J. GORDON MCLTON THIS BOOK IS PROPERTY OF The First Presbyterian Sunday School Library. JVo RULES: 1. All books may be kept out but two (2) weeks. 2. If you desire to renew a book, bring it back and have it re-entered. 3. A fine of five (5) cents per week will be charged for each additional week kept out. 4. But one book at a time will be allowed. 5. Books may be returned each Sunday fifteen (15) minutes before and thirty (30) minutes after Sunday School. Any brought in after this time will be left till next Sunday, but be sub¬ ject to a fine. 5. All books, or cash donations for the purchase of books, will be thankfully received. Librarian. " X have discovered lately that 1 am a great sinner.''—See Page 78. THE AFRICAN PREACHER. AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. at THE KEY. WILLIAM S. WHITE, Pastor of the Presbyterian Church, Lexington, Virginia. PHILADELPHIA: PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, Entered af these gen¬ tlemen was such, as to give them great influ¬ ence over our young physician; and he was accordingly led to think, and feel, and act as they did. Thus he lived for many years, and thus, to use his own language, he "did much to embitter the latter portion of his life with wormwood and gall." His domestic relations were eminently 112 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF happy, and perhaps no man was ever better fitted, by high social qualities, to impart and to enjoy happiness as a husband and father. In the wise but inscrutable providence of God, the sources of our purest and most elevated enjoyments often become the occa¬ sions of our deepest grief. It was thus with these fond parents. God had given them two lovely daughters, the only children He ever gave them. One of these died in in¬ fancy.' The other had nearly attained matu¬ rity, and gave abundant promise of the rarest excellences. A lovely person, a sprightly and well-cultivated mind, a tender and amia¬ ble heart, made her almost the idol of her doting parents. She seemed to them as a source of light and comfort, by which their footsteps were to be directed, and their hearts cheered, amidst the darkness of old age. But, in all this, they were sadly disap¬ pointed. Death came again, and laid this DR. JAMES JONES. 113 lovely form by the side of her who had been buried in infancy, and bore her spirit to Him who is the resurrection and the life. The death of two such children, with none to supply their place, was an affliction almost too heavy to be borne, and threatened to crush those upon whom it fell. The following extract is taken from a paper found in his desk after his death, and written at the time of his sad loss. It is here presented, as furnishing proof of the strength of his parental feelings, an illustra¬ tion of the greatness of his grief, and as a specimen of the efforts made by a vigorous mind and tender heart—as yet, unenlight¬ ened and unrenewed by divine grace—to find consolation in sorrow. The extract is as follows: " She was her parents' sole delight; They had but one—one only child." " The loss of this fair bud of being, just 10* 114 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP beginning to bloom and spread all its sweets abroad to our enraptured senses, nipped by an untimely frost, has left me to wail in gloomy silence. Ever dear, ever sacred shall be the recollection of her! Yes,an all-wise Provi¬ dence permitted her to shed on this benighted world, the effulgent beams of her brilliant soul, for a short time only, and then took her back to himself, in order to attract more forcibly the earnest longings, the ardent aspirations of her afflicted parents towards himself. Never can I again plunge into the gay scenes, the flattering, beguiling plea¬ sures of this troubled ocean of time. Whilst I possessed such a treasure as she was, far short of its intrinsic value was my estimate of it. Now that I am bereft of it, my fond, my mortified recollection goes back to scenes, which, could I return to them again, would afford me the most exquisite delight—the dntepast of heaven. To cultivate such a DR. JAMES JONES. 115 mind; to cherish all its virtuous emotions; to guard it against the attacks of vice; to direct its expansive operations in the fields of fancy and of science! 0 God! what ex¬ quisite enjoyments didst thou put within my reach, and what shameful indifference did I betray! Pardon, 0 pardon, my gross in¬ gratitude ! Give me resignation to thy hea¬ venly will, believing that all things shall work together for good to those who, through faith and patience in well-doing, seek for immortality of bliss in thy favour only." Here the manuscript ends abruptly. About this time, whether before or after writing the above we are not informed, the deeply-dis¬ tressed father addressed a letter to a distin¬ guished gentleman, whose acquaintance he had made in Congress, asking for consola¬ tion. His friend, who was an utter stranger to the Bible, if not an avowed unbeliever, replied with promptitude and kindness, say- 116 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF ing all that the light of nature, and all that reason, unassisted by revelation, could say, to cheer the heart, when well nigh crushed with grief. Having read this letter again and again, he exclaimed, "Is this all? Can nothing more be said or done to cheer me in my sorrow? There must be a God. This I have always believed. It is equally ob¬ vious, that this God is benevolent; and if so, he has somewhere made provision for support and comfort at a time like this. But where is this provision to be found? The letter of my friend shows plainly that this world has it not. Had it been discoverable by reason, the writer would have known it. But, in¬ stead of giving comfort, his communication adds poignancy to my grief. It must be in the Bible. I will look." Thus he reasoned. Then opening the inspired volume, he turned its leaves somewhat at random, when his eyes fell on this passage, "For our light DR. JAMES JONES. 117 affliction which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen, are temporal, but the things which are not seen, are eternal." 2 Cor. iv. 17, 18. This arrested his attention. This touched his heart, and he exclaimed, " I have found it. This meets my case." Thus encouraged, he read on, and in process of time, became a true believer in Christ, and a consistent and useful member of his church. He now sought to promote the spiritual good of his friends and of the world, with great liberality apd zeal. Upon thorough investigation, he became a Presbyterian, and •sought and obtained from the Presbytery a missionary, who found in his house a home, and at his hands a support, which enabled him to prosecute his work with some success; 118 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF and thus, through the instrumentality of this distinguished physician and statesman- now an humble Christian—were the founda tions of a church laid, which has increased in numbers and efficiency, until it has be¬ come one of the largest and strongest coun¬ try churches in the Synod of Virginia. At an early period of his Christian life, he became a ruling elder in the church which he had so materially aided in organizing; and for many years served with great fidelity in all our church courts, from the Session to the General Assembly. Dr. Jones had mingled freely, until about the fiftieth year of his age, in the gayest, most fashionable, and the least religious circles of society. His manners and his habits were accordingly such, as strongly* incline those who make a profession of reli¬ gion, from the higher walks of life, to con¬ tent themselves with the shadow, rather than DR. JAMES JONES. 119 the substance. As an illustration of the mighty power of divine truth in remodeling the character, and as a proof of the sincerity and depth of his piety, it should be stated, that on connecting himself with the church, he engaged promptly and zealously in the active duties of the Christian life. He erected an altar, around which his family were regularly called to offer their morning and evening devotions. He took the deepest interest in the religious instruction of his large family of servants; and few have suc¬ ceeded so well in inducing this class of per¬ sons to attend regularly and seriously on divine worship, both social and public. From his earliest connection with the Church, to the end of his earthly pilgrimage, he had a neat apartment kept as a private chapel,., where divine service was regularly performed on the Sabbath, for the benefit of his own servants, and such of his neighbours' servants 120 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF as might choose "to attend. For several years, the writer was accustomed to officiate in this place, and to this people, on the Sab¬ bath afternoon; and never can he forget the dignified, yet subdued and chastened manner, with which this excellent man regularly seated himself in the midst of this humble audience, to hear with them the words of life eternal. There, too, sat the good old African Preacher, with his dark visage, but brilliant mind and pious heart, who never failed, when the ser¬ vice was over, to remain, that he might pro¬ pound questions, and make remarks suggested by the sermon just delivered. Our lamented friend became the early and zealous champion of the temperance reforma tion. As early as the year 1828, he attended and addressed the first temperance meeting ever held in that part of the country. He was one of only eight persons who could be in¬ duced to favour the holding of this meeting; DR. JAMES JOKES. 121 and shared largely, but cheerfully, in the public odium which this movement elicited. In this war—and war it was of a truth—he enlisted for life, and lived and died its wise and prudent, but firm and fearless friend and promoter. It was his happiness, too, to see this cause, as well as that of his church, both of which had so feeble a beginning, surmount every obstacle, and attain a high degree of prosperity and usefulness. All the benevolent enterprises of the Church, enjoyed his confidence, and shared in his benefactions. We have rarely known a man, whose judgment more promptly ap proved, and whose heart more warmly em¬ braced, whatever tended to elevate and bless his race. Thoroughly educated himself, he was the firm friend of the education of others. An alumnus of Hampden Sidney College, and subsequently a trustee, he was the warm friend and liberal supporter of that 11 122 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF venerable and useful institution. He saw, too, the obvious difference in rank and .im¬ portance, between the College and the Uni¬ versity; and hence his zeal for the former did not make him the blind opponent of the latter. His private letters abound with ex¬ pressions of the highest admiration for the University of Virginia. He, more than once, visited this seat of learning, and informed himself thoroughly respecting its course of instruction and system of discipline by per¬ sonal inspection; the result of which was, an abiding conviction, that, without an in¬ stitution planned, endowed, and conduct¬ ed as that is, the literary and scientific wants of the commonwealth could not be supplied. From the period of Dr. Jones's conversion no, subject more constantly occupied his thoughts, or more deeply enlisted his feel- ngs, than the condition and future prospects DR. JAMES JONES. 123 of his servants. We have already seen the measures he adopted for their religious in¬ struction. But when taught, he wished them to enjoy the benefits of that instruction to the fullest attainable extent. In a word, he desired and he purposed to emancipate them. He fully believed that the only wise and benevolent method of doing this, was to send them to Liberia, under the auspices of the American Colonization Society. Accord¬ ingly, after corresponding with Mr. Elliot Cresson, and other distinguished friends of this cause, in reference to this matter, he and Mrs. Jones, whose sentiments and feel¬ ings were identical, commenced a course of instruction designed to enlighten their minds, and to form their characters with a view to emigration. But the condition of these servants was rendered so extremely comfortable, by the 124 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF parental treatment received at the hands of their excellent master and mistress, that not one of them could be induced to go, until that master and mistress should be taken frorii them by death. In 1837 he made his will, in which he provides amply for the emancipation and emigration to Liberia of as many as could be induced to go, leaving the whole to be exe¬ cuted at the death of his widow. This will contains the following clause: " The whole subject is to be fully and intelligibly pre¬ sented to their minds, so that they may have the option of going to the Colony, or remain¬ ing in bondage. And I particularly desire that any of them who may be willing to go, shall at any time be emancipated by due form of law, by my executors, and trans¬ ferred to such agents of said Colony as may be willing to receive them. I would prefer that point known as Bassa Cove, under the DR. JAMES JONES. 125 direction of the New York and Pem.sylvani? Colonization Societies." The will of 1846, which is his last will does not differ materially from the former Knowing how tenderly his loved wife felt on this subject, he only leaves the whole matter more fully in her hands. She has accordingly commenced the work, both of colonization and emancipation; hav¬ ing tendered to some of them th'e privilege of going this spring to Liberia, and having actually emancipated others, in the best and only way permitted by the laws of Virginia, with the privilege of remaining in the com¬ monwealth. Were it expedient, we might easily and greatly extend this sketch. We should like to speak, as truth would warrant, of his purity and patriotism; his unshaken con stancy as a friend; and particularly of his almost excessive tenderness, faithfulness and 11* 126 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF affection as a husband. But we can only glance at his last moments. He had lived thejife of the enlightened patriot, the hospitable and polished gentle¬ man, the consistent, useful Christian. Such a life might be expected to terminate in a calm and peaceful death. His last illness was protracted and severe; but borne with Christian fortitude and Christian submission. He was among the first to discover, that his sickness would be unto death. With the utmost composure, he proceeded to give such directions respecting his temporal concerns, as he deemed necessary; not neglecting a full expression of his wishes as to his burial. Having done this, he said to a friend, who had travelled many miles to visit him, " I am glad to see you. I have endeavoured, from the first, to cast myself upon a gracious God, through a Redeemer. This I i\pw do. The violence of my disease interrupts thought, DR. JAMES JONES. 127 and hinders devotion. I can only trust." Shortly after this, he seemed to have drawn his last breath. All perceptible signs of life were gone. His fond wife bent over him in agony, exclaiming, " It is all over." To the surprise of all around him, he opened his eyes, and looked tenderly upon her who was dearer to him than his own life, and said, "Be still and wait. I am waiting quietly." On another occasion he said, " When I do go, I hope to go straight to a better world." He was now unable to carry on a connected conversation, but as he lay, struggling for breath, and expecting every moment to be his last, he was heard, from time to time, indulging in such expressions as these: " Bluntly prepared. Yes, ready, and some¬ times very anxious, to go."—"There is still a great deal of evil in the world. Satan is still permitted to have much power. But 128 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF the Lord reigns, and will do all things well." To the friend before referred to, who was, at this critical moment, very reluctantly forced to leave him, and whom, with much difficulty, he was made to recognize, he said, " Fare¬ well ! God bless you! It is all that I can say." These were amctig the last expressions which fell from that tongue which had so often, and with so much eloquence, edified • and delighted the intelligent and pious visi¬ tors, who were accustomed to frequent his delightful residence. That tongue is now silent in death, but the spirit which animated it, lives in a purer and brighter world. That body which, with so much dignity and grace, was accustomed to move through the apart¬ ments, and over the fields and gardens of Mountain Hall, now lies beside the remains of the loved ones lost in childhood; but his character and his example still live, to teach DR.. JAMES JONES. 129 surviving friends and relatives how to be useful in life and happy in death. Thus lived and thus died, the African Preacher and his distinguished friend and patron. The former ended his days on the 6th of April, 1843, supposed to be nearly one hundred years old. The other followed on the 25th of April, 1848, in the 77th year of his age. We bless the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ for that gospel which can thus influence all classes in society; revealing, as it does, a Saviour, who could thus lay one hand on the kidnapped African, and the other on the polished graduate of a European University; then mould and fashion their habits and tastes so much alike, that it is hard to say, whether the power and grace of that Saviour are most conspicuous, in ele¬ vating the former, or humbling the latter. As unlike by nature as the two continents 130 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH which gave them birth, by grace they be¬ came one in Christ Jesus, and, beyond a doubt, are now together before the throne, singing, as with one voice and one heart " the song of Moses and the Lamb." APPENDIX II. It is stated at page 29, that Uncle Jack was very often called upon to officiate at the funerals of the coloured people. Such occa¬ sions on the plantations often exhibit scenes of much solemn interest, both on the part of the planters and the slaves. The following extract from a popular journal, gives a graphic sketch of such a scene.—[Editor of Presb. Board op Publication.] THE NIGHT FUNERAL OF A SLAVE. Travelling recently on business, in the interior of Georgia, I reached, just at sunset, the mansion of the proprietor through whose 131 132 THE NIGHT FUNERAL estate, for the last half hour of my journey, I had pursued my way. My tired companion pricked his ears, and with a low whinny indicated his pleasure, as I turned up the broad avenue leading to the house. Calling to a black boy in view, I made him inquire of his owner if I could be accommodated with lodgings for the night. My request brought the proprietor himself to the door, and from thence to the gate, when, after a scrutinizing glance at my per¬ son and equipments, he inquired my name, business, and destination. I promptly re¬ sponded to his questions, and he invited me to alight and enter the house, in the true spirit of Southern hospitality. He was apparently thirty years of age, and evidently a man of education and refine¬ ment. I soon observed an air of gloomy abstraction about him. He said but little, and even that little seemed the result of an OF A SLAVE. 133 effort to obviate the seeming want of civility to a stranger. At supper, the mistress of the mansion appeared,'and did the honours of the table, in her particular department. She was exceedingly lady-like and beautiful. She retired immediately after supper, and a servant handing some splendid habanas on a small silver tray, we had seated ourselves comfortably before the enormous fire of oak wood, when a servant appeared at the end door near my host, hat in hand, and uttered, in subdued but distinct tones, the, to me, startling words: " Master, de coffin hab come." "Very well," was the only reply, and the servant disappeared. My host remarked my gaze of inquisitive wonder, and replied to it— "I have been' sad, sad," said he, "to-day. I have had a greater misfortune than I have experienced since my father's death. I lost 12 134 THE NIGHT FUNERAL this morning the truest and most reliable friend I had in the world—one whom I have been accustomed to honour and respect since my earliest recollection. He was the play¬ mate of my father's youth, and the mentor of mine; a faithful servant, an honest man, and sincere Christian. I stood by his bed¬ side to-day, and with his hands clasped in mine, I heard the last words he uttered; they were,' Master, meet me in heaven/ " His voice faltered a moment, and he con¬ tinued, after a pause, with increased excite¬ ment: "His loss is a melancholy one to me. If I left my home, I said to him/John, see that all things are taken care of,' and I knew that my wife and child, property and all, were as safe as though they were guarded by a hundred soldiers. I never spoke a harsh word to him in all my life, for he never merited it. I have a hundred others, many OF A SLAVE. 135 of them faithful and true, but his loss is irreparable." I came from a section of the Union where slavery does not exist; and I .brought with me all the prejudices which so generally prevail in the free States in regard to this " institution." I had already seen much to soften these, but the observation of years would have failed to give me so clear an insight into the relation between master and servant as this simple incident. It was not the haughty planter, the lordly tyrant, talk¬ ing of his dead slave as of his dead horse, but the kind-hearted gentleman, lamenting the loss and eulogizing the virtues of his good old friend. After an interval of silence, my host re¬ sumed : "There are," said he, "many of the old man's relatives and friends who would wish to attend his funeral. To afford them oppor- 136 THE NIGHT FUNERAL tunity, several plantations have been notified that he will be buried to-night. Some, I pre¬ sume, have already arrived; and desiring to see that all things are properly prepared for his interment, I trust you will excuse my absence a few moments." "Most certainly, sir; but," I added, "if there is no impropriety, I would be pleased to accompany you." "There is none," he replied; and I fol¬ lowed him to one of a long row of cabins, situated at the distance of some three hun¬ dred yards from the mansion. The house was crowded with negroes. All arose on our entrance, and many of them exchanged greeting with my host, in tones that con¬ vinced me that they felt that he was an object of sympathy from them! The corpse was deposited in the coffin, attired in a shroud of the finest cotton materials,.and the coffin itself was painted black OP A SLAVE. 137 The master stopped at its head, and laying his hand upon the cold brow of his faithful bondsman, gazed long and intently upon fea¬ tures with which he had been so long fami¬ liar, and which he now looked upon for the last time on earth. Raising his eyes at length, and glancing at the serious countenances now bent upon his, he said solemnly, and with much feeling— " He was a faithful servant and true Chris¬ tian. If you follow his example, and live as he lived, none of you need fear when the time comes for you to lie here." A patriarch, with the snow of eighty win¬ ters on his head, answered, "Master, it is true, and we will try to live like him." There was a murmur of general assent, and after giving some instructions relative to the burial, we returned to the building. About nine o'clock a servant appeared 12* 138 THE NIGHT FUNERAL with the notice that they were ready to move, and to know if further instructions were necessary. My host remarked to me that, by stepping into the piazza, I would proba¬ bly behold, to me, a novel scene. The pro¬ cession had moved, and its route led within a few yards of the mansion. There were one hundred and fifty negroes, arranged four deep, and following a wagon in which was placed the coffin. Down the entire length of the line, at intervals of a few feet on each side, were carried torches of the resinous pine, here called light-wood. About the centre was stationed the black preacher, a man of gigantic frame and stentorian lungs, who gave out from memory the words of a hymn suitable to the occasion. The Southern negroes are proverbial for the melody and^ compass of their voices, and I thought that hymn, mellowed by distance, the most so¬ lemn, and yet the sweetest music that had OF A SLAVE. 189 ever fallen upon my ear. The stillness of the night, and strength of their voices, en¬ abled me to distinguish the air at the dis¬ tance of half a mile. It was to me a strange and solemn scene, and no incident of my life has impressed me with more powerful emotions than the night funeral of the poor negro. For this reason I have hastily and most imperfectly sketched its leading features. THE END.