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 DISCOURSE 
 
 PREACHED IN THE 
 
 CENTER CIIUUCH, IN NEW HAVEN, AUGUST 27, 1828, 
 
 AT THE FUNERAL OF 
 
 JEHUDI ASHMUN, ESQ. 
 
 COLONIAL AGENT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 AHIERICAN COLONY^ OF LIBERIA. 
 
 BY LEONARD BACON. 
 
 WITH THE ADDRESS AT THE GRAVE ; 
 
 BY R. R. GURLEY. 
 
 " NEW HAVEN: 
 
 PRINTED BY HEZEKIAH HOWE. 
 1828. 
 
SERMON, &c. 
 
 Matthew xxvi, 8. 
 To what purpose is this waste? 
 
 That incident in the life of our Saviour, from the narra- 
 tive of which these words are taken,* affords us a beautiful 
 lesson. As Jesus sat at meat in the house of one of his 
 friends, Mary, the sister of Lazarus, came with an alabaster 
 box of precious ointment, and anointed his feet and wiped 
 them with her hair, and brake the box, and poured the oint- 
 ment on his head, so that the house was filled with the odor 
 of the ointment. And there were some who had indigna- 
 tion among themselves, and said. To what purpose is this 
 waste ; for this ointment might have been sold for much and 
 given to the poor. And they murmured against her. But 
 Jesus said. Let her alone ; why trouble ye the woman ? For 
 she hath wrought a good work upon me. Verily I say unto 
 you. Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole 
 world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be 
 told for a memorial of her. 
 
 The objector in this case was Judas Iscariot. His narrow 
 mind looked only at the expense of IMary's costly offering; — 
 and why was all this waste? The objection was plausible; 
 to some, at least, of the disciples it seemed valid. Win did 
 our I^ord condemn the objection? Why did he sp. I'k of 
 
 " Compare Matthew xxvi, 6 — 13 ; Mark xiv, 3 — 9 ; and John xii. 1 — 8. 
 
this costly expression of affection in terms of so decided 
 praise ? It was because he knew and appreciated the ob- 
 ject of the sacrifice. The expense, the cost, was all which 
 the mind of the objector fastened on ; but the mind of Jesus 
 saw, and his feelings honored, the end for which the expen- 
 diture was made. He saw that this profusion was in Mary, 
 simply the expressive exhibition of her warm attachment to 
 her Lord, the indulgence of her humble thankfulness toward 
 the benefactor who at her solicitation, in answer to her faith, 
 had recalled her brother from the imprisonment of death 
 and the decay of the sepulchre. Therefore it was that he 
 rebuked those who would condemn her for extravagance, 
 and commended that deep and disinterested love which 
 prompted an offering so costly. 
 
 Now the lesson which this incident affords us, is, that the 
 spirit of christian piety, so far from discouraging, approves 
 the expression, even the costly expression of every disinter- 
 ested, generous, affectionate feeling. If the feeling is ra- 
 tional in itself, if the expression of the feeling is appropriate 
 and natural, if the indulgence of it is not inordinate, there 
 is nothing in the spirit of christian piety to prompt the mur- 
 muring enquiry, " To what purpose is this waste ?" Chris- 
 tians need not be Stoics. Our Lord would not obliterate 
 the fine and tender sensibilities of our nature, nor would he 
 have us check their free indulgence. He would indeed have 
 every thought and desire brought into captivity to the obedi- 
 ence of his gospel. He would indeed have love to God and 
 love to man, in every soul, the deepest and most controlling- 
 principles of action. But at the same time he would give 
 its due place, and allow its proper indulgence and natural 
 expression to every tender, or noble, or disinterested feeling. 
 So beautiful, even in its incidental bearings, is that religion 
 which breathes peace and good will to man, which recon- 
 ciles the sinner to his God, and which promises to renovate 
 the aspect of this miserable world. 
 
I have chosen the text however, not for the sake of dis- 
 coursing on the parliruhir incident in connection with 
 which it is spoken ; or for the sake of showing that he who 
 commended Mary's ardent gratitude, who had himself wept 
 at the grave of Lazarus, and who still feels for our infirmi- 
 ties, will not forbid our tears at such a time as this ; but 
 rather because the words suggest atopic of reflection which 
 seems more especially consistent with the proprieties of this 
 occasion. The man whose remains are before us, has died 
 a victim to his lal)ors and privations and afflictions under 
 the burning sun of Africa. During the few days which he 
 has spent among us, he has won the aftection and venera- 
 tion of all who have had the opportunity of seeing his noble 
 qualities. And if we were to speak his eulogy on this occa- 
 sion — as well we might — it would probably excite in some 
 minds not familiar with the exalted end for which he labored 
 unto death, the complaint. To what purpose is this waste ? 
 Why is it that such a man who might have been useful here 
 at home ; who might have labored successfully in the routine 
 of a profession ; who might have risen to wealth, or to some 
 high and honorable station, in his native land ; whose mind, 
 gifted as it was with vigorous intellect, might have enlarged 
 the boundaries of science ; whose lips, rich as they were 
 with the power of expression, might have been eloquent at 
 the bar, or in the halls of legislation, or in the house of God ; 
 — Why is it that such a man has toiled and suflcred under 
 the uncongenial climate of the tropics, and has fallen in the 
 vigor of his maturity a martyr to his zeal ? How can it be 
 right for good and valuable men thus to squander their own 
 lives ? 
 
 Such a feeling, if it exists in any mind, it is my wish to 
 meet, and if possible to remove. When a man like him 
 whose spirit has now gone to his reward, is taken from the 
 world, the loss is great. When such a life is sacrificed in 
 the advancement of whatever undertaking, it is a great ex- 
 
6 
 
 penditure. But is it true that life is never to be hazarded ? 
 Is it true that valuable lives are never to be sacrificed? Must 
 every undertaking, however vast or noble, be given over, as 
 soon as it is found that lives must be lost for the attainment 
 of the object? Will you say that because Andrus, and Ses- 
 sions, and Holton and Ashmun have given up their lives for 
 Africa, therefore the enterprise in which such men have 
 died must be abandoned, and Africa must be left to be the 
 abode of ignorance, and cruelty, and misery, till the world 
 shall end ? Will you say that because Heber and Middleton, 
 because our own Hall and Newel have perished from their 
 labors in the midst of life, beneath the sultry sky of India; — 
 will you say that because Martyn's career was brief as it was 
 bright, and because our Parsons and Fiske lay down in their 
 prime to sleep among the sepulchres of the prophets, and 
 because every missionary who goes into a heathen land goes to 
 peril, and tooprobably,to an early grave; — will you argue that 
 therefore the thick gloom of paganism must rest upon the 
 world forever, without another effort to let in the blessed 
 light of heaven ? Do you tell us. It is wrong that lives so val- 
 uable should be thus thrown away ? Do you ask us. To what 
 purpose is this waste ? 
 
 Look now at this principle of yours. It is just the princi- 
 ple that every cause in which valuable lives are lost must 
 be abandoned. And what a principle is this. How many 
 valuable lives have been lost in the cause of liberty ? How 
 many and how venerated are the names of patriots who 
 have hazarded their lives and lost them for the deliver- 
 ance of their country ? Have these lives been squandered ? 
 How often has a barrier of living men turned back from 
 some threatened land the terrors of invasion. Thousands 
 perished in the conflict, all valuable to their country ; and 
 each in his own circle the object of intense interest, as a 
 husband, or a father, or a brother, or a son. Place yourself 
 on some such battle-field of freedom ; think for what the 
 
blood of patriots was there poured forth hke water ; think 
 of ten thousand homes preserved from violation and from 
 flames ; think of the peace and industry, tl)e mteliijirence and 
 happiness which follow in the train of freeduni ; and will 
 you — with the resuhs as well as the expense before you — 
 can you say that all those lives were wasted ? Who can con- 
 tradict that universal feeling of mankind which leads them to 
 embalm the memory of such a conflict; and which makes 
 the names of fallen patriots a watch-word and a treasure for 
 their country ? Who will say that our fathers of the revolu- 
 tion, when Warren had fallen on the heights of Charlestown, 
 and Montgomery had perished at Quebec, ought to have 
 folded their arms, and abandoned their cause, and submit- 
 ted to the claims they had begun to resist, because valuable 
 lives were sacrificed? Yet this you must say, if you will be 
 consistent. 
 
 How many valuable lives were sacrificed in the enterprise 
 of planting the colonies which have grown up into this great 
 republic? Ought the Puritans to have given over their un- 
 dertaking in despair as soon as it was seen that lives must 
 be lost in colonizing the inhospitable wilderness ? Recal to 
 your memory that first, long, perilous winter. Place yourself 
 in thought on the rock of Plymouth. Look round on the 
 snow-clad hills, and see the one hundred wretched exiles 
 planting themselves there without a shelter from the storms 
 and cold, and with nothing to sustain them but their hope in 
 God ; see them perishing by famine and exposure and dis- 
 ease ; and then, when half their number are in their graves, 
 and those very graves are carefully hidden that they may 
 hide their growing weakness from the enemies that roam the 
 wilderness around them — then ask them, To what purjjose 
 is this waste ? Tell them, You are squandering your valua- 
 ble lives, your enterprise is full of peril, and must be aban- 
 doned ; for will you think of building here the altars of your 
 faith, at such expense as this ? Tell them, Back, go back to 
 
8 
 
 England ; be submissive to her hierarchy and her king ; bow 
 down hke Issachar between your burthens ; bear as meekly 
 as you can the yoke from which you have so rashly and so 
 vainly fled ; and leave this wilderness to be a wilderness 
 forever. This should be your counsel in such an emergency, 
 if you will be consistent. But, blessed be God, they took 
 not counsel of such counsellors as you. While their number 
 was dwindling away so rapidly, and each expected to be 
 buried in some secret grave to-morrow, they never thought 
 of asking the desponding question. To whtit purpose ? Suf- 
 ferings they could endure ; death they could bear ; but the 
 end they were pursuing they could not relinquish. They 
 valued their enterprise too highly to count their own lives 
 dear in the comparison. Pursuing such an end, they held 
 all things else in little estimation, and encountered death as 
 being far, far better than despair. Hundreds on hundreds 
 died by disease and privation and war, in the attempt to col- 
 onize New-England. Ask you, To what purpose was this 
 waste? Say you that this was wrong? — that those lives 
 were thrown away ? Look over our green hills and quiet 
 vales ; mark that rich aspect of peace and happiness and 
 virtue that overspreads the land ; listen to the sounds of in- 
 dustry and commerce ; above all, hark to the music of our 
 sabbath bells as their thousand notes go up mingling in the 
 air of heaven ; and say, if you can, that those lives were 
 thrown away, and that because the enterprise was full of 
 peril and of death, it should have been abandoned. 
 
 In other words, it is a mistake to suppose that there are 
 not some objects for the attainment of which men may sac- 
 rifice their lives, and at the same time deserve on that very 
 account our highest veneration. He whose mind fastens 
 only on the expense, may think that the expense is wasted ; 
 and till his mind can understand, and his heart appreciate, 
 the end for which the expenditure is made ; he will deem 
 the sacrifice extravagant. But so thought not Paul and the 
 
9 
 
 goodly company of the Apostles, when, in obedience to the 
 " heavjjiiiy vision," they gave themselves to toils and sulli-r- 
 in^s, and counted not their own lives dear unto thenir5(;lves, 
 and died to propagate the gospel of their Lord. So thought 
 not the noble army of the martyrs, whose blood has been 
 shed, 
 
 " In confirmation of the noblest claim, 
 Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, 
 To walk with God, to be divinely free, 
 To soar, and to anticipate the skies." 
 
 So thought not he who is our perfect example as well as 
 our Redeemer, — he who said, Whosoever will save his life 
 shall lose it, and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall 
 find it, — he who died on Calvary, suspended between the 
 earth and heavens a spectacle of suffering and death to men 
 and angels. He might have held back from the suffering of 
 death ; but he had seen the ruin of a world, and he most 
 freely died for its deliverance. His life was sacrificed — and to 
 what purpose ! The anthems of eternity are telling to what 
 purpose. On that theme the harps of angels are laboring. 
 And that theme — the purpose for which the Son of God was 
 made a sacrifice — will forever swell in grandeur till the ages 
 of eternity are numbered. 
 
 Our departed friend has died a victim to his labors and 
 sufferings in the cause of benevolence. Several years ago, 
 after having watched for some lime with an active and grow- 
 ing interest, the progress of the measures which had been 
 commenced to relieve this nation from the pressure of a 
 deadly evil, and to bestow on Africa the blessedness of free- 
 dom and religion, he gave himself to the work in which he 
 has now died. He reached the field of his labors, at a time* 
 
 ' August, 1822. 
 
m 
 
 when the Colonists had just been removed from the unforiu- 
 nate location to which treachery had at first conducted them, 
 and were taking possession of the newly purchased territory 
 of Liijeria. He found the few colonists alone, not a single 
 white man there, the only surviving Agent having just before 
 embarked in ill health for the United States. He found them 
 almost without houses to protect themselves from the rains 
 of their inclement season, which was then at its height, much 
 less able to afford shelter for the new emigrants who had 
 accompanied him. He found the establishment just ready 
 to sink in disorder and dismay. The settlers were almost 
 defenceless. The native princes, who liad sold them the 
 territory with the treacherous intention that they should not 
 settle there, were threatening to destroy them, and were 
 forming combinations for that purpose. In such an emer- 
 gency it was, that he came to a work entirely new. He had 
 been educated for the work of preaching the gospel. He 
 had been a teacher in a literary institution. He was still a 
 young man. And now he had come to place himself at the 
 head of an unorganized, feeble, heterogeneous conmiunity. 
 He was to act the Legislator ; — lie was to form and put in 
 operation, a system of government ; he was to sway the 
 minds of this unformed mass of human beings, and mould 
 them into unity ; he was to make them freemen, and habit- 
 uate them to the business of governing themselves. At the 
 same time he must act the Soldier ; — he must rouse in his 
 little flock of once degraded men, the spirit of manhood and 
 the enthusiasm of self-defence, and he must head them in 
 the conflict. He must act the Engineer ; — he must lay out 
 the fortifications of his little city, and superintend their hasty 
 construction ; he must take care that the very dwellings — 
 even the temporary huts and shelters of the people — are 
 constructed with reference to security from the enemy, and 
 facility of defence in an assault. All this must be commen- 
 ced at once, for delay was ruin. And just as all this was 
 
II 
 
 ijommencing, the fever which attacks ahnost every mun on 
 his first arrival from a temperate to a tropical chinutc, at- 
 tacked him and the hfty emigrants who had come with iiim, 
 with uncommon violence. They were all sick — sick without 
 a physician — sick without any proper shelter from the rains 
 — sick almost without medicines. His own wife, among 
 others, was soon carried to the grave. But for him, and for 
 all, there was no time to relax their efl'orts. Even in si( k- 
 iiess and distress, there could be no respite. Their works 
 must go on ; for, daily and nightly, they were e.\|tecting that 
 an army of savages would be upon them. While prostrated 
 by disease, in the lucid intervals between the returns of deli- 
 rium, our friend was compelled to rise from his sick bed, lo 
 inspect the condition and progress of these operations, to re- 
 ceive reports, to give out orders, to reanimate the weary and 
 desponding, and to superintend all the afl'airs of this dismay- 
 ed and distressed cotnmunity. All this he did ; and when 
 at last the fever had left him in extreme debility, and he was 
 just beginning to recover strength, the danger which they 
 had been so long apprehending, came. About three months 
 after his arrival, when their defences had been only partially . / 
 completed, and when their entire efliective force was thirty- 
 five men and boys, they were attacked at the dawn of day 
 by a force of at least eight hundred armed savages. They 
 were taken by surprise, and the enemy were almost in the 
 midst of them before the alarm was given. By an effort of 
 desperate valor, directed by the extraordinaiy self-possession 
 and energy of our departed friend, the enemy were driven 
 off, and the settlement on which were suspended so m;iny 
 hopes of humanity and religion was delivered. A few days 
 afterwards, while the wounded were still helpless, and the 
 well were exhausted with constaiit fatigue and watclnug and 
 alarm, the enemy returned with redoubled numbers and re- 
 doubled rage for their destruction ; and again, by a valor and 
 
12 
 
 energy which would do honor to the history of any man or 
 any people, they were repulsed, and utterly defeated.* 
 
 I have thus described the coinniencement of his labors 
 and sufferings in Africa, because there is no other way in 
 which I could so well describe his character : inasmuch as it 
 is only by what a man has done, that we can ever distinctly 
 understand what he has been. And what sort of character 
 it was that could act thus in circumstances such as these, it 
 is not difficult to divine. Let me say then, that the same en- 
 ergy, the same self-possession and promptitude, the same 
 exhaustless diligence, the same vigor and quickness of intel- 
 lectual power, the same courage amid difficulties and dan- 
 gers, have been exhibited in all his labors there. The estab- 
 lishment which he found on the brink of extinction, he lelt in 
 prosperity and peace. The little colony which he found 
 defenceless, weak and trembling with dismay, he left so 
 strengthened, as to be safe against any probable attack by 
 land or sea. The people whom he began to rule when they 
 were few, unorganized, and disunited, he has successful- 
 ly trained to habits of discipline, and taught to enjoy the 
 blessings of rational liberty and real independence. And 
 how well he has governed that people, how happy he has 
 made them, how he has drawn their affections round him, 
 their grief at his departure can testify. One of their own 
 number, in whose hands our friend, on leaving the colony, 
 placed the administration of afi'airs, thus speaks of the occa- 
 sion of his embarkation for his native country. "The Colo- 
 nial Agent, went on board the brig Doris, March 26, 1828, 
 escorted by three companies of the military, and when ta- 
 king leave he delivered a short address which was truly af- 
 fecting. Never, I suppose were greater tokens of respect 
 shown by any community on taking leave of their head. At 
 least two thirds of the inhabitants of Monrovia, men, women 
 
 ■' See Appendix, Note A. 
 
13 
 
 and children, were out on this occasion ; and nearly all part- 
 ed from hini with tears. In my opinion, the hope of his re- 
 turn in a few months, alone enabled them to give him up. 
 He is indeed dear to this people, and it will be a joyful day 
 when we are permitted again to see him." Ah that day ! 
 What grief will be theirs, when they learn that they shall 
 see his iace no more. 
 
 Nor were this man's moral and social traits of character, 
 inferior to his intellectual qualities. Distinguished as he 
 was, for power and comprehensiveness of intellect, for rapid- 
 ity of conception, for versatility of genius, for skill in the 
 management of men : and for boldness and energy of ac- 
 tion, he was no less marked by those traits of character, 
 which command our aifection or secure our confidence. A 
 mildness, and suavity, and afi'ectionateness of disposition, 
 and a disinterestedness which felt for all as for himself, was 
 blended with that decision and energy, which we have al- 
 ready noticed. A patience under pain and trouble, a meek 
 fortitude of spirit, which, instead of sinking under distress, or 
 disappointment, or infirmity, is humbled indeed, but is hum- 
 bled only to rise more majestic — was exemplified in many 
 striking incidents of his history. A dignity of person and 
 manner which arrested the attention of strangers, and which 
 fitted him for command, was not in him inconsistent with a 
 deep and unaffected humility, to which those who saw him 
 on his death-bed, bear ample testimony. And the basis, the 
 grace, and ornament of all these virtues, was his piety — a prin- 
 ciple of love and confidence towards God, springing from 
 the knowledge of his Son as Lord and Saviour. It was this 
 which enabled him to bear with patience every burthen ; to 
 resist the struggles of a corrupted nature ; to give himself to 
 labor and to suffering, with the self-denial of a martyr; and 
 at last to die, with a calm, thoughtful, unlrembling confi- 
 dence, which none but the christian can experience.* 
 
 * See Appendix, Note B. 
 
14 
 
 Such was he whose Hfe has been spent, and prematurely 
 exhausted in his zeal for Africa. Do you ask, to what pur- 
 pose has he died ? I would that we could stand together on 
 the promontory of Montserado, and see what has been ac- 
 complished by those toils and exposures, which have cost this 
 man his life. Hard by, we might see the island, where, a 
 few years since, there was a market for the slave trade. To 
 that place crowds of captives were brought every year, and 
 there they were sold like beasts of burthen. From that place 
 they were consigned to the unspeakable cruelties of thronged 
 and pestilential slave-ships ; and those whom death released 
 not in their passage across the Atlantic, went into perpetual 
 slavery. At that time, this cape was literally consecrated 
 to the devil ; and here the miserable natives, in the gloom 
 of the dark forest, offered worship to the evil Spirit. All 
 this was only a few years ago. And what see you now? 
 The forest that had crowned the lofty cape for centuries, 
 has been cleared away ; and here are the dwellings of a 
 civilized and intelligent people. Here are twelve hundred or- 
 derly, industrious and prosperous freemen ; who were once 
 slaves, or in a state of degradation hardly preferable to bon- 
 dage. Here are schools, and courts of justice, and lo ! the 
 spire which marks the temple dedicated to our God and 
 Saviour — strange land-mark to the mariner that traverses 
 the seas of Africa. Here, for a hundred miles along the 
 coast, no slave-trader dares to spread his canvass ; for the 
 flag that waves over that fortress, and the guns that threaten 
 from its battlements, tell him that this land is sacred to hu- 
 manity and freedom. Is all this nothing ? Is it nothing to 
 have laid on a barbarous continent, the foundation of a free 
 and christian empire? This is the work in which our friend 
 has died. 
 
 But this is not all. I look forward a few years, and I see 
 these results swelling to an importance which may seem 
 incredible to cold and narrow minds. I see those few 
 
15 
 
 and scattered settlements, extending along the coast and 
 spreading throiigli tlie inland. I sec thousands of the op- 
 pressed and wretched, fleeing from lands where at the best 
 they can have nothing but the name and forms of freedom, 
 to this new republic, and finding there a refuge from their 
 degradation. I see the accursed slave trade, which for so 
 many ages past, has poured desolation along twelve hun- 
 dred miles of the African coast, utterly suppressed, and re- 
 membered only as an illustration of what human wickedness 
 can be. I see the ancient wilderness, like our own wide 
 forests of the west, vanishing before the march of civilized 
 and Christian man. I see towns and cities rising in peace 
 and beauty, as they rise along our Atlantic shore and on the 
 borders of our rivers. I see fair villages, and quiet cottages, 
 and rich plantations, spreading out where now in the unbro- 
 ken wilderness, the lion couches for his prey. I see the pagan 
 tribes, catching the light of civilization, and learning from 
 the lips of christian teachers, to exchange the bondage of 
 their superstitions, for the blessed freedom of the gospel, 
 I see churches, schools and all the institutions of religion 
 and science, adorning Africa as they adorn the country 
 of the pilgrims. I hear from the mountains, and the val- 
 lies, and along all the yet undiscovered streams of that vast 
 continent, the voice of christian worship and the songs of 
 christian praise. In all those scenes of beauty or of glad- 
 ness, I see, and in all those accents of thanksgiving, I hear, 
 to what purpose this servant of God poured out his noble 
 soul in his labors of love. 
 
 Who asks us. To w^hat purpose is this waste ? To what 
 purpose! Thousands and thousands of the exiled sons of 
 Africa, going back from lands of slavery, to enjoy true free- 
 dom in the rich and lovely land which God has given them, 
 shall one day answer in their shouts of joy. To what pur- 
 pose ! Africa, delivered from her miseries, her chains thrown 
 off, her spirit emancipated from the power of darkness, ri- 
 
16 
 
 sing up in strength and beauty like a new-born angel from 
 the night of chaos, and stretching out her hands to God in 
 praise, shall one day answer, to what purpose this martyr of 
 benevolence has lived and died. 
 
 Is there not then blessed consolation blended with the af- 
 fliction of his death ? What though he has died in the midst 
 of life ? What though he has died away from the endear- 
 ments of home, away from the parting embraces of parents, 
 and kindred, and early friends? Is not such a death better than 
 any inferior life? What parent would exchange the memo- 
 ry of such a departed son, for the embrace of any living one? 
 Who would not rather that his brother or his friend had liv- 
 ed such a life, and died so nobly for so noble ends, than that 
 he were still living and living for no such exalted purpose ? 
 Is not that life lon^,jst which best answers life's great end ' 
 Is that life short which has accomplished great results ? 
 
 "Can death come 
 To him untimely who is fit to die ?" 
 
 We may indeed weep when such a mind departs from the 
 world which its labors have blessed. We may weep when 
 such hopes of bleeding humanity are extinguished. But 
 shall not triumph mingle with our tears ? Shall not emotions 
 of praise temper and alleviate our sorrow ? He is not dead, 
 *»>-^ but sleepeth. More; he is not dead to usefulness. His 
 works still live. The light which he has kindled shall cheer 
 nations yet unborn. His memory shall never die. Years 
 and ages hence, when the African mother shall be able to 
 sit with her children, under the shade of their native cocoa, 
 without trembling in fear of the manstealer and murderer, 
 she will speak his name with words of thankfulness to God ; 
 and as she tells them the story of his devoted labors, and his 
 early death, she will teach them to trace back their happi- 
 ness, their advancing intelligence, their very safety, to the 
 
17 
 
 remote agency, under God, of the man around whose bier, 
 it is now our lot — our privilege let us say, to mingle our tears. 
 His example shall speak. There have been men whose 
 names are way-marks ; whose examples, through successive 
 ages, stir the spirits of their fellow men with noble emula- 
 tion. What has been done for God, and for the souls of 
 men, and for the cause of wretched human nature by the 
 luster which gathers around the name of David Brainerd, 
 How many lofty spirits has the simple history of his toils and 
 sorrows kindled and roused to kindred enterprise. Other 
 names there are, which beam from age to age with the same 
 glory. Howard, Clarksox, Swartz, Mills, — what mean- 
 ing is there in such names as these. Our departed friend 
 will add another to that brilliant catalogue. He takes his 
 place f 
 
 " Amid th' august and never dying W^Ht 
 
 Of constellated spirits who have gained 
 
 A name in heaven by power of heavenly deeds." 
 
 Let us praise God for the light of his example, which 
 shall never be extinguished, and which, as it beams on us, 
 shall also beam on our children, and our children's children, 
 moving them to deeds of godlike benevolence. 
 
 " Praise ! for yet one more name with power endowed, 
 
 To cheer and guide us, onward as we press ; 
 Yet one more image, on the heart bestowed. 
 
 To dwell there, beautiful in holiness." 
 
 Who will follow this example ? Who is ambitious to win 
 the crown which apostles and saints have worn in triumph ? 
 Who would win the crown of martyrdom ? Do I speak to 
 none among the young, who is willing to hazard his life, and 
 to give it up, if need be, for God, and for the cause of dying 
 man ? Do I speak to none among such as are now looking 
 forward to inquire what course of life, and what sphere of 
 labor they shall choose, into whose mind the light of this 
 
 3 
 
18 
 
 excample will enter, to waken a like radiance ? Who would 
 live and die in tlie quiet, the ignoble quiet, of ease and fire- 
 side safety, when he might write his name among the stars, 
 and having fought the good fight, be found at last with the 
 saints and the martyrs of Jesus, who have come out of great 
 tribulation. Who does not fee! it to be true in a higher 
 and far purer sense than that in which it was originally 
 spoken, 
 
 " One glorious hour of crowded life 
 Is worth an age without a name." 
 
 But thei'O is another, a plainer application of the example 
 which this servant of God has left us ; an applicati(»n which 
 every one of us may make for himself, and which I hope not 
 one of us, softened as we all are by the touching, melting 
 circumstances of this occasion, will seek to evade. Was it. 
 right for this man to wear out his life in the cause of benev- 
 olence ; antl is it right for me, or you, to do nothing in this 
 cause ? Do you approve, do you applaud his self-denying 
 efforts, his patience unto death in the work of giving to the 
 oppressed and wretched children of Africa, the blessings of 
 freedom and intelligence, and the better blessings of the 
 gospel ; and can you justify yourself in treating with neglect 
 that very enterprise in which he has thus toiled and died ? 
 Have you treated that enterprise with neglect ? You have 
 felt, perhaps, an interest in it ; you have sympathized, per- 
 haps, with the trials and successes of the mighty undertaking. 
 And is this all ? What contributions of yours have gone to 
 forward this great work ? What have you ever done, while 
 this man was yet alive and toiling at his post of danger, to 
 cheer him under his discouragements, or to advance the 
 end for which he was thus sacrificing all that other men 
 deem valuable ? Have you done all that you might have 
 done? Shall I ask, have you done nothing ? Can you now 
 say that you will do nothing in future ? Can you suppress the 
 determination that henceforth you will do much for Africa : 
 
1^ 
 
 and thus will show that the mysterious providence which 
 bn.ii;4iit this man to die among strangers, and io l)e buried 
 far from all the objects of his earthly love, was not without 
 an end ? 
 
 Ther.3 is always something in death, and the appendages 
 of death, which arrests attention and awakens serious thought. 
 It throws over the world, and over all our pursuits, a light 
 which judgment, as well as feeling, tells us, is the light of 
 truth. Tile death of a scoffer or a worldling, fills the mmd 
 with terror. To see him hastening to the tinal momeiii, to 
 see him dying, to see him dead, then to stand by his coffin 
 and his Lnave, has, ere now, made hard hearts to quiver with 
 the apprehension of what, in spite of man's forgetfulness or 
 man's contempt, must lie beyond the boundary of time. 
 Who can doubt that such impressions are true; or that to 
 lose sight of them is folly ? The death of a humble christian, 
 makes us feel the value of that faith, which throws the bright- 
 ness of eternity over the shadows of time, and binds the afiec- 
 tions of the soul to heaven. Who doubts that it is wise to act 
 on such impressions ? And is there any thing delusive in the 
 impressions of this occasion ? There is no delusion about 
 death. It is death which scatters all delusion. Ask your 
 own hearts now, what it is for which you ought to live ; what 
 recollections you will need to cheer your spirit in the hour 
 of its departure. In times when the delusions of this world 
 are brightest, and most fascinating, your bewildered heart 
 may answer falsely ; but when it speaks the words of sober- 
 ness, the words of serious solemn thought, believe it, for 
 those are the words of truth. What, then, at such a mo- 
 ment as the present, in view of the example of this man, are 
 your impressions of the end for which you ought to live ? 
 Standing by the death-bed, or the coffin, or the grave, of 
 one whose life has been thus devoted to the cause of God, 
 and to the liberty and happiness of man, who does not feel 
 the meanness, the guilt, of living in this world for narrow. 
 
20 
 
 selfish purposes ? Look now at the example of this departed 
 benefaclor of his country and the world ; trace in thought 
 his brief career of pain and conflict, opening into early glory; 
 and if you have not given your whole heart to God ; if you 
 are loving the world, and the things that are in the world ; if 
 you are living to yourself; be ashamed : for O ! how base a 
 thing is it in man to prostitute to selfish ends, the faculties 
 which God has given him that he may share the purest hap- 
 piness, and reach the most exalted destiny. Who will be 
 contented then to live for nothing? Who will hold back irom 
 giving up his all to advance the praise of God, and the well- 
 being of the world ? 
 
 " Rouse to some work of high and holy love. 
 And (hou an angel's liappiness shalt know, — 
 Shalt bless the earth while in the world above ; 
 The good begun by thee shall onward flow 
 In many a branching stream, and wider grow; 
 The seed that in these few and fleeting hours, 
 Thy hands unsparing and unwearied sow, 
 Shall deck thy grave, with amaranthine flowers, 
 And yield thee fruits divine in heaven's immortal bowers/' 
 
ADDRESS 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE GRAVE, BY R. R. GURLEY, 
 
 SECRETARY OF THE AMERICAN COLONIZATION SOCIETY. 
 
 It seems proper, tliat, in the name of the American Coloni- 
 zation Society, I should, on this occasion, express sincere 
 and heartfeh thanks to those present, for the many kind at- 
 tentions, and the very tender sympathy, which was shown to 
 our excellent friend, (and of which no one was more sensi- 
 ble than he,) during the distressing, but alas ! too brief pe- 
 riod, since his arrival. Let me assure you, christian friends, 
 that this kindness, and this sympathy, will not be forgotten ; 
 that while you enjoy the sweet rec«)lIections of having sooth- 
 ed the last hours of an invaluable man, ten thousand hearts 
 will bless you, and the name of your beautiful city be pro- 
 nounced, even on a distant continent, with the feelings and 
 in the tones of atlection. Believe me, the time will come, 
 when Africa shall send forth her pilgrims, to shed their tears, 
 and lay their offerings upon this grave of the Martvr to her 
 Liberties. 
 
 We have come to the burial of no ordinary man. I cannot 
 now, if I could at any time, pronounce his Eulogy, and shall 
 only attempt, in the few words I shall say of him, to express, 
 simply and briefly, the conclusions of my own understand- 
 ing, resulting from a long and intimate acquaintance with 
 his character. He possessed a commanding and compre- 
 hensive intellect, a courage which Rome would have honor- 
 ed, a disinterestedness which would have been venerated, 
 even in apostolic days, and a zeal which consumed him by 
 living light. It is now more tlian six years, since he be- 
 
22 
 
 came, voluntarily, an exile from his friends and his country, 
 that tie might plant the seeds of civihzation, and chrisiian 
 truth, in tlie moral desert of Africa. He arrived at a mo- 
 ment when the hopes of our infant colony were just expir- 
 ing, and rekindled them. He did this while sick, bereav- 
 ed and afflicted. He did it, whiie no liiirht shone upon 
 his way but from the throne of God. He did it, while 
 the waves of misfortune beat against him, with a force 
 which it would seem must have overwhelmed any other 
 mind than his own. But his soul was self-balanced. ""He 
 braced his corslet o'er his heart's deep wounds ;" nor could 
 danger or suffering disturb the serenity, or break the forti- 
 tude of his spirit. He " shook despondence from his soul," 
 and rose from the pressure of calamity to the work of his 
 God. It was at this crisis, that on my way to Africa, I 
 found him at the Cape de Verds, (to which Islands he had 
 resorted a short season for the benefit of his health,) and 
 accompanied him thence to our Colony, and enjoyed the 
 high privilege of sharing with him, the effort to give system 
 and order, to the Government of Liberia. At midnight on 
 Cape Montserado, while we alone of the little community 
 awoke, with the majestic ocean breaking at our feet, and 
 heaven shining in beauty and in brightness over us, and 
 the wide spread forest veiled beneath our eye in a gentler 
 and a softer light, it was mine to confer with our now bles- 
 sed friend, to observe the workings of his quick and power- 
 ful mind, while he sought to secure interests, compared with 
 which, he deemed life itself as worthless. The impression 
 then made upon my memory and my heart by his intellect- 
 ual energy and moral worth can never be effaced. The 
 expectations which were then excited have been more than 
 realized. He has lived to establish the African Colony upon 
 sure foundations. Having defended it with a courage and 
 ability not exceeded, perhaps, in the military exploits of this 
 or any other age, he has shaped and polished its rude mate- 
 
23 
 
 rials, and given to them order, strength, and beauty. He 
 has breatheil iiilo ilic community over which he presided a 
 spirit «)f activity, iniiustry and enterprise ; instructed them in 
 their social duties, their pohtical rights, their christian obli- 
 gations ; checked their irregularities by his decision ; and by 
 his integrity and kindness won their hearts. But his influ- 
 ence has extended far beyond the hinits of the Colony. He 
 has opened to the poor pagans the ever blessed Gospel, and 
 read to them of justice, mercy, and peace. He has exhibit- 
 ed to them Christianity, not as a dead letrer, but as a practi- 
 cal prmciple; as written in the life; as shining forth in sincer- 
 ity, truth, meekness, purity, charity, and all the virtues which 
 add dignity or worth to character. And the natives, while 
 they have been awed by the terror of his name, have wept 
 in the presence of his goodness. 
 
 Africa then must mourn, but not in solitary grief. Thou- 
 sands throughout this union, regard the cause for which our 
 friend has died, as one of the holiest and the best ; and will 
 lament that a main pillar of its strength is fallen. But God 
 reigns, and to his wisdom we bow. This is not the less 
 venerable, because not understood. 
 
 Do you inquire what principle regulated and directed the 
 great intellectual powers of our friend, to effect purposes so 
 important as must be attributed to his short life ? It was pie- 
 ty. To him mav be applied the language, which he selected 
 himself, to illustrate the character of his early predecessor 
 in the agency. " His zeal was ardent, his devotion entire, 
 his hopes elevated to sublimity, and his faith invincible. 
 The love and fear of God, tempered in just proportions, ran 
 through the whole texture of his religious character." 
 There was moral sublimity in his death. But a few hours 
 before his departure, while I sustained him as he sat up, and 
 laid my hand upon his pallid brow, the perspiration flowing 
 from it, and every feature expressing death, he offered up 
 his last supplication in terms as solemn and afl'ecting as ever 
 
u 
 
 fell from mortal lips. A few words, uttered with great dta- 
 tinctness, I have attempted to preserve. 
 
 Prayer. — "O my Heavenly Father, look mercifully upon 
 thy afflicted servant, and do not lay upon him that which 
 througti weakness he is unable to bear, but let thy grace be 
 sufficient for liim. May he desire communion with thee 
 above all other blessings. Bless my friend here present ; 
 keep him in thy service, and graciously reward him for all 
 his kindness. O bless all those who have shown a tender 
 concern for me in this place, and all my relatives and friends, 
 and let them never come into condemnation. O bless the 
 colony and that poor people among whom I have laboured. 
 Grant to me, O merciful Father, saving faith, sanctifying 
 faith, and glorify thy great name in my eternal salvation. 
 Gram these blessings, O God of Grace, for the Redeemer's 
 sake, who suffered for us, and to thee shall praise be given^ 
 through all eternity, through all eternity. Amen ! Amen !" 
 
 And shall we leave this spot without instruction ? From 
 this grave comes forth an appeal to us in behalf of Afri- 
 ca. Yes, brother beloved, I trust in God, that from the very 
 dust in which thou art reposing, will emanate an influence 
 which shall neither be arrested or resisted until bleeding, dy- 
 ing Ethiopia shall see the light of redemption, and stretch 
 out her hand to God. Who that has the feelings of a chris- 
 tian, or even of a man, would not clierish that light which so 
 many have gladly died to kindle ; which shines over Afri- 
 ca's sorrows like mercy over a soul in despair ; which, unless 
 criminally neglected, must soon spread like the morning on 
 the mountains of Kong, and brighten the Niger's mysterious 
 waves ? Hearts steeled to every sentiment of kindness shall 
 be softened by its influence ; where the King of Dahomey en- 
 ters his palace on a pavement of human sculls, shall stand a 
 Chrisiian Temple ; and the words of Death! Death! Death' 
 
25 
 
 which arouse tlie population of Ashantcc, to witness the eti'u 
 sion of human blood, shall be succeeded by humble and holy 
 orisons and hymns of praise. Over this beloved dust, then let 
 us pledge ourselves to do something for Africa. Sixty millions 
 for whom Christ died, our brethren by indissoluble ties, are 
 perishing; can we not, will we not, aid their redemption. It is 
 by imitating the example of the deceased, that we shall pay 
 the best tribute to his memory. To this example, thousands 
 will look as to his imperishable memorial. Let us hope that 
 its influence will excite new zeal in the African cause through- 
 out this nation; that as one man we shall apply our strength 
 to remove the heaviest of our national calamities, and to 
 bless Africa with freedom and the Gospel. 
 
 Such a hope, departed brother, we will cherish ! 
 
 " Thou hast left behind. 
 Powers that will work for thee ! air, earth, and skies ; 
 
 There is not a breathing of the common wind 
 That will forget thee ! thou has great allies ! 
 Thy friends are exultations, agonies, 
 
 And love, and man's unconquerable mind." 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 Tlie history of the defence of the settlement on Cape Montsera- 
 do, in November, 1822, affords so striking an illustration of the in- 
 tellectual power, the promptitude, the energy, and the heroic brave- 
 ry by which Mr. Ashmun was distinguished, that I doubt not I shall 
 gratify my readers by extracting from his own " Memoir of the 
 American Colonists," a more minute statement than could be pre- 
 sented in the discourse. 
 
 " The plan of defence adopted was to station five heavy guns, at 
 the different angles of a triangle which should circumscribe the 
 whole settlement — each of the angles resting on a point of ground 
 sufficiently commanding to enfilade two sides of the triangle, and 
 sweep a considerable extent of ground beyond the lines. The guns 
 at these stations were to be covered by musket proof triangular 
 stockades, of which any two should be sufficient to contain all the 
 settlers in their wings. The brass piece and two swivels mounted 
 on traveling carriages, were stationed in the center, ready to sup- 
 port the post which might be exposed to the heaviest attack. Af- 
 ter conipleting these detached works, it was in the intention of the 
 Agent, had the enemy allowed the time, to join all together by a 
 paling to be carried quite around the settlement ; — and in the event 
 of a yet longer respite, to carry on, as rapidly as possible, under 
 the protection of the nearest fortified point, the construction of the 
 Martello tower ; which, as soon as completed, would nearly super- 
 sede all the other works ; and by presenting an impregnable bar- 
 rier to the success of any native force, probably become the instru- 
 ment of a general and permanent pacification. Connected with 
 these measures of safety, was the extension, to the utmost, of the 
 cleared space about the settlement, still leaving tlie trees and brush- 
 wood, after being separated from their trunks, to spread the ground 
 
28 
 
 with a tangled hedge, through whicli nothuig should be able to mak( 
 its way, except the shot from the batteries. 
 
 " This plan was fully communicated to the most intelligent of the 
 j)eople ; which, in the event of the disability or death of the Agent, 
 they n:ight, it was hoped, so far carry into effect as to ensure the 
 preservation of the settlement. 
 
 " It was an occasion of grateful acknowledgment to that Divine 
 Power under whose heavy hand the Agent was now obliged to bow, 
 that he had been spared to settle these arrangements, and see them 
 in a train of accomplishment, previous to his being laid entirely 
 aside. It was also a source of melancholy satisfaction that he was 
 permitted to watch the fatal progress of disease in an affectionate 
 wife until the last ray of intellectual light was extinguished by its 
 force, two days before her death. Her life had been one of un- 
 common devotion and self-denial, inspired by a vigorous and prac- 
 tical faith in the Divine Saviour of the world ; and her end, accord- 
 ing to his promise, was ineffable peace. She expired on Sunday 
 the 15th of September." ^ 
 
 " From this date until the first week in November, the Agent con- 
 tinued in an extremely low and danger-ous state ; so entirely debili- 
 tited in body and mind, as to be nearly incapable of motion, and in- 
 sensible to every thing except the consciousness of suffering."' 
 
 "On the 7th of November, intelligence was received at the Cape 
 that the last measures had been taken preparatory to an assault on 
 the settlement, which was ordered within four days. The plan of 
 attack being left to the head warriors, Avhose trade it is to concert 
 and conduct it, was not to be learnt. 
 
 <' The Agent was able, with assistance, to inspect the works, and 
 review the little force the same evening. He stated to the people 
 the purport of the intelligence just received ; that ' war was now 
 inevitable; and the preservation of their property, their settlement, 
 their families, and their hves, depended under God, wholly upon 
 their own firmness and good conduct ; that a most important point 
 in the defence of the place, was to secure a pei'fect uniformity of ac- 
 tion, which should assure to every post and individual the firm sup- 
 port of every other. To this end, they must as punctiliously obey 
 their officers as if their whole duty were centered, as it probably 
 
29 
 
 was, in that one point ; and every man as faithfully exert himself, as 
 if the wliole defence depended on liis single eiforts. A eoward, it 
 was hoped, did not disgrace their ranks ; and as the cause was em- 
 phatically that of God and their country, Ihey might confidently ex- 
 pect h!s blessing and success to attend the faithful discharge of their 
 duty.' — Every thing was then disposed in order of action, and the 
 men marched to their posts. They lay on their arms, with match- 
 es lighted, through the night. 
 
 On the 8th, the Agent, by an efibrt which entirely exhausted his 
 strength, [)roceeded to examine the obstruction thrown in the way 
 of the avenues to the settlement ; and perceived to his extreme mor- 
 tification, that the west quarter was still capable of being approach- 
 ed by a narrow iiath-way, without difficulty ; and that the utmost 
 exertions of the workmen had accomplished only the mounting of 
 the revolving nine pounder at the post ; by which the path was en- 
 filaded ; but that the platform was still left entirely exposed. The 
 eastern quarter was about equally open to the approach of the en- 
 cmv, but the station was protected by a stockade, and a steep ledge 
 of rocks made the access difficult. 
 
 " Picket guards of four men each were detailed, to be posted 100 
 yards in advance of each of the stations, through the night. No 
 man was allowed to sleep before the following day, at sun-rise." 
 
 " Sunday, November 10th. The morning was devoted, as usual 
 to the refreshment of the settlers, none of whom had slept for the 
 24 hours preceding. At 1 P. M. all were remanded to their fa- 
 tigue and other duties, till sun-set ; when the order appointed for 
 the preceding night was resumed. The women and children at- 
 tended divine service. 
 
 " Intelligence had reached the agent early in the day. that the 
 hostile forces had made a movement, and were crossing the I\Iont 
 serado river a few miles above the settlement ; but the patrols made 
 no discovery through the day. — At sun-set, however, the enemy 
 again put themselves in motion, and at an early hour of the night, 
 had assembled, as was afterwards learnt, to the number of six to 
 nine hundred men, on the peninsula, where, at the distance of less 
 than half a mile to the westward of the settlement, thev encamped 
 till near morning.'" 
 
*< The most wakeful vigilance on the part of the settlers, was kept 
 up through the night. — But with a fivtality which was quite of a 
 piece, with all the hindrances that had impeded the progress of the 
 defences on the western quarter, the picket-guard, in advance of 
 that post, ventured on a violation of their orders, by leaving their 
 station, at the first dawn of day ; at which it was their duty to re- 
 main till sun-rise. The native force was already in motion, and 
 followed directly in the rear of the picket-guard. The latter had 
 just rejoined their gun, about which ten men were now assembled ; 
 when the enemy suddenly presenting a front of ten yards in width, 
 at sixty distant, delivered their fire, and rushed forward with their 
 spears to seize the post. Several men were killed and disabled by 
 the first fire, and the remainder driven from their gun without dis- 
 charging it. Then, retiring upon the center, they threw the reserve 
 there stationed, into momentary confusion ; and had the enemy at 
 this instant, pressed their advantage, it is hardly conceivable that 
 they should have failed of entire success. Their avidity for plunder 
 was their defeat. Four houses in that outskirt of the settlement, 
 had fallen into their hands. Every man on whose savage rapacity 
 so resistless a temptation happened to o})erate, rushed impetuously 
 upon the pillage thus thrown in his way. The movement of the 
 main body was disordered and impeded ; and an opportunity affor- 
 ded the Agent, assisted principally by Ihe Rev. Lot Gary, to rally 
 the broken force of the settlers. The two central guns, with a part 
 of their own men, and several who had been driven from the wes- 
 tern station, were, with a little exertion, brought back into action, 
 and formed in the line of two shght buildings, thirty yards in ad- 
 vance of the enemy. 
 
 " The second discharge of a brass field-piece, double-shotted 
 with ball and grape, brought the whole body of the enemy to a stand 
 That gun was well served, and appeared to do great execution." 
 
 " The eastern and southern posts, were, from their situation, pre- 
 cluded from rendering any active assistance on the occasion ; but 
 the oflicers and men attached to them, deserve the highest praise, 
 of doing their duty by maintaining their stations, and thus protecting 
 the flank and rear of the few whose lot it was to be brought to action. 
 
31 
 
 •• A few musketeers with E. Johnson at llieir head, by passing 
 round upon theeufuiy's flank, seivcd to increase llie consternation 
 which was beginning to pervade their unwieldy l)ody. Iji about 
 twenty minutes after the settlers had taken tlicir stand, the front of 
 the enemy began to recoil." " The Aniericans perceiving their ad- 
 vantage, now regained possession of the western post, and instantly 
 l)rought the long nine to rake the whole line of the enemy. Im- 
 agination can scarcely figure to itself a throng of human beings in 
 a more capital state of exposure to the destructive power of the 
 machinery of modern warfare!" "Their fire suddenly terminated. A 
 savage yell was raised, which filled the dismal forest with a momen- 
 ryhoiror. It gradually died away; and the whole host disappear- 
 ed. At 8 o'clock, the well known signal of their dispersion and re- 
 turn to their homes, was sounded, and many small parties seen at a 
 ilistance, directly afterwards, moving oft" in dilfercnt directions. 
 One large canoe, employed in reconvcying a party across tlie moutli 
 of the Montserado, venturing within range of the long gun, was 
 struck by a shot, and several men killed." 
 
 " One woman who had inijjrudeutly passed the night in the house 
 first beset by the enemy, had received thirteen wounds, and been 
 thrown aside as dead. Another, flying from lier house with her 
 two infant children, received a wound in the head, from a cutlass, 
 and was robbed of both her babes ; but providentially escaped. A 
 young married woman, with the mother of five small children, find- 
 ing the house in which they sslept surrounded by savage enemies, 
 barricadoed the door, in the vain hope of safety. It was forced. 
 Each of the women then seizing an axe, held the irresolute barba- 
 rians in check for several minutes longer. Having discharged tlicir 
 guns, they seemed desirous of gaining the shelter ofthehou.se pre- 
 vious to reloading. At length, with the aid of (heir spears, and bv 
 means of a general rush, they overcame their heroine adversaries, 
 and instantly stabbed the youngest to tlie heart. The mother, in- 
 stinctively springing for her suckling babe, which recoiled flirouirh 
 fright, and was left behind, rushed through a small window on the 
 opposite side of the house, and providentially escaped to the lines, 
 unhurt, between two heavy fires. The Agent had caused a return 
 (iO be made at 9 o'clock, which certainly exhibited a melanchoh 
 
32 
 
 statement of the loss sustained by the little company- Bot it was 
 animating to perceive that none — not even the wounded in their 
 severest sufferings, were dispirited, or insensible of the signal Prov- 
 idence to which they owed the successful issue of their struggle. 
 
 " It never has been possible to ascertain the number of the enemy 
 killed or disabled on this occasion. The only entry made on the 
 subject in the ColonialJournal, is dated November 15th ; and states, 
 ' The following circumstances prove the carnage to have been, for 
 the number engaged, great. A large canoe, from which the dead 
 and wounded could be seen to be taken, on its arriving at the oppo- 
 site side of the Montserado, and which might easily carry twelve men, 
 was employed upwards of two hours in ferrying them over. In this 
 time, not less than ten to twelve trips must have been made. It is 
 also known, that many of the wounded were conveyed away along 
 the south beach, on mats: and that the dead left of necessity in the 
 woods, where many fell, were carried oft' by their friends every night. 
 But two days ago, twenty-seven bodies were discovered by a party 
 of friendly Condoes employed by the Agent for the purpose. On 
 entering the wood, the offensive effluvium from putrid bodies, is at 
 this time intolerable.' " 
 
 This battle was followed by a fruitless attempt on the part of 
 Mr. Ashmun to terminate the war by negotiation. During the few 
 days which were thus employed, the native kings were mustering 
 all their own strength, and hiring reinforcements from more dis- 
 tant tribes, for a new attack. Of their proceedings, Mr. A, had 
 constant intelligence, and the settlers were constantly employed in 
 making their defences more complete. On the evening of No- 
 vember 28th, information was received " that the attack was to be 
 renewed with double the number of warriors employed on the 11th, 
 at day-light on the following morning." 
 
 " The Agent for the first time spent the whole night at the differ- 
 ent posts ; and had the satisfaction to perceive every man attentive 
 to his duty, and every tiling connected with the defence in a state of 
 the most perfect preparation. The wood had been cleared for a 
 considerable space about the town. The enemy in order to ap- 
 proach within musket shot of the works, was obliged to place him- 
 self unsheltered, in the open field ; and could advance upon no 
 
33 
 
 point which was not exposed to tlie cross-fire of two or more of 
 the posts." 
 
 The circumstance that an English vessel was lying off the cape, 
 induced the native leaders to defer the battle til! the following day. 
 
 " November 30th was spent by the people in the order of action, 
 as it was known that the enemy in the neighborhood were in the 
 actual observation of all that passed within the lines. No pickets 
 could be safely trusted during the ensuing night without the enclo- 
 sure ; but the men attached to the different stations were ranged 
 along the stockade at five yards distance from each other, with or- 
 ders to repair to their guns on the moment the alarm was given. 
 The Agent, spent with the fatigue of waking two successive nights, 
 had reclined at thirty minutes past four upon the light arras which 
 he carried, when the onset was made. The works were attacked 
 at the same moment on nearly opposite sides. The enemy's west- 
 ern division had made their way along the muddy margin of the 
 river, under the protection of the bank, to the northwestern angle 
 of the palisade ; when, on rising the bank so as to become visible 
 from the western post, they had opened upon it a sudden and brisk 
 fire ; which was promptly and very steadily returned by the iron 
 gun, supported by the reserve field piece from the center. The 
 assailants were repulsed with considerable loss. Ten minutes af- 
 terwards they renewed the onset, and forcing their way higher up 
 the bank than before, contended with greater obstinacy, and suffer- 
 ed still more severely. A third attempt was made to carry this 
 post ; but with the same ill success. 
 
 " On the opposite quarter the assault had commenced at the 
 same moment, with still greater vigor. A large body had conceal- 
 ed themselves under a piecipitous ledge of rocks forty yards dis- 
 tant ; whence they crept nearly concealed from view, within the 
 same number of feet of the station ; when they suddenly rose, de- 
 livered their fire, and rushed forward with the utmost fury. At this 
 moment the two gun battery was unmasked, and opened upon them 
 with immediate effect. After a very few discharges, the body of 
 the enemy having thrown themselves flat upon the earth, disappear- 
 ed behind the rocks. Their marksmen had taken their stations be- 
 hind projecting rocks, fallen trees, and large ant-hills, and still kept 
 up a constant and well directed fire ; under tlic cover of which the 
 
34 
 
 main body rallied and returned to the attack not less than four 
 times ; and were as often repulsed by the well directed fire of the 
 large guns : which was purposely reserved for those occasions. 
 
 " The Agent at this moment perceiving the enemy in motion to- 
 wards the right, under cover of a small eminence which favored 
 their design, proceeded to the southern post, which had not yet 
 been engaged, and ordered it to open upon them the moment their 
 movement brought them within the range of its guns. The order 
 was punctually obeyed ; which exposed a large number of the as- 
 sailants to a galling cannonade both in front and flank, in a situa- 
 tion where their own arms could prove of no effectual service to 
 them. The assault on the opposite side of the town had been al- 
 ready repulsed ; and the signal for a general retreat immediately 
 followed." 
 
 " The attack upon the eastern post, was prolonged ninety min- 
 utes ; and of the two, was much the most obstinate and bloody. Three 
 of the men serving at the guns of that station, Gardiner, Crook, 
 and Tines, were very badly, the last mortally, wounded. The 
 Agent received three bullets through his clothes, but providential- 
 ly escaped unhurt. As the natives in close action load their mus- 
 kets (which are of the largest cahber) with copper and iron slugs, 
 often to the enormous measure of twelve inches, their fire is com- 
 monly very destructive. In this conflict of scarcely an hour and a 
 half, the quantity of shot lodged in the paling, and actually thrown 
 within the lines, is altogether incredible ; and that it took effect in 
 so few cases can only be regarded as the eflfect of the special guardi- 
 anship of Divine Providence." 
 
 B. 
 
 A memoir of the life of Mr. Ashmun, is expected, from one well 
 frtted for the work. A few facts and dates will here be subjoined. 
 
 He was born at Champlain, Clinton county, New York, in April, 
 1794. From childhood he exhibited an ardent thirst for knowl- 
 edge ; and many of the hours which he could redeem from labor 
 were spent in study. 
 
35 
 
 At the age of about fifteen, he became the subject of decided and 
 permanent rehgious impressions. lie had previously imbibed some 
 sceptical notions, and had indulged a strong dislike to the doctrines 
 and duties of the gospel. But that grace of God which arrested 
 Saul, and made the persecutor an apostle, had also ordained him 
 a chosen vessel to himself, to bear his name before the Gentiles. 
 After a severe inward conflict, he found peace in submitting to the 
 Saviour and believing the promises of God. 
 
 His attention was immediately turned toward the gospel minis- 
 try. He entered college at Middlebury. While there his studies 
 were interrupted by ill iiealth ; and he seemed at one time to be 
 sinking under a pulmonary consumption. He graduated at the 
 university of Vermont, in 1816. 
 
 Not long afterwards, he was employed as a teacher in the Lite- 
 rary and Theological Institution, then recently commenced at Ban- 
 gor, in Maine. He was licensed to preach. Afterwards he resi- 
 ded at the city of Washington, where at one time he assisted in ed- 
 iting the " Theological Repertory," an able and liberal religious 
 miscellany, conducted by individuals of the Episcopal church. The 
 task of compiling a memoir of the Rev. Samuel Bacon, who had 
 died in Africa while in the service of the Colonization Society, was 
 entrusted to him ; and the volume which he published, while it is a 
 valuable memorial of a truly excellent man, is honorable to the liter- 
 ary character and the christian feelings of its author. Becoming 
 deeply interested in the cause of Africa, he issued the prospectus, 
 and published a few numbers of a Journal devoted to that cause. 
 Public feeling was not then prepared to sustain him in the under- 
 taking, and the work was discontinued. 
 
 In 1822, the Managers of the Colonization Society, were pre- 
 paring to send out a small reinforcement, and the Navy De[>artment 
 was making arrangements to send back to their own country, a few 
 native Africans taken from a slave ship. A vessel was chartered 
 by the government and the society, and Mr. Ashmun was appointed 
 to take charge of the expedition, with authority to act as Agent Jbr 
 both, in case he should find no Agent at the colony. He went ex- 
 pecting to return by the same vessel. The sequel the reader knows. 
 
 While he resided in Africa, his health, except as he suflered from 
 special exposure or fatigue, was equal at least, to what it had been 
 
.36 
 
 for some years previous. In the month of January last, a period of 
 lono- and exhausting effort during the heavy rains, made him unfit 
 for business ; and on the 26th of March he embarked for his native 
 country, hardly expecting to survive the passage. The vessel after 
 a long voyage touched at St. Bartholomews ; and as the continu- 
 ance of his voyage at that time, threatened certain and speedy 
 death, he was left behind. In the course of a few weeks, the vio- 
 lence of his disease seemed abating ; and he ventured to embark 
 on board a vessel bound for New Haven, where he arrived on the 
 10th of August. From that time his descent to the grave, was 
 rapid. The best medical skill was called to his assistance, but in 
 vain. His disease had become inveterate. 
 
 The result he anticipated with great composure. The first time 
 that I saw him he told me, " I have come here to die. It is hard to 
 be broken down by the slow progress of disease. I wish to be sub- 
 missive. My sins, my sins ; they seem to shut me out from that 
 comfort which I wish to enjoy." A day or two afterwards, advert- 
 ing to the same subject, he said, " I have been praying for light, 
 and a little light has come, cheering and refreshing beyond expres- 
 sion." From that time, though I saw him daily, and though he 
 often spoke of dying, I never knew him to intimate the least solici- 
 tude. Requesting the prayers of the congregation on the sabbath, 
 he said, " I have a desire to recover, but I do not wish that to be 
 the burthen of the prayer. Let it be that I may acquiesce entirely 
 in the will of God, and may have communion with God. I wish the 
 colony to be reuiembered." Here he burst into tears like a child. 
 " Excuse my weakness," said he, " there are many good people 
 there, and they are so dear that when I think of seeing them no 
 more, myfeehngs are too strong." The kindness, patience, and 
 piety of his disposition made a deep impression on all his attend- 
 ants ; and when he died, those who had so lately been strangers 
 to him, wept as if he had been their early friend. 
 
 He died, falling asleep as it were in a moment, reason, memory, 
 speech, and every faculty holding out to the last, on Monday, Au- 
 gust 25th, at 12 in the evening. 
 
LEJa12 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 011 898 876