his heart was pure, and his hands were
clean” His name I believe has no place in our formal histories,
but it lives in the letters of Washington.
The wife of this brother was a daughter of Dr. Bard, an emi-
nent physician of New York, and the medical attendant of our
commander-in-chief during his residence in that city. In con-
sequence of these connections, Mrs. Croswell, then Miss Ruth
Pierce and twenty-two years of age, witnessed by invitation the
inauguration of Washington as the first president of the United
States. She remembered vividly to her last days the majestic
form of that man on whom so many and such vast hopes then
centered, as he stepped forth upon the balcony of the old Federal
Hall in New York, (which stood where the Custom House now
stands), and after the enthusiastic shouts of the immense
crowd that welcomed him were at last silenced, took the solemn
oath to faithfully administer the constitution and the laws of
these United States.
Subsequently, while on a visit to New York, she was invited
to take tea with the family of the president. He was at the
time severely and it was feared dangerously sick, and she re-
membered how Dr. Bard came down from his patient’s room
with a grave and anxious face, and while they were seated at
the table told them what the president had said to him a few
moments before. His disease was the quinsy. Irving, in his Life
of Washington, speaks of the attack and the anxiety it caused,
and this the more because it occurred so near the commencement
of the first term of his administration. Washington, knowing the
danger of suffocation, turned to his physician and said, “ Doctor,
if I am to die do not hesitate to tell me. I am quite prepared.35
If it be the will of God I am ready to fall asleep, and in this
world ?iever wake again”
In 1191, Ruth Pierce was married, in Litchfield, to Dr. Tho-
mas O’H. Croswell,1 and the next year became a resident of
Catskill. Her life here was chiefly one of quiet domestic duties
and Christian faithfulness. She was among the members who
united with the Presbyterian Church of Catskill at its organiza-
tion. Through all her long life she was an interested, earnest,
useful Christian. Unusually conscientious and prayerful she
walked with God, seeking with great sincerity and honesty to
know His will, and when it was clearly ascertained doing it if
need were quite independently of the opinions of others. An in-
stance of this may be seen in her formation of a Temperance
League among the ladies of the village. The custom obtained
at the time of gathering by invitation first at one house and then
at another early in the afternoon, nominally to spend a few social
hours and “ take tea.” But about midway in the visit sweet
and intoxicating cordials were handed round, and by some of the
ladies partaken of with not a little freedom. Mrs. Croswell was
convinced that in this custom there was a growing danger. She
1 Dr. Croswell was to Catskill in the medical profession wliat the Rev.
Dr. Porter was in the clerical. Growing up with the town he became its
leading physician; and by virtue of his ability, courtesy, and true kindness of
heart, he acquired such popularity that he easily retained the position until
his death, which occurred in 1844. We have an evidence of Dr. Croswell’s
popularity, and of his integrity as well, in the fact that for more than fifty
years he was the Post-master of Catskill. He received the appointment dur-
ing the first term of the presidency of Washington; acting first under a
letter of instructions until the full organization of the P. O. department,
when he received a commission in form, which he held until his death.
About the time of the marriage her sister, Miss {Sally Pierce, afterward
assisted in some branches by her sister Miss Mary Pierce, opened a school,
which subsequently became the celebrated Litchfield Seminary. If I am
correctly informed this was the first seminary for the education of young
ladies from distant places, ever established in our country. Daughters of
prominent families were sent to remain under its decisive Christian influ
ences, and to secure its then unusual educational advantages, from all parts
of New England and of this State. They came from Boston, New Haven,
and Hartford, from the city of New York, many from Albany, and a number
from Whitestown and Westmoreland — then the far west both of our State
and our country. Several went from Catskill, and some, who received more
than intellectual training at this excellent school, were present at the funeral
of Mrs. Croswell. “ Miss Sally Pierce,” is a musical name to the ears of
many, and they never hear it pronounced without a glow in their hearts of
revering and grateful love.36
never had heard of a temperance pledge, or society, hut after
consulting with a Christian friend, a pledge not to provide either
cordials or wines on these occasions was drawn up, and after
praying God to help her, she went forth to secure the names of
all whom she could induce to sign it. Amidst much ridicule
and some reproaches she patiently continued her efforts, until
they were crowned with unexpected success. The pernicious
custom was completely broken up, and principles of temperance
were thus early planted in many influential minds.
In her days of greater vigor she visited the poor and the
suffering, and watched and prayed with the sick and the dying.
Unselfish, sympathizing, and patient, she endeared herself to
all. From no lips were rebukes received so kindly as from hers.
Her quaint direct way of expressing her disapproval or her
doubt never gave offense ; and when she commended or praised
anything that had been done the simple straight-forward hearti-
ness of her words made them very pleasant to hear.
For many years, I think more than a quarter of a century,
she gathered about her the mothers and the pious women of the
church, and maintained a female prayer-meeting, imparting to
it not a little of its interest by her own religious fervor. She had
“patient continuance in well-doing.” Turning over the leaves
of a journal in which she wrote down her religious views and
aspirations during sixty or seventy years, we find no change,
except by growth and Christian development. Her hopes be-
came less tremulous, and her faith more assured ; but otherwise
the record of 1797 and that of 1861 are substantially the same.
They reveal the heart of a humble, devoted, trustful, single-
minded child of God, very sensible of her imperfections, very
penitent, watchful, and prayerful, resting on Christ alone for
acceptance with God, and yearning to be holy.
She had friends who were very kind to her in her old age.
And her gratitude for their respectful and ready attentions, and
all the unforced proofs of their affection which surrounded her
with every comfort, and relieved, as far as could be, the infirmi-
ties of her many years, is expressed in this journal with such sensi-
bility and tenderness that one cannot read the sentences without
some dimness coming over the eyes, and feeling what happiness
is brought into the soul by a grateful spirit. When she attempts
to thank God for his benefits and for all his patient love, her37
language often breaks down under the burden of gratitude she
would put upon it.
Her death was sudden. A few hours of not severest illness,
and enough of pain only to draw to her side in the silent night
those whom of all she most loved and trusted and would have
desired to be with her in her last hour — and then, so peacefully
that one sitting watchfully by her bedside only knew it by the
perfected stillness, she ceased to breathe, and passed to the new
life.
The funeral services at the Presbyterian Church, on the after-
noon of the 9th inst., were attended by a large number of her
relatives and connections, some of whom had come from a great
distance to testify in this manner their esteem and affection.
All the clergymen of the place were present; and the house was
crowded by the concourse of her friends. During this time,
and while the funeral procession was passing through the streets,
the places of business were closed, and as the procession
slowly wound its way to the beautiful cemetery on the outskirts
of the village the bells of all the churches were tolled. Such
honor has old age which has been made venerable by a truly
Christian character and life.
APPENDIX D.
The document which follows records the first preliminary
movement toward the organization, subsequently completed on
the 7th day of February, 1803. No date is affixed to this pre-
liminary action, but the first meeting for organization being ap-
pointed on “the 7th of February next” fixes the probable date
as the winter of 1802-3.
Whereas by an act of the Legislature of the State of New
York passed the twenty-seventh day of March, one thousand
Eight hundred and one, provision is made for the incorporation
of Religious Societies ; and, whereas a union of some kind is
necessary in order to support religious order and public worship,
we, who shall hereunto subscribe our names, inhabitants of the
town of Cattskill, do agree to form ourselves into a religious
Society conformable to srJ act by the name, or title, of-
Christ’s——church of Cattskill. And to carry this into effect,
we further agree to meet at the Academy in Cattskill on the38
seventh day of Feby next to choose our Trustees, and do
other business which may be proper to be done in s'1 meeting.
And Whereas s(l act leaves it to every such society to devise their
own means of raising necessary funds, we do therefore agree, while
destitute of other sufficient resources, to be taxed severally ac-
cording to our Estates, which shall be ascertained by the next
preceeding town assessment ; s’ tax to be made out and collected
by sd trustees when chosen — or by a collector by them ap-
pointed. Provided always that if in the opinion of a majority
of the trustees any subscriber shall happen to be assessed too
high on the s1 assessment they shall have power to lessen his
society tax as they shall deem proper ; and provided also that
nothing in this instrument shall be construed to bind any sub-
scriber, or his property, longer than he shall continue a resident
in this town.
(Signed),
Gomer Brockway,
Joseph Graham,
William Brown,
George Taylor,
Ira Bay,
Hiland Hill,
Charles Rodgers,
John Grant,
Thos. B. Cook,
Richard Hill,
Gilbert Brake,
Jehiel Preston,
John Gager,
Jesse Brush,
Orrin Bay,
Lyman Hall,
Eliph’t Webb,
Aristobulus Myrick,
Caleb Street,
George Hale,
James Graham,
Sally Brockway,
Ruben Sanderson,
Caleb Croswell,
Ezra Hawley,
Joshua Chapman,
Thos. Bimmick,
Elisha Ferguson,
Stephen Bay,
Thos. Hale,
Benj. Sanford,
Nathaniel T. Cook,
Tunis Pryor, Jr.
Moses Morse,
Adonijah Sherman,
William Ward,
Baniel Mitchell,
Philip Gebhard,
Isaac Bubois,
James Blodget,
Ellis Thompson,
Philo Bay,
Heman Wadhams,
Bavid Horton 3d,
Bavid Johnson,
Uriah Ward,
Benjamin Butler,
Timithay Shattuck,
J ohn Buel,
John P. Bollen,
Peter Osterhout, c\d°ea™ffa
Abm. Edwards, mini8ter]
J. Harris,
Joseph Weed,
Joel Weed,
Stephen Calkin,39
Wilkes Hyde,
John H. Colton,
Benjn. W. Dwight,
Daniel M. Gregory,
John Morison,
Daniel Reeve,
Josiah Stebbins,
John Dougherty,
Nathaniel Eels,
Asa Kneeland,
Ezekiel Orsborn,
Phineas Meigs,
Sedgwick Prestan,
Janies M. Sanford,
Lemuel Hall,
Elijah Webb,
David E. Gregory, 1804,
Jonathan Bill,
Joel Austin,
Henry Whittelsey,
Jared Stocking,
Daniel Hall,
James Colliar,
David Morgan,
Abner Miller,
William Hammond,
Amos Eaton,
Wm. Bodvelt,
Thos. P. Grosvenor,
N. Benjamin,
Wm. Robb,
James Pierce,
Henry Lhomedu,
James Bennet,
Samuel Hull, Jr.,
Nathan Elliot,
Wyllys Miles,
Josiah Rodgers,
John Reeve,
Rufus Moore,
Thomas Place,
Jno. W. Strong,
James Powers,
John Doan,
Nathl. Hinman,
James J. Bill.
In all one hundred and two names. They are autographs, and
many of them are written in the clear, bold hand-writing of those
who are accustomed to wield the pen. The date affixed to Mr.
Gregory’s name may indicate that the signatures were not all
subscribed at the same time. The order of the names seems to
show that it was a spontaneous and general movement, and did
not require that the more influential men should “lead off.”
Organization as a Society.
“ In pursuance of an act of the Legislature of the State of New
York entitled an Act to provide for the incorporation of Religious
Societies passed the 27th day of March, 1801, the members of
the Society commonly called the Presbyterian Society in the
village of Cattskill, convened at the Court House on the seventh
day of February 1803, after due and legal notification, for the
purpose of forming themselves into a Society conformable to
sl1 act, when the subscribers were chosen to preside in sd meeting
and judge of the qualifications of the electors — And they here-40
by certify that the following persons were duly chosen Trustees
by the name or title of the Trustees of Christ’s Church of Catts-
kill, and were classed in the following manner, viz :
Benjamin Sanford, \	Stephen Day,
William Brown, l T° ^ Tho< B. Cook,
Jesse Brush,	)	Isaac Dubois,
Thomas Hale,
Richard Hill,
Philip Gebhard,
Witness our hands and seals,
Wm. Brown [n. s.]
Cattskill, Feb>r 7, 1803.	Orrin Day [l. s.]
The above acknowledged before Sam Vn Vachten, one of the
Judges of the Court of Common Pleas in the County of Greene
and recorded in the Clerk’s Office in sd county.
Test. Thos. B. Cook, Clerk.
Three days after — February 10, 1803 — the trustees meet and
appoint Thos. B. Cook, Clerk, and Isaac Duboistreasurer, of the
board.
On the 5th of next June the society meet, at the court house,
“ being duly warned,” elect William Brown Chairman, and ap-
point a committee to determine “ what will be the probable tax
on each member of this society to raise the sum of three hundred
dollars.” Two days after the society meet again pursuant to
adjournment, and resolve as follows :
1.	“ That the Trustees be authorized and directed to levy and
collect a tax of this Society Sufficient to raise the sum of Three
Hundred Dollars for the purpose of hiring preaching.”
2.	“That the Trustees be directed to invite the Rev. David
Porter to preach on probation for settlement, and to pay him
from the money raised by the tax heretofore levied.”
3.	“ That the Trustees be allowed to appropriate a part of the
money to be collected by the tax levied, for the procuring a
Seal, and to defray some other expenses.”
On the 1st of August, 1803, Geo. Hale Esq. in the chair, the
society resolve to “ give a call to the Rev. David Porter to settle
as their minister,” and to offer him “the sum of $350,” to be
increased by subscription, but not over $50. And also to “ offer
him the privilege of teaching a school in the Academy, or some
other suitable room to be provided by the Society for that pur-
pose.”
f To serve for three
r	years.
f To serve for two
r	years.