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LED ON 
 
 STEP BY STEP 
 
 SCENES FROM CLERICAL, MILITARY 
 
 EDUCATIONAL, AND PLANTATION 
 
 LIFE IN THE SOUTH 
 
 1828-1898 
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 <y 
 
 BY 
 
 A^'^TOOMER' PORTER, D.D. 
 
 & 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK & LONDON 
 
 V^bc Iknlcfterbockec press 
 
 1898 
 
 TWO tmu mating ^ 
 
q5 
 
 2781 
 
 Copyright, 1898 
 
 BY 
 
 A. TOOMER PORTER 
 
 Ube lknicftevbocf?er ^xzs&, 1=lew JQorl; 
 
Chari^KSTOn, S. C, October 5, i8g6. 
 
 The Rev. Chari^ks Frederick Hoffman, D.D., lylv.D., 
 D.C.Iv-, President of the Association for Promoting 
 the Interests of Church Schools, Colleges, and Semi- 
 naries in the United States : 
 At your kind and sympathetic suggestion, I have writ- 
 ten some reminiscences of my life. You seemed to think 
 some of the incidents of that life, which I have from time 
 to time related to you, were of interest and might do 
 some good. Appreciating your judgment and opinion, 
 I have endeavored to make this sketch of my life, 
 neither sparing my faults nor magnifying my virtues, but 
 have tried to show how the Divine I,ove and Hand have 
 led me all these years. I have brought out how all one's 
 life is often turned by some incident which, perhaps, at 
 the time, seemed trifling, but was fraught with marked 
 results, 
 
 I ask the favor to inscribe these pages to your honored 
 self, wishing that the record of my life were more worthy 
 of your acceptance. But you will receive it, I trust, as a 
 small token of the warm attachment I have for you. 
 
 With my love, I am 
 Yours, 
 
 A. TooMKR Porter. 
 
 The above dedication was written before the decease of 
 my lamented friend ; I now therefore gratefully dedicate 
 my autobiography to his memory. 
 
 A. T. P. 
 
 lU 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. — Thk Porter Pkdigrke i 
 
 My pedigree — -John Porter of Eyigland, and his 
 descendants — My grandfather a?id his estate — Cotton 
 and potatoes, an incident of boyish travel — Gen- 
 eral Waddy Thompson — From Georgetown to New 
 IIave7i, Conn. — Yale students — Return to George- 
 town — A strange presenthnent comes true — My 
 sister Charlotte's fate — My mother asserts her 
 authority — / suffer from bad teaching. 
 
 II. — RkIvIGious Beginnings ii 
 
 I visit my father' s grave and vow to follow his good 
 example — My life is saved by a negro — My brother* s 
 death — I seek comfort in the Bible for my mother' s 
 absence — The good beginning of a life-long habit — 
 / am catechised by Bishop Gadsden in my four- 
 teenth year and am confirmed. 
 
 III. — First Schooi. Experience . . . .18 
 
 Threatened disaster averted — Mr. Blank* s school — 
 / leave it shattered in health — Country leisure 
 restores me — Good hifliiences — / determine to be- 
 come a communicant. 
 
VI Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 IV. — A Wise: Schooi.maste)r 28 
 
 I go to Mount Zion College — Happy and profitable 
 days U7ider a wise schoolmaster — Turkey stealing 
 — My success as an actor — I forswear gambling — 
 My opinion and practice with regard to lotteries and 
 raffles — Boyish t>ranks — The power of confidence. 
 
 V. — First I^ovk and its Conskque^ncks . . 42 
 
 How I made good use of my time — First love — 
 The course never runs sinooth — I enter upon a 
 business career — Work without pay — My first com- 
 mufiion — / rebuke ribaldry — / renew my suit and 
 am rebuffed — A snake in the grass — I show my- 
 self a m,ember of the Church militant — The perils 
 of conviviality — The horrors of a slave sale. 
 
 VI. — My lyiFE) AS A Southern Pi^antbr . -59 
 
 A question of Georgian civilizatioyi — / engage in 
 a dispute where bloodshed is just averted — / retire 
 from business — The life of a Southern planter — 
 Advantages of a business trainirig — Look not 
 upon the wine — A negro hypocrite — The slaves' 
 view of marital responsibility. 
 
 VII. — End of My Pi^antation Lif:^ . . -70 
 
 The institution of slavery — Its missionary results — 
 An inherited responsibility — The good side of the 
 African — Emancipation — / begin to feel that I had 
 missed my vocation — / determine to e^iter the min- 
 istry — My friends encourage me — A time of stjidy 
 — The episcopal examination — The end of planta- 
 tion life for me — A pai7iful ordeal. 
 
Contents, vii 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 VIII. — A Plantation Rector 8i 
 
 / begin my theological studies — The Rev. Alex. 
 Glennie — The playitation rector — / become a lay- 
 reader — / successfully pass a canonical examina- 
 tion — In the m,eantime I meet my fate on the trip 
 to Georgetown — Love and marriage — My m,ission- 
 ary zeal is severely tested — My weddi7ig trip. 
 
 IX. — Brighter Prospects in My Work . . 88 
 
 The Episcopal fund of South Carolhia — A recal- 
 citrant Standing Committee causes me to store my 
 carpets — / am appointed as lay-reader to a strug- 
 gling fnission — A beggarly upper room — Mean- 
 while I am made a happy father — Brighter pros- 
 pects for the Church of the Holy Commu7iion — 
 The angel of 'iny life's work — Incident in 7ny 
 parochial success. 
 
 X. — A Hard Apprenticeship . . . .96 
 
 I take permanent abode with my family in Charles- 
 ton — Am ordained deacon and preach my first ser- 
 mon — / begin to think of building a church — My 
 appeal for help offends some conservatives — The 
 liberality of others — The ^^ amende honorable ^^ — 
 Yellow fever ^ and my experience of it. 
 
 XI. — Hard Work and Foreign Travel . . 104 
 
 I am ordained priest — A second son is born to me — 
 The Church of the Holy Communion finished and 
 consecrated — The growth of the work — My wife's 
 health begi7is to fail — Our voyage to Europe — / 
 found a successful Industrial School — Its history 
 and work — / beco7ne an army co7itractor — A laugh- 
 able incide7it. 
 
viii Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XII. — SKCBSSION ThUNDKR-Ci^OUDS . . .112 
 
 Good works of Mr. Wagner and Mr. Trenholm — 
 / experience the power of faithful prayer — Secession 
 in the air — I witness the signijig of the ordinance oj 
 secession, but do not sign it — The ratification mass- 
 meeting — The firing of Fort Moultrie — Capture by 
 secessionists of United States arsenal in Charleston. 
 
 XIII. — War in Earnest 121 
 
 My chaplaincy in the Washington Light Infantry 
 
 — The delusion of secessionists as to peace — Fort 
 Sumter is fired on — The surrender of Major An- 
 derson — Some difficulties of recruiting — Some young 
 Co7ifederate heroes — Bull Run. 
 
 XIV. — My War Experikncks . . . .130 
 The plague of measles in the Confederate camp — 
 I go to the front — The work of an army chaplain — 
 A grateful *' Yank'''' — Red tape and ragged uni- 
 forms — ' ' Confederate mismanagement ' ' — The 
 Christian General — Search for a dead soldier — 
 Pipes and piety. 
 
 XV.— The B1.00DY " Cui^-dk-Sac " . . .138 
 Tent worship — The Federals in the bloody * * cul-de- 
 sac''^ — / am under fire — Scenes of slaughter — A 
 strange incident — Church plans at Charleston — A 
 financial blunder, for which I am scarcely account- 
 able — What might have been had I followed my 
 business instincts. 
 
 XVI. — Some of the Horrors of War . . . 146 
 
 The shelling of Charleston — / aTn in the thick of it 
 — A work of mercy — ** Mamma, I saw him die I " 
 
 — Yellow fever — The death of my first born — * ' O 
 
Contents, ix 
 
 CHAPTKK. PAGE 
 
 Lord, save Thy people^ and bless Thine heritage " — 
 Grief and patie^ice. 
 
 XVII. — Burning of Columbia .... 152 
 Non-combatants driven from Charleston — My lost 
 sermons — Adventures of some port wine — Burning 
 of Columbia — Drunkenness and robbery enter with 
 General Sherman — A panic-stricken people, 
 
 XVIII. — Lieutenant McQueen . . . .163 
 
 We leave our home and flee for refuge — / confront 
 General Sherman — At my expostulation he stops 
 pillage a7id debauchery — / am robbed of my shawl 
 — Restitution and repentance — A noble Yankee — 
 My first fiery meeting with Lieutenant McQueen 
 — / apologize. 
 
 XIX.— McQueen's Escape 172 
 
 We bid farewell to Lieutenant McQueen — I provide 
 him with a letter which afterwards saves him from 
 Southern bullets — Heariiig of his further peril I 
 hurry to his assistance — He is finally restored to the 
 army of General Sherman — Story of my adventures. 
 
 XX. —The Last Chapter of the War . . 181 
 
 A touchi?ig story of General fohnstone — The last 
 scenes of the war — My blank despair — My wife' s 
 distress over my dejection — / read the providential 
 working of God in history — Light through the 
 clouds — I resolve to do my best for home a7id country. 
 
 XXI. — Home Again 191 
 
 / return home — The darkey in uniform yields to 
 a bluffs The iniquities of the Freedmeh' s Bureau 
 — ** Give us this day our daily bread ^^ — The 
 
X Contents, 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 prayet is answered — Confiscation or robbery f — 
 The good George Shrewsbury — / open the Church 
 of the Holy Communion once more — My sermo7i on 
 ' ' Set your house in order ^ ' ' and how it was re- 
 ceived. 
 
 XXII. — A Dkstitutk Bishop 201 
 
 I make a business vent2ire which is highly success- 
 ful—My home is again furnished — / dissipate the 
 despair of Bishop Davis, and see that his wants 
 are provided for — ''^ Porter ^ have you Aladdin's 
 lamp?'' 
 
 XXIII. — Warm Northern Friknds . . . 209 
 Bishop Davis at the Diocesan Conventio7i of 1866 
 
 — Churches and parochial schools for the colored 
 people — Good resolutiojis are no use without practical 
 performance — / take steps toward the carrying out 
 of certain good resolutions passed by the convention 
 
 — The Bishop sends m.e North to collect funds for 
 the Theological Seminary a?id colored school — I am, 
 kindly received in New York by Dr. Twing, and 
 in Brooklyn by Dr. Littlejohn — Munificence of Mr, 
 A. A. Low. 
 
 XXIV. — My Schooi. 220 
 
 / plead the cause of South Carolina before the 
 General Board of Missimis, New York — ** The 
 most eloquent appeal ever presented to the Board ' ' — 
 / am, very successful — / open in Charleston a school 
 for colored children — President fohnson assists me 
 and I obtain the Marine Hospital for my school. 
 
 XXV. — A Kind President 226 
 
 How I obtained Mr. Trenholm' s pardon 
 
Contents, xi 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXVI. — Educationai, Needs of the South . 236 
 The ravages of the war in Southern States affected 
 the cause of education — This was especially the case 
 among the upper classes — My work was to remedy 
 this condition of things — I open a day school for ^2^ 
 boys and 12^ girls — My boardijig school accepts jj 
 boys — / advise my boarders how they should behave 
 — A good remedy for coarseness and obscenity — Mr, 
 Wilkins Glenn of Baltimore assists me. 
 
 XXVII.— " The Lord's Box " . . . .243 
 
 My method of appealing to the honor of boys — 
 An incident testifying to its success — " The Lord' s 
 box'^ — fewels among the lowly — My public work 
 outside of the school — My ' ' Romish ' ' tendencies — 
 A very practical rebuke. 
 
 XXVIII. — The Work of My Life is Recognized 
 
 AND HEI.PED 253 
 
 / enlarge the ho7ne — New and old friends still help 
 me — / find a friejid of my childhood in Goveriior 
 Ligon — ""Cast thy bread upon the waters'" — A 
 reminiscence of my mother's New Haven days — Mr. 
 Charles O' Connor recognizes the statesmanlike char- 
 acter of my work — The class of the refijied and edu- 
 cated was to be saved to the South thro2cgh my efforts 
 — Hence the support of outsiders. 
 
 XXIX.— Cai^umny and Rebuff Meet Me . . 260 
 
 A calumny stops the flow of beneficence in Balti- 
 more — The vicissitudes of my financial life — Re- 
 flections on God' s providential care— I am roughly 
 rebuffed by afrieiid of Dr. Muhlenberg — / give 
 him a sharp lecture — He proves his repentance by 
 a sm.all gift. 
 
xii Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXX. — ScHooiv AND Church Fi^ourish . .270 
 The good health of the school — I escape being made 
 Bishop of Africa —I find the needs of the worJ?. met 
 by many providential interpositions — The Church 
 of the Holy Communion is at length enlarged and 
 beautified— I introduce a surpiiced choir — Not an 
 innovation^ but merely a revival of a past practice 
 in Charleston. 
 
 XXXI. — Unkxpkctkd HkIvP in Troubi^k . . 280 
 Our school feels the panic of i8yj — ''Master, 
 carest Thou not that we perish f " — An unfeeling 
 bank president who finds in me his match — My 
 congregation sympathize and assist — Seven drays 
 full of groceries unexpectedly drive into my yard — 
 An unjust appropriation to the Rojnan Catholic 
 orphanage becomes the occasion of assistance for me. 
 
 XXXII. — Spkciai, Providenck .... 290 
 God^s special providence is apparent in the way my 
 work was supported — The incidents of this chapter 
 will appeal to the most downcast or disheartened. 
 
 XXXIII. — Skrvick with thk AngeIvS . . . 297 
 / am inopportunely seized with sudden sickness — 
 A time of rest in which I hold service with the 
 angels — My co7ifidence in God is justified by con- 
 valescence — My financial troubles — Friendly help — 
 The far-reaching results of my pamphlet. 
 
 XXXIV. — MoRK TravkIvS Abroad . . . 307 
 The admission of colored parishes into the Dio- 
 cesan Convention — A burning question, on ivhich 
 I espouse the cause of the blacks — A Unal comp7V- 
 
Contents. xiii 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 mise — / succumb to the toils and anxieties of my 
 work — / seek for renewed health hi a voyage to 
 England — Thence I travel over the continent of 
 Europe — The kindness of English friends. 
 
 XXXV.— Genkrous Helpers . . . .318 
 Account of my warm reception in England. 
 
 XXXVI. — A Church for Colored People . . 330 
 The school is full — The colored question in the 
 Church — The Bishop piles another burden on my 
 willing shoulders — How I went to work to build up 
 St. Mark's — I found the House of Rest. 
 
 XXXVII. — I Apply for the Arsenal . . . 340 
 
 Vague thoughts of obtaining the arsenal buildings 
 
 for the Institute — I am well supported by friends in 
 
 my application — General Sherman endorses it — 
 
 Help in England for my school. 
 
 XXXVIII. — Our New Home in the Arsenal . 351 
 My efforts to obtain the Charleston arsenal as a 
 home for my school — Obstructions and oppositions 
 — The military committee treats me generously — 
 The ki7idness of President Hayes — The arsenal is 
 duly transferred to me — Newspaper reflections on 
 the transfer — Warm support of my Philadelphia 
 friends. 
 
 XXXIX. — School Opens in the Arsenal . . 363 
 Ceremonies attending the opening of the arsenal 
 as our new home — Points of my parochial work — 
 Mr. E. R. Mudge of Boston — His soldier son — 
 Progress of our school. 
 
xiv Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XL. — Important Additions to Our Curriculum, 374 
 Death amongst my teachers — / am, enabled to 
 build a gymnasium — / make an important addi- 
 tion to the curriculuTn in the shape of linear draw- 
 ing fof machine shops — The powder magazine is 
 flooded for a reason — Typewriting and stenog- 
 raphy added to our course — The beginning of an 
 endowment, 
 
 XLI. — The; Porter Academy .... 382 
 ' ' My grace is sufficient for thee ' ' — Honor among 
 boys — Improvements in the building — General 
 Lee's 7nost dangerous antagonist— A risky bridge 
 — / see McQuee7i at his home — Death of a wise 
 and good physician — A strange dream — The In- 
 stitute becomes the Porter Academy — Friends in 
 need. 
 
 Xlyll. — The Chari^eston Earthquake . .391 
 / introduce a department of carpentering into the 
 Institute — The Charleston earthquake — Strange 
 and terrible scenes — The ludicrous side of the 
 situation. 
 
 XLIII. — KoTHEN 400 
 
 Travels in the East 
 
 XLIV. — Modern Jerusai^em in H01.Y Week . 407 
 / visit the far East — Palestine, Egypt, Damascus, 
 all pass before me — My emotions at ferusalem in 
 Holy Week — / return safe home. 
 
 XLV. — End of a Beautifui. Life . . . . 424 
 / suffer a sad bereavement in the death of my wife 
 — Her great power in helping and guiding my 
 life's work — Summ,ary of some years' toil. 
 
Contents. xv 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XlyVI.— Thk Late Rkv. Dr. Ch arises Frederick 
 
 Hoffman 430 
 
 The inauguration of McKinley — / meet an old 
 friend at Washington — Death of my dear friend 
 and benefactor, the Rev, Charles Frederick Hoff- 
 man — His life and character^ and an account of 
 his obsequies. 
 
 XLVII. — Testimonies to My Life's Work . . 439 
 This chapter contains letters from ex-Governor 
 Chamberlain and Mr. Charles Cowley, testifying 
 to the value of my life's work — / receive also a 
 kind note containing an invitation from McQueen 
 — I hear also from his daughter. 
 
 XLVIII. — The Academy's Thirty-First Year . 445 
 
 Twe7ity-five of our cadets graduated— I am stricken 
 
 with sickness — A parish rectorship of forty four 
 
 years is closed — This book intended to magnify the 
 
 grace of God — Farewell. 
 
 Appendix A 449 
 
 Appendix B . . . . , . . . 453 
 
 Appendix C . ' 454 
 
 Appendix D 455 
 
 Appendix B 460 
 
 Appendix F 461 
 
 Appendix G 461 
 
 Appendix H 462 
 
II,I.USTRATIONS 
 
 PAGB 
 
 A. TooMER Porter .... Frontispiece 
 
 A. TooMER Porter, ^etat 19 . . . .58 
 
 Church of the HoiyV Communion, Chari^eston. 274 
 
 Machine Shop of the Porter Mii<itary 
 
 Academy 374 
 
 Manuai, Department, Porter Military 
 
 Academy 382 
 
LED ON! 
 
 CHAPTKR I 
 
 THK PORTER PEDIGREK 
 
 My pedigree — -John Porter of England, and his descendants 
 — My grandfather and his estate — Cotton and potatoes^ 
 an incident of boyish travel — General Waddy Thompson 
 — From Georgetown to New Have7i, Conn. — Yale students 
 — Return to Georgetown — A strange presentiment comes 
 true — My sister Charlotte' s fate — My mother asserts her 
 authority — / suffer from bad teaching. 
 
 IN compliance with the frequent suggestion of my friend, 
 the late Rev. Charles Frederick Hoffman, D.D., 
 lyly.D., D.C.Iy., of New York, I began, Oct. 5,1896, to write 
 some reminiscences of my life. All of the older members of 
 my family having died while I was very young, my knowl- 
 edge of my progenitors I derived from my mother, and 
 from an aged grand-aunt on my mother's side. The fol- 
 lowing is my family tree, as far as known : — 
 
 My grandfather, John Porter, was born in 1759, in 
 Connecticut, and was descended from John Porter of 
 England, the founder of the American family, who settled 
 
2 Led On / 
 
 in Dorchester, Massachusetts, some time in the seven- 
 teenth century. To him is to be traced the ancestry of A. 
 A. lyow. Bishop Huntington, of Western New York, and 
 other men of note. 
 
 When quite a youth, fifteen or sixteen years old, my 
 grandfather, with two brothers, took horse and travelled 
 South. There is a tradition, for which I cannot vouch, 
 that on their journey the three young men came across the 
 persons who had begun the Dismal Swamp Canal. My 
 grandfather, after watching the methods of the construc- 
 tors, remarked that it could not be dug in that way. He 
 was approached to know if he had a better plan to sug- 
 gest. An agreement was entered into, and he undertook 
 the work. He remained long enough to make twenty 
 thousand dollars. He then resumed his journey South, 
 and settled in Georgetown District, South Carolina. Be 
 this as it may, he had sufficient money when he reached 
 Georgetown to purchase a quantity of land, and began 
 the cultivation of indigo. He continued at this until rice 
 was introduced, and he then undertook the cultivation of 
 rice. He purchased two plantations on Sampit River and 
 was successful, amassing what was a fortune in those days. 
 He died in April, 1829, aged seventy, just six months after 
 the death of my father. He left, by will, his estate to my 
 brother, three sisters, and myself; my father having be- 
 queathed his estate to my mother at the request of my 
 grandfather, who had told my father that he would pro- 
 vide for his children. The estate consisted of rice planta- 
 tions and negro slaves, some of whom he purchased from 
 slave-ships, which were owned in Newport, Rhode Island. 
 In 1849, I came into possession of five of these Africans, 
 then very old. They had been, in fact, supported for many 
 years on the plantation without earning a dollar. The 
 five were tattooed, and I never could understand their 
 language, and could only communicate with them through 
 
The Porter Pedigree. 3 
 
 some of their race who had become familiar with their 
 speech. They were all dead by the year 1851. The bill 
 of sale of some of these people was in my possession, and 
 was lost with other valuable papers at the burning of 
 Columbia by General Sherman's army, in 1865. Some 
 time in 1866, I told Mr. Peter Cooper of New York of these 
 facts, and suggested that our Northern friends should not 
 hold up their hands in holy horror on the slavery question. 
 If we got the slaves those who owned the ships received 
 the money and incurred by far the least trouble in the 
 matter. 
 
 When I was a boy I often heard that my grandfather 
 was a Tory, and this charge was a source of great annoy- 
 ance to me. For those days were not so far from the 
 Revolutionary War that the hatred of England had all 
 passed away. As, however, grandfather was only seven- 
 teen years old in 1776, he could not have been a very 
 dangerous Tory, though I remember one of the stories 
 told about him was that he had set fire to Georgetown ; 
 and a certain corner where a house belonging to one of 
 the Alstons had been burned, was tauntingly pointed out 
 to me as the house he had fired. I was too young then 
 to put two and two together. It did not occur to me that 
 as he was then only a boy there could have been no truth 
 in these fables. Nevertheless, I had many a good cry 
 over my grandfather's supposed iniquity. Many good 
 deeds and charitable acts that the old gentleman did were 
 kept in memory by the family. One of these deeds was the 
 education of a deserving lad named Thomas House Taylor, 
 who afterwards became the distinguished Reverend Doctor 
 Taylor, Rector of Grace Church, New York, who was my 
 godfather. 
 
 My father, John Porter, was born in 1795. He gradu- 
 ated with distinction from the South Carolina College and 
 ;Studied law. On the i6th of December, 18 19, he married 
 
4 Led On / 
 
 Esther Ann Toomer, daughter of Anthony Toomer, and 
 from them were born two sons and three daughters — 
 Charlotte, who died February 15, 1835 ; John, who died 
 September 9, 1841 ; EHza Cheesborough, who married Dr. 
 K. B. Brown, and afterwards Robert K. Fraser, and died 
 in 1861 ; Hannah, who married Dr. John F. Lessesne; 
 and myself, whom God has spared to outlive them 
 all. I was only nine months old when my father died. 
 His death occurred on October 25, 1828, at the early age 
 of thirty-three years. My father was a man of very 
 marked character. He was elected a member of the 
 I,egislature of South Carolina, at the age of twenty-one, 
 and served for several years. He was a member of the 
 Episcopal Diocesan Convention at the time of his death. 
 
 Fourteen years after my father's death, while travelling 
 to Columbia by the railroad, we came to the section of 
 country where cotton is grown, and I mistook the cotton 
 for fields of Irish potatoes. Being surprised at the extent 
 of the planting, I observed that someone seemed to be- 
 lieve in potatoes. I was then a boy in my fifteenth year. 
 A gentleman on the seat before me turned and said : 
 
 ' ' My young friend, where were you brought up ? " 
 
 Perceiving my mistake, I replied, ' ' Had you, sir, never 
 seen a rice field, and mistook the first you ever saw for 
 oats, I should correct your error. I see now that this is 
 cotton, not Irish potatoes. ' ' 
 
 ' ' May I ask your name ? " 
 
 * * Certainly ; my name is Anthony Toomer Porter. ' ' 
 
 * ' And where is your home ? " he asked. 
 
 " Georgetown, South Carolina." 
 
 ' * Are you any relation to Col. John Porter, who died in 
 1828?" 
 
 " His son, sir," I replied. 
 
 Rising from his seat, and taking ofi" his hat, he extended 
 his hand, saying, " I am Gen. Waddy Thompson " [at 
 one time Minister to Mexico] ' ' let me take the hand of the 
 
The Porter Pedigree. 5 
 
 son of John Porter. To your father I am indebted more 
 than to any other man ; we were in the South Carolina 
 College together, and to his interposition and influence I 
 owe all I have ever been." 
 
 He then told me much of my father's college life, and 
 of the influence he exercised in college. He was the 
 referee and umpire in every dispute and difiiculty, and 
 the beloved of every student and professor. 
 
 This conversation and others like it, which I had with 
 many persons, have had a great deal to do with the make- 
 up of my life. 
 
 My ancestors on my mother's side came from Wales and 
 from Kngland. I^ike my paternal grandfather, my mother' s 
 grandfather had come South, from New England ; his 
 forefathers having settled in Massachusetts some time in 
 the seventeenth century. My great-grandfather, Anthony 
 Toomer, migrated with two brothers when quite young. 
 One settled in North Carolina, and became a distinguished 
 jurist. From him are descended some of the chief families 
 of that State. Another branch went to Georgia, or Ala- 
 bama. Of that branch I have no knowledge. In 1767, 
 my great-grandfather married Ann Warham, who was a 
 lineal descendant of William Warham, the brother of 
 Archbishop Warham, of Canterbury. While serving as 
 an ofiicer in the Continental army of the Revolution, he 
 was captured after the surrender of Charleston on the 12th 
 of May, 1780, and with other prominent citizens was sent 
 to St. Augustine. There, for some cause, he with others 
 was imprisoned in one of the vessels, and after much suffer- 
 ing was sent to Philadelphia, and not exchanged or re- 
 leased until the war was over. A daughter was born to 
 him on the day of his capture, but she was four years old 
 before he ever saw her. From him are descended a num- 
 ber of families, residing principally in Charleston. My 
 maternal grandfather married Charlotte Cheesborough, 
 
6 Led On! 
 
 whose ancestor was a clergyman of the Church of Eng- 
 land. They had several children, but my mother and 
 Mrs. Mary Ford alone married and left children » 
 
 I was born on the 31st of January, 1828, in Georgetown, 
 South Carolina, and was baptized by Rev. P. T. Keith, 
 November 16, 1828. My mother had been educated in 
 Elizabeth, New Jersey, and retained to her death a great 
 attachment for the North and her Northern friends, 
 lycft a widow at the age of twenty-five, with five children, 
 the oldest eight years, and the youngest nine months, 
 with a handsome estate left to her by my father, she de- 
 termined, four years after my father's death, to take her 
 children to New Haven, Connecticut, where she believed 
 she could educate them to greater advantage. 
 
 My mother was considered a strikingly handsome wo- 
 man, and retained her beauty to over her seventieth year. 
 She was highly educated, and of fascinating manners, 
 with brilliant conversational powers. With these attrac- 
 tions, and the reputation of being a rich Southern widow, 
 of course she had many suitors. But my father's last 
 words to her were, '' Train our children as you know I 
 would have done, ' ' and she determined to live for them. 
 
 There were a number of Southern students at Yale 
 College, and her home was their constant resort. Being 
 very young, I remember very little of our sojourn there. 
 But I recollect that several of the students kept riding 
 horses, and would put a pillow in front and ride me about, 
 a curly-headed imp. There was a young Frenchman who 
 was very fond of me, but he often made use of language 
 not fitted for a Sunday-school. One day I said to him, 
 " If you don't stop using those bad words, do you know 
 where you will go when you die ? ' ' 
 
 '' Where will I go ? " he said. 
 
 " To a place too bad for me to tell you, ' ' was my reply. 
 
 My childish rebuke had a wonderful effect upon him, 
 
The Porter Pedigree. J 
 
 for he was never heard to utter an oath afterwards. I had 
 another friend, Mr. lyigon. He was afterwards Governor 
 of Maryland. This gentleman's name will appear later 
 on in my story. 
 
 Eventually my mother returned South. I have a dim 
 recollection of our voyage home in a sailing vessel, and our 
 arrival in Georgetown. I remember how much alarmed I 
 was at the appearance of the black people who came around 
 us. I had a white nurse, an Irish woman, who had gone 
 with us to New Haven and returned, and remained until 
 I was nine years old. My father had left his town resi- 
 dence to my mother, with his plantation and some eighty 
 slaves. After taking up her residence in Georgetown, my 
 mother retained her wish that her children should be edu- 
 cated in the North, and in 1836 she sent my brother John 
 to the Rev. Mr. Chester at Morristown, New Jersey, to 
 school. He remained there some years, and there was a 
 remarkable circumstance connected with his return. Mr. 
 Chester wrote mother that her son would return on the 
 steamer Home, to sail from New York. This was a pioneer 
 steamer, being a North River boat which had been cut in 
 two and lengthened. From a dream, or a presentiment, 
 my mother became possessed with the idea that her son 
 had better not come home in that boat, and she wrote at 
 once to Mr. Chester. It required six or seven days then 
 to get a letter to New Jersey, and John had been sent to 
 New York. After he left, Mr. Chester received the per- 
 emptory letter. He hastened to New York, and arrived 
 at the steamer after the planks had been drawn in, and 
 just before the ropes had been thrown off. He managed 
 to get to the captain, and told him to put John Porter on 
 shore. It was with some difl&culty that he succeeded, but 
 at last the trunk was put out, the passenger came on shore, 
 and started home by land. The Hojne encountered a gale 
 off Hatteras, and quickly went to pieces. If I remember 
 
8 Led On / 
 
 rightly, only one passenger, a French milliner of Charles- 
 ton, saved herself by floating ashore on a sofa. I remem- 
 ber the agony of my mother ; she was certain her son was 
 on the steamer. She had not heard from Mr. Chester. 
 The same storm had played havoc on land ; all communi- 
 cation by stage had been interrupted. The first informa- 
 tion we had, was from brother John's arrival home on one 
 of the stage horses. The stage had been wrecked, as well 
 as the steamer, and the driver had cut his horses loose and 
 mounted his passengers on them. It seems but as yester- 
 day. I remember my brother's forlorn look as he rode up 
 to the house, and my mother's rapturous joy as she recog- 
 nized her son whom she had given up as lost. 
 
 I remember one other circumstance in those early years, 
 which made a deep impression on me. 
 
 My oldest sister Charlotte, not quite fifteen years old, 
 had always been a great sufferer from headaches. We 
 were spending the summer of 1834 on North Island, our 
 summer retreat on the Atlantic Ocean, at the mouth of 
 Winyah Bay. My sister never went to school after our 
 return from New Haven, but she was a great reader. The 
 last book she read was The Last Days of Pompeii. As she 
 finished the book, she remarked to my mother, ' ' I will be 
 like that blind girl. ' ' Mother, to divert her, ordered the 
 carriage for a ride on the beach. Only those two were in 
 the carriage, and after riding some time, my sister asked 
 mother if she had not better order the coachman to return, 
 as it was getting dark. '* Oh, no," mother said, '' it is 
 still quite early, the sun has not gone down yet." Then 
 my sister said, *' If it is not night, I am blind, for I see 
 nothing." And she was blind ; she never saw again. 
 She lived until February 15, 1835, then died. It was the 
 first time I ever saw anyone die. But the peace, the joy, 
 of that departing spirit, going, as she said, to see all the 
 beauties of heaven, where there is no more pain ; the abso- 
 
The Pointer Pedigree. 9 
 
 lute rapture of the young saint, have never passed from 
 my memory. I was then in my eighth year. 
 
 At that time the remaining children, save my brother 
 John, were attending the school of a maiden lady, Miss 
 Betsey Taylor, who was very frequently a visitor at our 
 home. My mother was a most sensible woman who did 
 all she could to let her children enjoy their young life. 
 We had a room to play in, and in that room she provided 
 every kind of game that she could procure — cards and 
 puzzles, lotto and backgammon, checkers and chess, pic- 
 ture books, and dancing ropes, dominoes, and games too 
 numerous to mention. Friday afternoon and evening, and 
 Saturda}^ we had the privilege of having as many children 
 friends as we wished, and a rollicking good time we had, 
 joyous without being boisterous ; still it certainly was not 
 a silent crowd. 
 
 One evening Miss Taylor was spending the time at our 
 house, and being somewhat annoyed at the romping going 
 on in the children's room, she left the sitting room for 
 ours, and bringing her school-room discipline into exer- 
 cise, very peremptorily ordered us to bed, saying she did 
 not propose to be annoyed by the noise of children. My 
 mother perceived the sudden cessation of laughter, and 
 the solemn silence which followed, for we all stood in 
 mortal dread of the spinster. She quickl}^ followed Miss 
 Taylor, and heard her giving us her orders. Mother was a 
 woman of considerable positiveness herself, and having 
 the sole control and rearing of her children, it was not 
 safe to intrude upon her prerogatives. I remember the 
 quiet dignity of her manner on that occasion. She was 
 severely polite as she begged pardon of Miss Taylor, and 
 told us to resume our play, and to go to bed when she 
 gave the direction. Then turning to Miss Taylor, she 
 said. 
 
 ' ' In your school-room my children are under your direc- 
 
lo Led On! 
 
 tion ; in my house, they are under mine. Your action is 
 a reflection upon the manners of my children. They are 
 never allowed to disturb my guests, and had it been neces- 
 sary I would have anticipated you, by stopping their 
 hilarity ; but with their innocent enjoyment in my own 
 house, I permit no interference of any kind. ' ' 
 
 It was many years ago, but I recall the rage into which 
 the school mistress worked herself. She turned on mother, 
 who was many years her junior, and seemed to think she 
 was one of her pupils. Mother calmly stood it a little 
 while, when, placing herself between the children and the 
 open door, she pointed to it, and suggested it was about 
 time for both of them to retire. Miss Taylor gathered up 
 her bonnet and shawl, and it was a very long time before 
 she crossed our threshold again. 
 
 This incident made a change in our school life. We 
 were all withdrawn the next day, and sent to school to 
 Dr. W. R. T. Prior. I was soon advanced in my studies, 
 and began I^atin. Being somewhat quick at my lessons, 
 I was pushed on very rapidly, though very superficially, 
 and found myself in Virgil in an incredibly short time, 
 without the slightest comprehension of the language. To 
 this day, I feel the evil effects of this injudicious method. 
 A study which was not understood became the object of 
 contempt. I long retained possession of my old Virgil, all 
 spotted with tear drops, for many a hearty cry did I have 
 over the book, with no one at home to help me, and when 
 I went to recite, few explanations. So I hobbled along 
 through those school-boy years, really knowing nothing. 
 

 B 
 
 M 
 
 ^'■^ 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 RKlvIGIOUS BKGINNINGS 
 
 / visit my father' s grave and vow to follow his good example 
 — My life is saved by a negro — My brother* s death — I seek 
 comfort iji the Bible for 7ny mother'' s absence — The good 
 beginning of a life-long habit — I am catechised by Bishop 
 Gadsden in m^y fourteenth year and am, confirmed. 
 
 I VIVIDLY remember the 31st of January, 1838, my 
 tenth birthday, and how it was observed by me. I 
 celebrated the day by going to the graveyard where my 
 father was buried, in the cemetery attached to the old 
 church of Prince George Winyah," Georgetown, South 
 CaroHna, a church built of bricks brought from London. 
 Climbing over the brick wall that encloses the graveyard, 
 and going to the plot where my father's grave is, I knelt 
 beside it, and putting my hands on the tombstone, thanked 
 God for having given me such a father. In childish lan- 
 guage I asked my Heavenly Father to spare my life so 
 that I might grow up to be a man, and be able at my 
 death to leave behind me a name as good as my father's. 
 I asked that I might never do anything to bring a stain 
 of dishonor upon that name. I was only a little boy, and no 
 one told me to do it, but I seemed to be led to that hal- 
 lowed spot, and to draw inspiration from it. The incident 
 left an indeUble impression on my mind. I believe that 
 
 II 
 
1 2 Led On I 
 
 even a child's prayer is heard, and I can venture to hope 
 that my father would not be ashamed of his son, could he 
 know what has been the manner of my life. Who can 
 say that he does not know ? If it would add anything to 
 the joys of Paradise, why may not our Heavenly Father 
 let our dear dead know of the life of those whom they 
 surely have not forgotten, and in whom they would delight 
 if they were still on earth ? The spiritual world is much 
 nearer to us than we can possibly conceive. 
 
 Another incident in my early life seemed to give the 
 colored people of the South a claim on my life service. 
 My life indeed was actually saved by a negro who risked 
 his own for my safety. I felt I had incurred a debt which 
 I was bound, and afterwards endeavored, to repay. The 
 facts are as follows : 
 
 During the summer of 1839 I was taken in a small sail- 
 boat, by a party of young men, to fish on the banks be- 
 tween North and South Islands. In a sudden squall, the 
 boat was capsized, and I was to all appearances drowned. 
 I remember the side of the boat I was sitting on, gradually 
 sunk into the water, as the boat turned over, but re- 
 member no more, until I found myself in the arms of a 
 colored man, being carried from the beach to our house. 
 When I came to consciousness he told me it was all right, 
 not to be scared, that I was safe. We learned some time 
 after that all the occupants of the boat got on the bottom, 
 except myself. When this colored man missed me, he 
 exclaimed, "O my God, where Miss Porter child?" 
 Where ? Under the deep water being swept out to sea. 
 Just then one of my little hands was seen stretched above 
 the water. The colored man swam off from the boat, 
 dived down, and came up with me in his arms, uncon- 
 scious of course. I was held by him in his arms on the 
 bottom of the boat until the party was rescued by some of 
 the fishermen in other boats. 
 
Religious Beginnings. 13 
 
 It was somewhere in the same year that my brother 
 John returned from Morristown, of which I have already 
 spoken. He went to Charleston, and entered the counting- 
 house of Mr. George Y. Davis. He was then in his eight- 
 eenth year, and old enough to look into the affairs of my 
 grandfather's estate. He found serious evidences of mis- 
 management, and in the fall of 1840 he left the counting- 
 house and went to the two plantations to take charge of 
 the interests of the estate. In August of 1841 there was 
 a vSevere storm and heavy freshet, causing a large break 
 in the river bank. The rice was at that stage that the 
 broken bank had to be mended, or the crop would be lost. 
 My brother, full of energy and resolve, took it in hand, 
 and with all the force of slaves worked day and night, and 
 succeeded in his efforts. His clothes were wet for many 
 hours. When he had put the fields in order, he came 
 down to North Island, at the mouth of Winyah Bay, to 
 the family summer resort. But the deadly climate had 
 done its work. Nine days after his wetting, he was taken 
 with high bilious fever, or country fever, as it is known 
 in this latitude, and on the fifth day he died, in his twen- 
 tieth year. My mother was herself very sick at the same 
 time and never saw him. I was standing by his bedside, 
 and just before he died, he clasped his hands and said, 
 * ' Conduct us, Heavenly Father, to Thy throne, and there 
 kneeling let us praise Thee, through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord." 
 
 We took his body, on the loth of September, to George- 
 town, and laid him beside our father, and the sister who 
 had died in 1835. There were then left only two daughters 
 and myself. 
 
 In the spring of 1839, my mother, still appreciating her 
 own school experience in Elizabeth City, New Jersey, and 
 being very fond of the North, and of Northern people, had 
 taken my sister Eliza to New York and placed her at 
 
14 Led On / 
 
 school at Bordentown, New Jersey, under the charge of 
 Madam Murat, the wife of Achille Murat, the son of 
 Napoleon's Marshal. Madam Murat was a Miss Fraser, 
 of Charleston. There were no steamers running between 
 Southern ports and New York in those days. The fate 
 of the Home, which had been lost in a storm, and of the 
 Pulaski, which had been burnt at sea with almost a total 
 loss of passengers and crew, had put a temporary setback 
 on steam navigation, and mother and my sister had sailed 
 from Georgetown in a large brig. It was the first time I 
 had ever been separated from my mother. Only nine 
 months old when my father died, and a delicate child, I 
 had been brought up with great tenderness, and was in- 
 deed very near to my mother. I recall to-day the anguish 
 with which I watched that receding vessel, and my deso- 
 lation when I went back home with my other sister, and 
 a maiden aunt who was left in charge. She did all she 
 could to comfort me, but I went supperless and sobbing to 
 bed. I was only eleven years old. The next day I 
 thought I must do something that would make God have 
 pity on us, and carry our mother and sister safe, and bring 
 them back. Going by sea to New York then seemed an 
 awful thing. It certainly took longer to get there than it 
 does now to get from here to lyondon, and there were no 
 telegraphs, and only partial railroads, and it took a week 
 to get a letter (postage twenty-five cents), so we knew it 
 would be nearly a month before we could hear. To child- 
 ish fancy it seemed an endless age. I had said my prayers, 
 but it seemed I ought to do something more, and it oc- 
 curred to me, although I knew the catechism, and had 
 read some of the Bible, that I had never read it through, 
 and I thought if I read it regularly, that God would know 
 it, and somehow, it would have some influence on my 
 mother's and sister's fate. So I shut myself up in my 
 room and never came out of it all day until I had read 
 
Religious Beginnings. 15 
 
 through the book of Genesis. Next day I read all of 
 Exodus, next all of Leviticus, next all of Numbers. But 
 the last two days had been rather tough on an urchin, 
 eleven years old. So, when the next day came, I thought 
 the half of Deuteronomy would do, and the balance on the 
 sixth day. When I started again the seventh day I 
 thought I would remember more if I took a little less, 
 and I resolved to cut down to a chapter in the morning 
 and a chapter at night. This became interesting to me, 
 and after I had finished my self- allotted portion I used to 
 read on when I felt so inclined, until I was tired. This 
 habit begun at eleven years has been continued through 
 life, with this improvement : soon after it was known that 
 I was reading the Bible regularly, someone, perhaps my 
 old aunt, took the Prayer Book, showed me the calendar, 
 and pointed out to me that by following the Prayer Book 
 lectionary one would read through in a year, excepting a 
 few chapters, the Old Testament, the four accounts of the 
 Gospel, the Acts of the Holy Apostles twice, and the 
 Epistles four times. I immediately adopted the plan, and 
 through boyhood, youth, manhood, and old age have kept 
 it up. How many times I have thus read the Bible 
 through, and how imperceptibly it has colored my thoughts 
 and swayed my life ! In my childish ignorance, I thought 
 God needed to be propitiated by my act, but for the 
 blessed overruling of His Divine Spirit how often I have 
 thanked God, who thus led me to take His Word as a 
 lantern to my feet and a light to my path. How good a 
 thing it would be if all young people would begin in early 
 youth thus regularly to read the Bible. It would make 
 their youth cleaner, and purer, and sweeter, yes, and 
 happier. 
 
 My mother and sister had a safe and pleasant pass- 
 age to New York, and the former returned to us in the 
 fall. 
 
1 6 Led On! 
 
 In the spring of the year 1841, the rector of the church 
 in Georgetown, the Rev. Robt. T. Howard, called at our 
 home and asked me to take a stroll with him. In the 
 course of our walk he told me that Bishop Gadsden had 
 sent him notice of his intended visitation of the parish, and 
 that he, the rector, wished me to give in my name for con- 
 firmation. I was only a child, just thirteen years old, and 
 it was the first time the subject had been proposed to me. 
 I expressed some hesitation to the rector, but he told me 
 that as I knew the catechism, it was now my duty to be 
 confirmed. I told him that I would give in my name if 
 my mother approved of it. With my mother's approval, 
 accordingly, I sent in my name, and that was the only con- 
 versation he had with me, and that was all the clerical in- 
 struction I received for preparation for this solemn step. 
 I confess I knew nothing of the origin, or history, or obli- 
 gations imposed in the rite, but I remember that after the 
 suggestion had been made, and my mother had consented, 
 I became very desirous to be confirmed, though I knew 
 very little as to what it meant. Bishop Gadsden arrived, 
 and on Saturday he took tea at our house, the rector being 
 there also. During the evening I was brought in and in- 
 troduced to the bishop as one of the candidates. He said, 
 * ' Is not this child rather young ? ' ' 
 
 He then began to catechize me. I was very much 
 scared, but the catechism was one thing I was safe in. I 
 could not have told who Nebuchadnezzar's grandfather 
 was, or the names of Job's daughters, but I did know the 
 catechism from beginning to end ; all of mother's children 
 were drilled in that, and it had been the monthly custom 
 of our former rector, Rev. P. T. Keith, who left us for 
 Saint Michael's Church, Charleston, in 1839, to gather all 
 the children round the chancel rail, and hear them say the 
 catechism. There was no exposition of it given, but, ex- 
 pecting that monthly exercise in public, we all of us got 
 
Religious Beginnings. 1 7 
 
 the words pretty thoroughly by heart, and were made 
 Prayer Book Churchmen thereby. 
 
 So the bishop could not trip me ; I repeated it all, and 
 he was so well pleased, that he said, ' ' I have a good re- 
 port of you from your rector, and you certainly know the 
 catechism remarkably well, and you can come forward." 
 
 So, on the i8th day of April, 1841, when I was thirteen 
 years, two months, and eighteen days old, I was confirmed 
 with eleven white candidates, and eight colored.* My 
 youngest sister and m^^self were two of the twelve white. 
 That service and that Sunday I shall never forget. I felt 
 at the time that something great had been done. 
 
 When we returned to the house, I went into my room, 
 and prayed a simple child's prayer, but I know it was 
 very earnest. That day there began in me the desire and 
 the purpose to study for the ministry. But after my con- 
 firmation, not one word was said to me by the rector. I 
 did not know that I was expected, or had the right to, 
 come forward to the Holy Communion. I just went on 
 as before, saying my prayers, reading my Bible, going to 
 church. I note in passing that mother always had family 
 prayers, morning and evening; a sacred, blessed custom 
 almost universal in those days — now, alas, almost uni- 
 versally neglected. As I look back to this event, I have 
 often wondered if my experience was that of many others 
 in the different parishes; no confirmation classes, no in- 
 struction, no following up. If so, what wonder that the 
 church is full of members who know very little of her 
 doctrine or history. I was confirmed in April, 1841. I 
 never communed until Christmas Day, 1845, but of that 
 I will speak further on. 
 
 * Miss Sarah Henning, of Georgetown, is the only white member 
 of that class, beside myself, who is now alive. 
 
a .Jh^&^0)y 
 
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 CHAPTER III 
 
 FIRST SCHOOI. EXPERIKNCB 
 
 Threatened disaster averted — Mr. Gates's school — I leave it 
 shattered in health — Country leisure restores me — Good 
 influences — I determine to become a communicant. 
 
 IN the spring of 1842, my mother took my second sister 
 to Bordentown, to place her at school at Madam 
 Murat's. My sister Eliza she brought home in the fall. 
 During this fall a great trial came to us. I was too young 
 to know how it came about, but it was evident that the 
 mismanagement which caused it could not be laid to my 
 mother's charge. 
 
 It came to light that the house which my father had 
 built, and where all his children were born, the house 
 which my mother supposed had been left secure to her, 
 was, with all the silver and furniture, obliged to be sold, 
 so that she was to be stripped of the last penny. There 
 was nothing before us but to give up the town house, and 
 live in the country in winter, and on the Island in the sum- 
 mer. My mother's support henceforth came out of the 
 income allowed by the court for the expenses of my sisters 
 and myself. It was a dreadful struggle and many an un- 
 happy day and evening did my mother and I pass to- 
 gether. It was so hard to give up her home, bound to 
 her by so many ties. Soon the house was advertised for 
 
 18 
 
First School Experience. 19 
 
 sale, and we were waiting to be turned out of it. As we 
 had a refuge on the plantation, no one had offered any 
 help. 
 
 On the evening before the sale, we had our usual family- 
 prayers and went to bed. I could not sleep from distress. 
 
 The light had been put out, and I was lying in bed, 
 when I heard the buzzing of a fly. I listened for some 
 time, and it annoyed me so much that I got out of bed 
 and lit the candle. Up on the ceiling I saw a large fly- 
 entangled in a spider's web, and the old spider at a little 
 distance off", looking on, ready at the right moment to 
 make his fatal attack. The poor fly, by his desperate 
 efforts to get out, was only making things worse. My 
 sympathy was excited ; so getting on a chair and taking 
 a stick, I managed to break the web and get the fly out. 
 It shook itself vigorously, and flew off, while the spider 
 beat a retreat and got beyond my reach. I went back to 
 bed and began to think. If I was sorry for the fly, and 
 let it out of its danger, would not God be sorry for the 
 widow, and her fatherless children, who were all trying 
 to be Christians, and would He not send somebody to let 
 us out of the trap that a worse than spider had put us in ? 
 I fell asleep. 
 
 Next day I went to the place of auction, and heard our 
 house put up for sale — I, a poor boy of fourteen years, 
 with a weeping widowed mother at home. 
 
 I heard someone say one thousand dollars — and the 
 crier sang out, " One thousand dollars, one thousand 
 dollars, one thousand dollars ! Is no more offered for this 
 valuable property ? Once, twice, three times, — gone ! " 
 
 The auctioneer asked who the purchaser was ? A. W. 
 Dozier, my father's old law partner, then came forward, 
 and said he was the purchaser. The big tears rolled 
 down my cheeks. Then the furniture and the silver were 
 put up. Oh, the agony of that hour ! Someone bid ten 
 
20 Led On! 
 
 dollars. I nearly fainted as it was all knocked down by 
 this auctioneer. As I turned to leave the place Mr. 
 Dozier came up to me and taking me by the arm, said, 
 " I have bought the house and furniture in your name. 
 Come and sign a paper at my office." 
 
 I was only a child, but the incident of the spider and 
 the fly recurred to my mind, and I told him of it. 
 
 * ' God had not forgotten you, ' ' he replied ; ' ' but I had 
 to keep quiet, lest if it had got out that I was going to 
 buy the property in, someone might have run it up. But 
 nobody made a bid. I wish I had bid one hundred dol- 
 lars ; I could have got it at that, for everyone felt so much 
 for your mother. Reading the agony on your face, no 
 one would have bid a dollar against you. ' ' 
 
 He advanced the money, and I, a boy of fourteen, gave 
 him my personal bond for one thousand dollars, insured 
 and assigned. I paid the interest and insurance out of 
 my income ; the one thousand dollars in full a few days 
 after coming of age. 
 
 I was now getting to be too old a boy to be kept at a small 
 village school, and the question arose, where was I to go ? 
 One of my sisters was at Morristown at school, but mother 
 could not bring herself to send me so far away, as I was 
 not strong. 
 
 In those days, Mr. Cotes, an Englishman, had the most 
 promising school in that region of the country. He took 
 a limited number of boarders. It was an expensive 
 school, and resorted to only by the sons of people of 
 property and position, so that it was necessary to enter a 
 boy's name for a vacancy a year or two ahead. Mr. 
 Cotes, happening to come up to Georgetown to visit Mr. 
 William Bull Pringle, at his plantation, some six miles 
 out of town, I was sent to him on my horse to have him 
 enter my name. The old man had but one eye, and he 
 struck me with terror the first time I saw him. I never 
 
First School Experience. 2 1 
 
 did get over the terror and dislike with which the man 
 inspired me. My name, however, was entered b}' hi.m 
 for the next year, and I rode off wishing most sincerely 
 that he had said he had no place for me. In those da3's 
 the school term was for the whole 3^ear, saving the holiday 
 in December and April. The poor children had to endure 
 the drudgery of studying all through the summer months. 
 
 In May, 1842, I went down to Charleston, and was en- 
 rolled as a pupil with Mr. Cotes. 
 
 I never can forget a lesson I received the second day at 
 dinner. I had helped myself as usual, when Mr. Cotes, 
 at the head of the table, asked me if I was going to eat all 
 that was on my plate ? Never having come in contact 
 with such manners, I flushed up and felt indignant, and 
 answered, I did not know whether I would or not. 
 ' ' Well, ' ' he said, ' ' I will pass it over to-day, but hence- 
 forth help yoiurself to as much as you wish, but whatever 
 you put on your plate you must eat. ' ' He entered into 
 no explanations, and I was too angry to eat any more. 
 The old man had a rough way, but reflection soon told 
 me he was right. Whatever was left on the plates was 
 wasted ; servants would not eat it, and he kept no dogs. 
 There were some fourteen or fifteen boys at table ; if each 
 of us left a good sized piece of butter on our plates, the 
 aggregate of wasted butter would almost suffice for the 
 next meal ; and so of everything else. Multiply each 
 day's waste by the ten months, and it was clear our care- 
 lessness would be the cause of a dead loss. I have never 
 forgotten that lesson, especially when, in after years, I 
 had to provide for three hundred boys. Mr. Cotes' s first 
 rebuke has been very efficacious in saving my pocket. 
 
 The next lesson I learned was from seeing in an out- 
 building walls covered with all manner of vile scribblings. 
 Brought up with the greatest care by my mother, with 
 my sisters as my principal companions, I was innocent of 
 
22 Led On! 
 
 that form of evil. This writing and those drawings were 
 new to me, and with the perversity of human nature I 
 looked at things I ought not to have seen, and read, 
 although a great deal of what I read I did not under- 
 stand ; but the effect was revolting to my moral sense. 
 That lesson has served through thirty years to make me 
 take care, as the head of a great boys' school, that no 
 writing be permitted on any of the walls of the institu- 
 tion, a precaution quite as conducive to the morals of the 
 boys of to-day as the lesson from wastefulness was to 
 economical management. 
 
 I had not been long at Mr. Cotes' s school before I was 
 attacked with nervous depression. When I went down 
 to breakfast a great lump would rise in my throat, and I 
 could not swallow a mouthful, even of coffee, and I would 
 go to school weak and scared and miserable. I stood out 
 the summer of 1842, and the winter of 1842-43, until 
 September, 1843, when I was taken down with nervous 
 fever, that soon became typhoid, and I was desperately ill. 
 
 My old doctor. Dr. Wm. T. Wragg, watched me de- 
 votedly, but told my mother that it had been brought on 
 by my unhappiness at school, and when I recovered later, 
 in October, he said, that to keep me longer at my books 
 would be death to me. That I must go home and hunt, 
 and fish, and ride, and not study for months. 
 
 Of course I was withdrawn at once from school, and 
 taken to Georgetown. The country house was furnished, 
 and I owned a riding horse. A fine gun, powder, 
 shot, and a fishing outfit were purchased, and with a 
 trusted man-servant in charge of me, I was sent alone 
 into the country to carry out the doctor's directions. 
 Nearly all negro women are good cooks, so orders were 
 given that one of them should be brought from the fields 
 to do my cooking. A supply of light reading was sent 
 with me, and I was turned loose. As my sister was 
 
First School Experience, 23 
 
 engaged to be married, it was not convenient for the 
 whole family to join me in that country life which my 
 mother always detested. 
 
 During the fever that nearly cost me my life, I had 
 grown rapidly, and was now nearly six feet tall, as thin 
 as a lathe. This overgrown lad of fifteen and a half was 
 thus thrown on his own resources. It was the most in- 
 judicious thing I ever knew my mother to do in her rear- 
 ing of me, yet she trusted me fully, and was unsuspicious 
 of harm. 
 
 During that winter it became necessary, in some busi- 
 ness arrangements, that I should read my grandfather's 
 will, and there I learned that these two plantations and 
 two thirds of the slaves would be mine at the age of 
 twenty-one. As I roamed at large over these fields, 
 several hundred acres of rice-land, and several thousand 
 acres of pine-land, I came to the long village row of 
 houses, occupied by the slaves. All of this I regarded as 
 prospectively mine. To a boy the acres seemed endless, 
 and the slaves numberless, and the negro village a little 
 town. A rice-pounding mill, barns, cattle, hogs, horses, 
 mules, farm utensils, filled my imagination, and I remem- 
 ber how, as the impression grew of what was mine, the 
 desire and purpose to study for the ministry became 
 gradually weaker, until at last it died away. I was en- 
 joying the foretaste of a free Southern planter's life, and 
 it had its own attractions. But I was alone, with no com- 
 panions, perfectly unrestrained, a man in stature, a boy 
 in age and experience, with fast- returning vigor and 
 strength, conditions around me offering many temptations 
 to sin, and memory recalls some three or four occurrences 
 that I know have been blotted out of God's book of re- 
 membrance, but which, though he has repented of them, 
 one never forgets. 
 
 The latter part of April, when it was no longer safe to 
 
24 Led On! 
 
 remain on a rice plantation, saw me returned to town 
 quite restored to health. But from September to May my 
 books had been utterly neglected. I had read a good 
 deal, but chiefly light literature — all of Scott's novels and 
 manyrothers, a little history, and a good part of Shake- 
 speare's plays ; but I had pursued no serious study. My 
 Bible reading was never intermitted one day, but for that 
 what might I not have done, or what might I not have 
 been ? I remember that the question of the renewal of 
 my studies seemed to be an open one, but I told my 
 mother that I would not consent to give up my schooling ; 
 I had the means, I said ; I was still young — it was then 
 the spring of 1844, and I had reached my sixteenth year 
 on the 31st of the previous January. I had still five years 
 before my majority, and what was I to do with those five 
 years ? To school I would go, but where ? Nothing 
 could have induced me to return to Mr. Cotes' s, and 
 Doctor Wragg urged that I be sent to the interior, as best 
 for my health. Mount Zion Academy, or College, as it 
 was called at Winnsborough, under Mr. G. W. Hutson, 
 was selected ; so I packed up, and started on the steamer 
 Anson, a small river steamer that plied between George- 
 town and Charleston. 
 
 On the boat I met Mr. Thos. Pinckney Alston, who 
 gave me a letter of introduction to his son Charles, then 
 a student in the South Carolina College. Mr. Alston's 
 son William had been a classmate of mine at Mr. Cotes' s 
 school. It was Friday, the 2d of June, 1844, that I got 
 on board the train in Charleston, at seven o'clock in the 
 morning, and it took all day, till near six in the after- 
 noon, to make the one hundred and thirty-six miles to 
 Columbia. That was the rapid transit of those days, fifty- 
 three years ago. On Saturday I went up to the South 
 Carolina College, and presented to Mr. Charles Alston 
 my letter of introduction from his father. He was court- 
 
First School Experience. 25 
 
 eously kind and showed me everything about the college, 
 and finally took me to his room. There he went through 
 his private store of books, and one set he pointed to as 
 specially his choice set. He was a devout, earnest Church- 
 man, and I remember Kirke White's poems, The Imitation, 
 by Thomas a Kempis, Taylor's Holy Living and Dying, 
 Sutton's How to Live and How to Die, and other books of 
 that stamp, and I left him very much impressed. 
 
 He invited me to take a seat in his pew at Trinity 
 Church, Columbia, of which Doctor Shand was then the 
 venerable rector. It was on Trinity Sunday, June 4, 1844, 
 that I sat with Christopher Gadsden, Charles Alston, and 
 three others in the pew. There was a celebration of the 
 Holy Communion, and all these young collegians re- 
 mained, and I came out. 
 
 As I walked back to the hotel, for the first time in my 
 life, I asked myself the question, Why was not I a com- 
 municant ? It had never been put to me before. I 
 thought to myself, ' ' I have been confirmed ; why do those 
 young men stay in, and I come out ? ' ' But I found no 
 answer. As I was leaving the pew, Mr. Alston whispered 
 to me, '' Come up and spend the evening at my room." 
 I went to dinner at the hotel, and spent the afternoon 
 walking about Columbia, as I had never been in the place 
 before. After tea, I lit a cigar (an over-indulgent mother 
 had permitted me that winter to acquire the habit of 
 smoking) and strolled up to the college. 
 
 I expected to spend a social evening, smoking, and per- 
 haps taking a glass of beer. As I approached Mr. Alston's 
 room, I heard the low monotonous sound of someone 
 reading. I knocked and was invited in. As the door 
 opened I saw the room was full of young men all sitting 
 quietly round. I was simply motioned to a chair, and 
 the reader went on. There were fourteen young men in 
 the room, and they had just begun the evening service. 
 
26 Led On ! 
 
 All the forms of the Church were observed : we stood, 
 and sat, and knelt, sang, and responded, and after the 
 hymn came the sermon. I do not recall one syllable of 
 it, nor whose it was. I do not think I heard a word of it 
 at the time. But the spirit of God was doing His work 
 through the example of those young men. It all came 
 over me with a convincing power. There I was in the 
 South Carolina College, a place, to say the least of it, not 
 particularly odorous of sanctity at that time. Here were 
 fourteen young men assembled in the midst of a somewhat 
 godless surrounding, separating themselves from all that 
 was worldly, and hearing a sermon, not ashamed of the 
 Gospel of Christ. I contrasted their life with mine. I 
 suppose that my life had been as free from vice as any 
 other young man in five thousand, but it had not been a 
 life that led up to the life that these young men were 
 leading. My thoughts were intense ; my emotions deep. 
 The service ended, I was introduced to those I did not 
 know. I shook hands all around, went up to Mr. Alston, 
 and simply said, "Thank you," declined to stay, and 
 started for the hotel. 
 
 On reaching my chamber I locked my door, and there 
 on my knees poured out my soul to God, thanking Him 
 for that day, and all its blessed influences. I claimed the 
 cleansing blood of my dear Saviour, and asked to be re- 
 ceived at the Supper of the Lord. The peace sought was 
 given me, and I went to bed, happier than I had ever been 
 in my life. Of course, so marked an event in one's life 
 clings to the memory, and the slightest detail is vivid 
 still. In looking back, I have often thought that in my 
 neglect of the Holy Communion I had been more sinned 
 against than sinning. The spiritual life of the Church, 
 or of its clergy, did not seem in those days to be felt by 
 the people, at least I had never seen or felt it ; and in all 
 these years, from April, 1841 to June, 1844, I had never 
 
First School Experience. 
 
 27 
 
 even been told that the blessed Sacrament was meant for 
 me, as a means, and help, to keep the solemn vow I had 
 made at my confirmation. Yet I had needed help, for 
 in those three years I had done some few things that my 
 conscience then, and there, sorely condemned me for. But 
 the Saviour had me in His tender care all the time. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 A WIS:E) SCHOOI.MASTBR 
 
 I go to Mount Zion College — Happy and profitable days under 
 a wise schoolmaster — Turkey stealing — My success as an 
 actor — I forswear gambling — My opinion and practice with 
 regard to lotteries and raffles — Boyish pranks — The power 
 of confidence. 
 
 THE only railroad in existence in the State of South 
 Carolina, in 1844, was the South Carolina Railroad, 
 for a long while the longest road in the world. It started 
 from Charleston, and at Branch ville, sixty-four miles 
 thence, it forked, one branch going to Augusta, Georgia, 
 the other to Columbia, South Carolina, and at each of these 
 places it stopped. The town of Winnsborough, where 
 Mount Zion College was situated, is twenty-five miles 
 north of Columbia, and the only means of transportation, 
 was by a four-horse stage which ran three times a week, 
 and it took eight hours to accomplish the journe}^, for the 
 road was rough and hilly. 
 
 On Monday the 5th of June, 1844, I mounted to the 
 seat beside the driver, and started ofi" at seven o'clock in 
 the morning, a light-hearted boy. The events of the day 
 before had been a reality to me, and I felt that I had 
 turned my back on the past, and was in many things 
 entering on a new life. I never had wallowed in the 
 
 28 
 
A Wise Schoolmaster, 29 
 
 gutter, nor had I experienced those excruciating agonies in 
 the conviction of sin that we sometimes read about. The 
 pangs of conscience with me had been sharp and short. 
 In my inmost soul I had always loved God, even from a 
 little child, and His ineffable love, shining all through 
 His Word, as I read it systematically for five years, had 
 pierced my inmost being. When I felt contrition, I threw 
 myself at the Saviour's feet, and knew that He had taken 
 me to a loving Father who, for His sake, had freely, fully, 
 and finally forgiven me all that was wrong in my past. 
 At that early age, I had learned what God's Word said, 
 that Jesus had borne my sins in His own body on the 
 tree, and I believed it as a fact; so that with a merry 
 heart I started on my journey to my new school, among 
 total strangers; for I did not know a person either in the 
 town or the school. We arrived about three in the after- 
 noon, and the stage drove straight up to the college. 
 
 There I found over one hundred boys, who, of course, 
 all gathered in a crowd to see what sort of a chap was this 
 low-country planter's son. 
 
 At that period there was a distinction and difference 
 between up-country and low-country people very gen- 
 erally recognized. This is not so much the case now, 
 since the means of intercommunication have improved and 
 the intercourse of the two sections has become general 
 and frequent. I was rather handsomely dressed, for my 
 tailor was Charles D. Carr, the leader in that line in 
 Charleston. I have no doubt that the boys looked upon 
 me as, a dude or swell, neither of which words, by the 
 bye, had then been coined. I know I looked upon them 
 as a pretty rough set of fellows, blunt and bluff, but no 
 doubt honest. But here and there I noticed boys of a 
 gentler type, some of whom soon became my intimate 
 friends. I was led up to Mr. Hutson's study, a little 
 flustered. But the first glance at Mr. Hutson put me at 
 
30 Led On I 
 
 my ease. A more complete contrast to Mr. Cotes cannot 
 be conceived. 
 
 Mr. Hutson was a large man, witli a most benign coun- 
 tenance, and the sweetest smile I had at that time seen on 
 the face of a man. He rose to greet me, and as he ad- 
 vanced I perceived that he was slightly lame, one leg 
 being somewhat shorter than the other. He had a cigar 
 in his mouth, held between his lips right at the end of the 
 cigar, and in the middle of his mouth. I found out after- 
 wards that out of school he always had that cigar in the 
 same position. I often wondered how he managed to 
 secure it and keep its balance. His words of greeting 
 were gentle and reassuring, and I loved the man at once, 
 and did to the end, and even now revere his memory. 
 He ordered me to be taken to my room, and there I found 
 assigned as my chum a relative of Mr. Hutson named 
 John Harrington. At first we did not take to each other, 
 and were soon at sword's points. But, somehow or other, 
 we learned to value each other's qualities, our enmity 
 passed away, and we became bosom friends, so that one 
 was seldom seen without the other. 
 
 The room — well, it was the exact opposite to the tidy one 
 I had left at home, and it took me some time to break my- 
 self into it. The first night found me, soon after I had 
 gone to bed, candle in hand, on a hunt. It did not take 
 very long to find the game, for the bed was lively, with 
 more dwellers in it than the legitimate occupants. There 
 was an extensive cremation that night, and many nights, 
 as the candle was run along the seams and under the 
 ticking. Carbolic soap, kerosene oil, hot water, and fire, 
 all were used, until we got that room more exclusively to 
 ourselves. I found that the boys brought their water, 
 and cut their own wood, for we had no water-works nor 
 steam-heaters. And here the training I had received at 
 home came in. I had owned a body servant, whose sole 
 
A Wise Schoolmaster. 31 
 
 duty was to wait upon my orders, and of course there had 
 been no need for me to do anything toward waiting upon 
 myself. But mother had often said that no one knew 
 what he might be compelled to do before he died, and 
 so she sometimes made me put my room in order, light 
 my fire, bring the water, and clean my own boots. It 
 was not often done, but enough to insure that I knew 
 how to do it. So when I saw these boys so engaged, I 
 thought I would make myself disliked if I hired a servant, 
 which I had the money to do ; I therefore set to work, 
 and did as the rest of the boys did, much to their surprise. 
 As I found out afterwards, when they heard I had come 
 from the rice section of the State they expected to see a 
 soft, green, self-indulgent noodle, and to have much fun 
 out of him. But I undeceived them at the start as to my 
 capacity to run abreast with them. 
 
 The first serious jar came when I was counted in to go 
 off at night to steal turkeys for a secret supper. I drew 
 the line very emphatically there, and expressed my as- 
 tonishment that boys calling themselves gentlemen could 
 engage in such mean rascality. They did not see it thus. 
 It was not theft they said, only a boyish lark, full of fun. 
 I took the ground that I could see no difference be- 
 tween the crowd that would indulge in such a lark and 
 the darkies who robbed the chicken roost; indeed the 
 former were much worse, for they knew, or ought to have 
 known, better. There was a long discussion. I succeeded 
 in drawing a few over to my side, and they never again 
 joined that crowd. In fact, the stand I took greatly les- 
 sened the frequency of the abomination. But it marked a 
 departure. There were other evil practices in which I 
 was invited to take a hand, but in vain. At last all knowl- 
 edge of these pranks was kept from me. It did not make 
 me popular, but it did secure me respect. 
 
 The boys at Mount Zion were allowed to go to the 
 
32 Led On / 
 
 church which they preferred, and of course I went to the 
 Episcopal church, the first Sunday after my arrival. I 
 had intended to introduce myself to the rector, and inform 
 him that I had been confirmed, and desired to go to the 
 Holy Communion. The first service threw me into my- 
 self. The Prayer Book is often badly handled, and it does 
 seem strange that educated men should so often seem to 
 be incapable of appreciating the power and the beauty of 
 the liturgy. And the Bible, — how often those chapters 
 are murdered ! I could no more have opened my heart 
 to the clergyman than I could have done so to an oak log. 
 Perhaps it was my fault, but I was only a boy making my 
 way among strangers. I just shut myself within myself, 
 and kept on trying to nourish my religious life as best I 
 could, with surroundings not altogether elevating. For a 
 time I went conscientiously to the Episcopal church, 
 morning and afternoon, alone, for there was no other 
 church boy there ; but it was an irksome task, relinquished 
 at last when another interest arose, of which more anon. 
 
 I was very fond of declamation, and after a while in- 
 fused a taste for it into some of my fellow-students. From 
 one point to another we went on until we formed a Thes- 
 pian Corps. Mr. Hutson took a very great interest in it. 
 He had the stage in the large school house fitted up with 
 shifting scenes, and encouraged us with his presence, and 
 aided us with his criticisms and approval. Artemus 
 Goodwyn and myself always took the female parts of the 
 plays, and Mr. Hutson was so well satisfied with one 
 private exercise, that he consented that we should invite 
 the public. A theatrical exhibition was a novelty in those 
 days in that community, and I am sure very many in 
 Winnsborough had never witnessed a play. So our show 
 was crowded. Jerefny Diddler, and Box and Cox, and a 
 number of laughable performances were given, and re- 
 ceived with vociferous applause. We made such an im- 
 
A Wise Schoolmaster, 33 
 
 pression that some of the gentlemen of the town, Hugh 
 Aiken and his brother James, some lawyers, and others, 
 formed an association in the town and invited us to join. 
 Mr. Hutson selected a certain number of us and gave his 
 consent. Goodwyn and myself were among the number. 
 The association fitted up more elaborately a large upper 
 room over Mr. Aiken's store; and there we gave several 
 exhibitions. We became quite aspiring, and selected The 
 Lady of Lyons for presentation. We gave a great deal of 
 time to it, and Mr. Hugh Aiken (afterwards colonel in the 
 Confederate army, and killed in a night skirmish ten days 
 after the burning of Columbia), played Claude Melnotte to 
 my Pauline. I was most elaborately got up, with a wig 
 of long hair, and a dress made by some ladies of our 
 acquaintance. It was before the days of hoop-skirts, but 
 the ladies wore their skirts very full. I had on seventeen, 
 and often since have wondered how I walked. 
 
 Before the play, by request, I recited The Maniac in 
 costume. The effect was very startling, for as the curtain 
 went down a piercing shriek came from the audience. 
 One of the ladies had been thrown into hysterics. Had 
 she seen the fun that was going on behind the curtain she 
 would not have given way in that manner. While quiet 
 was being restored in the immense audience, for the town 
 and country round crowded in to see the play, the actors 
 were getting themselves ready. The curtain rose and 
 dead silence prevailed. Mr. Hutson sat in a conspicuous 
 place, and soon the anxiety wore off his benign face, and 
 his perfect satisfaction as to how the play was going gave 
 us great encouragement. At times the applause actually 
 stopped the play; and during the scene where Pauline 
 recognizes Claude and rushes into his arms, the audience 
 went wild. It all comes back to me with great distinct- 
 ness. After the play they made us raise the curtain again 
 and again. We bowed and bowed and smiled, while the 
 
34 Led On / 
 
 audience seemed not to have enough of it, until in sheer 
 desperation we quitted the stage, leaving the curtain up, 
 and declined to appear again. I have no doubt our heads 
 were quite turned at the time, and indeed it must have 
 been a great success, for, in the years that have since 
 passed, I have met people who have told me how well 
 they remembered that play, and my Pauline. Only the 
 day before yesterday, November 2, 1896, a venerable and 
 distinguished old gentleman spoke of his having been 
 there, and he said he had never forgotten the occasion. 
 It was our final triumph. Some of us found that it was 
 taking too much time, and the excitement and the ap- 
 plause were unsettling us, so we thought it best to stop. 
 Goodwyn and I retired, and that soon broke up the asso- 
 ciation. 
 
 We had as Greek teacher an Irish gentleman not of the 
 old school. I remember almost with shame how we would 
 torment the poor man. He had no hold on us, and we 
 did not respect him, and when that is the case, boys can 
 be — what can't they be ? Sometimes we would work him 
 into such a rage that he threatened to cane us. I think 
 if he had he would probably have had a fight on his 
 hands, although we richly deserved a caning. He went 
 gravely to Mr. Hutson one day and demanded the right 
 to thrash us, saying, in Kngland boys older than we were 
 thrashed. Mr. Hutson told him if he thought he could 
 do it to go ahead, but he cautioned him that these Ameri- 
 can boys were not Knglish boys, and it would be well for 
 him to insure his life before he attempted the castigation. 
 He never tried it. Mr. Hutson heard of some of our 
 pranks and took measures to stop them by administering 
 punishment in his own way. But he did not keep that 
 teacher long, and his successor was a different man, and 
 never had any trouble with the same boys. 
 
 It requires much wisdom and more grace to be a 
 
A Wise Schoolmaster. 35 
 
 teacher, but all the faults of a schoolhouse are not found 
 behind the desks. It is a pity that many who are unfit 
 take up the noble profession, and it is a greater pity that 
 so many children have to suffer from their deficiencies. 
 
 At Mount Zion College we had what was for those days 
 a good laboratory and a full supply of apparatus. Chem- 
 istry and physics were Mr. Hutson's forte and hobby, and 
 I devoted much time in his department. I preferred 
 these to all other branches, and often have wondered how 
 it was I did not follow them up, for if I had then any 
 talent at all it ran in that line. Some of us would follow 
 Mr. Hutson into the laboratory after school hours, and 
 the old gentleman, as we thought him, but he was not 
 old, would give himself and his time to us. I think he 
 was partial to such boys ; he certainly was very kind to 
 them, and we all loved him, and some of us would leave 
 play and everything to get the lessons he set us. If we 
 found them too long we would perfect ourselves as far as 
 we could and then tell him we were not prepared on the 
 rest. Sometimes he would say, * ' I did not expect so much; 
 I only gave you that to try you." He had our affection, 
 and I think that it was more to please him than to get in- 
 formation that a few of us were quite studious. 
 
 Mr. Hutson allowed the boys to play cards provided 
 we did it openly and without gambling ; consequently 
 there was very little gambling in the school. 
 
 One incident I still recall. I was playing whist one 
 Saturday out in the yard, under a large oak tree. The 
 boys had heard me say I never had played, and I never 
 would play, cards for anything beyond amusement, and 
 this day they put up a trick on me, and after we got into 
 the game, I discovered we were playing for a blackberry- 
 pie. I went on and played the game out and lost, and 
 the blackberry-pie was bought from the old woman who 
 was loitering around to beguile the dimes from the boys 
 
36 Led On / 
 
 by her digestion-ruiners. The pie was cut into four and 
 my portion handed to me. I declined, saying it was the 
 first and it would be the last act of gambling in my life; 
 and it has been so. I have always had an instinctive 
 horror of the vice. I never bought or held a lottery 
 ticket, and have studiously avoided even a chance at the 
 raf&es which I think disgrace church fairs. Fairs, raffles, 
 grab-bags, post-offices, dances for raising church funds, I 
 have always held as abominations, and travesties on re- 
 ligion and charity.* 
 
 I remained at Winnsborough from June 5, 1844, until 
 October 4, 1845. During that time I never took part in 
 any of the mischief in which many of the boys engaged 
 except on one occasion. From some cause or other, my 
 chum and I agreed to go out one Friday night and have 
 some fun. We turned our coats wrong side out, mashed 
 in our hats, and went after this imaginary fun. Four 
 main roads crossing each other at right angles formed the 
 approaches into the town from the surrounding country. 
 Cotton fields surrounded the town and came down to its 
 limits. A high fence enclosed them, and we two boys 
 pulled down this fence and turned it across the road, and 
 joined the two side fences, completely blocking it. We 
 
 * Only once in my life have I taken a chance at a raffle. Acci- 
 dentally I found one day that a parishioner, driven to great straits 
 as the result of the civil war, had given her silver forks and spoons 
 to be raffled. They were very massive and handsome, and often in 
 her husband's lifetime (he was an intimate friend), I had used 
 that silver at their table. I knew what it had cost her to make 
 that sacrifice. Twelve chances being still open at $2.00 a chance, 
 I subscribed for all of them. I requested the man in charge to 
 cast the dice for me, and if either of my chances won to send the 
 raffled articles back to the lady with all the money, and to say 
 they were returned by the winner on condition that they should 
 never be raffled again. A man who had only one chance won, so 
 my good intentions were frustrated. 
 
A Wise Schoolmaster, 37 
 
 piled the rails one on the other in the Virginia worm- 
 fence style, and put the ' ' rider ' ' on. It was most labori- 
 ous work, but we went from one road to the other until we 
 had all four blocked. We then entered the town, and 
 finding a light wagon in a yard, we drew it to the front 
 door of a large girls' school, and by great effort got the 
 hind wheels up against the door. We then went off quite 
 innocently and waited till morning for the explosion. 
 
 No one was in our secret and not the slightest suspicion 
 rested on us, and next day we strolled down-town expect- 
 ing to hear ourselves well abused, and to listen to various 
 threats against the perpetrators of the outrage ; but we 
 waited all day in vain. Not a word or comment. We 
 found out that some countrymen coming in with cotton, 
 had discovered the obstruction, and supposing it to be the 
 work of some mischievous boys, pulled the fences down 
 and passed through the town without saying a word about 
 it. Even the owners of the fields that we had exposed, 
 by taking down the fences, made no disturbance, and so 
 we had all our trouble for nothing. It was a silly thing, 
 but it was our first and last escapade. 
 
 I must relate another incident of these days. One 
 Friday night, two friends from town came up to get my 
 chum and myself to go to their office and play whist. 
 They were grown-up men, lawyers by profession. From 
 early youth I had always sought my friends among those 
 who were older than myself, and these two gentlemen 
 soon after my coming to Winnsborough had taken me 
 under their wing. When they came for us that evening 
 I went up into Mr. Hutson's study to get permission. 
 He had retired, so I wrote a note and put it on his desk 
 telling him whom we had gone with, where we could be 
 found, what we would be doing, and adding that we 
 would return at eleven o'clock. Going down stairs, the 
 four of us walked with as much noise as we could make 
 
38 Led On / 
 
 so as to attract attention, went down-town, and came in 
 punctually at eleven o'clock, to find the door locked. We 
 went to the other door of the landing which was always 
 open, and that, too, was locked. We were sure the boys 
 had done it, so we tried one window after another, and all 
 were fastened down. We then realized that it was not 
 the work of the boys, and that old J., as we fondly called 
 Mr. Hutson, had done it. We were nonplussed. 
 
 We sat on the steps and were not complimentary to 
 Mr. Hutson. My note was on his table, we had done 
 nothing secretly, and we thought our treatment very 
 mean. Neither of us used profane language. (I never 
 used an oath intentionally but once ; I was then a small 
 boy ; the evil word slipped out, and I was so ashamed of 
 it, that I left the playground and I went and told my 
 mother. The ungentlemanliness of profanity was suffi- 
 cient without the sin of it to give me an abhorrence of it. 
 And I can say, with no mental reservation, in all these my 
 sixty-nine years, that was the only time I ever intention- 
 ally cursed.) But we did not say pretty things about Mr. 
 Hutson. 
 
 After a time I remembered that some quarter of a mile 
 off in the woods I had seen a long ladder, and I suggested 
 to Harrington that we should get it and put it up to the 
 second story to John Robinson's room window and thus 
 show Mr. Hutson whether he could bar us out or not. 
 So we went and got it. It was a heavy tug, but at last 
 we got back and put it up to the window, and I, being the 
 lightest, went up and waked Robinson. I scared him out 
 of his wits, but got the sash raised at last. Meanwhile I 
 had noticed a white object far back in the dark, and 
 thought it was Robinson's shirt. I told Robinson old J. 
 had locked us out but we meant to show him we could 
 get in. Now Mr. Hutson had a singularly musical voice, 
 and from that white spot came that voice. 
 
A Wise Schoolmaster, 39 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Porter," he said, *' and if you will go to the 
 proper entrance you will be admitted. ' ' 
 
 As I have said, he was a large man, and he wore his 
 vests low and exposed a broad shirt-bosom, and it was 
 this I had seen, little dreaming it was Mr. Hutson him- 
 self. 
 
 I slid down the ladder, alarming Harrington. ** What 
 is the matter ? " he said ; ' ' are you hurt ? " * * No, ' ' I 
 replied, ' ' worse than hurt ; old J. is at the top of the 
 ladder ; he has heard every word we have said, and we 
 shall be sent home to-morrow." 
 
 He had indeed been listening, and was just about to 
 open the door when he heard my proposition to get the 
 ladder. He was the soul of humor, and he could not re- 
 sist the joke of letting us go to all that trouble ; he had 
 waited for us, had seen us come with the ladder, and fol- 
 lowed us to Robinson's room. 
 
 When we got to the door it was open, and all that Mr. 
 Hutson said was : *' Young gentlemen, if I had known 
 who it was that had gone out I would not have locked the 
 door.'' 
 
 We went to our room, but not to bed. We did not lie 
 down that night. There was so much confidence implied 
 in his remark, and to think that we seemed to have be- 
 trayed it ! We could not make out why my note had not 
 informed him. We were two miserable youths. 
 
 The next morning at half-past six we went up and said 
 our lesson in Ancient Geography ; Mr. Hutson was as 
 kind as ever, perhaps a little more so. Sunday passed, 
 and Monday, and still no word of reproof. Tuesday 
 morning, we came out of the classroom, following old J. 
 as he mounted the stairs. As spokesman, I asked a word 
 with him. He stopped, and said " Certainly." 
 
 " We wish to go home, sir," I said. 
 
 " For what?" he asked. 
 
40 Led On I 
 
 " We have apparently trespassed on your confidence, 
 though I had written you a note, and neither of us wish 
 to stay when confidence is gone." 
 
 * * Who says you have lost my confidence ? ' ' 
 
 " Why, you said, sir, had you known who had gone 
 out, you would not have locked the door ; intimating you 
 did not think we would ever go out without permission." 
 
 " Well," he said, " I repeat it. I did not get your note 
 until the morning. I had gone to bed with a headache. 
 I had got wind of a contemplated raid on a watermelon- 
 patch, and I thought the boys engaged in it had taken 
 advantage of my indisposition and had gone out. The 
 noise you made woke me up, and thinking the crowd had 
 escaped, I took that method of locking the doors and fast- 
 ening the windows to catch them, but if I had known it 
 was only you two, I should have felt sure that it was all 
 right. To show you how far you have lost my confidence, 
 Mr. Harrington and yourself may go out any night and 
 every night, and stay out as long as you like, and you 
 need not ask any further permission." And with that 
 he left us. 
 
 Mr. Hutson knew that neither of us would avail our- 
 selves of this comprehensive permit, and he was safe in 
 offering it. In fact from that day till the day I left, 
 neither of us ever left those grounds until we were sure 
 Mr. Hutson knew all about it and had given his consent. 
 But the dear old man paid us off. He knew that both of 
 us visited a number of young ladies, and he went round 
 and told each of them the whole story, with some embel- 
 lishments, and whenever we went out those girls would 
 give it to us, with their additions and comments, until we 
 had to threaten that we would cease visiting them. This 
 won a respite, for our friends did not desire our visits dis- 
 continued. 
 
 Many years after I had left school I went to visit Mr. 
 
A Wise Schoolmaster. 41 
 
 Hutson in Winnsborough, and we talked over old times. 
 He had not forgotten the occurrence, and he chuckled 
 over it, and pictured the ladder-scene to perfection. Of 
 that lesson hundreds of boys have derived the benefit. I 
 felt the power of confidence, and have cultivated it during 
 the thirt}^ years in which I myself have been at the head 
 of a great institution for boys. I always trust a boy ; I 
 take his word and allow no one to question it. When 
 he proves himself unworthy of confidence, then I send 
 him off. But there are comparatively few boys who will 
 not respond to confidence. Boys are sometimes surprised 
 at the confidence I put in them. Evidently they have not 
 been reared that way at home, which is a sad pity for the 
 boj'', and for the home. 
 
ft f f «-. 4a?' 
 
 l^,M| 
 
 ^^^^^^^^14 
 
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 ^^^ 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 FIRST I.OVK AND ITS CONSKQUKNCES 
 
 I/ow I made good use of my tim,e — First love — The course 
 never runs S7nooth — / enter upon a business career — Work 
 without pay — My first commujiion — / rebuke ribaldry — / 
 renew my suit and am rebuffed — A snake in the grass — 
 / show myself a m^ember of the Church militant — The 
 perils of conviviality — The horrors of a slave sale. 
 
 I WAS now in my seventeenth year, and in more than 
 one sense had made good use of the months I had 
 been at Mount Zion College. This will be seen from the 
 sequel, which it is necessary to refer to in order to ex- 
 plain the sequel of my life. 
 
 There were fourteen beautiful girls in Winnsborough, 
 any one of whom was calculated to make a sensation in 
 any society, and to make a susceptible young fellow's 
 heart beat quicker at the sight of her. For some little 
 time I flitted around, but gradually was drawn to one 
 particular house, that of Miss B., a universal belle, who 
 had all the older men at her feet. She was a lovely wo- 
 man, and very kind to me. I looked up to her as an older 
 sister; but she had a younger sister just my age. At that 
 time I thought this latter the handsomest woman in the 
 world. I have seen many women since those days, but 
 none have ever effaced the impress of that face. Her 
 
 42 
 
First Love and Its Consequences. 43 
 
 figure and her carriage were grace and dignity itself. Her 
 manners were charming, her mind bright, and her dispo- 
 sition equal to her external appearance. Is it any wonder 
 that I was soon deeply in love ? I thought of her by day 
 and dreamed of her by night. She was indeed a boy's 
 ideal. Some persons laugh at a boy's love — puppy love 
 they call it. But I know one boy that loved as really, 
 and deeply, and holily as man ever loved. All my spare 
 evenings were spent with her; we walked together, and 
 read together, went to church together. Her mother was 
 a Methodist, but I did not care much about the Methodists; 
 did not enjoy the preaching ; service there was little, or 
 none. I did, however, care about Miss B., and it was a 
 pleasure to be in the same building, and to have her sitting 
 in the opposite pew or bench, and to walk home with her 
 after the exercises were over. And so things went on. I 
 thought then, and think still, that I had a good deal to sat- 
 isfy me, that my attentions were understood and were not 
 unpleasant to her or to any member of the family. In the 
 month of September, 1845, the 24th, I could restrain my- 
 self no longer, and on one of those occasions that present 
 themselves under such circumstances, I gave utterance to 
 language, to feelings, which for months had been declared 
 in actions. It was met evasively and disappointingly ; I 
 was not rejected, but I was not accepted. I was left 
 miserable. I had given my whole heart so entirel}^ that 
 I wanted one in return. I left the house that night and a 
 veil was over all nature ; nothing looked or seemed to be 
 as it had been before. A few days after, my good Samari- 
 tan, Miss B., went to walk with me, and told me I was a 
 silly boy ; it was all right, but that we were too young to 
 enter into an engagement. Neither of us had seen any 
 thing of the world, and it might be a delusion, and it 
 would be unjust to both of us to bind ourselves by a word 
 we might wish to break. It was consoling but not satis- 
 
44 Led On ! 
 
 fying to an ardent boy. I was a boy in years but cir- 
 cumstances had matured me. I have seen many a man 
 at twenty-two who was much more of a boy than I was 
 at seventeen. This check turned the whole current of my 
 life. I wrote my mother that I had made up my mind 
 that I would not go to college. Since for a long time I 
 had been the only male in the family, I had assumed its 
 headship, and what I wished to have done was usually 
 agreed upon. I intended to go to rice planting after pass- 
 ing through college, and I now urged as an excuse that I 
 had noticed that few planters were business men, and as I 
 wished to succeed when I went to planting, I thought a 
 business training would be of greater advantage than a 
 collegiate course. This was true, but the real reason 
 was, I was so desperately in love that I could not stay in 
 the small village with the object of my attachment and 
 see her every day and yet not be her accepted suitor. I 
 was young, and I fear somewhat self-willed ; still it was a 
 pure, honest, earnest love that pervaded my whole being. 
 My mother consented to my leaving school, and very 
 easily procured a position for me in the counting-house 
 of Messrs. Robertson & Blacklock, of Charleston, the 
 largest rice house at that time, probably, in the world. In 
 after years I have often felt the need, and the want, of a 
 collegiate training, and sometimes have seriously regretted 
 that I was turned aside from college ; still the ways of 
 Providence are not ours. If I had not received that three 
 years' business training, I never could have carried on 
 the work assigned to me in after years by the Providence 
 of God, and which has required much business knowledge 
 and acquaintance with finance to carry out. 
 
 On the 3d of October, 1845, I accordingly bade farewell 
 to school, to Winnsborough, and to Miss B. But I left 
 one whom I thought I could trust to look after my inter- 
 ests, and to keep me informed if anyone else was going 
 
First Love and Its Consequences, 45 
 
 to see her too often for my happiness ; determining to re- 
 turn to Winnsborough, if that was the case, and to press 
 my suit. I arrived in Charleston on the 5th, and on the 
 8th of October presented myself to the members of the 
 firm. Mr. Robertson was quite dignified, and somewhat 
 stern. His first remark was : " Well, sir, what sort of a 
 clerk are you going to be ; will you attend to business, or 
 spend your time in King Street (the shopping street) 
 walking with the girls ? ' ' 
 
 Mr. Blacklock did not give me time to answer, but 
 quickly said, " I do not think that is a fair question, nor 
 a cheerful greeting to our young friend. The proof of the 
 pudding is in the eating. And I think it would be well 
 to allow him the opportunity to decide what kind of a 
 clerk he will be. He comes to us with such commenda- 
 tions that I expect entire satisfaction in taking him ; I 
 should like to have him with me in my department. ' ' 
 
 My heart went out to Mr. Blacklock at once, and I 
 never had cause to take it back. I took no notice of Mr. 
 Robertson's remark, but said to Mr. Blacklock, " You 
 shall have no reason to be disappointed in me, sir. ' ' 
 
 I was to be paid no salary, and I never received a penny 
 from the firm. They knew I did not need anything for 
 my support, but I have often thought they made a great 
 mistake. It was a very rich house, and as after events 
 proved, I did not disappoint them, and I think it would 
 have added some pleasure and zest to my work if I had 
 received a due compensation ; but never so much as a 
 theatre ticket was given me in three years. 
 
 This was the first time that I had returned to the low- 
 country since I left it in June, 1844, and I had nothing to 
 draw me to the Holy Communion in Winnsborough, but 
 as soon as I arrived I wrote to Rev. Mr. Howard, rector 
 in Georgetown, informing him of my intention to make 
 my first communion on Christmas Day, 1845. There was, 
 
46 Led On / 
 
 in fact, nothing in my life to prevent my coming forward. 
 My disappointment in love had in no wise caused me to 
 forget my duty to my Saviour, though I loved with the 
 intensity of an ardent nature. No woman living could 
 force me to forget my obligations to myself and to my 
 God, and I did not make a fool of myself. So on the 25th 
 of December, 1845, I received the emblems of the broken 
 body and outpoured blood of Him who had died for me. 
 I am now nearly sixty-nine years old, and in all these 
 years I have never but once left the church and turned 
 my back upon this evidence of transcendent love. 
 
 My mother, my two sisters, and self, received together 
 at my first communion. On my return to Charleston, 
 in January, 1846, I offered myself to the rector of St. 
 Michael's Church, as a Sunday-school teacher, and con- 
 tinued to be one for four years. I am often amused in 
 these latter days to hear young men excuse themselves for 
 lying in bed on Sunday morning too late for church by 
 saying that they work so hard. I know I used to be on 
 the wharf at seven o'clock every morning, and stay at the 
 counting-house every night till ten, and sometimes eleven, 
 o'clock at work, but I never found myself too tired to be 
 at my class in Sunday-school at half-past nine in the 
 forenoon. 
 
 Here let me illustrate the changes in church matters. 
 I was the youngest and only young male communicant in 
 that old parish. I heard afterwards that I was known by 
 the old ladies as the young disciple. The next in age to 
 me was Mr. W. C. Courtney, who was just ten years my 
 senior. It is not so now, thank God. Then the clergy 
 wore black gowns to preach in, with long white bands 
 around their necks. Men did not kneel in church ; it 
 was very funny to see them come in and put their faces 
 into their beaver hats, for a second or two, to say a pre- 
 paratory prayer, I suppose. The ofiferings were taken up 
 
First Love and Its Consequences, 47 
 
 in the hats of the wardens and vestry, standing by each 
 door with a white pocket-handkerchief thrown over the 
 hat. When a corpse was taken up the aisle, all the pall- 
 bearers made a table of the coffin and put their hats on it. 
 The Te Deum and the Gloria in Excelsis were always 
 read. The first time the Te Deum was sung at Saint 
 Michael's Church, I remember the commotion was so 
 great that one might have thought the whole of St. 
 Michael's Church, steeple and all, had gone bodily into 
 the Church of Rome. The Gloria Patri was never used 
 till the last psalm for the day ; then it was read. It was 
 very bad manners to join in the hymn, and to respond to 
 the service was vulgar. One wonders how the Episcopal 
 Church ever survived such misuse of its liturgy and 
 neglect of its privileges. The Holy Communion was ad- 
 ministered (to have spoken of a celebration would have 
 been heresy) on the first Sunday of the month, and the 
 whole congregation left, save a small remnant of dear old 
 ladies, and some decrepit men. Occasionally a curiosity 
 like Mr. Courtney and myself stayed back, the congrega- 
 tion departing with the major benediction. It is all 
 changed now, as everybody knows, but, oh, what a fight 
 it has been ! 
 
 I soon found out what my work was to be in the 
 counting-house. Mr. Blacklock was king of the rice 
 market ; until he came and fixed the price no one 
 thought of offering to buy or to sell. Before he came 
 down to the office my duty was to go to all the wharves 
 at which rice vessels lay, and have two barrels of each 
 brand of rice taken from the vessel and headed up ready 
 for the king. As he arrived at the office, I gathered up 
 my bundle of old shot-bags with strings in them, and 
 sallied down to the wharf, with my coopers all ready. As 
 soon as Mr. Blacklock put in an appearance, outwent the 
 heads of the barrels ; I then filled my sample-bags, left 
 
48 Led On ! 
 
 him, went to the office, spread them out on newspapers, 
 marked the brand on the margin of the paper, and 
 waited for orders. Any lot designated as sold was 
 rolled out of the vessel, weighed and delivered, after I 
 had taken the weights of the barrels in my book. I then 
 returned to the counting-house to make out and deliver 
 the bills for distribution before nine o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, which was done by another clerk. My firm did an 
 immense business, and often I have gone home so tired 
 that I would fall asleep in my chair before a cup of tea 
 could be got for me. And this went on from October to 
 the middle of April, for three years. 
 
 In summer we had very little to do. Mr. Blacklock 
 was very kind to me, and kept me with him all the time. 
 
 A part of my duty for the first year was to go to the 
 post-office, after getting my sample barrels ready, and to 
 get the mail from the firm's private box. Quite a number 
 of youths of my own sphere of life would gather there, 
 also waiting for their employers' mail. Sometimes the 
 conversation was not edifying, and on one occasion a cer- 
 tain youth began to tell an exceptionally disgusting story. 
 I stopped him, calling him by name, and said, * ' One of 
 two things — you know that I am a communicant of the 
 Church, and you take this method of telling me that I am 
 a hypocrite, and I must be if your language is enjoyable 
 to me ; or, not wishing to insult me, you take this method 
 of driving me out of the company." 
 
 ' * Dear fellow, ' ' he replied, ' ' neither. It is so seldom 
 that one of your age is a communicant that I did not 
 know it, and I apologize, and will never repeat this, ' ' and 
 he never did. All the other boys said they liked to see a 
 man show his colors, and promised that I should not be 
 offended in this way again. If at any time I came up to 
 them and anything improper was going on, at once 
 someone would say, '* Come, fellows, let 's change this 
 
First Love and Its Consequences. 49 
 
 conversation. Porter does not like it." I mention these 
 incidents, which are true, hoping, if ever this story of a hfe 
 gets into print and is read, they may have some influence 
 for good. 
 
 I had been receiving very favorable reports from my 
 supposed friend in Winnsborough, when one day I heard, 
 in the month of February, that Miss B. had come to 
 Charleston to go to school to Madame Du Pree, the 
 fashionable girls' school of the day. I am afraid that I 
 got the samples somewhat mixed that day. I found out 
 that young gentlemen were permitted to call on the young 
 ladies at that school on Saturday, provided they went in 
 the morning. So the first Saturday I asked for leave for 
 a short while, got myself up in the best style, and called. 
 In due time Miss B. came in, beautiful as a sunbeam, but 
 she met me like an iceberg. She was the lady — she could 
 not possibly be anything else — but oh, how cold ! She 
 froze me up. I tried to be agreeable, but thoughts and 
 feelings were paralyzed. I did not make a long visit, and 
 as I went down those steps, the thought of how we had 
 parted and the fact of how we had met put me in a rage. 
 I knew I had done nothing to merit this ; I was her equal, 
 socially and financially. I had offered the pure heart of 
 a pure life, and she had disappointed me. My idol had 
 shattered itself. I vowed that no woman should ever 
 have the second chance to treat me thus, and that cost me 
 what it might I would never see her as a girl again; and 
 I never did. I even avoided the place where she was, 
 and not until 1869, twenty-three years afterwards, when 
 the Protestant Episcopal Diocesan Convention met in 
 Abbeville, she wrote and asked me to be her guest. I ac- 
 cepted, and took the opportunity to ask the meaning of 
 that morning at Madam Du Pree's. She asked w^hy I 
 had never given her the opportunity to explain ? I told 
 her, wounded pride. She had married, and I had mar- 
 
50 Led On ! 
 
 tied, and both were true in heart and life to husband and 
 wife, but I told her that she had made me almost a woman- 
 hater; that for three years, till she married, there had 
 been a lingering hope that the block would be removed, 
 but I would not seek to do it, and after she was married 
 it was too late. But now, if she could, I asked her to re- 
 move a painful remembrance which had been with me all 
 these years — the remembrance of a bitter disappointment 
 in the character of the woman I loved. She asked me if I 
 remembered a person whom I thought a friend. Certainly 
 I did. Well, she said, he began after I left to visit at 
 her house constantly, and he had the impudence to fall in 
 love with her and to address her, and he took the oppor- 
 tunity to traduce me in every way ; made statements of 
 things which he said I had said. I said to her, "And 
 did you believe him ? Did you believe that I was capable 
 of such things? " She said, " I was only a girl," and 
 she asked, ' ' Have you not known what wounded pride is ? 
 I did not stop to do you justice, but resented it, I came 
 fresh from all these statements to Charleston ; you called. 
 I was full of indignation and I forgot m}- self and showed it; 
 but long, long since I have known how you were traduced 
 and the motive of it and have wished for this opportunity, 
 for your course towards me showed how deeply I had 
 wounded you. ' ' I thanked her, for it took away that long- 
 kept sorrow. And so it appeared by falsehood the destiny 
 of two lives, perhaps, was changed. My dear wife knew 
 all about this. I have always had the likeness of that girl 
 of seventeen hanging in my study, and many persons have 
 taken it for the likeness of my wife, for they were singu- 
 larly alike. But when she would say, " Why, that is my 
 husband's first sweetheart," and surprise would be ex- 
 pressed that she would permit it to remain there, she 
 would say, " I never met her, but I love that girl, for if she 
 had married my husband I could not have done so, and I 
 
First Love and Its Consequences. 51 
 
 am under great obligations to her. " I suppose that every- 
 body has had some romance in life. As a married man 
 myself, and she a married woman, there has never been 
 one thought or feeling that I believe would meet the dis- 
 approval of heaven; but the memory of that hoi 3^ love of 
 youth has been with me all my days, and will be to the 
 end. 
 
 I had a fair supply of pocket-monej^, consequently had 
 a sufficient number of so-called friends to share it with me. 
 There are always a certain number of youths whose home- 
 training is different from what mine had been, and their 
 moral natures not pitched on a high plane, and there are 
 innumerable pitfalls in the way of youth. I did not find 
 m}" pathway exempt from them, and the influence of 
 companions was not always beneficial. I remember on 
 one occasion I found myself very dangerouslj^ near to the 
 point of yielding to persuasion to evil, but the grace of 
 God was stronger than the influence of the devil, and I 
 resolutel}^ said no, and left the party. I went home, and 
 into my room, and locked the door, and took my Bible 
 and opened it at a chapter in the Gospel according to 
 St. Matthew, and knelt down, crossed my hands on the 
 Bible, and took a solemn vow, that I would never gamble 
 for the value of a pin, would never take a drink in a 
 saloon or bar-room. I had never tasted anything 
 stronger than wine, and I would never go to any place 
 that I could not ask my mother to go with me, nor ever 
 be in the company of anyone I should be ashamed for her 
 to know about. And I solemnly asked my Heavenly 
 Father to record the vow, and if I broke it that He would 
 punish me at once. I was only eighteen years old, but 
 how often have I thanked God for that vow ! I never but 
 once had any trial afterwards to break it, for I felt an im- 
 passable barrier had been placed between me and the 
 common temptations of youth. That prayer, that God 
 
52 Led On I 
 
 would punish me at once, was a great help. As I look 
 back just fifty years, I know that the vow of my youth 
 was the best thing I ever did, for by the grace of God I 
 kept it solemnly, save on one occasion, and in the training 
 of the thousands of boys who have been under my care it 
 has been a useful lesson that some have profited by. 
 
 About the only amusement that I did really enjoy very 
 much in Charleston was the theatre. I liked to dance 
 occasionally, for I saw no harm in it then and see none 
 now. I like to see young people dance; but the theatre 
 was almost a passion with me, and whenever I could be 
 spared from the ofiice at night, I would go if the play was 
 good and the actors of the first order, such as the elder 
 Booth, Charles and Mrs. Kean, Forrest, and especially 
 Burton, the comedian, who started the audience in a roar 
 of laughter as soon as he appeared, and kept them at it 
 as long as he was on the stage. I admired also Mr. Crisp, 
 the father of the late Speaker of the House of Representa- 
 tives, and Mrs. Mowatt, and others whom I have forgot- 
 ten. I never missed a chance. 
 
 On one occasion, McCready, the great English trage- 
 dian, was in Charleston, and I went every night. He 
 was playing Macbeth, and between two of the acts I went 
 out for a few moments. On my return, as I pushed open 
 the green baize door of the foyer, I encountered an old 
 schoolmate, William Mazyck, and he accosted me with a 
 surprised expression, " Why ! are you here ? " *' Yes," 
 I said, ' ' I am here, and why not ? " " Oh, nothing, but 
 somehow I did not think you ever came to the theatre." 
 I passed on and took my seat. But the pleasure of the 
 performance was for a time spoiled. " You here ? You 
 here ? ' ' kept ringing in my ears, and I began to think 
 whether I was doing anything wrong. I looked around, 
 and I saw a number of very good people at the play, and 
 I argued, ' ' Why cannot I be here as well as they ? " As 
 
First Love and Its Consequences. 53 
 
 the play progressed I forgot the incident and soon was 
 lost in the performance. It certainly was a great treat. 
 After I returned home, I took my Bible to read as usual, 
 and as I closed it I was conscious that I had been so 
 absorbed by McCready's acting that I had paid no 
 attention to the lesson, so I read it over again, and sud- 
 denly * ' You here ? ' ' rang in my ears. 
 
 I began to think whether Mazyck thought that I, as a 
 Sunday-school teacher and a communicant, was out of 
 place in a theatre. Perhaps he was himself troubled, and 
 I was a stumbling-block. In myself I felt no scruples — 
 the play was an education — but perhaps he might have 
 thought otherwise. And at last I got down on my knees, 
 and there it occurred to me that I had very little to give 
 up for Christ, and if my pleasure brought any reproach on 
 Him, I would make the sacrifice, and would never go to 
 the theatre again while I was in the counting-house ; and 
 I never did, though I was there three years after this 
 night. But the sacrifice involved a very great struggle. 
 
 I so disciplined myself that I never read a word about 
 the theatre, what actors were in the city, or what play 
 was on the stage. Often, if I had to go anywhere in the 
 neighborhood of the theatre in Meeting Street, I would 
 go down Queen to King, and up to the market, and re- 
 turn in the same way. I was afraid to trust myself, lest 
 if I passed the theatre and found by the handbills some 
 good thing was there, I would not be able to resist. It 
 did my character good, gave me strength of will ; but I feel 
 sure it was a sad mistake, and that my profession did not 
 demand it of me. 
 
 I have mentioned that I have never turned my back on 
 the Lord's Supper but once in fifty-one years. I was per- 
 fectly conscious that at Charleston I was living a different 
 life from ordinary youths, and I have no doubt was indulg- 
 ing a spirit of self-satisfaction, if not of self-righteousness. 
 
54 Led On ! 
 
 One Friday evening, however, after leaving the counting- 
 house, I was overtaken in a fault that I felt was incon- 
 sistent with being a communicant of the Church. Some 
 might have attached little importance to it, but I did, 
 and it troubled me very much ; so that on Sunday when 
 the morning, service was over, I came out, instead of re- 
 maining to communicate. I was very fond of the Rev. 
 Mr. Young, who was the rector, and of Mr. Keith, the 
 assistant at Saint Michael's, and I ought to have gone to 
 either of them on Saturday and have told them my fault. 
 I am quite sure either of them would have said to me, 
 * ' You were wrong, but you have done nothing heinous ; 
 you are truly sorry for it ; come to the Holy Communion 
 confessing your sins and have the assurance of your 
 Father's forgiveness, which we, as priests in His Church, 
 with the authority of our Communion, declare to you in 
 His name." 
 
 I was nineteen years old, and did not know then the 
 proper course ; but I went home, and in my room I knelt 
 down and asked forgiveness, and that by God's grace I 
 would never again place myself in such a position as to 
 make it questionable in my mind whether it was right to 
 go to the Holy Communion. 
 
 Now Bishop Gadsden had asked the rectors in Charles- 
 ton to arrange it so that a celebration would be held in 
 one church in the city every Sunday. The second I 
 knew was at Grace Church, so after teaching vc^y class at 
 St. Michael's I went there. I remained with the com- 
 municants, and waited, trying to know whether I was 
 doing right to go to the chancel-rail, and earnestly pray- 
 ing. I waited until the last four or five communicants 
 went up, hesitating, until I felt I must go. lyittle did the 
 Rev. Doctor Spear, who was the celebrant, know what 
 was going on in that youth's heart and mind, or with 
 what calm and peace he turned away after receiving those 
 
First Love and Its Coiisequences. 55 
 
 emblems of a Saviour's love. I thanked God, and vowed 
 as I returned to the seat, that I would watch myself more 
 carefully, and lean less on myself and more on God's 
 grace; and at sixty-nine years old I am able to say I have 
 never since felt I had no place at the lyord's table, and 
 have never again left or refused to partake of His body 
 and His blood. I am trying to make a faithful record of 
 my life, its evil and its good. This sketch may some time 
 or other be read by one whose conscience troubles him, 
 and I trust that he may be induced to feel that it is only 
 following the devil, who, if he once gets the advantage 
 of us, or through our own carnal weakness we do wrong, 
 if he induces us to stay away from the communion once, 
 he will persuade us twice, and so on, till he has us in his 
 power. No, to err is very human, but go and tell it to 
 some faithful priest of God and get his counsel and his 
 praj^ers, and if he is a true man, he will tell you to come 
 and cast your burden on the Lord, and to receive the 
 assurance of His pardon at His feast. I think, with no 
 human counsels, the course I pursued was evidence that 
 I was led by the Spirit of God. 
 
 Sometime after this I was returning from paying a 
 visit to my old grandaunt (the old lady who was born on 
 the 12th of May, 1780), when, at the corner of Hasell 
 and Meeting Streets, I met a half-dozen of my young 
 companions. They wished to know where I had been. 
 I told them. 
 
 ' ' Tell that to the marines, ' ' they said ; ' ' a young fel- 
 low like you spending your evenings with an old lady," 
 
 " Well," I replied, *' I do not care whether you believe 
 it or not, it is true." 
 
 ' ' And where are you going now ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Home, ' ' I said ; ' ' where all of you had better go. ' ' 
 
 ' ' No, ' ' they said, ' ' we are going to a certain street and 
 you have to go with us. ' ' 
 
56 Led On I 
 
 ' ' I will not do it, " I answered. 
 
 A couple of stout young fellows seized me, one on each 
 arm, and said, " Go you shall." 
 
 There were too many to resist without a row, and 
 every one of us was a member of some well-known family, 
 so I yielded, apparently, and went along. 
 
 They thought they had made an easy conquest, so let- 
 ting me go, we walked along, and I threw them off their 
 guard. We got as far as Saint Mary's Roman Catholic 
 Church, when, seeing my opportunity, I made a rush 
 and, being a very good runner, I distanced them, and ran 
 into the Charleston Hotel. 
 
 There was then a large glass rotunda in the middle of 
 the hollow square. The boys came in close behind me. 
 When in there I turned on them and said, ' ' Now desist, 
 or I will expose you. I would sooner die than go where 
 you said you were going. ' ' 
 
 I was in a rage, for one of the weaknesses of my nature 
 is a quick, high temper that I have had to battle with all 
 my life, and it was well up that night. I remember say- 
 ing, * ' Try that again and we become strangers to each 
 other, and though I never carry any weapon except a 
 penknife, I will put it into the first one who attempts it. ' ' 
 
 They saw I was in earnest and they apologized at once, 
 saying they did not know I was in such dead earnest ; 
 they only meant to have some fun, and thought that I 
 would be like the rest of them. The effect of it was, we 
 all went out into the street together, and everyone of us 
 went to his own home. 
 
 The law required every one sixteen years old to turn 
 out in the militia companies, or to join a fire company. I 
 chose the latter, and joined the Phoenix Fire Company. 
 It was composed of young men of the best families of the 
 city. We were called the White Kid Company, but 
 dudes or not, we generally took the prize as being first 
 
First Love and Its Consequences. 5 7 
 
 at fires, where we stayed the longest. The company was 
 a social organization, and they had a supper or a punch 
 treat once a month. I went now and then at first, until 
 I discovered that a dear young friend of mine who was a 
 member generally got under the influence of the punch. 
 I then determined to go to all of them. In the meanwhile, 
 having great influence over my friend, I extracted a 
 promise from him that he would only drink as much as 
 I did ; and he kept it. I would help myself to one glass 
 of punch, and make it last through the evening, and he 
 did the same. For some time it was pretty hard on him, 
 but he was a true man and kept his promise, and years 
 afterwards when we had both gone to rice-planting, he 
 said he owed his being a sober man to my influence. I 
 had saved him at those monthly suppers of the fire com- 
 pany. 
 
 I was once called upon to perform the hardest task 
 which up to that time had fallen to my lot. One of the 
 many evils of the institution of slavery, was the separa- 
 tion of slave families that would arise at the death of an 
 owner, when the estate had to be divided, or the debts of 
 the estate forced a sale. Mr. Richard O. Anderson, the 
 same gentleman who some sixteen years before had bought 
 my mother's slaves, died, and his negroes were all sold to 
 go somewhere in Georgia. 
 
 They were brought to Charleston and had to be re- 
 shipped, and I was directed by Mr. Robertson to go and 
 attend to it. Of course I had been too young to know 
 any of them when my father owned them ; but some of 
 the older ones, and many of their descendants, were in 
 that lot of slaves. These appealed to me as my father's 
 son not to let them go. Their entreaties, that I would 
 take them back to the old plantation which they knew 
 was still in the family, and not to allow the separation of 
 some of the famihes, affected me profoundly. As the 
 
58 
 
 Led 071 1 
 
 prospective heir of an estate, with a fixed income, but 
 only a minor, I was powerless. I did all I could to con- 
 sole them, and made it as easy as possible ; saw them all 
 aboard, and the vessel sailed for the South. I went up 
 to the counting-house, and into Mr. Robertson's private 
 office, the tears streaming down my cheeks, and I said, 
 ' ' Mr. Robertson, I have done as I was told to do, but I 
 wish to say it is the first and it is the last of such a job. 
 If I am again required to do such a business as that, I beg 
 to retire from the office I hold. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Blacklock quickly said, '' I see what it has cost 
 you, and you never again shall be required to repeat it." 
 And I was not. 
 
A. TOOMER PORTER. 
 /ETAT. 19. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 MY I.IFK AS A SOUTHKRN PI^ANTKR 
 
 A question of Georgian civilization — / engage in a dispute 
 where bloodshed is just averted — / retire from business — 
 The life of a Southern planter — Advantages of a busi- 
 ness training — Look not upon the wine — A negro hypo- 
 crite — The slaves' view of marital responsibility. 
 
 IN the month of July, 1846, my mother's health failed ; 
 so I took a three months' leave from the counting- 
 house and went with her to Clarksville, Georgia, in the 
 immediate neighborhood of the Tallulah and Toccoa Falls, 
 to which we made many trips. There was a pleasant 
 part}^ of old friends taking the same trip — Mr. and Mrs. 
 Francis Porcher, Mrs. Cuthbert, Edward L. Parker, 
 Henry Blanding, and ourselves. All of the party save 
 myself are now dead. 
 
 One day while staying at Clarksville our party visited 
 Madison Springs. I was seated with a party of young 
 men on the piazza of the local hotel after dinner, and in- 
 formation was there received that Judge Daniel, of 
 Georgia, had made a brutal and murderous attack with a 
 knife on Alexander H. Stephens, afterwards Vice-Presi- 
 dent of the Confederate States. Of course, this fracas was 
 the subject of general comment, and I was the only South 
 Carolinian in the crowd. 
 
 59 
 
6o Led On I 
 
 I rather imprudently said to all these Georgians (most 
 of whom were all about my own age — a little over twenty — 
 fortunately a few older men being present), " I am aston- 
 ished at this display of barbarism ; if a Circuit Judge and 
 so distinguished a man as Alexander H. Stephens can 
 be engaged in a bloody fight, what could be expected of 
 other men ; this, I think, is a reflection on the civilization 
 of Georgia ! " 
 
 Coming from a citizen of another State, my words set 
 fire to the crowd, and I found I had a fight on hand. 
 
 I had nothing but a penknife, for I have always had a 
 contempt for the habit of carrying concealed weapons, but 
 the men angrily began to close in on me. I pushed my 
 chair up against the wall of the house, satisfied, however, 
 that my time had come. 
 
 Just as one of the young men, however, was about to 
 attack me, one of the older men came forward, and getting 
 himself between us, put out his hand and said, " Mr. 
 Porter, I thank you for the implied compliment to Georgia, 
 You gave her civilization credit for the impossibility of 
 such an occurrence. You are right, sir, it is a reflection 
 on our civilization ; it is an outrage. ' ' He lined himself 
 up alongside of me. This was the turning point. The 
 men ceased talking. One after another joined me with 
 the gentlemen who had come to my rescue and soon the 
 majority was on my side. 
 
 I then apologized to all of them for my thoughtless- 
 ness, while I did not retract the honest sentiment, 
 and the whole party applauded me that I had not 
 showed the white feather. We soon became very good 
 friends. It was a very striking illustration of how a 
 mob can be quelled by the courageous firmness of one 
 man. If that gentleman had not left the crowd, and 
 come over to me and said what he did, I would most 
 probably have been murdered in the next ten minutes. 
 
My Life as a Southern Planter, 6i 
 
 It also illustrates how careful a man should be in the use 
 of his tongue. 
 
 At the close of the month of August, mother and I took 
 our seats in the stage, and left Clarksville for Greenville, 
 South Carolina. There were no railroads, then, in all 
 that section of country. The last of September we again 
 took the stage, a two days' travel to Columbia, South 
 Carolina. This was the summer of 1 848. I then returned 
 to Charleston and resumed my place in the Robertson & 
 Blacklock counting-house on the ist of October. About 
 the middle of December I went to the private office of my 
 emplo3^ers and told them I would be twenty-one in six 
 weeks, and that I should then enter on my planter's life, 
 and tendered to them my resignation as clerk in their 
 employ, with many thanks for all the kindness received 
 from them. 
 
 Mr. Blacklock said, ' * We have been expecting this, but 
 we do not wish you to carry out your intentions. ' ' 
 
 He added, '' The planter's life will never suit you ; you 
 are a born business man. I have kept you constantly 
 with me, for you are the only clerk I ever had who took 
 so much interest in the business, or who gave me so little 
 trouble." 
 
 I thanked him for his good opinion, but there was 
 nothing else for me to do. 
 
 ' ' No, ' ' he said, ' ' go and make all your arrangements, 
 and as soon as you are of age, sell your plantations and 
 negroes, put your money into this firm and we will make 
 you j unior partner. ' ' 
 
 It was a great surprise, and, of course, I was much 
 flattered, but I declined the offer, saying I intended buy- 
 ing from my sisters all their slaves, and reunite the estate 
 on the plantation where my grandfather had lived and 
 was buried. 
 
 He tried much persuasion, and told me I was making 
 
62 Led On I 
 
 the mistake of my life, for I would never make a planter 
 of myself. I was firm, however. He then said, '' Of 
 course, you are familiar with our books. You know a 
 great quantity of wine and brandy (whiskey was not then 
 a common drink) is sent into your neighborhood. Take 
 my advice and never take anything to drink before din- 
 ner, nor after dinner," and then he added, that he was 
 the sole survivor of all the young men who had gone into 
 business with him, and whose habit it was to go to the 
 French coffee-house, the fashionable saloon of that day in 
 Charleston, South Carolina, to take a drink at eleven 
 o'clock, which he never did. They were all dead, and 
 most of them from the effects of strong drink. 
 
 I thanked him, but told him that I scarcely knew the 
 taste of brandy or wine. 
 
 " Well," he said, " remember what I tell you." And 
 I did. 
 
 Mr. Robertson, in the meanwhile, had written a check 
 and put it in an envelope. "Mr. Porter," he said, *' if 
 you will not stay with us, we wish you to take this and 
 buy a watch, and wear it as a memento of your being 
 with us. ' ' 
 
 I had been there a little over three years, and this was 
 the first present I had received. I already had a hand- 
 some watch, so I bought a horse with the gift of money. 
 I shook hands with the gentlemen and retired from their 
 employ. 
 
 Had I not spent those three years in business I am sure 
 I never could have done the work which in after years, 
 in the providence of God, has been committed to my 
 hands. I have often thought what a difference it would 
 most probably have made in my after life, if I had ac- 
 cepted the offer, and become a partner in that house. 
 
 This was in 1848. In i860, South Carolina seceded 
 from the Union, the Civil War began, all of my associates 
 
My Life as a Souther^i Planter, 63 
 
 of my own age went into the army, most of them as offi- 
 cers. Most probably I should have been with them and 
 shared the fate of so many of them. It is scarcely prob- 
 able that I would have been alive to wTite this story of a 
 varied life, for though in the arni}^ from the beginning to 
 the end, I was there as chaplain, and non-combatant, 
 thereby running no risk of being killed. 
 
 In the week before Christmas, 1848, there was a very 
 distinguished actor in Charleston. I had not been to the 
 theatre for two and a half years, but I think it was 
 McCready, the English actor, who had arrived in the city, 
 and I was paying a visit to a very lovely girl who after- 
 wards married my friend, Joshua Ward, and as we talked 
 about the actor, I asked her to go with me and see him the 
 following evening. It was an extraordinarily cold night 
 for our latitude, and I dressed in evening dress, with a 
 light overcoat, and took a frightful cold. A day or two 
 after, I went up to Georgetown to pass the last Christmas 
 at our town house, before taking possession of my property 
 on the 31st of January, 1849. My cold increased, and 
 soon developed into a severe attack of pneumonia, and on 
 the 2ist of January, just ten days from my majority, I lay 
 at the point of death, " so near and yet so far." For 
 several days my life hung in the balance, but by the 31st, 
 my twenty-first birthda}", I was slightly better. I had 
 now reached the day when I could secure ample provision 
 for my mother, and at once made my will, giving her my 
 estate in the event of my death, thus rendering her again 
 independent. But my life was providentially spared, and 
 I rallied soon after I came of age. I sold the town house, 
 paid Mr. Dozier the one thousand dollars he had loaned 
 me when I was a boy of fourteen, and moved to the resi- 
 dence on the plantation. There was a great deal to do. 
 It had been so long an estate under the management of 
 overseers, after my brother's death in 1841, that buildings, 
 
64 Led On / 
 
 and river banks, and fences, needed much repair, ditches 
 had to be cleared and new ones cut. 
 
 I soon found my business training was of great use. 
 The entire negro settlement was at once rebuilt, brick 
 chimneys put where clay ones had been used ; a children's 
 house, where they were daily cared for, was built. I con- 
 tracted a large debt in buying my sisters' slaves, who had 
 been hired out, as my sisters had no rice land, and the joy 
 of those people was very great when they came back to 
 their old home, and it was soon apparent to all my people 
 that a master, and not an agent, was in charge. 
 
 I at once organized a large Sunday-school for all the 
 children, to which many of their parents came. Mother 
 kept house for me, and assisted me in the Sunday-school. 
 Georgetown is eight miles from the place, and we rode 
 to church in the morning, came back to dinner, and gave 
 the afternoons and evenings to the instruction of my 
 slaves. 
 
 Now I had a man named George, who was a Methodist 
 class-leader, who did the preaching, and I had learned 
 from boyhood to look up to him with great respect. 
 Those Sundays that we could not go to church, I gathered 
 the whole of my slaves together, and used parts of the ser- 
 vice, read the Bible, gave them some lay preaching, and 
 sang a great many of the hymns, with which they were 
 familiar, letting George ' ' line them out, ' ' as they called 
 it, and let them sing their own tunes. When the full 
 volume of sound would rise, it was inspiring, and often 
 exciting, for negroes in their own melodies, the old plan- 
 tation songs, have musical voices. 
 
 Not long after I had gone into the country, I received 
 an invitation to go over to Waccamaw to a great hunting 
 party which was gotten up to welcome me into the circle 
 of planters. Of course I went. 
 
 We took our first drive, and started three or four deer, 
 
My Life as a Southern Planter. 65 
 
 but got none. The rallying horn was blown, and the 
 hunters gathered about eleven o'clock by a clear stream 
 of water, and at once out came the flasks of brandy, and 
 my health with a toast was to be drunk. 
 
 Mr. Blacklock's parting warning came to my mind, so 
 I took a cup, and stooped down and filled it with water, 
 and said I was ready for the drink. Oh, that would not 
 do, they all said, — it was expected of me to join them. I 
 turned to my host, who was Joshua Ward, who knew me 
 well, and I said, ' ' Josh, I do not wish even to seem to be 
 rude, but I was warned against this by our common friend, 
 Mr. Blacklock, and without interfering with your custom, 
 you must let me join you in this cup of water." 
 
 That ended it. It was known I would not drink before 
 dinner, and though always asked, was never pressed. I 
 attribute to Mr. Blacklock's few wise words the fact that 
 I passed through my planter's life and all through the 
 Civil War, and I am sure I have never taken half a 
 dozen glasses of any kind of stimulant before dinner, in 
 my life, and never made it a daily habit to take any. 
 When I was fifty-five years old my old physician. Doctor 
 Wragg, who attended me at fifteen with typhoid fever at 
 Mr. Cotes' s school, urged that my peculiarly anxious life 
 was such a strain on my nervous system, that I must take 
 a glass of whiskey-and- water every day at dinner, and that 
 is my habit whenever I am at home. Never a drop be- 
 fore nor after dinner, but only one wineglass measured 
 out at dinner. I hope that if this story is ever read that 
 no one will think I am a fanatic. I approve of a good 
 cigar, and a good glass of wine, or if necessary a good 
 glass of whiskey, if it is desirable for the health. These 
 things are to be used in moderation and received with 
 thanksgiving. 
 
 After the manner of Southern country gentlemen, we 
 entertained a great deal, and were seldom without friends 
 
66 Led On ! 
 
 staying with us. Some young ladies visited my mother, 
 with one of whom I saw that mother was quite anxious 
 that I should fall in love. I liked to please my mother, 
 but love-making is one thing that no one can do for an- 
 other. Love that induces a true man to seek a wife, or 
 a true woman to accept a man as her husband, is not 
 manufactured. Match-making is a poor business, and I 
 am not so made that anyone could do that for me. The 
 woman that was to be my wife, and the mother of my 
 children, had to be one who could establish herself in my 
 respect, admiration, and ajBfection, without anyone's aid. 
 The memory of my first love had become hallowed. The 
 lady had married, and I thought of it only as a sweet, 
 pleasant dream of the long, long ago. But I knew that 
 something like it would have to come again, when next 
 I thought of marriage. I did not know how rich a bless- 
 ing God was keeping in store for me. 
 
 There was a great variety in my life aiid always much 
 to do, and I believe I realized the solemn responsibility 
 of holding my fellow creatures as slaves. I did all I 
 could to house my people well, to feed them plentifully, 
 to clothe them warmly, and to provide for their religious 
 instruction, while their daily tasks of labor were such as 
 they could easily fulfil. I worked harder in the counting- 
 house, and have since worked harder than any slave I 
 ever owned. 
 
 One day I received quite a shock in my barnyard. I 
 had no steam thrasher, though I was preparing for one, 
 and the rice was thrashed out by flail and bob. Every 
 afternoon the hands took their last floor of straw ofi" in a 
 bundle on their heads, as they went to their homes. On 
 the day I speak of, my overseer came to me, and said, 
 " Mr. Porter, you think a great deal of George, the 
 Methodist class leader. ' ' 
 
 " Yes," I said ; " a great deal. He is a good man." 
 
My Life as a Southern Planter. 67 
 
 " No," the overseer replied, " he is a grand rascal." 
 
 " Be careful," I said; " I will require you to prove it." 
 
 " Oh, that can easily be done. The rice," he said, " is 
 well headed, but it is not turning out as much as it should, 
 and as I suspected something was wrong, I hid myself in 
 the cow-pen, where the hands threw their bundle of straw, 
 and waited an hour or two after dark, when I saw a long 
 line of the hands enter the cow-pen, and George was in 
 the lead. They went to each bundle of straw, opened each, 
 and took out of every one of them a parcel holding from a 
 peck to a half-bushel of rough rice. This they took down 
 to the swamp and pounded it. I followed them in the 
 dark and watched the whole process, until they returned 
 with the clean rice to their homes. ' ' 
 
 Now, to every family a certain amount of rice land was 
 allotted which they could plant with white seed, not gold 
 seed, so that they could have as much rice of their own 
 as they needed ; and not being allowed to have the gold 
 seed, which was the crop rice, they could not cheat us. 
 Besides, there was a garden to each house ; each could raise 
 as many hogs and chickens as they wished, and each thrifty 
 famil}^ had a cow and a calf. Of course, some took care of 
 themselves, while others, like white people, were thriftless. 
 
 * * Well, ' ' I said to the overseer, * ' are you sure George 
 was among them ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, yes, he was the leader of the gang." 
 
 " Call George tome." 
 
 He came. 
 
 " George," I said, '' the overseer has made a grave 
 charge against you, that I can scarcely believe, although 
 he is so sure. I wish to know what you have to say." 
 
 I then repeated the overseer's story. 
 
 George listened very attentively, and finding the facts 
 so circumstantial, and no way to avoid them, he said, 
 * ' Yes, Mossa, it is all true, ' ' 
 
68 Led On ! 
 
 * ' What, ' ' I said, ' ' you, a preacher of righteousness on 
 this plantation, and yet you were found heading a gang 
 of thieves. No wonder the crop was falling short, as 
 eighty odd bundles, abstracted every evening, would soon 
 make a hole in the pile. Did I ever refuse to give you 
 anything you asked for, George ? ' ' 
 
 ^'No, Mossa." 
 
 ** Do I not give you enough to eat ? " 
 
 ** Yes, Mossa, plenty." 
 
 ' * Then, sir, what does it mean ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, Mossa, you know it is only nigger — but, Mossa, 
 I no tief (steal) de rice." 
 
 * * Not steal the rice, ' ' I said ; ' ' and yet you tell me that 
 you took it from this barnyard, with others, hid it in a 
 bundle of straw, got it in the dark, and pounded it in the 
 woods. ' ' 
 
 '* Yes, Mossa, all dat is so, but I no tief de rice — Mossa, 
 enty nigger belong to Mossa ? ' ' 
 " I believe you do," I said. 
 
 * * Bnty rice belong to Mossa ? ' * 
 "Yes, it does." 
 
 ** Well, sir, if rice belong to Mossa, and nigger belong 
 to Mossa, and nigger eat de rice, enty Mossa still ? ' ' 
 
 The logic was irresistible, but the excuse so ludicrous, 
 I found it hard to restrain my risibles and to appear very 
 angry. 
 
 *' Well, sir," I said, " is that the kind of doctrine you 
 teach your hearers, my slaves ? Then I break you right 
 here as a preacher, and if you preach again, I will show 
 you that the rice and nigger do belong to Mossa, and will 
 have nigger given a good thrashing. ' ' 
 
 Investigation showed that I had long been deceived in 
 the man, and I am sorry to say the same character largely 
 prevailed in all that class. The Methodist class leaders 
 used their position of influence, to the gratification and in- 
 
My Life as a Southern Planter, 69 
 
 dulgence in much immorality and corruption. I could tell 
 a number of stories in illustration, and any old Southern 
 planter who may read this could add more. It is sup- 
 posed it was a common thing to separate colored husbands 
 and wives. My experience was, that it was difi&cult to 
 keep them together. Conjugal fidelity was rather un- 
 common. I had a man named Peter ; he was very tall, 
 and was called long Peter ; he was married to a very re- 
 spectable woman, and they had a large family of children. 
 One day long Peter came to me, and said he wished to 
 take another wife. 
 
 * ' Well, ' ' I said, ' ' Peter, the trouble is, you cannot do 
 it. A man in this country can only have one wife. ' ' 
 
 * ' Oh, yes, Mossa, but I want to leave this one, and get 
 a young gal. She is too old for me." 
 
 " You rascal," I said, '* and what does your wife say to 
 this?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, she does not wish me to leave her. ' ' 
 
 '* And you shall not," I said. 
 
 So calling both together, I told her all that had passed. 
 
 *' I am not going to punish you," I added, " but I mean 
 to make Peter live with you. ' ' 
 
 I then directed the overseer to fix up comfortable 
 quarters in the barn and every night to see that the man 
 and wife had food, water, and a bed, and to put them in 
 the barn, and lock them up together. 
 
 This lasted about a fortnight, when Peter said, " Dat 
 will do, Mossa. I see you is 'termined, and I will live 
 with Klsey — let us out." 
 
 I did so, and the fellow did live with his family as long 
 as I owned them, but as to his fidelity, I cannot vouch. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 E^ND OF MY PI^ANTATION lylFK 
 
 The institution of slavery — Its missionary results — An in- 
 herited responsibility — The good side of the African — 
 Emancipation — I begin to feel that I had missed my voca- 
 tion — / determ,ine to enter the ministry — My friends en- 
 courage me — A time of study — The episcopal examination 
 — The end of plantation life for m,e — A painful ordeal. 
 
 THIS seems to me a good place to record my views as 
 to the institution of slavery. I could not help it 
 that I was a slave-holder. I was born to it, and inherited 
 it. It had come to my ancestors from the English, and 
 afterwards from the cupidity of residents in the Eastern 
 States. I do not believe there is anywhere on record, 
 that the slave trade was carried on by Southern people. 
 I do not say this by way of reproach ; as I have said be- 
 fore, those who brought and those who bought them lived 
 up to the light of their day, and God, who oversees the 
 wickedness of man, made it the greatest missionary work 
 ever done by man. Not five hundred thousand naked 
 African savages were brought over to America before the 
 trade was stopped, and had they remained in Africa, if thej^ 
 had not been eaten by the king of Dahomey, their de- 
 scendants would be naked African savages still. Whereas 
 the descendants of those five hundred thousand number 
 
 70 
 
End of My Plantation Life. 7 1 
 
 eight millions at the present day, of whom two thirds are 
 professing Christians. It is all bosh when the negroes of 
 the South are classed among the heathen. Their religion 
 may not be of a high and cultured type, their morals may 
 be below our standard, but considering the advantages, 
 influences, and restraints of each race, the morals of the 
 blacks are not one whit lower than the morals of the 
 whites, relatively speaking. And among these people I 
 have met with some noble traits. I have known some 
 true Christians. I have sat at the feet of an old black 
 Mamma, and have taught her the words of the Apostle's 
 Creed, and learned from her receptive faith, how to be- 
 lieve it myself. I love the African race, and think they 
 are the most wonderful people (taking all their history) 
 of the present day, and yet, I believe they are an inferior 
 type of men, and the mass of them will be hewers of wood 
 and drawers of water till the end of time — at the least, to 
 the end of many generations. Do for them as we will, a 
 black man will never be a white one. I think I was born 
 opposed to slavery. I do not remember the time when I 
 did not hate it. Yet what could I do to abolish it ? 
 When I came of age, and inherited those that had been 
 left me, when I bought my sisters' slaves, and brought 
 them all back to the old plantation, what could I do but 
 keep them ? I could not free them, if I had wished to, 
 and I was not such a philanthropist as to be willing to 
 make myself a pauper by emancipating ; the law for- 
 bade that. If I had so desired, I could not have taken 
 them to many of the Western or Northern States, for the 
 law prohibited that, but if I could have taken them to 
 some free State, how would they have been supported ? 
 To have transported a large number of men, women, and 
 children without a dollar into a strange land, would have 
 been worse than barbarism. Much has been written on 
 the subject, and much can be written. In sections of the 
 
72 Led On ! 
 
 South, it was truly a patriarchal system. In some families 
 an institution almost sacred. But when one generalizes, 
 he fails to describe things as they are. In some sections, 
 and in some families, the institution was anything but 
 patriarchal. There were many things in it possibly that 
 were lovely, and there were many things hateful. The 
 dependence of these people on their masters and mistresses, 
 their love and care for our children, their tender faithful- 
 ness to us in sickness, what old Southern slave-holder can 
 forget all this ? Where, but on a Southern plantation, 
 could a family go to bed, night after night, year in and 
 year out, surrounded by hundreds of African slaves, your 
 own, and those of your immediate neighbors, with the 
 sideboard and the drawers unlocked, all loaded with old 
 family silver, and all the doors and windows of the house 
 left open, and never a fork or a spoon to be taken ? What 
 could have been, what is there in the records of history 
 more sublime than the fact when in the four years of civil 
 war, when the South was invaded by army after army, not 
 only of Americans but of hordes of foreigners, and our 
 slaves were sent from the coast country into the interior, 
 with our wives and children, while all able and respectable 
 white men were in the army, these slaves not only pro- 
 tected these women and children, but regularly worked 
 for them, while they knew their slavery was at the real 
 bottom of the strife ? Yet in all those bloody, awful years 
 from '6i to '65, through all the South there is no record of 
 a single murder committed by a negro on a white person, 
 or a single outrage or indignity offered to any woman. I 
 say it is a proof of the manly nobilit}^ of the negro, for 
 which the Anglo-Saxon race should be grateful, as it re- 
 dounds to the credit of the masters of the South, as evi- 
 dencing the feelings with which their treatment in general 
 had inspired the slaves. It was a joyous sight in olden 
 times to see in nearly all our plantation families, all the 
 
End of My Plantation Life. 73 
 
 house servants come in to morning and evening family 
 prayer, and to go to their church meetings and hear them 
 sing. When the war broke out, there were within five as 
 many negro communicants in the Episcopal Church in 
 South Carolina as there were white, and the Methodists 
 and Baptists counted them by the thousands. 
 
 It would extend this subject too long to tell all I know 
 and feel about it, yet I thank God the negroes are free. 
 I think their emancipation was cruel in the way it was 
 done — cruel to them and cruel to us. More unwise still 
 was the haste with which the ballot was put in their 
 hands ; but it is done, and I do not know a Southern man 
 who would restore slavery if he could. 
 
 Sometime in the winter of 1850, I was asked to deliver 
 an address to the Odd Fellows, for I had joined the order, 
 and accordingly I wrote and delivered the address, which 
 resulted in a request that I would deliver the 4th of July 
 oration. Up to the war, the 4th of July was a great day 
 with us, and someone always read the Declaration of In- 
 dependence, and an oration was given. I did my part, 
 and this led the constituency about the Sampit section, to 
 desire me to run for the I^egislature. I took it up, and 
 gave some dinners to the masses, and made some speeches, 
 but it was not to my taste and I declined to enter into 
 politics, or rather to accept any office. 
 
 I made a very good crop of rice in 1850, and also in 
 1 85 1, and do not recall anything of very great importance, 
 except that I found that I was growing very tired of the 
 plantation life. The novelty had worn off. The necessary 
 routine of managing, controlling, punishing, etc., of the 
 slaves soon became very irksome. I tried to be, and I 
 know I was, a conscientious, careful. Christian master, 
 and I know my people were as well cared for, and had as 
 many comforts and privileges as any laboring people in 
 the world. They were a light-hearted, happy gang ; still 
 
74 Led On ! 
 
 they had to be governed, and made to obey, and I was 
 very tired of it. 
 
 I remember I was riding one day through the woods, 
 going from my lower to my upper plantation, about three 
 miles, to see how the hands were getting on with their 
 work. I was alone, and thoughtful, when suddenly stop- 
 ping my horse, I turned his head towards the woods, and 
 when I was hidden from the possible sight of any passer- 
 by, I sat on the horse, and offered an earnest prayer that 
 God would lead me to a life more useful, and more satis- 
 fying to my nature, than the control and discipline of 
 negroes. I had then no thought of seeking the ministry. 
 That had all passed away from my mind, if not from my 
 heart. I was not conscious of a wish for it, or a thought 
 about it, but I have looked back since, and that ride 
 through the woods, that prayer on horseback, has seemed 
 to me the beginning of the end of my planter's life. 
 
 This was sometime in the month of February ; planting 
 began in March, and I was very busy. Sometime in the 
 month of April, 1851, my aunt, Mrs. Mary Ford, came to 
 pay us a visit. We had returned from church, and after 
 finishing our usual service with the plantation hands, we 
 took dinner, and sat around the fire, for it happened to be 
 cold weather. The conversation turned upon the inci- 
 dents of my father's life. My aunt was devoted to him, 
 and mother and she had a great deal to tell me of his 
 words and ways. I had often heard many of the inci- 
 dents before, and was well acquainted with his character- 
 istics, but this night all that was said sank into r^y mind 
 with increased power, and took possession of me. What 
 a blessing to children to have parents they can revere ! 
 
 It was after eleven o'clock at night before we retired. I 
 went to my chamber, read my Bible, said my prayers, and 
 undressed. I had stooped down to take off my socks, 
 when there passed over me an overwhelming sense of 
 
End of My Plantation Life, 75 
 
 misery. I raised myself up, and looking steadily into the 
 fire, I said aloud, '* I am very unhappy. Well," I con- 
 tinued, ' ' and why am I so unhappy ? " I had everything 
 that a reasonable man could wish ; my fortune in these 
 days would be considered as poverty, but in those days I 
 was as well off as the most of my neighbors. There were a 
 few young men with more property, but many with not 
 so much. My life record, from the time of my youth, 
 could stand the blaze of the fiercest light turned on it. I 
 had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. My 
 social position was of course assured. I knew I was 
 esteemed among men. I was in the vestry of the church, 
 was a delegate at twenty-one to the Diocesan Convention 
 from my parish, my health was tolerably good, though 
 not robust. I had a well-furnished house, a good library, 
 was a steady reader. Had my servants, horses, guns, and 
 dogs ; could come and go as I pleased, and yet, after sur- 
 veying the situation and conditions, I said, '* Still, I am 
 very unhappy, and why is it so ? " 
 
 I was seated on a chair in front of the fire, and had 
 drawn my right foot up on to the chair with my finger in 
 the top of my sock, half pulled off, and there I sat, and 
 pondered. 
 
 Gradually the thought entered my mind that I was un- 
 happy, because I was not fulfilling my destiny. " And 
 what is that ? " It soon took definite form in the thought 
 that I had purposed, when a boy of fourteen, to study for 
 the ministry, and I had given it up and had driven it from 
 me. 
 
 ' ' Pshaw, ' ' I said, * ' it is too late, that cannot now 
 be ! " and I drew off my sock, and with impatience threw 
 it across the room. 
 
 I put the light out, and jumped into bed, and tried to 
 drown thought in sleep ; but it was of no avail. Sleep 
 had fled. My broken purpose seemed to stand like a 
 
76 Led On / 
 
 phantom before me, and I could not drive it away. I 
 then began to reason with myself. I had left school, had 
 gone to business, had left it for the planter's life, had been 
 at it a little over two years. 
 
 Was I not volatile, unstable, restless, would I not create 
 this impression upon all that knew me ? Then I answered 
 myself, ' ' What has brought this broken purpose back to 
 me ? Why does it stay there ? Is it the Spirit of God 
 calling me back ? If it is the Spirit, what matters what 
 anyone thinks of me ? ' ' 
 
 Then I thought, "It is impossible. I have given up 
 systematic study for nearly six years, have almost forgot- 
 ten my I^atin and Greek, have read a great deal, but have 
 not studied." 
 
 Then I answered myself, ** I had a good grounding, I 
 did not have a dull mind, I had a strong will, and if I de- 
 termined to study, what was to hinder me from studying 
 and learning what any other man could learn ? ' ' And 
 again I asked myself, '' Is this the Spirit of God calling 
 me ? if so, shall I hesitate to accept the call, because of the 
 labor of study ? ' ' 
 
 Thus objections melted away, for I was fond of books, 
 and study with an object would soon become a pleasure. 
 
 Then came the financial question. What of my debt to 
 my sisters ? My business training soon arranged how 
 that could be settled. Then last came the question of the 
 disposition of my property. I knew I could not be a rice 
 planter and a clergyman in active life at the same time, 
 and to sell my hereditary estates, my plantations and 
 negroes that had been in my family so long ! No, I could 
 not do it, and I turned over in bed dismissing the subject. 
 But it was no use. I tumbled and tossed all night, battling 
 with myself, and with this conviction, that the reason I 
 was unhappy was, that I was not fulfilling my destiny, 
 until at last I gave way and made a full surrender of myself. 
 
End of My Plantation Life. yy 
 
 Jumping out of bed, I knelt down at the bedside, and 
 said, " lyord, if Thou dost wish me, here am I. I give 
 myself to the ministry of Thy Word. Thou must lead 
 me and make the way by which it can be done. I give 
 myself to Thee, my God, through Jesus Christ, Thy Son." 
 
 Just then a large clock in another room struck four. I 
 immediately crossed the hall to my mother's room and 
 told her of my resolve. Wakened out of sleep to receive 
 such information, she at once began going over the diffi- 
 culties which I had already solved. I listened, and then 
 told her I had gone over all of them, but that I believed 
 that I was called of God, and I dared not, nor did I wish 
 to refuse the call. She prayed that God would guide and 
 bless me, and then I went back to bed and to sleep. 
 
 My aunt, when she heard of it at the breakfast table 
 next morning, said she was not surprised, and no one 
 would be surprised, for it seemed the most natural thing, 
 and if I did not make a good minister, she did not know 
 what young man could. 
 
 This was encouraging as the first echo from the outside 
 world. 
 
 After attending to the affairs of the plantation, I rode 
 down to Georgetown and called on the rector. Rev. Robt. 
 T. Howard. He greeted me warmly, and said he had 
 been expecting to hear this for some time, and then gave 
 directions what I was to do. He and I both wrote that 
 morning to Bishop Gadsden, who in time replied, inform- 
 ing me that as soon as I felt equal to standing an exami- 
 nation in Latin and Greek, and other studies required by 
 Canon, he would appoint examiners. Soon after leaving 
 Mr. Howard, I met Mr. Benj. H. Wilson in the street. 
 He was not a religious man, but had always been friendly 
 with me. I told him what was going on. He took my 
 hand and gave me a friendly grasp, saying, '' I am quite 
 prepared for this. Your friends have all said you would 
 
78 Led On I 
 
 sooner or later enter the ministry, and I am glad it has 
 come so soon." 
 
 Here my first diificulty was completely answered. If 
 my friends had gathered from my life any such impres- 
 sion, it had not been from any intimation I had given, for 
 I had not one thought of it myself I had put it away 
 from me when I was fifteen, and I was now twenty-three 
 years old. 
 
 I of course immediately began an earnest and systematic 
 course of study. And when I felt that I could pass an 
 examination, I informed the bishop, who appointed Rev. 
 M. H. I^ance and Rev. Robt. T. Howard to be my ex- 
 aminers. 
 
 They were not very rigid, and I was recommended by 
 them to the Standing Committee with the bishop's ap- 
 proval, and was received as a candidate for priest's orders. 
 The next point was the financial, and proper arrangements 
 were made respecting my debt to my sisters. Then came 
 the last, the disposition of my property. The crop was all 
 planted, and the final disposition was not to take place till 
 after harvest. In the meanwhile I called all my slaves 
 up and told them how I felt called of God to go and preach 
 the Gospel, that when I was ordained, I could not tell 
 where I would be sent, and that I certainly would leave 
 the plantation. I told them that they had now two years 
 under a master, against twenty years under overseers ; 
 they knew the difference. If they preferred it, that I 
 would continue to own them, but they would not have my 
 protecting eye. If they would take my advice, they 
 would let me select for them a master ; that I would 
 promise them to choose some gentleman whom I believed 
 to be a Christian, and if I could not find an owner to suit 
 my views, I would not sell them. 
 
 Their first impulse was to refuse to be sold, and with 
 the emotional nature of negroes, they set up a wail and 
 
End of My Plantation Life. 79 
 
 howling which was very distressing. I anticipated this, 
 but it quite upset me. I told them that I would give 
 them a week or a fortnight to decide. I took the most in- 
 telligent of them aside, and gave them my views in full, 
 and advised them to counsel the people to choose a master. 
 In the given time they were all called together again, and 
 it was a pathetic scene. Master and slaves were in tears, 
 they made protestations of love and desire to die in my 
 hands ; still they felt that I had advised them of their 
 good, and they would trust me to select a good master for 
 them. My heart was very full when the decision was 
 made, but negotiations were entered into with different 
 parties for the land, which was finally sold to Mr. lyance 
 to be delivered January i, 1852, while I undertook the 
 more difficult part of finding an owner for the slaves, I 
 sent a certified list of all of them with the doctor's 
 certificate as to their physical condition to Mr. Philip 
 Porcher of Charleston, the most respectable broker who 
 attended to such matters, asking for the valuation of 
 them, and in due time received his appraisement. I 
 settled on Dr. Allard H. Flagg, of Waccamaw, as the best 
 man I knew, and deducted sixteen thousand five hundred 
 dollars from their appraised value, in order that they 
 might all be sold to one man with no separation. This 
 was effected in October, 1851, and the slaves were to be 
 delivered early in December, after the crop was disposed 
 of. The summer passed and the time came. 
 
 Mother had gone to live in Charleston. I disposed of 
 the household furniture that we did not need, and made 
 ready for removing the slaves. I chartered a steamer to 
 come to the wharf at the barnyard, and the pilgrimage 
 began. God knows what it cost me ; my distress was 
 greater far than those people felt. I closed up my house, 
 and went to the negro settlement, and moved the proces- 
 sion. All their household goods, their pigs and chickens, 
 
8o Led On / 
 
 their cows and calves were all put in motion, all marched 
 down to the steamer, I following on horseback. I saw 
 them all on board; then drawing them all up in line, I 
 shook hands with every one from the youngest to the 
 oldest, and left the boat, which soon steamed away. I 
 was left the only living creature on the plantation. 
 
 Though my father had been buried in Georgetown in 
 the churchyard, my grandfather, an aunt, and uncle had 
 according to an old custom been buried in a ground set 
 aside on the plantation, near his old residence. In the 
 summer I had a deep ditch dug all around and a high 
 bank thrown up. 
 
 When the steamer headed down the river, I mounted 
 my horse, and looking neither to the right, where my 
 grandfather was buried, nor to the left, where my residence 
 had been, I rode as straight as I could go to the road which 
 led to Georgetown, and turned my back on my old ances- 
 tral home. It is now forty-six years since that day, and 
 I have never had the nerve or resolution to visit it again. 
 The intense anguish of that occasion cannot be understood 
 by anyone who has not passed through the same ex- 
 perience. 
 
 And so closed forever the chapter of my Southern 
 planter's life. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A PI^ANTATION RKCTOR 
 
 / begin my theological studies — The Rev. Alex. Glennie — 
 The plantation rector — / become a lay reader — I success- 
 fully pass a canonical examination — In the Tneantime I 
 meet my fate on the trip to Geo7getown — jLove and mar- 
 riage — My missionary zeal is severely tested — My wedding 
 trip. 
 
 I TURNED my face and my attention now to the new 
 era of my life. Having made every arrangement 
 which enabled me to close my business as a rice planter, 
 I had to determine what was wisest and best to be done 
 next. My mother went to Charleston, to live with my 
 old aunt, old enough to have been bom the day that 
 Charleston was surrendered to the British. I had deter- 
 mined to go to New York, and enter the General Theo- 
 logical Seminary. My family doctor, and both of my 
 brothers-in-law, who were doctors, most strenuously ad- 
 vised against this. They represented that I was not 
 physically strong, and would not be able to stand the 
 winters of the North. They convinced me that my plan 
 in this particular was inexpedient. With the advice of 
 Bishop Gadsden, therefore, I applied to the Rev. Alex. 
 Glennie, of All Saints, Waccamaw, asking that I might 
 go to him, and study under him. Mr. Glennie gladly 
 
 8i 
 
82 Led On! 
 
 consented, so I went over to the parsonage of All Saints, 
 Waccamaw, early in the month of December, 1851. Rev. 
 A. Glennie was an Englishman, who had come over as 
 a tutor in Mr. Francis Weston's family, had taken orders 
 after some years, and had been elected rector of the 
 parish. His duty was to hold service at the parish church 
 on Sunday morning for the planters. The parish was 
 over twenty miles long, and some of the parishioners 
 lived on Sandy Island, and had to cross the Waccamaw 
 River to get to church, so it was impracticable to have 
 more than that one service. However, there were up- 
 wards of six thousand slaves in his parish, and his heart 
 went out to them, as to sheep without a shepherd. The 
 masters of the people gave him every encouragement, and 
 very many of them built very comfortable chapels on their 
 places. 
 
 He often went to some neighboring plantation, and held 
 service at nine o'clock, returned to the parish church at 
 eleven, dined on a cold dinner, and after officiating in the 
 afternoon in other plantations, would get back home be- 
 tween eleven and twelve on Sunday night. During the 
 week he daily visited two or three plantations, and all the 
 children at each would be assembled at the chapel, and he 
 would orallj'^ teach them the catechism, portions of the 
 church service, several of the selections of the Psalms, and 
 many hymns. Three, and sometimes four times a week 
 he held service at night, at the last plantation he reached 
 in the afternoon of his rounds. On these occasions the 
 plantation hands were taken from their tasks a couple of 
 hours before the usual time for stopping work, were sent 
 home for supper, and got themselves tidy for service. 
 Most of the masters, mistresses, and children attended 
 these services. On most of the plantations, the wife and 
 daughters of the owner of these slaves regularly taught 
 the children, not only on Sunday, but three or four times 
 
A Plantation Rector, 83 
 
 a week, carrying on Mr. Glennie's instruction. The re- 
 sult was a great many more communicants among the 
 slaves than among the owners. 
 
 It is true there were thousands of slaves, and only one 
 hundred and fifty whites. Yet though these people could 
 not read, they had learned the service so well, that the 
 responses were always full and hearty. Mr. Glennie was 
 a saintly man, guileless as a child. He was never excited, 
 and never depressed. 
 
 I think Mr. Glennie was the first parish priest in the 
 diocese of South Carolina who systematically ministered 
 to the slaves as part of his parish. He was eventually 
 elected Bishop of Africa, which appointment he wisely de- 
 clined, probably under the advice of a judicious wife. 
 
 As to myself and my studies, there was nothing to do 
 but study, and I did it faithfully. At that time the 
 diocese of South Carolina was very Calvinistic in its theol- 
 ogy. Fortunately, Mr. Glennie was neither Calvinistic 
 nor very low church in his views, and therefore I had free 
 scope to read the authors of either school. Kvery instinct 
 of my nature rebelled against the Calvinistic system, and 
 I never have been able to see how anyone could believe 
 understandingly the church catechism and be a low 
 churchman. 
 
 After I had been with Mr. Glennie some little while, 
 he asked me to help him in his mission work. With my 
 assistance, he began to hold four services on every Sunday 
 on four plantations, and the week-day catechising was 
 doubled.* 
 
 The question naturally arises, what was the eventual 
 
 * I still have the original entries in my note-book of services 
 held, and catechisings, and they number twenty-three of the 
 former and twenty-six of the latter each month for three years, 
 summer and winter. I did it all at my own expense. I kept my 
 own horse, paid my board, and did all that work, and never 
 received one penny for it. 
 
84 Led On! 
 
 outcome of all this labor ? Until 1862, Mr. Glennie con- 
 tinued his work, for after I had left in 1854, he got a 
 deacon to help him, and kept up what was being done 
 while I was there. In 1862 the war had begun, and 
 everything like order was broken up. The slaves were 
 removed into the interior and scattered. The river 
 planters were all ruined, many of the older men had to 
 give up their plantations, some of the younger men had 
 been killed, a comparatively few of the emancipated 
 negroes struggled back. The whites were unable to have 
 a minister for themselves, and so far as we know that 
 entire work perished. 
 
 How often had I seen handsome equipages, four-in- 
 hand, driven to that parish church, which after the war, 
 for many years remained closed. There were none to 
 minister at its altar, and few to attend, or to support a 
 clergyman. As for the poor negroes, their comfortable 
 homes were gone, and such as survived were mostly 
 wandering vagabonds. That dreadful war ! Its conse- 
 quences are seen on every side in this blighted Southland, 
 and are grievously felt even after thirty-two years have 
 passed. 
 
 In the month of June, 1852, I had covered so much 
 ground in my theological reading that I wrote to Bishop 
 Gadsden asking him to appoint a time and place for my 
 first examination. He directed me to report in Charleston 
 immediately. The examination was appointed by him to 
 be held at the house of Rev. Christian Hanckel, D.D., 
 Rector of Saint Paul's Church, Charleston. 
 
 On the day fixed, a somewhat formidable array of 
 clergymen took their seats round the room in which I was 
 to undergo my ordeal. I was fortunate enough to have 
 as chief examiner, the Rev. Paul Trapier, Rector of Saint 
 Michael's, whose equal as a catechist I never met. He 
 soon learned what books I had studied, and by his wise 
 
A Plantation Rector. 85 
 
 method of questioning, elicited replies from me which 
 surprised me as to my own knowledge. What at first 
 was a trial, and an anxiety, soon became a pleasure, and 
 the five or six hours passed quickly. When I was asked 
 to retire to the next room, to await their decision, I left 
 the room with the feeling that I had passed satisfactorily. 
 In a little while I was recalled, and informed by Doctor 
 Hanckel that my examination was a gratification to the 
 examiners. Nearly all of them were my strong personal 
 friends, and were deeply interested in my success. 
 
 I afterwards learned that they had put me, not only 
 through the canonical subjects required in the first ex- 
 amination, but also well into those of the second. Rev. Dr. 
 Hanckel, Rev. Paul Trapier, and Rev. P. T. Keith had 
 no Calvinistic tendencies, and were rather pleased that 
 the young candidate was very decidedly pronounced in 
 his views on that subject. 
 
 On the morning after the examination I went down to 
 the steamer to return to my work and studies at Mr. 
 Glennie's house. The steamboat was to stop at George- 
 town. Little did I imagine that morning that I was on 
 the eve of perhaps the most important event in my life. 
 
 The day was bright, the sea was calm, a gentle breeze 
 cooled the atmosphere, and a few passengers took their 
 seat on the promenade deck under the awning. There 
 was one young lady seated there, whom I thought I knew. 
 She was dressed with exquisite taste, and wore the 
 daintiest white sun-bonnet, so that one saw as through a 
 vista, and half-hid, in the distance, her lovely Grecian 
 face. I recognized Miss Atkinson, and immediately ap- 
 proached, and took my seat beside her. When we were 
 children we had often played together on North Island, 
 had waded in the surf on the beach, and romped over the 
 sand-hills. Her father was a rice planter on Winyah Bay. 
 She had gone, while quite young, to her uncle, Mr. Stead- 
 
86 Led On ! 
 
 man, afterwards Admiral Steadman, of the United States 
 Navy, to be educated in Philadelphia, and from that time 
 we had very seldom met. The trip from Charleston to 
 Georgetown was some eight or nine hours, and we sat 
 together and talked the whole way. She left the steamer 
 at Georgetown, but I continued my voyage to Waccamaw. 
 A day or two after my return to Waccamaw I went over 
 to Georgetown, to see my sister, who was then living 
 there. That was my pretext for the journey, but the real 
 truth was that a certain white bonnet, lovely face, gentle, 
 modest, retiring manner, kept mixing themselves up very 
 much with my studies. I had accordingly told Mr. 
 Glennie I would have to let my little darkey friends off 
 from a catechism or two, for see my sister I must. 
 
 While I stayed at Georgetown, I found myself inclined 
 to see much more of Miss Atkinson than of my sister. 
 July and August passed, and September began, and de- 
 cided indications were given that my feelings were be- 
 coming serious. So, on the 27th of September, 1852, I 
 asked Miss Atkinson to take a stroll with me in the cool 
 of the afternoon and there and then, on asking her to be 
 my wife, I found that I had won her love and confidence. 
 There was no reason why our engagement should be a 
 long one, the i6th of December, therefore, the anniversary 
 of my father's wedding-day, was fixed as the time for our 
 marriage. 
 
 This settled, I returned to my studies and work on the 
 Waccamaw, with periodical visits to Georgetown, but not 
 to see my sister. The dreaded yellow fever had raged in 
 Charleston during the summer, but late in October it was 
 pronounced safe for strangers to enter that city, and Miss 
 Atkinson and her young brother Charles went there — she 
 to make preparations for the approaching event. 
 
 Ten days after they had arrived in the city, I received 
 a letter from the mother of my fiancee, saying that both 
 
A Plantation Rector. 87 
 
 her daughter and son had been stricken down with the 
 yellow fever. Fortunately the steamer was then in the 
 Waccamaw River on her way to Charleston, and of course 
 I took passage for the city, which I reached to find both 
 patients suffering from a mild type of the disease, from 
 which they soon recovered. 
 
 On the i6th of December, 1852, Wednesday, at i p.m., 
 we were married at the church. Prince George Winy ah 
 (where both of us had been baptized and confirmed), by 
 the Rev. Robt. T. Howard, the rector. Immediately 
 after the ceremony, we took the steamer and went over 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Glennie to the parsonage at Wacca- 
 maw. 
 
 My missionary zeal was soon put to a somewhat severe 
 test, for three days after our marriage I was summoned 
 to catechise the negro children and hold service at Mr. 
 Joshua W. La Bruce' s place on Sandy Island. I did not 
 feel very much inclined to begin work so soon again, but 
 Mrs. Glennie, who would never hear of Mr. Glennie 
 breaking an engagement, insisted I ought to go. In a 
 private consultation which my wife and myself had held, 
 we entirely disagreed with our good hostess ; but when 
 the boat came over for me from Mr. I^a Bruce, I was in- 
 duced at the call of duty to leave my three days' bride. 
 It was a raw, damp December day, and I took a very bad 
 cold, and on the 26th of December, just ten days after my 
 marriage, was a very sick man, and remained so nearly 
 all the winter. But I have never regretted this act of 
 somewhat Quixotic zeal. 
 
 When the summer of 1853 came I determined to take 
 my wife on a wedding trip, and we left for Charleston. 
 Under a change of air and diet my health began to im- 
 prove at once, and we started off for the mountains. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 BRIGHTI^R PROSPECTS IN MY WORK 
 
 The Episcopal fund of South Carolina — A recalcitrant 
 Standing Committee causes me to store my carpets — / am 
 appointed as lay reader to a struggling mission — A beg- 
 garly upper room — Meanwhile I am made a happy fathe? 
 — Brighter prospects for the Church of the Holy Com- 
 munion — The angel of my lifers work — Incident in m,y 
 parochial success. 
 
 IN tlie month of October, 1853, ^^v. T. F. Davis was 
 consecrated Bishop of the Diocese of South Carolina, 
 and was at the same time rector of Grace Church, Cam- 
 den. Up to this date, the diocese of South Carolina had 
 never paid its bishop one dollar's salary. What money 
 the diocese paid had always been given to the assistant 
 of the church of which the bishop was rector. Some forty 
 years before the episcopate of Bishop Davis, General 
 Huger had begun an Episcopal fund whose accumulations 
 had passed through many vicissitudes. At last, by the 
 efforts of Mr. J. F. Blacklock, enough had been raised to 
 pay the bishop four thousand dollars a year and release 
 him from the onerous duties of a parochial cure.* Bishop 
 Davis did not know at the time of his consecration what 
 
 * T wrote a full history of this fund, and published it in The 
 DiocesCy our Church paper, in 1895. 
 
 88 
 
Brighter Prospects in My Work. 89 
 
 the condition of the fund was. He expected to continue 
 as rector, and wrote to me at Waccamaw early in Decem- 
 ber to come to him in Camden with a view to becoming 
 his assistant. To Camden accordingly I went. He pre- 
 sented me to the vestry, and at his request, I was elected 
 to be his assistant, the appointment to take effect as soon 
 as I was ordained. ' ' And that, ' ' the bishop said, * * would 
 be in January." I could not canonically be ordained un- 
 til Ma}^, 1854, as I was to be under the bishop's immediate 
 supervision; he thought there would be no difficulty in 
 ordaining me some months in advance of that date. So 
 certain were we that the Standing Committee would make 
 no objection, that I measured all the floors of the parson- 
 age, and on my return to Charleston, bought all the 
 carpets. 
 
 The application for permission to ordain me in January 
 was sent to the Committee, but an application from Mr. 
 R. W. Barnwell, another candidate for orders, for a dis- 
 pensation of several months, had unluckily come before 
 the Committee at the same time. The Standing Com- 
 mittee felt themselves in a quandary, and refused both 
 applications. Bishop Davis was very much hurt. It 
 was, however, explained to him that there were reasons 
 well known to him why it was inexpedient to further Mr. 
 Barnwell's views, and they could not grant one dispensa- 
 tion while refusing the other. 
 
 The bishop took the ground that the cases were not 
 parallel ; that while it was unwise to place so young a 
 man as Barnwell in sole charge of a large city parish, such 
 as Saint Peter's Church, Charleston, to which he had been 
 elected, I was much his senior, and was to be with, and 
 under, the bishop of my diocese. The bishop then in- 
 formed the Standing Committee that it was the first, and 
 it would be the last request he would ever make of them, 
 and it was. He never again made a similar application 
 
90 Led On / 
 
 to them. I can testify that so long as I was a member of 
 the Standing Committee, and up to the bishop's death, 
 there never came a communication from him to that Com- 
 mittee. From my own personal standpoint, I can trace 
 the hand of Providence in this incident. Had the Stand- 
 ing Committee granted that dispensation, I should have 
 been ordained deacon in January, 1854, would have gone 
 to Camden, and possibly have remained there. The 
 whole current of my life would have been changed. Yes, 
 and the destiny of many thousands would have been 
 changed. This is a bold assertion, but if any reader fol- 
 lows on as this biography is unfolded, he will see that the 
 assertion is not too strong, nor too bold. 
 
 I had the carpets stored away, wrote to the vestry of 
 Grace Church, Camden, declining their call, and returned 
 to Waccamaw. 
 
 Just before Christmas I received a letter from Rev. E. 
 A. Wagner, saying he had resigned his position as rector 
 of the Church of the Holy Communion, Charleston, 
 and had named me to the vestry. I replied that I would 
 not be ordained until May, and could not consider his 
 suggestion. However, within a week I received an invi- 
 tation from the vestry of the church to take charge as lay 
 reader until my ordination, when they would elect me 
 their minister. Accompanying the vestry's invitation, 
 was a letter for me from Bishop Davis, saying that the 
 work at Charleston was an important one, that he wished 
 no break in its continuity, that as the people could pay 
 me very little salary, and I had a private income sufficient 
 to support myself while building the church, and gather- 
 ing a congregation, he earnestly desired me to take the 
 work for which he had no clergyman whom he could 
 recommend. Regarding the bishop's desire as nothing 
 less than a command, I took my wife to her mother to 
 Georgetown, on the 2d of January, 1854, and going my- 
 
Brighter Prospects in My Work. 91 
 
 self to Charleston, sought out the chairman of the vestry, 
 Doctor Phillips, whom I questioned about the parish of the 
 Holy Communion. He let me know that there was no 
 parish in reality and no church. 
 
 The so-called parish of the Holy Communion, as I 
 learned, had originated in the following way: Bishop 
 Bowen lived in the upper wards of the city, and desiring 
 a chapel of ease, had, before he died, held a few services 
 in his own house in Ashley Street. To take up this work, 
 Bishop Gadsden had called a meeting on November 7, 
 1848, and organized a parish with wardens and vestry. 
 One clergyman after another had been trying their hands 
 at building it up, and in six years they had gotten so far 
 as to buy a lot, for which they had paid three thousand 
 dollars, and to lay the foundations of a small cruciform 
 gothic edifice of forty-five pew capacity. Things were 
 now at a standstill. After telling me this, Doctor Phillips 
 took me to see the building in which the little congrega- 
 tion were worshipping. It stood on the grounds of the 
 United States Arsenal. Major Hagner, the commandant 
 at the arsenal, was an Episcopalian, and had loaned an 
 unoccupied storeroom to the congregation. We climbed 
 up a rough pair of stairs, mostly a ladder, and found our- 
 selves in this desolate room, a place about seventy-five by 
 thirty-five feet. It was neither ceiled nor plastered, there 
 were no sashes in the windows, no carpet, and no stove. 
 A little rail divided off the sanctuary at one end, a curtain 
 hung over the place for a melodeon, and on one side was 
 a small font. Bare benches filled the rest of the forlorn- 
 looking place. 
 
 I asked Doctor Phillips if this was the result of six 
 years ? The warden answered very hopefully. He was 
 quite sanguine, and did not seem to think the work 
 offered me was unpromising to a young man. I took care 
 not to let him know my opinion about it. I promised to 
 
92 Led On I 
 
 look over the neighborhood, and advertise service for the 
 following Sunday. 
 
 The four following days I went over the ground, and 
 found that from Boundary Street, as Calhoun was then 
 called, to the limits of the Neck, as it was termed, from 
 King Street to the Ashley River, there was no place of 
 worship of any description, except Saint Paul's Church, 
 and the congregation there was principally a congregation 
 of planters' families, who came to the city in summer. At 
 the same time there was evidently a good mission field, so 
 I determined to give it a trial. 
 
 Sunday came, a raw, drizzly, gloomy day. I went up 
 to the arsenal and climbed up the stairs. I found the 
 room was nearly empty. The congregation in fact con- 
 sisted of Doctor Phillips, one or two other adults, and a 
 child, Jane Waring. I waited some ten minutes beyond 
 the hour advertised for service, and by that time just 
 eight persons were on the benches. After service, I went 
 to my old aunt's, where my mother was, feeling very blue. 
 And indeed all the ladies protested against my taking the 
 position, one of my aunts being very emphatic, and say- 
 ing I would be a fool to waste my young life on a broken- 
 down enterprise that had not the faintest prospect of 
 success. That Sunday afternoon, however, it cleared off, 
 and to my surprise I found some twenty-two persons in 
 my new mission chapel. The congregation of the morn- 
 ing had acted as missionaries, giving glowing accounts of 
 the new lay reader, and these curious people had doubtless 
 come to see what sort of a 3^oung man he was. I was in- 
 troduced to my flock, only one of them, a relative named 
 H. Laurens Toomer, a member of the vestry, being known 
 to me. After the service was over I took a decisive step. 
 Calling Doctor Phillips apart, I said to him, * ' I left my 
 wife at Georgetown in ill health. I am starting to-morrow 
 for that city, but will be back on Friday. I can under- 
 
Brighter Prospects in My Work, 93 
 
 take the work in this place on the following conditions. 
 If I see all these windows on my return filled with sashes, 
 a good stove set up, a carpet up the middle of this room, 
 and a door shutting ofi" the draught from the stairs, I will 
 put a notice in Saturday's paper, announcing this improve- 
 ment and advertising divine service. If these improve- 
 ments are not made, I shall put a notice in the paper to 
 the cfiect that I will officiate here no longer ; for I could 
 not ask people to come to a place where they would catch 
 pneumonia. ' ' 
 
 I almost took the old Doctor's breath away. 
 
 " Why," he said, " we have been here six years and 
 we have not had any of these things. ' ' 
 
 * * Yes, ' ' I replied, ' ' and after six years where are you 
 now ? Now, if you are in earnest about this mission, I 
 will be in earnest, too. I will do all I can to make it a 
 success, but you will have to show me that you mean 
 business. Among the members of your vestry there is 
 quite means enough to furnish all I ask. Do as I sug- 
 gest, and we will go ahead ; I will accept your invitation. 
 Refuse to do it, and I need not come back again." 
 
 * * Very well, ' ' he said, ' * I think I can guarantee you 
 all that you demand." 
 
 I left for Georgetown on Monday, the 9th, and on 
 arriving at the wharf, I noticed that I was the subject of 
 observation, and as soon as I got ashore, several parties 
 came up and congratulated me upon being the father of 
 a fine boy. The mother, they said, was doing well. On 
 reaching the house, I found that at the very hour that I 
 was holding in the upper room of the arsenal the first 
 service of what was to become the influential parish of 
 the Church of the Holy Communion, my first-born son 
 had come into the world — a son to whom God, in His own 
 Divine Will, committed a special function, namely, that 
 of inspiring a work which has blessed thousands, and is 
 
94 Led On / 
 
 still going on. This work, in all human probability, 
 would not have been attempted by me if that son had not 
 lived, and had not, by his death, awoke in me a passionate 
 longing to help the children of others. 
 
 Amid the great rejoicing in the house that day, January 
 8, 1854, the little stranger was to be given to God, who 
 had sent him to gladden our hearts. The following Fri- 
 day I returned to Charleston, and going immediately to 
 the arsenal, found workmen busy there. A stove had 
 been set up. The sashes were nearly all in, the ceiling 
 was going on, and a strip of carpet stood in a roll ready to 
 be laid down. The carpenters promised to finish the 
 work by Saturday night. I accordingly repaired to the 
 newspaper office, and wrote an advertisement, saying that 
 the room had been made comfortable, and inviting all who 
 were interested in the mission to attend the next Sunday, 
 as regular services might be expected hereafter. 
 
 On Sunday morning, the congregation had swelled to 
 over fifty, and in the afternoon to seventy-five. Of course 
 I was very much encouraged, for I realized that if so many 
 came to a service conducted by a lay reader, there was 
 certainly need for the mission. The following Sunday, 
 the 22d, I gave notice that I would at once organize a 
 Sunday-school for white children in the morning, and for 
 colored children in the afternoon. I requested that all 
 who had children to send would remain after service with 
 such of the congregation as would help as teachers. Quite 
 a moderate-sized class was quickly formed, and during the 
 week I began a house-to-house visitation. I commenced 
 at Boundary Street, visiting as many houses as I could, 
 and gathering a good number of children's names. I 
 notified several who had volunteered to be teachers, and 
 we opened with a Sunday-school for the whites. It took 
 a few weeks to let the negroes know that there would be 
 a Sunday-school for them, but when we were well under 
 
Brighter Prospects in My Work, 95 
 
 way, we had a large gathering of negro children. The 
 teachers of the white school all enlisted for the colored, 
 and I had to call in more. We had started so well, that an 
 enthusiasm was created, and the room soon filled up pretty- 
 well. I went into every hovel in all that section of the 
 town, and found among many whites a dense ignorance, 
 scarcely conceivable. Many nights did I spend going 
 from one lowly habitation to another, and with a light- 
 wood torch in one hand and a Bible in the other, read to 
 them the Word of God, sung a hymn, and prayed, and so 
 induced a number to come to service who had not been 
 to church for years. My congregation was largely com- 
 posed of very poor people, with here and there a family 
 of a higher class. Among the friends of some of my vestry 
 was a Presbyterian and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. B. He 
 heard a good deal said about the rapid strides the mission 
 was making, and living in the neighborhood, he once 
 dropped in to service with his wife. They came once and 
 again ; he became interested in the work, and his wife 
 being a great musician, and he having a fine voice, they 
 offered to take charge of the music for me. A melodeon 
 was purchased, and a choir formed. They attached them- 
 selves to the parish, and being not much older than myself, 
 we became fast friends. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A HARD APPRE^NTICKSHIP 
 
 I take permanent abode with my family in Charleston — Am 
 ordained deacon and preach my first sermon — / begin to 
 think of building a church — My appeal for help offends 
 some conservatives — The liberality of others — The ' * amende 
 honorable ''^ — Yellow fever ^ and m^y expeHence of it. 
 
 WB had our son baptized John Toomer on the 24th 
 of February, 1854, ^^^ being satisfied that the 
 work I was engaged in would be made successful, I 
 brought my family down to Charleston, and purchased a 
 house in Rutledge Street. On the i6th of May of the 
 same year I was ordained deacon by Bishop Davis. The 
 Rev. T. P. Keith, who had baptized me in Georgetown, 
 was my presenter. 
 
 I preached my first sermon as an ordained minister on 
 Sunday the 20th of May, and my text was from the Acts 
 of the Apostles, eighth chapter, fifth verse : " Then 
 Philip went down to the city of Samaria, and preached 
 Christ unto them. ' ' I still have the original manuscript. 
 The sermon was preached in the upper room at the arsenal. 
 I have never found any other theme than that which 
 Philip took in all these forty years, and I trust my dear 
 I/ord will tell me I preached Him faithfully. The build- 
 ing was very full, for of course I had many relatives and 
 
 96 
 
A Hard Apprenticeship, 97 
 
 friends who came to hear the new young minister. I was 
 in my twenty-sixth year. I was dreadfully scared at first, 
 but as I warmed up, I know I forgot myself, and remem- 
 bered that I was there to preach Christ, not myself, and at 
 the close of the service was much encouraged by the warm 
 greetings I had from many of my hearers. The comment 
 that lasted longest in my memory was an expression of 
 sympathy, '' He promises well, but how sad it is that so 
 delicate-looking a man should have gone into the min- 
 istry ! His life will be so short," and now I know of but 
 two persons except myself who were at that service and 
 still survive. So little do we know of the future ! 
 
 * Soon after this I asked the vestry to call a meeting, 
 to review what they had done, and find out what they 
 proposed to do, for I had no idea of staying permanently 
 in the upper room at the arsenal. Some eight hundred 
 dollars had been collected by me in Georgetown ; this I 
 held in reserve until I discovered the vestry's views. I 
 soon found out that they had already purchased for $3000 a 
 lot on Ashley Street, corner of Cannon, and had laid the 
 foundation of a small cruciform building, which was to have 
 narrow lancet windows, and to contain forty-five pews. I 
 thought the situation unfortunate, and so it proved, and 
 will prove until the city is built up far beyond its present 
 limits with substantial buildings. On seeing the plan, I told 
 them it seemed to me to be that of a pretty village chapel, 
 set in a surrounding of trees, but very much out of place at 
 the corner of a city thoroughfare ; that in this warm 
 
 * The entire salary paid by the congregation to the lay reader 
 and minister for the year had been I236. The Society for the Ad- 
 vancement of Christianity, seeing our progress, voted to the vestry 
 for salary I250. I had gone to them without the offer of a dollar, 
 and though I could live without their salary, as soon as we began 
 to get a congregation I told the vestry that it would be a better 
 parish if it learned at once to help itself. The total oflfering for 
 the first year was I423.70. 
 
98 Led On / 
 
 climate the congregation would be steamed, and besides, 
 I did not propose to devote my young days to the building 
 of a church that would always be a mission. I wanted a 
 church which in time would be self-supporting, and de- 
 clined to serve, if that plan was carried out. The vestry 
 were as much taken aback as when I requested that the 
 upper room should be made comfortable, but my business 
 training now came into use. I was firm, and would yield 
 to no arguments. The result was that the plan was 
 abandoned, and Messrs. Jones & I^ee employed to furnish 
 another. I was not in the vestry, and Messrs. Jones & 
 lyce's design was adopted without consulting me. When 
 I saw it, I told them that it was that of a respectable- 
 looking omnibus stable, but did not look much like a 
 church. However, I would build it, provided, when the 
 congregation could afford it, a church that was a church 
 should be built. I then brought out my Georgetown 
 subscription, and told them we must begin at once. This 
 was on the 2d of July, 1854. 
 
 On reviewing my work to date, I found that I had 
 collected from the 8th of January to the 2d of July, 
 three thousand six hundred and sixty-seven dollars ; 
 that the congregation now numbered seventy-nine whites, 
 and thirty-seven blacks ; that there were thirty-one white 
 children and thirty-five black in the two Sunday-schools; 
 that the church had twenty-one communicants.* 
 
 After visiting from house to house to get aid, I asked 
 the Rev. Mr. Keith, Rector of Saint Michael's, to let me 
 
 ♦ I remember the first day I went into Broad Street to ask for 
 aid to build a church, a gentleman whom I approached met me by 
 saying : 
 
 " The Church of the Holy Communion ? Why that is a chimera 
 floating in the brains of a few up-town people which will never be 
 realized ! " 
 
 " Well," I said, " chimera or not, I have ten thousand dollars 
 
A Hard Apprenticeship. 99 
 
 preach in behalf of the church. He consented, and I 
 preached, he announcing there would be no offering. My 
 text was Titus, third chapter, part of first verse, " Be 
 ready to every good work. ' ' I began by saying : 
 
 ** A beggar again. Methinks I hear this thought run- 
 ning through the minds of my hearers. But I wish to 
 say that I am no beggar. I am a minister of the Church 
 of which you are members. I believe what you believe, 
 and I am charitable enough to suppose that we are actu- 
 ated by similar motives. My duty is to show that the 
 work I present is a good work. Then your duty is to see 
 how ready you are according to your ability to help it. * ' 
 
 I then told of the work, its needs, what we had done, 
 its prospects, and then very practically showed how each 
 pew could help. 
 
 Concluding, I said that the rector had announced that 
 there would be no offering, and I did not wish one ; I 
 needed more than the small change usually put into the 
 alms basin, and requested any who were interested to 
 send their subscriptions to Messrs. R. & B, Mr. R. was 
 one of the vestry, Mr. B. was a vestryman of Saint Paul's. 
 Next day I went to the office of Messrs. R. & B. some- 
 what fearful, for when I got back to the vestryroom, Mr. 
 Keith did not say one word about the sermon, and under 
 Saint Michael's porch a large gathering were evidently 
 discussing the sermon. I touched my hat, and passed 
 on, no one saying a word. As I entered Mr. R.'s office, 
 the old gentleman threw up his spectacles on his head, 
 
 of my own, and if it becomes necessary I will put this sum into it, 
 and we will see if this chimera cannot be made a reality." 
 
 He looked at me steadily and asked : 
 
 " Are you in earnest ? and do you mean that ? " 
 
 ** I certainly do," I said. 
 
 *• Oh, well," he replied, "if that is the way you are going at it, 
 come to my office and take my subscription." 
 
 So I gathered the first money. 
 
lOO Led On ! 
 
 and said, " The very man I wish to see. Now I look 
 upon you as a son, and I wish you to go home and burn 
 that sermon." 
 
 Then he gave me such a talking to that only his preface 
 made me stand it. 
 
 *' You will not get a dollar," he said. ** I will not give 
 you one myself. ' ' 
 
 When I got a chance to get a word in myself, I said, 
 * * Mr. R. , was my sermon scriptural ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, yes, entirely so." 
 
 * * Was it clear ? did I make out my case ? * ' 
 
 ** Yes," he said, with animation ; " I did not think that 
 you could write such a sermon." 
 
 " Was it courteous ? " I asked ; ** for if it was not, I 
 should like to apologize. ' ' 
 
 " It was," he said, " perfectly so." 
 
 " Well, then," I said, " it was scriptural, it was clear, 
 and it was courteous ; why, then, should I burn it ? " 
 
 " Oh, but to think of a young man standing up, and 
 talking to Saint Michael's people, old Saint Michael's, in 
 that plain, practical way, telling them what they ought to 
 do, and then how to do it. Why, who ever heard of such 
 a thing ? If that is the way you are going to preach, you 
 will ruin yourself. You will not get a cent. Go home 
 and burn that sermon, burn it, so that you can never 
 preach it again." 
 
 " Well," I said, " I thought I had been ordained for 
 that very purpose, to tell people what they ought to do, 
 and how they could do it. I will not burn it, and bid you 
 good morning." 
 
 I was terribly sore. I strolled up Broad Street, and at 
 the door of the Bank of Charleston, I met the president, a 
 noble layman. 
 
 " Good morning, my young friend," he exclaimed, " I 
 am glad to see you. I congratulate you on that sermon 
 
A Hard Apprenticeship, loi 
 
 yesterday ; you have made a profound impression ; you 
 will build the church. The sermon has been on every- 
 one's lips, and only in praise." 
 
 " Why, Mr. I. K. Sass," I said, ** You take my breath 
 away. I have just come from Mr. R." — and I repeated 
 the conversation. 
 
 ' * Pshaw, ' ' he answered, * * our friend knows more about 
 selling rice than he does about sermons. Come in, and I 
 will show you whether you will get a dollar. ' ' 
 
 He drew his check for one hundred and bade me God- 
 speed. I felt better. 
 
 The next friend I met was Mr. Charles D. Carr, who 
 had been my tailor since I was a boy. He called me into 
 his store, and came up rubbing his hands and slapping 
 them together, saying, ** I was never more delighted in 
 church in my life. It was good to see a young man get 
 up in old Saint Michael's Church, and preach a sermon 
 like that. You did shake up the bones ! Why, you 
 made them all look up and wonder. 
 
 " Come in," he said, " and let me give 3^ou my check. 
 Here is one hundred dollars, and I will duplicate it when- 
 ever you need it. 
 
 * ' Now, ' ' he continued, ' ' I wish you to go and see Mr. 
 Jas. ly. Petigru ; he was delighted. Did you see that 
 crowd under Saint Michael's porch when you passed ? 
 They had gathered around Mr. Petigru, who was speak- 
 ing in the highest commendation. You must go and see 
 him." 
 
 I left him, and as I reached the comer of Saint Michael's 
 Church, Mr. Petigru himself turned out of Meeting, into 
 Broad Street. 
 
 As we met, he said, * ' I believe I am speaking to the Rev. 
 Mr. Porter ; I wish to congratulate you on your effort yes- 
 terday ; that is the best sermon of the kind I have ever 
 heard, and if I could have gotten to the foot of the pulpit 
 
I02 Led On I 
 
 without making us both too conspicuous, I would have 
 congratulated you before all the congregation. Why, sir, 
 you came with a definite object, you stated it forcibly, and 
 then proved to us it was our duty to help it, and how the 
 least person in the church could do his or her part. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Petigru stood at the forefront of the bar, and was a 
 power in this community, and he overpowered and con- 
 fused me. * ' Your church is built, sir, ' ' he continued, 
 ' * and if you always preach like that I prophesy a success- 
 ful ministry. ' ' 
 
 Taking from his pocket a check, he handed it to me. 
 It was a large donation from Mr. Petigru, for he was not 
 a man of much means. It may well be supposed that I 
 went home in good spirits, to gladden my young wife, 
 who had passed an anxious morning. 
 
 It was about six weeks after I had been to the counting- 
 house of Messrs. R. & B., that I thought I would go 
 there again. 
 
 Mr. R. met me very cordially, saying I had not been 
 there for a long while. 
 
 I made some excuse. * ' You were not a good prophet, ' ' 
 I added ; " I did not bum that sermon, and I have eight 
 thousand dollars to my credit on it. Mr. Petigru was 
 very complimentary. ' ' I knew that Mr. Petigru was Mr. 
 R.'s ideal, and had much influence over him. ' * Indeed, ' ' 
 he replied. * * Well, before you go, I wish to add my mite 
 to the sum, ' ' and drew his check for five hundred dollars. 
 
 The summer of 1854 came on, and with it the dreaded 
 yellow fever. We were short-handed ministerially, some 
 of the rectors being away, and I had a great deal to do. 
 
 I was overworked, and caught the dreaded pestilence 
 three days after ground had been broken to lay the foun- 
 dations of the new Church of the Holy Communion. My 
 old physician. Dr. W. T. Wragg, who had attended me 
 in typhoid fever when a boy, was soon at my bedside, and 
 
A Hard Apprenticeship. 103 
 
 told me mine was a mild case. "Well," I said, ** I 
 thought one born near the swamps of Carolina stood in 
 no danger." 
 
 On Friday he thought me so much better that he 
 directed stimulants. I fancied champagne. My wife 
 gave me a wineglassful, and I felt so much worse, that I 
 thought I had not taken enough, and she gave me another 
 wineglass. As I swallowed it, it seemed like a ball of fire 
 at the pit of my stomach. I at once became desperately 
 sick. The Doctor was sent for, and was dismayed at the 
 change. He tried many remedies and finally he said, 
 " I have tried stimulants and alkali, let us try acids." 
 A lemon could not be found in the city, but oranges 
 were got. My tongue was like a piece of hard dry 
 leather. I could not extend it beyond my lips. My 
 wife squeezed a plug of orange, and wherever the juice 
 fell it released my tongue. I motioned for more. It was 
 given me, and the relief was instantaneous, so that I fell 
 asleep. 
 
 As soon as I was able to move, the vestry insisted on 
 my going into the country to recruit. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 HARD WORK AND FOREIGN TRAVKI. 
 
 / am ordained priest — A second son is born to me — The 
 Church of the Holy Communion finished and consecrated 
 — The growth of the work — My wife^s health begins to 
 fail — Our voyage to Europe — I found a successful Indus- 
 trial School — Its history and work — I become an army 
 contractor — A laughable incident. 
 
 THE building of my new church went on during the 
 winter. The convention of the diocese was held in 
 the following May in Camden, and I was there ordained 
 to the priesthood, in Grace Church, on the 13th of May. 
 A second son, Theodore Atkinson, was born to me on 
 July 25th ; he was baptized in the arsenal.* On the 26th 
 of October my church was finished and consecrated by 
 Bishop Davis, Rev. Paul Trapier preaching the sermon. 
 There were fourteen priests beside the bishop present, and 
 all save the Rev. Dr. C. C. Pinckney and myself are dead. 
 Thus in one year, nine months, and eighteen days from 
 the day I held my first service, in the upper room of the 
 arsenal, a church had been built, and we had moved in 
 with sixty-six white adults as members, sixty-eight chil- 
 dren, forty-three white communicants and five colored. 
 
 * He has been in the ministry since 1879, and for the past twelve 
 years has been my assistant. 
 
 104 
 
Hard Work and Foreign Travel. 105 
 
 A total change took place in the personnel of the con- 
 gregation as the months went on as a higher class of 
 people came in, and most of the very poor dropped out. I 
 did all I could to keep them, but it seems impossible to 
 keep that class in a congregation of well-to-do people. 
 
 The indications of growth in our work continued, and 
 were seen in the increase of offerings. The third year 
 they amounted to $1 , 833. 80. The fourth year the rector' s 
 salary went up from $300 to $975, and the offerings of the 
 parish amounted to $4,337 in 1857.* 
 
 In the summer of 1857, our young son Theodore was 
 desperately ill, and his devoted mother seldom had him 
 out of her arms. That illness of the child cost us much 
 in after years. He had scarcely recovered when I was 
 summoned to Femandina, Florida, where my sister, the 
 wife of Dr. I. F. Lessesne, resided. She had lost her eldest 
 child, a most interesting girl. On my return to Charles- 
 ton we were caught in a cyclone, and had to anchor in 
 one of the creeks which flow through the marshes between 
 Fernandina and Savannah. I was a week in getting back 
 to Charleston. Mr. George A. Trenholm met me in his 
 carriage at daylight at the station, and on the way home 
 told me that Mrs. Porter was lying at the point of death. 
 She had been taken ill three days before, and they could 
 
 * I find in the parish register an entry made by myself, that I 
 built a house on Gadsden Green, on a lot given me in trust by Mr. 
 Theo. D. Wagner, and rented the double house to two poor families 
 at $2.00 per month. This is a beginning of what I meant to be a 
 series of homes for the poor at moderate rents, long before Mr. 
 Peabody's munificent gift for the same object in London. The 
 war came on three years afterwards, and no rent was ever collected. 
 I paid the taxes for twenty-one years, when by consent of Mr. 
 Wagner, and by authority of the court, I vacated the trust in 1879, 
 and sold the lot and house for a trifle. After the war it was im- 
 possible to carry out my plans. This was one of the many good 
 things destroyed by that awful war. 
 
io6 Led On! 
 
 not communicate with me, for they did not know what 
 had become of the steamer in which I had sailed. For 
 weeks my wife hovered between life and death, but in the 
 winter rallied somewhat, though she never quite recovered 
 her health. 
 
 In the spring of 1858, Mrs. Porter continuing very 
 feeble, Doctor Wragg desired us to go abroad, and the 
 vestry, of which Mr. George Trenholm and Mr. Theo. D. 
 Wagner, were members, insisted that we should go. The 
 Doctor ordered a sea voyage ; and so we sailed on the 9th 
 of June in a fine barque, the Mary Washington^ and 
 reached lyiverpool in twenty-one days. My salary had 
 gone up to one thousand dollars, and I was quite able to 
 take the trip, but Mr. Wagner sent before me a check for 
 fifteen hundred dollars, saying he wished me to have a 
 perfectly easy time. Mr. Wm. I^. Trenholm, son of Mr. 
 G. A. Trenholm, afterwards Comptroller of the Currency, 
 U. S. Government, and now president of the Security Com- 
 pany, New York, was living at Aigburth, near lyiverpool, 
 and most hospitably entertained us for some time. We 
 travelled through England, Scotland, France and Switzer- 
 land, and returned, sailing on the i8th of October, in the 
 steamship Persia, for New York. With Mr. Wagner's gift, 
 the fifth year of our parish life, the offerings amounted 
 to $5,700. As I look back it seems to me my Broad Street 
 friend's chimera had substantially materialized. 
 
 While my congregation had totally changed, and instead 
 of the Church of the Holy Communion being a church for 
 the poor, a great deal of wealth had gathered into it, I 
 continued to keep in touch with the poor, and in my 
 visits, I found one class for whom no provision had beeii 
 made. I doubt if any city ever existed where every con# 
 ceivable provision was better, or more thoroughly made^ 
 for the relief of poverty in general than here in the City of 
 Charleston. There was a Fuel Society, so that the poor 
 
Hard Work and Foreign Travel. 107 
 
 could get all the wood they needed, Garment Society, 
 Hat and Shoe Society, a Benevolent Society, which looked 
 after the homeless and sick, and all these works were the 
 united efforts of the non-Roman bodies, chiefly, however, 
 Episcopalians and Presbyterians ; for the wealth of the 
 community were in these bodies. But I found there was 
 no provision for poor women who wanted work, but were 
 very unfitted to do good sewing, though they were willing 
 to work if they had it. So I told my people if they would 
 let me have their plain sewing, I would have it done for 
 them. It was an expensive experiment for me. 
 
 My scheme was largely responded to, and bundles of 
 cloth were sent to me, but when the work came back if it 
 did ( ! !) it was so shockingly done, I had to buy other 
 material, and quietly have it made up by good seamstresses, 
 without telling my secret. I said, if it did come back ! I 
 several times found a drunken husband had resented the 
 intrusion into his domestic circle, and had thrown the 
 goods in the fire. 
 
 I was quite desperate. I saw there was a need, but how 
 to meet it. An English woman came to me one day ask- 
 ing employment and a home. I found out that she was a 
 good seamstress, and I employed her. I gave her a room in 
 the Sunday-school building and fed her from my table. I 
 told her I did not know exactly what I wanted her for, 
 but I would find out. 
 
 A day or two after, I met a pretty little poor girl in the 
 street, and asked her if she could sew. She could n't, but 
 wished she knew how. I took her by the hand and led 
 her to the English woman, and said to her, *' This is what 
 I want you to do ; take this child, and teach her every- 
 thing you know about a needle." The child stayed two 
 or three hours, and went home happy. The next day she 
 brought a little friend. In two weeks the teacher had a 
 larger class than she could manage. 
 
io8 Led On! 
 
 I explained matters to my people. Volunteers came 
 forward, and so I established the first industrial school for 
 girls in this State, and as far as I know in the South. 
 Very soon, some of the mothers came with the children, 
 and so my object was reached, namely, that of educating 
 these people for themselves. We soon had so many opera- 
 tives, and they made so much progress, that we found it 
 difficult to get a sufficiency of private work to keep them 
 going. So I went to Hayne Street, and made a contract 
 for hundreds of pieces of plain underwear. Gradually we 
 grew more ambitious, and took contracts for common 
 pantaloons and coats. Then we introduced a sewing-ma- 
 chine, and had a woman taught ; this example was con- 
 tagious, and we at last acquired thirty-two sewing- 
 machines. We had men employed to do the pressing and 
 cutting. The institution became entirely self-supporting ; 
 here my business training was very valuable, for we kept 
 a regular set of books. Ten cents was stopped from the 
 cost of making each garment, and every cent of the rest 
 given to the workers. This ten cents bought the machines, 
 paid the men, and met the expense of fuel and light. 
 Each day before work a few collects, and a hymn, and the 
 Creed were used to make up a service of song and praise. 
 I proposed to the workers that they would save time, if 
 their dinners were provided in the factory which could be 
 done for ten cents each. They all agreed, so we had a 
 kitchen opened and a table spread for them. The women 
 numbered fifty-nine. The children's industrial school 
 went on, the ladies of the congregation coming to my aid 
 in sufficient numbers to carry on the cooking arrange- 
 ments, and the work of the school.* One day in the 
 
 * Christmas, 1861, these operatives presented me with a silver 
 goblet and waiter, inscribed, " From Grateful Hearts to the Founder 
 of the First Industrial School in the City." I have it now ; a grate- 
 ful servant took them with the rest of my silver when we were 
 
Hard Work and Foreign Travel. 109 
 
 spring of 1859, Mr. Wm. Matheson, who was at the head 
 of the largest ready-made clothing store in the city, came 
 to see this much-talked about establishment. He stood 
 at the door for some moments, and looked at the busy 
 scene, then said : 
 
 ** Mr. Porter, are you a tailor ? " 
 
 '* No," I said, '' nor the son of a tailor." 
 
 " Where, then, did all this come from, how have you 
 done it?" 
 
 '* Oh," I said, '' like Topsy, it just grew, — grew from 
 one little girl." 
 
 ** Will you turn this factory over to me ? " he asked. 
 
 * * Yes, it has grown too large for me, it takes too much 
 of my time ; I will gladly do it on one condition, namely, 
 that you pay these hands just what I do. Do you see that 
 group of three women in that corner ? One at the corner, 
 one at the sewing-machine, and two fixing work ? Do 
 you see how well they look, how well they are dressed, 
 and how contented ? When I found them they were 
 starving, they had sold everything but one bed, and were 
 about to be turned into the street for house-rent. Now 
 their wardrobe is supplied, their house is comfortably fur- 
 nished, and I have six months' rent deposited for them in 
 the savings-bank. If you take this institution on my 
 terms, I will give you the house-room free. ' ' 
 
 *' But I can't," he said, '' I have to make a living." 
 
 '* Yes," I said, *' and to make graves for these poor 
 people while you are making your living out of them. I 
 
 raided on in Anderson, S. C, in 1865, by soldiers from North 
 Carolina, and hid tlie silver in the woods, and when they demanded 
 it of me, I could truthfully say I did not know where my silver 
 was, for the servant, without saying a word, when she heard the 
 Federal soldiers were coming, gathered everything up and disap- 
 peared and did not return until they had gone. This little token 
 is a pleasant memory of the past. 
 
no Led On ! 
 
 will be frank with you. I did not expect to meet such 
 success in this industry, but I soon saw the possibilities 
 in it, and I hoped to force you and others to give more 
 than starvation wages, for I shall carry this on until I 
 have hundreds in it. My congregation have given what 
 I asked to start it, dining-room and all ; now it carries 
 itself, with a little surplus, and you see how the operatives 
 are faring. ' ' 
 
 '* Well," he said, *' it is a revelation, and though you 
 may hurt me, I say God bless you, and your effort for the 
 poor." 
 
 I must finish here the history of this school. When the 
 war broke out. Colonel Hampton sent to me for uniforms 
 for the Hampton lyCgion, and to illustrate the preparation 
 the South had to make for that gigantic war, I may men- 
 tion that I went to every factory in Virginia and North 
 Carolina in vain search for a sufficent quantity of cloth of 
 the same color to uniform one thousand men. I came to 
 Charleston, and from Messrs. Wm. Ravenel & Co. pur- 
 chased ten different kinds of cloth for the ten companies, 
 and took them to my industrial school, and there the uni- 
 forms were cut and made. I had fifty-nine women in the 
 building, and three hundred and fifty outside working at 
 their superintendence ; for our troops, just after the first 
 battle of Manassas or Bull Run, were in a deplorable con- 
 dition. Major Hatch, Quartermaster of the State of 
 South Carolina, heard of this, and in the name of the 
 State took possession of our school which was the only 
 organized establishment of the kind in the State or in the 
 South. After I had finished the uniforms of the Hampton 
 lyCgion, I took them to Virginia, and left Major Hatch in 
 charge, and most of the work done for the South Carolina 
 troops was done there. I^ater on, when the shells made 
 the lower portion of the city uninhabitable, the Confeder- 
 ate Government took possession of the lower story, and 
 
Hard Work and Foreign Travel, 1 1 1 
 
 the Confederate Post OfiSce was kept there until Charles- 
 ton fell into the hands of the Federal Government. When 
 I returned to Charleston in 1865, I went with my sexton 
 to look at the wreck. The colored sexton told me the 
 Freedmen's Bureau people had carted off all the sewing 
 machines, and nothing was left. Thus another great and 
 beneficent work perished, the result of that dreadful war. 
 I have never been able since to revive the work, but 
 many persons who had come in there to help, had learned 
 the work, and after the war supported themselves in con- 
 sequence. 
 
 I must enliven this sad page with one laughable thing. 
 When we were at the height of our uniform work, a dear 
 young girl, bright and prett}^ as a rosebud, came to me in 
 great distress, holding up an unfinished pair of pants, say- 
 ing, '* Do, Mr. Porter, tell me what is the matter ? I can't 
 get these things to fit." 
 
 I took them and said, ' ' Well, my dear, if you will rip 
 them apart, and put both of the fronts together and the 
 backs together, you may get it right. You have a front 
 part and a back part now stitched together, and I don't 
 think this is natural." 
 
 It brought a merry laugh, but she had learned some- 
 thing. 
 

 ^^^ 
 
 l^f^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 w^^^ 
 
 ^^^S 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 SKCKSSION THUNDE^R-CI^OUDS 
 
 Good works of Mr. Wagner and Mr. Trenholm — / experi- 
 ence the power of faithful prayer — Secession in the air — I 
 witness the signing of the ordinance of secession^ but do not 
 sign it — The ratification mass-meeting — The firi?ig of 
 Fort Moultrie — Capture by secessionists of United States 
 arsenal in Charleston. 
 
 I HAVE mentioned among my helpers Mr. Theodore D. 
 Wagner, and Mr. and Mrs. George A. Trenholm. 
 Mr. Wagner and his family had come to me from St. 
 Michael's in 1856, Mr. Trenholm and his family in 
 1857, from St. Peter's Church. A more generous, large- 
 hearted man than Mr. Wagner scarcely ever lived. Few 
 are alive now who knew of his benevolence, but in his day 
 no case of suffering that he ever heard of went unrelieved. 
 I only had to tell him what was needed to be done, and 
 he did it, for he loved to do it. Hundreds were the re- 
 cipients of his kindness ; doubtless he was often imposed 
 on, but that did not chill him. Absolutely unselfish, he 
 seemed to disdain hoarding, and spent as freely as he made. 
 He belonged to the great mercantile firm of John Fraser 
 & Co., of which Mr. Geo. A. Trenholm was the head. 
 
 In business Mr. Trenholm was a king. He was the 
 absolute master of local banking, and the cotton trade. 
 
 112 
 
Secession Thunder- Clouds. 113 
 
 He had his ships, and his word in Broad Street and on 
 East Bay was law ; but it is of the man I would write. 
 He was tall and handsome, and graceful in his manners. 
 I said, when speaking of Mr. J. W. Hutson, that he had 
 the sweetest smile of any man I ever saw, save one ; that 
 one was Mr. Trenholm. His alms were not so well known 
 as Mr. Wagner's, but I, his pastor, saw what he would 
 not let the world see, and many families that the com- 
 munity knew not of, were made comfortable, and lived in 
 ease by his generosity. He had the clearest mind I ever 
 met with ; there was scarcely a subject you could propose 
 that he would not throw light upon. He was the least 
 resentful man I ever knew ; of those who did him much 
 harm, he never said a harsh word ; of his family circle he 
 was the very light. Great as he was in business, he 
 seemed to leave all at the gate when he came home, and 
 was as tender to his dear wife (who was a perfect Christian 
 woman) as if he were a young lover, and to his children, 
 climbing on his shoulders, and hanging round his neck, 
 he was devoted. It was a pleasant home to which to 
 go. He succeeded Mr. C. C. Memminger as Secretary 
 of the Treasury of the Confederate States. He, with 
 Mr. Wagner, inaugurated the blockade-running. They 
 brought immense stores, and guns, and ammunition into 
 the Confederacy. It is a sad commentary on life that the 
 generation of to-day, even in this community, have little 
 knowledge of the greatest man who ever lived in it. 
 
 Knowing the difficulties of collecting money to build 
 churches, Mr. John Bryan and I had organized a Church 
 Building Association in 1857. The officers were the 
 Bishop, as President ex officio, Dr. C. Hanckel, Vice- 
 President, Rev. A. T. Porter, Secretary, and John Bryan, 
 Treasurer ; the Rev. Messrs. P. Trapier, C. Wallace, A. 
 W. Marshall, D.D., G. H. Elliott, C. C. Pinckney, Messrs. 
 J. K. Saas, I. F. Blacklock, C. Edmonston, E. L. Kerri- 
 
114 Led On! 
 
 son, C. B. Heyward, F. Klford, G. A. Trenliolm, Trustees. 
 We assisted twelve churches to the amount of $4475. 
 The society lived six years, and the civil war crushed the 
 life out of this institution also. But for the war it would 
 now be a power in the church. 
 
 In the early part of the summer of i860, my wife took 
 the two children to spend the summer with our two 
 friends, Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Ward, at their beautiful 
 home on the F'rench Broad, in Transylvania County, 
 North Carolina. I remained at my work in the city. In 
 September I was suddenly summoned to go to the moun- 
 tains, as our oldest boy was desperately ill with typhoid 
 fever. When I arrived, the doctor gave me very little 
 hope, but said if he could induce perspiration he would 
 see some chances for the child's life. I have always been 
 a firm believer in the power of faithful prayer ; God may 
 not grant what we ask for, but He never forgets one true 
 prayer, and the faith that makes it. 
 
 I accordingly left the sick room and went up the side 
 of the mountain alone, and prayed, that if it were possible, 
 this cup might pass from us. The child was then nearly 
 five years old, and had grown to be the handsomest child 
 I had ever seen, perfect in figure, and spiritual in expres- 
 sion, with a bright, intelligent mind that seemed to run 
 only on spiritual things. I recollected on that mountain's 
 side, how, when he was three years old, I was taking him 
 from Charleston to Georgetown in a steamer. The ocean 
 was like a mirror, and he was leaning over the railing, 
 looking out at it. 
 
 He said, ' ' Papa, how smooth the sea is, do you know 
 what makes it so smooth ? ' ' 
 
 Seeing him lost in thought, I asked him what made it 
 so smooth. 
 
 " Why, papa, don't you know ? God has stooped down 
 and rubbed His hand over it. ' ' 
 
Secession Thunder- Clouds. 115 
 
 ' * Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast Thou 
 perfected praise." Those words have often given me 
 courage in a life that has been full of the rough, and the 
 smooth. Such was the child's mind even to the end. 
 After my earnest wrestling in prayer, I returned, and went 
 and looked at him. There was no change, and I went 
 out seven times, and said the same words, with the addi- 
 tion, " Nevertheless, Thy will be done." 
 
 When I returned to the room the seventh time, I 
 noticed on the boy's lips a chain of perspiration drops. 
 
 Then I knelt at his bedside and thanked God, for I 
 knew that the crisis was past. He began to mend, and in 
 a couple of weeks was up and about again.* The rest of 
 the summer passed pleasantly ; there was little communi- 
 cation with the outside world and we were in profound 
 ignorance of what was going on. Karly in October we 
 crossed the mountains to Greenville, and came down on 
 the railroad to Columbia. When we reached there we 
 found the State of South Carolina was wild with excite- 
 ment. The presidential election was coming on, and 
 everyone said that if Mr. Lincoln was elected the State 
 would secede. Dear old Doctor Shand, with whom we 
 staj^ed, had caught the infection, and seemed ready to 
 buckle on his sword. I remember the conversation round 
 the fireside. His young son, then a boy, since a distin- 
 guished lawyer, Mr. Robert W. Shand, and I took the 
 opposite side, and said secession was a second nullification 
 madness. My father, I had always heard, was opposed 
 to the idea, and was a Union man, though he died before 
 that nullification folly came to a head. And I had im- 
 
 * Dr. Arthur Flagg, who attended him, said his recovery was a 
 miracle. That same Dr. Flagg, with his family and servants, were 
 all swept into the sea in their house in the fearful cyclone and 
 tidal wave of 1893, which swept the coast of South Carolina. All 
 of the party were drowned save two — some nineteen persons. 
 
1 1 6 Led On ! 
 
 bibed his views, and, as I said, to me it seems madness. I 
 remember Mr. Shand's son, a boy, saying, " Father, 
 secession will not be a peaceable measure ; it will mean 
 war, and war will mean the emancipation of our slaves. ' ' 
 
 The old gentleman could not stand still ; he said it was 
 all nonsense, and got so excited that we became amused, 
 and teased the dear old saint, for saint he was, by depict- 
 ing the horrors that would come.* We left at once for 
 Charleston, and found the fever of excitement was raging. 
 In November the lyCgislature met, and after a stormy de- 
 bate, called a convention to secede from the Union, Lin- 
 coln having been elected. A laughable story of Mr. J. L. 
 Petigru is worthy of record. He was walking up Main 
 Street in Columbia, and was met by some countrjmian 
 who asked, ' ' Mister, can you tell me where is the lunatic 
 asylum ? ' ' 
 
 ** Yes, my man," he said, "it is off down that street, 
 they call that the asylum, but it is a mistake. Yon- 
 der," pointing to the State House, where the lyCgisla- 
 ture was in session, ** is the asylum, and it is full of 
 lunatics. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Petigru was to the end a pronounced Union man, 
 and such was the veneration in which he was held, that 
 he said what he pleased, and he said many sharp, bitter 
 things in those five years' of war, but no one took offense, 
 nor molested him. Day by day the excitement increased, 
 and when the Legislature called the Convention we had 
 all become crazed. I was in my thirty-third year, and 
 
 * We little dreamed what we said in fun was more than realized 
 in that very town of Columbia, and in that very house, for it was 
 burned down by Federal troops five years after. And Dr. Shand 
 was struck by a soldier, and a trunk that he and a servant were car- 
 rying from the burning house was violently taken from him. It 
 contained all the Church Sacramental silver, and has never been 
 recovered. 
 
Secession Thunder- Clouds, \\^ 
 
 became as enthusiastic as the rest. I look back now and 
 wonder how it all could have been as it was.* 
 
 The Convention assembled at St. Andrew's Hall, 
 Broad Street, afterwards burned down. The room was 
 cleared, but my wife's brother, Samuel T. Atkinson, was 
 a member of it, and I sat quietly by him and was not 
 turned out. I think I was the only person not a member 
 who was present. 
 
 Chancellor B. F. Dunkin, Mr. Robt. W. Barnwell, and 
 others made conservative speeches, but the fiery eloquence 
 of the secessionists prevailed, and the vote was ordered 
 by the roll call. The ordinance of secession was read, 
 and a stillness that could be felt prevailed. The members 
 were called alphabetically, and my brother-in-law's name 
 was first called — " Samuel T. Atkinson." 
 
 In a subdued, but firm voice, he said, ' ' Yea. ' ' 
 
 Yea after yea, was answered until every name was 
 called, and the vote was unanimous. 
 
 Then each went up and signed the paper, and the deed 
 was done, which cost millions and millions of money, tens 
 of thousands of lives, destruction of cities and villages, 
 plantations and farms, the emancipation of five millions 
 of African slaves, the entire upheaval of society, the im- 
 poverishment of a nation ; and let loose a demoralization 
 which has left its impress on the whole land. North and 
 South. It was a deed which made the North rich and 
 the South poor, and has made Southern life one great 
 struggle from that day to this. 
 
 * Many years afterwards I was in Mr. C. C. Memminger's office, 
 and I said to him : 
 
 ' ' Mr. Memminger, I am now as old as you were when this city 
 and State went wild ; why did not you older men take all of us 
 young enthusiasts and hold us down ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " he replied, "it was a whirlwind, and all we could do 
 was to try to guide it." 
 
ii8 Led On! 
 
 Someone, from a window of the Convention hall, gave 
 a sign to the dense mass of men who packed Broad Street 
 outside that the ordinance had passed, and then a mighty 
 shout arose. It rose higher and higher until it was as the 
 roar of the tempest. It spread from end to end of the city, 
 for all were of one mind. No man living could have stood 
 that excitement. If there were any like Mr. Petigru, they 
 hid themselves; for he alone would have dared to be silent 
 that day. This was Thursday the 20th of December, i860. 
 Bonfires were lit that night in every street ; processions 
 were formed and went to the houses of different public 
 men, and forced them to come out and make a speech. 
 
 A crowd came to my house, and yelled, and called out, 
 but I would not go out. I did not know what to say, 
 until my friend Wagner somehow got into my house, and 
 insisted on my going out to the upper piazza and saying 
 something. I did not say much, but it was in somewhat 
 of a discordant strain. I urged that we required to stop 
 shouting, and do something, for the event of the day 
 meant serious business. Mr. Wagner often afterward 
 talked to me of that speech, for the crowd did not go 
 away pleased; but experience showed my young head 
 was more level than the head of some of my seniors. 
 
 On Friday morning, Judge A. G. Magrath, the United 
 States Circuit Judge, in the presence of the bar, rose from 
 his seat, and in a most dramatic manner, took off his 
 gown, and laid it on the chair, saying, " The office of 
 United States Judge is vacant." 
 
 The act started the enthusiasm of the day before ; every- 
 body took to shouting. As the wave or sound died down, 
 the news flew from mouth to mouth that James Conner, 
 United States District Attorney, had resigned. Men 
 hugged each other in the streets, and every one ran hither 
 and thither to hear what next. Would old Mr. Alfred 
 Huger, who had been postmaster, it seemed, forever, re- 
 
Secession Thunder-Clouds. 119 
 
 sign ? No, he would not lose his head as the rest of us 
 had, he would wait and see. Nearly everyone who held 
 a United States ofl&ce hastened to follow the example of 
 Mr. Conner. 
 
 A ratification mass-meeting was called for Friday night, 
 and was held at the South Carolina Mechanical Institute 
 Hall, next south of the Circular Church.* The large 
 building was packed, and the throng in the street was 
 immense. It was all one way in Charleston. 
 
 Judge Magrath was the first speaker. He stood on the 
 left of the stage facing the audience, and began (I give his 
 very words) : 
 
 * ' Fellow citizens : The time for deliberation has passed. ' ' 
 He paused, and started across the stage to the right, walk- 
 ing in slow measured steps. Everyone who remembers 
 Judge Magrath' s walk, wiU recall him as he passed a large 
 handkerchief through his hands, from one diagonal corner 
 to the other. He said not a word more, and the audience 
 waited until, in an impassioned voice and gesture, he added: 
 
 " The time for action has come." 
 
 At that moment there went up a universal yell, presage 
 of what has gone into history as ' ' the rebel yell. ' ' It died 
 out, and rose, and died, and rose for several minutes be- 
 fore the Judge could proceed. And I, fool as I was, yelled 
 with the rest of them, and threw up my hat, and no 
 doubt thought we could whip creation. It was very 
 dramatic in the Judge, a fine piece of acting, but alas, the 
 prologue of what a tragedy ! 
 
 Some other hand must portray the military scenes of 
 that week. The flame of enthusiasm extended from the 
 seaboard to the mountains, and all South Carolina was 
 ablaze. Matters somewhat settled down until the follow- 
 ing Friday, December 27th. Christmas had come in be- 
 tween, but we all forgot Christmas and its joy. Early 
 
 * Burnt on December 11, 1861. 
 
I20 Led On! 
 
 Friday morning a dense smoke was seen issuing from 
 Fort Moultrie on Sullivan's Island, and the impression got 
 abroad that it had accidentally taken fire. Major Macbeth 
 at once chartered a steamer, and ordered, contrary to city 
 ordinance, two fire-engine companies (the Etna and the 
 Vigilant, or the Phoenix and one other company, I forget 
 which) to go and assist Major Anderson in extinguishing 
 the flames. I saw the engines on the steamer. While she 
 was getting up steam, a client of Captain Edward Mc- 
 Crady, Jr. , came from the island in a small boat, and gave 
 the information that the guns had been spiked, that the in- 
 terior of the fort had been fired and rendered useless, and 
 that Major Anderson and the garrison had shut themselves 
 up in Fort Sumter. The situation began to be realized. 
 
 I do not think that anyone can portray the scenes of 
 that day. There was no more shouting, but men and 
 women were hurrying to and fro, with an excitement 
 words cannot express at all. The wildest rumors were 
 started, everyone supposed that Fort Sumter was full of 
 shells, and that Major Anderson had trained his guns on 
 the city, and we should soon be bombarded. 
 
 News flew through the State, and through the whole 
 South, that fighting was going on in the streets and blood 
 was flowing like water, and company after company from 
 the State, and from Georgia, volunteered to come to our 
 aid. Of course, there was not truth in any of the reports 
 and aid was declined, but the United States arsenal was 
 occupied, and the Washington lyight Infantry, Captain 
 Pinckney's company, and Captain McCrady's (I do not 
 remember any other) were ordered to capture Castle 
 Pinckney. I have a ludicrous account of the capture of 
 the arsenal written by one of the ' ' picked twenty ' ' that 
 is too good not to be put in permanent shape and will be 
 found in the appendix.* 
 
 * Appendix A. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WAR IN KARNEJST 
 
 My chaplaincy in the Washington Light Infantry — The de- 
 lusion of secessio7iists as to peace — Fort Sumter is fired on 
 — The surrender of Major A^iderson — Some difficulties of 
 recruiting — Some young Co?ifederate heroes — Bull Run. 
 
 THB Washington Light Infantry was organized in 1808 
 and was the oldest volunteer company in the State. 
 I had been elected their chaplain in 1858, succeeding Mr. 
 Oilman, a Unitarian minister, who had succeeded the 
 Roman Catholic Bishop England, and he succeeded Rev. 
 R. Dewer Simons. I am therefore the fourth chaplain, 
 and have held the office for thirty-eight years. On Satur- 
 day, 28th, I received a note from Captain Simonton, after- 
 wards Colonel, and now United States District Judge, ask- 
 ing me to come to Castle Pinckney, and hold service for 
 the boys. I did so and preached a sermon, choosing my 
 text from Second Timothy, ii., 3, " As a good soldier of 
 Jesus Christ." Thus I had the honor of preaching the 
 first sermon to the troops in the civil war. The Church 
 of the Holy Communion I had, of course, closed on the 
 occasion. 
 
 When we were rowing back after the service, Pinckney 
 Lowndes said, " Look here. Chaplain, you have scared us 
 out of our wits ; you tell us there will be fighting, and 
 
 121 
 
12 2 Led On ! 
 
 fighting means killing and wounding. So we are all 
 ready to resign right away and go home. ' ' 
 
 Of course he was joking as to the latter part, but the 
 first was true. I did not believe that this question could 
 be settled peaceably. 
 
 The Friday night after Major Anderson had gone to 
 Sumter, I went down to walk on the Battery, for I was 
 oppressed and depressed. Kvents had followed so quickly 
 one on the other, that the reality of the situation began 
 at last to appear. On the Battery, I met Colonel James 
 Chestnut, ex- Member of Congress. I remarked to him, 
 ''These are troublous times. Colonel ; we are at the begin- 
 ning of a terrible war. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Not at all, ' ' he said, ' ' there will be no war, it will be 
 all arranged. I will drink all the blood shed in the war." 
 
 So little did some of our leaders realize the awful import 
 of what we were doing. * 
 
 Some time later in the winter of 1861, the Washington 
 lyight Infantry with the Rifle Regiment were sent to Sul- 
 livan's Island to guard the north end, for the fleet was at 
 anchor outside the bar. Why they did not land a force 
 and take Sullivan's Island, and from there march to 
 Mt. Pleasant, and Charleston in the rear, I have never 
 heard explained. A strong force could have captured the 
 island at any time for months after Fort Sumter fell. I 
 went down with the company, coming off and on to the 
 
 * Twenty-four years afterward, Sunday falling on February 22d, 
 the anniversary of the Washington Light Infantry, I, as usual, 
 preached to them at the Church of the Holy Communion, and I 
 used the same manuscript, writing a short introduction, without 
 altering one sentence in the sermon. I could have preached it at 
 the foot of the Bunker Hill Monument in i860, for it was as ap- 
 plicable there as here. I note this to show the spirit that animated 
 some of us in those trying days. There were only six or eight of 
 the old command left and present ; many of my last hearers had 
 not been bom when the sermon was first preached. 
 
War in Earnest, 123 
 
 city ; holding service in the morning at the Church of the 
 Holy Communion, and at night at the camp. 
 
 One evening the officers were sitting round the table 
 playing whist, when a sergeant, who was in command of 
 the pickets, came rushing in as pale as a ghost. ' ' Cap- 
 tain ! Captain ! " he exclaimed, " the boat is full of 
 creeks. ' ' 
 
 He was so excited (or scared) that he had put creeks in 
 the boat, instead of boats in the creek. The Company 
 was turned out and we all went to do or to die. But as it 
 was a false alarm, we neither did nor died, but came back 
 to quarters and went to bed. Some old bills of Klinck & 
 Wickenberg, who were the grocers of most of us, show 
 how sadly far off we were from the real state of the case. 
 Champagne, madeira, and sherry, pate de foie gras, and 
 French green peas, sardines and Spanish olives, Spanish 
 cigars, with other luxuries, formed then the vStaple of our 
 stores of soldiers' fare. The time came when a sweet po- 
 tato would have been an acceptable luxury, if we could 
 have had enough of them. 
 
 The fateful day of April 11, 1861, came. At four o'clock 
 in the morning, I heard the boom of a cannon. I hap- 
 pened to be awake, and ran in and woke up Captain 
 Simonton, saying, * ' The first gun has been fired ; Fort 
 Sumter has been attacked." 
 
 We were all soon upon the beach. 
 
 Shot after shot was following from Fort Moultrie and 
 battery Gregg on Morris Island. But Sumter looked 
 grim and was silent. Not until full daylight did Major 
 Anderson open fire, but when he did, he gave it all round. 
 We could see the shot strike the beach and ricochet along 
 the sand. Many of us ran after them; some of us went 
 into the tower of the Moultrie House. I suppose the 
 crowd of us was seen, and our position being the most 
 elevated point on the Island, must have been taken for a 
 
1 24 Led On / 
 
 post of observation, for soon shot after shot struck the 
 building. At last one shot crashed into the tower in the 
 story below us. It was getting too much of a good thing, 
 and we scrambled out of that place without '' looking 
 upon the order of our going. ' ' 
 
 On the second day, Moultrie set fire to Sumter, and 
 every gun we had at Fort Johnson, Battery Gregg, and 
 the other batteries on Sullivan's Island opened simultane- 
 ously on the devoted Sumter. It was enveloped in smoke 
 and bombarded by fifty guns, and out of the smoke came 
 a flash. Anderson had answered back. 
 
 I witnessed then a scene that I doubt was ever equalled. 
 The gallantry of the defense struck the chivalry of the at- 
 tackers, and without a command every soldier mounted 
 the parapet of every battery of the Confederates and gave 
 three cheers for Major Anderson. Soon after the white 
 flag went up, firing ceased, and Major Anderson had sur- 
 rendered. 
 
 The most remarkable thing about that fight was, that 
 not a man received a scratch on either side, and no blood 
 was shed until the next day, when Major Anderson was 
 permitted by General Beauregard to salute the United 
 States flag before it was hauled down. On that occasion, 
 a gun exploded and killed two or three Federal soldiers. 
 So ended the first chapter of that story written in blood, 
 in sorrow, and ruin. 
 
 Soon after the fall of Sumter, the Washington I^ight 
 Infantry was ordered back to Charleston, and I continued 
 at the church. Colonel Gregg's regiment was sent to Vir- 
 ginia, and a call was made for the companies and regi- 
 ments to volunteer. A meeting of the Washington Light 
 Infantry was called, and after much debate, it was resolved 
 that the time had not come to leave the State. 
 
 This was a great mortification to not a few of us. 
 
 The next day I was walking through Washington 
 
War in Earnest. 125 
 
 Square, when I heard my name called. I^ooking around 
 I saw J. M. Logan following me. He was a clean-faced, 
 handsome boy with a sweet, gentle expression, almost like 
 that of a girl. 
 
 " What do you think of the action last night of the 
 Washington Light Infantry ? " he asked. 
 
 "I am distressed," I replied, "such action by the 
 oldest organization will hav^e an injurious effect." 
 
 '' No man can now afford to look back," Logan said, 
 " and I am glad of it. Will you help some of us to get 
 up a company of volunteers ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Who are the * some of you ' ? " 
 
 '* Theodore Klinck, Wm. A. Dotterer, and myself wish 
 to get up a company, but we need an older man to lead. ' ' 
 
 ''Very well," I said, "ask Klinck and Dotterer to 
 come to my house to-night, and bring the roll of the 
 company." 
 
 They came. We divided the roll into four lists; each 
 took the men over whom he had the most influence, and 
 agreed to see them the next day, and to report at my 
 house the next night. The next night we had a roll of 
 about thirty. We then proceeded to advertise a call of 
 all the Washington Light Infantry who had agreed to 
 form a company to go to Virginia, to meet in my Indus- 
 trial School rooms the following night. This was the first 
 public notice of our movement, when the thirty came, and 
 a large number of others, so that we enrolled about sixty. 
 These elected W. H. Peroneau, Captain ; Klinck, ist 
 Lieutenant ; Dotterer, 2d Lieutenant, and T. M. Logan, 
 3d Lieutenant. 
 
 We met next night in the same place, to hear who had 
 accepted. We learned that Peroneau had declined, but a 
 number of names was added to the roll. B. L. Parker was 
 then elected Captain, but he declined. Mr. Benj. John- 
 son was then elected. As he was known to but few of 
 
126 Led On! 
 
 the company, and lived some sixteen miles from Mt. 
 Pleasant, in Christ Church parish, I was asked to go to 
 him and offer him the command. Next day, accordingly, 
 I went over to Mt. Pleasant, hired a buggy and horse, and 
 drove to his plantation. I arrived there towards the dusk 
 of the evening, and was warmly and hospitably received. 
 He had no idea of my mission. It was a happy Christian 
 home I found at the plantation. I have often recalled my 
 feeling of pain when I arrived as a harbinger of evil to 
 them. 
 
 We passed as happy an evening as was possible to me, 
 with the knowledge of my object in my mind. At last the 
 servants all came into family prayers, and after the family 
 had retired, I informed my host of my mission, telling 
 him that he had been elected Captain of the Washington 
 I,ight Infantry Volunteers for Virginia, and asked him to 
 accept it. 
 
 He was much startled and said, ' ' It has come sooner 
 than I expected, but I cannot answer until the morning. ' ' 
 
 Next morning after prayers, and breakfast, we strolled 
 out. I had noticed, as we left the house, deep traces of 
 the night's anxiety on the face of Johnson's lovely wife, 
 but I saw in her eye that she would not stand between her 
 husband and his duty to his country. So when Mr. John- 
 son accepted the election I was not surprised. 
 
 I hastened back to Charleston. Logan was waiting on 
 the market wharf, and when I gave him the signal agreed 
 on, he did not wait to meet me, but rushed off to "the 
 bulletin board, and put up a notice of the acceptance 
 of the commission by Mr. Johnson. He then called a 
 meeting at the Military Hall in Wentworth Street. I 
 met the volunteers and related to them all about my 
 visit, and announced Mr. Johnson's acceptance, adding 
 that he would be in Charleston the next evening to take 
 command. 
 
War in Earnest. 127 
 
 The evening came, the hall was crowded. Mr. Johnson 
 was in the building, the committee, Klinck, Dotterer, and 
 Logan, were with him. The meeting, after some delay, was 
 called to order with myself as chairman. The newly 
 elected Captain then rose to his feet and said, * ' Gentle- 
 men, I hold myself bound to you, by the promise I made 
 to Doctor Porter, but here is a telegram from Colonel 
 Wade Hampton, offering me the place of Lieutenant- 
 Colonel in the Legion he is raising to go to Virginia. 
 What am I to do ? " 
 
 We immediately released him from his engagement to 
 us and begged him to accept Colonel Hampton's offer, and 
 he left the building. Gallant man, he was killed at the 
 first battle of Manassas, as Lieutenant-Colonel of the 
 Hampton Legion. 
 
 The task now before us was greater than ever. We 
 had to meet the men and tell them of our disappointment. 
 Three men had been elected Captain, and all had declined. 
 I resumed the chair and Logan made the announcement. 
 It fell upon the men like snow upon flowers. Murmuring 
 and discontent appeared. Klinck and Dotterer spoke, but 
 a motion was offered and seconded to disband. I then 
 left the chair, and taking the floor, made a speech. 
 
 I gave the meeting a detailed account of every move- 
 ment in forming a company from the beginning, and gave 
 our pledge, that if mover and seconder of the motion to 
 disband would withhold that resolution, and give us one 
 more day, we would find the right man by the next night, 
 or would oppose them no longer, but agree to disband. 
 
 To this they assented, and Logan and I went off in hope, 
 although absolutely nonplussed. We could not think of 
 a man. 
 
 Next day about eleven o'clock we met at the corner of 
 Church and Broad Streets, where the Charleston Library 
 now is, and neither of us had found the man. While we 
 
128 Led On / 
 
 were talking, James Conner came out of Paul and Brown's 
 grocery store, and walked up Broad Street, towards St. 
 Michael's Churcli. Instinctively I slapped Logan on his 
 back saying, ' * What fools we are ! Why, there is the very 
 man whom of all men in this community we want. He is 
 far ahead of all the others we thought of. ' ' 
 
 * * Go after him ! ' ' said Logan. 
 
 I crossed over, and before we reached St. Michael's I 
 had offered him the unanimous vote of the company as 
 Captain. We stopped under St. Michael's porch, he hesi- 
 tated, said he must take time to think. 
 
 * ' No time, Mr. Conner, ' ' I said ; ' * Now ! we must have 
 an answer now ! we must go to that meeting with our 
 man, or they will disband to-night." 
 
 *' Well," he said, " on your assurance that the election 
 is unanimous, I will accept." 
 
 I ran back to Logan, and if there were two happy men 
 in the city, we were those men. 
 
 We put up a notice of the meeting for that night, urging 
 every man to be present, as the business was vital. We 
 kept the secret from all but Klinck and Dotterer, and 
 when we met, the hall was crowded. We four were jubi- 
 lant. Logan nominated James Conner. 
 
 ' * Will he accept ? ' ' came from all quarters. 
 
 " He will, if the election is unanimous." 
 
 I put the vote viva voce, and the yea was a yell, for he 
 was a distinguished lawyer, and immensely popular. 
 How we had never thought of him before was a wonder 
 to us. When I put the negative — ' ' There are none here, ' ' 
 was the answer ; " we are all aye. ' ' 
 
 Conner was waiting in the building, and Klinck, Dot- 
 terer, and Logan at once waited on him and escorted him 
 in, and he was greeted with a tremendous cheer. As soon 
 as I could be heard, I said, " Men, here is the Captain we 
 pledged to you last night." Turning to Captain Conner, 
 
War in Earnest, 129 
 
 I proceeded, '* I resign the chair to you, sir, and turn 
 over the command." * 
 
 The company offered themselves to Colonel Hampton, 
 and was made Company A of his lyCgion. How they de- 
 meaned themselves, is recorded on a monument erected 
 in Washington Square, within fifty feet of the spot on 
 which lyOgan and I held our first conversation. The long 
 roll of killed shows how they fought. I delivered the 
 oration when the monument was finished. 
 
 The Hampton I^egion went to Virginia, and Captain 
 Conner had promised me whenever a battle was imminent 
 to telegraph me, " Come at once," and I would under- 
 stand. I soon after received the telegram from him, and 
 left as soon as I could, but reached Manassas Junction 
 four days after the first battle of Manassas. 
 
 * James Conner rose to be General ; he lost a leg in Virginia. 
 After the war he was foremost in council, and his influence and 
 cool bravery saved this city from awful carnage at the time of the 
 riot in 1876 ; but for him many lives would have been lost, and 
 thousands of negroes would have been massacred, and the conse- 
 quences no one can foresee. Klinck and Dotterer were both 
 killed. Logan won his spurs, and was the youngest General in the 
 
 Confederate service when the war ended. 
 9 
 
■^^^i 
 
 
 w 
 
 
 JJ 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MY WAR IJXPKRIKNCEJS 
 
 The plague of measles in the Confederate camp — I go to the 
 front — The work of an army chaplain — A grateful 
 ** Yank " — Red tape and ragged uniforms — " Confederate 
 mismanagement ' ' — The Christian General — Search for a 
 dead soldier — Pipes and Piety. 
 
 THE people of the South blamed Johnson and Beaure- 
 gard for not pressing on to Washington, but one 
 week after that battle our demoralized army was one great 
 measles camp. It is no exaggeration to say, you could 
 perceive the measles in the air. Ten thousand troops 
 from Washington could have wiped us out. 
 
 I went at once about my work looking up the wounded 
 and sick and had my hands full. I had two canteens, 
 one of whiskey, and one of water, which I filled, and 
 often a Federal prisoner drank one, or the other, and then 
 a Confederate, or vice versa. I remember going into a 
 shanty where a number of men were wounded. I went 
 up to a Confederate soldier, and he said, '* Chaplain, go 
 first to that man over there ; he is worse off than I am." 
 
 I went, and found a soldier wounded in the knee, and 
 suffering very much. I got a pitcher of water and poured 
 it over his leg, until I had deadened the pain. Then I 
 asked his name and regiment, and where he came from. 
 
 130 
 
My War Experiences. 131 
 
 He was from Rochester, N. Y. Assuring him my ques- 
 tion did not spring from idle curiosit}^ I offered, as I was 
 close to headquarters, to write to his mother and sisters, 
 and tell them he was not seriousl}^ wounded, and would 
 be taken care of; my letter would go, I added, by the 
 first flag of truce. He became very much affected, and 
 the big tears rolled down his cheeks. 
 
 * ' Mister, did you say you came from South Carolina ? ' ' 
 
 ''Yes," I said. 
 
 ' ' And you treat a Yankee so ? " 
 
 " Yes ; we are not barbarians. You are a wounded 
 prisoner, and have no business to be here, but you will be 
 well treated. ' ' 
 
 " I did not expect it, I did not expect it, and from a 
 South Carolinian, too. If I ever get well, I will fight you 
 no more." 
 
 I sent the letter ; I have forgotten the name of the 
 sender and the address ; I do not know whether the letter 
 was received, or what became of the man. My duties 
 called me elsewhere. 
 
 The Legion was some miles from Warrenton Junction, 
 and I found my way to it. The sick, and there were 
 many, were in a sorry plight ; so I got Colonel Hampton 
 to let me have an old store, and permission to go to 
 Charlottesville, Virginia, to the Women's Relief Associa- 
 tion storehouse, where was Rev. Robt. W. Barnwell, the 
 same man who applied for a dispensation of time, and with 
 me was refused by the Standing Committee in 1854, and 
 I procured a large amount of stores, took them by rail, 
 and soon fitted up a large hospital, which added much to 
 the comfort of the men. The soldiers were in rags, and 
 Colonel Hampton sent me on an expedition to get uni- 
 forms for his men. When I reached Charleston I told 
 some of our influential citizens the condition of all our 
 troops. A meeting was held at the Bank of Charleston, 
 
132 Led On/ 
 
 and a delegation consisting of Judge Magrath, Wm. D. 
 Porter, Henry Gourdin, Wm. Bull Pringle, and myself 
 were sent to Columbia to see Governor Pickens and to tell 
 him of the soldiers' needs, and to offer any assistance that 
 the banks in Charleston could give. Governor Pickens 
 listened impatiently, drew out a drawer, and read with 
 much emphasis from a document he had in it, a list of 
 the articles he had at his disposal, not enough to supply 
 half a dozen regiments a month and added, he was much 
 obliged to us, but the State did not need the aid of the 
 banks. Judge Magrath looked at me, dropped one eye 
 and winked, quietly holding up his hands, and we broke 
 up the audience. The committee returned to Charleston 
 with gloomy forbodings. 
 
 I returned to Virginia with the uniforms, and after 
 some time got a furlough to go back to South Carolina. 
 While in camp I shared the bed of Captain Conner, and 
 took my meals with Colonel Hampton. A slapjack with 
 sorghum was a luxurious dessert in those days. 
 
 The day I started for Richmond a long train of sick and 
 wounded soldiers was to be sent off, and I was to be put 
 in charge of them. When we reached Warrenton Junc- 
 tion we were sided off on the Y., and I never pass the 
 spot that I do not think of that awful day I had with 
 some eight hundred men, all needing medicines, food, and 
 water. A number of them died in those cars. We had 
 to send a long way for water, and did manage to gather a 
 little coarse food and there we were kept until late in the 
 afternoon. Having some cigars, I went into the baggage 
 car and offering the conductor a cigar I begged him to let 
 me sit there awhile, for I was worn out with the day's 
 labor. I just happened to look at my watch, and said, 
 ' ' With luck we will be in Richmond in forty-five minutes, ' ' 
 when an awful crash came. 
 
 The train stopped, the car was filled with steam, and I 
 
My War Experiences. 133 
 
 was flung to the end of the car, with two or three boxes 
 piled on me. I was not, however, hurt, so as soon as we 
 could, we got out. We found we had run round a sharp 
 curve, and had struck a freight train stalled there laden 
 with wheat. Our train had gone through three of the 
 freight cars, splitting them open, and our engine was 
 bottom up, some fifteen feet below the embankment, the 
 engineer with his ribs broken. Somehow nothing else 
 had left the track. Instead of reaching Richmond in 
 forty-five minutes, we were twenty-five hours, with a 
 train of wounded and sick soldiers. This is a typical in- 
 stance of Confederate mismanagement. The want of 
 organization and administration, I verily believe, was 
 what neutralized the magnificent fighting, the splendid 
 endurance, of our soldiers. Had other departments done 
 as well as the troops in the field, there is no telling what 
 might have been the issue of the war. 
 
 I made several trips backwards and forwards to Virginia, 
 but as I was only the chaplain of the Washington I^ight 
 Infantry Volunteers, two companies that were in the 
 legion, and there was a chaplain for the rest, I accepted 
 the appointment as chaplain of the 25th South Carolina 
 Regiment, Colonel Simonton, as the old Washington I^ight 
 Infantry was a part of it, and went over to James Island 
 with my new command. 
 
 Before leaving the Hampton lyCgion, I record that I had 
 purchased a small silver Communion set, and used it in 
 divine service under the trees in the open field. Colonel 
 Hampton and many officers and soldiers were accustomed 
 to receive the Holy Communion there. Colonel Benj. 
 AUston, of a Texas regiment, now Rev. Mr. Allston, 
 brought to me Colonel Pender of the 8th North Carolina 
 Regiment, and after full instruction I baptized him, sur- 
 rounded by all his regiment. He was afterwards made a 
 General and was killed retreating from Pennsylvania. 
 
1 34 Led On / 
 
 Such was the character of my army ministrations. On 
 James Island, as chaplain of the 25th Regiment, Colonel 
 Simonton in command, I had a service of praj^er and 
 praise with a short sermon every night ; for owing to the 
 inspection and dress parade and other military duties I 
 could not get the men before midday. Having no house 
 to worship in and few trees, the intense heat of the sun 
 made Sunday morning service impossible. Eventually, 
 however. Gen. R. B. Lee had ordered inspection and dress 
 parade so arranged, that time could be given all the chap- 
 lains to have a morning service in all his regiments. I 
 knew General Lee, so I wrote to him and asked him to 
 extend the order to the whole army, expressing my pro- 
 found respect and esteem for him, and winding up my 
 letter by telling him what a source of strength and com- 
 fort it was to many of us to think that in this time of our 
 country's sore distress that he, in whose hands, humanly 
 speaking, our destiny rested, was himself leaning on the 
 Divine Arm for strength and the Divine Wisdom for 
 direction. 
 
 Of course I knew General Lee, but scarcely expected 
 that he would remember a young chaplain who had in no 
 way distinguished himself, and consequently I did not look 
 for a reply. But in due time I received an autograph 
 letter from the General, in which he gave me full direc- 
 tions how to accomplish my aim, and expressing his 
 pleasure that the chaplains appreciated his order. He 
 added his appreciation of my expressions about him, and 
 only wished they were deserved, but he added, ''It is 
 true that I am daily seeking guidance from our Heavenly 
 Father, and do lean only on His arm for protection. ' ' 
 
 The letter was a foolscap sheet, written from top to 
 bottom. It was dated the day before the beginning of that 
 series ot engagements which culminated in the utter rout 
 of Pope, and the second battle of Manassas. With his 
 
My War Experiences. 135 
 
 mind full of the plans for that campaign, that he should 
 turn aside, and write to an obscure chaplain five hundred 
 miles away, was perfectly characteristic of that glorious 
 man, that great soldier, that greater Christian gentleman, 
 whose fame will grow more brilliant as the 3xars go on, 
 until the children's children of South and North grow to 
 be proud of the great American, who has shed lustre on 
 his country.* 
 
 At the second battle of Manassas, Charles Steadman 
 Atkinson, a younger brother of my wife, named after an 
 uncle, his mother's brother, a rear-admiral in the United 
 States Nav3% was killed. I took a furlough, and went to 
 Virginia to look for his body. I had taken him when he 
 was quite young to live with us. I had sent him to school, 
 and he went from my house to the army. 
 
 All we knew was that he had been buried on the field 
 near a farmhouse not far from a cowshed, and that he had 
 been shot in the forehead. I went to Warrenton, which 
 was full of wounded men from Manassas and Sharpsburg, 
 and received great kindness from the rector, Rev. Dr. 
 Barten. Having purchased a coffin, I went on the search. 
 It was a gruesome hunt. 
 
 After a while I spied the ruins of a farmhouse, where a 
 cowshed was still standing, and near it was three graves. 
 One of these I believed to be my boy's, but which ? I do 
 not know why, but I determined to try the middle grave. 
 The man I had with me, and had brought the coffin on 
 his cart, dug away about eighteen inches of earth, and 
 we came to some rough boards ; these we removed, and 
 there was a soldier wrapped in a blanket. Those who had 
 buried him had put side boards up, so that the thin cover 
 of earth had not reached the body. I turned back the 
 blanket from the face, and found it was the body I was 
 
 * I lost that letter with other valuable papers at the burning of 
 Columbia. I would give a great deal could I recover it. 
 
136 Led On! 
 
 looking for. A bullet-hole was in his forehead. I recog- 
 nized my boy at once, for dissolution had not disfigured 
 him. I took one long look at him, covered the face, and 
 the man and I lifted the body, placed it in the coffin, and 
 started back for Warrenton. We had scarcely started, 
 when, looking at some distant hills, I saw a long line of 
 blue-coats emerge from the horizon. 
 
 We were in a comparatively open plain. I was dressed 
 in Confederate uniform, and I saw that we were perceived. 
 I therefore directed the carter to keep the road, while 
 I struck off for a ravine and twisted around under cover 
 until I was satisfied I was out of range. As I did not 
 wish to be captured, and go to a Northern prison, I did 
 some good dodging. 
 
 I reached Warrenton in safety, and after a while the 
 wagon came with the corpse. Dr. Barten read the service 
 for me, and we laid the boy, for he was only a boy, as, 
 alas, so many other Confederates were, in the churchyard, 
 where he awaits the summons to arise. I placed a stone 
 over his grave.* 
 
 Having finished this mournful duty, I hurried to the 
 hospital, where there were two thousand six hundred 
 wounded men lying. 
 
 On my way to Richmond, I had supplied myself with a 
 
 * The burial of my boy in Warrenton recalls a fact that few 
 know. After the war was well on, and there was danger that 
 Charleston might fall, Mr. Robert Gourdin, who was a devoted 
 disciple of John Calhoun, went at night with a trusted few and re- 
 moved his body from its tomb in St. Philip's churchyard and 
 buried it in another part of the grounds. It was feared that if the 
 city fell animosity might induce the violation of the grave of the 
 great Carolinian. After the war it was exhumed and replaced, and 
 the State, through the exertions of Hon. W. A. Courtenay, erected 
 the monument over him in his resting-place in St. Philip's church- 
 yard. John Gregg, the then colored sexton, is the only one, I 
 think, now living who was present. 
 
My War Expe7'ic7ices. 
 
 ^Zl 
 
 quantity of smoking tobacco, a stock of Powhatan pipes, 
 and some reed stems. Carrying as much of these com- 
 modities as I could handle, I entered a large ward. As I 
 came in some of the men looked up, and I said, * * Boys, I 
 have brought you some tobacco ; all who want some raise 
 your hands." 
 
 There was a general hand-showing, and I went round 
 and gave out all I had. Much disappointment was shown 
 by those who had not been served, until I went back to 
 the parsonage and brought another supply. Eventually 
 everyone who wanted a pipe had one. When they got to 
 smoking, they looked happy. Soon after this someone 
 called out loud, " Now, Chaplain, give us some prayers," 
 which of course I did. 
 
 Three or four days after a runner came in, saying the 
 Federals were upon us. I therefore bade the boys good- 
 bye. Putting on my knapsack, I took to the road, and 
 walked over to Culpepper Court House, and so returned 
 to James Island. 
 
chapte;r XV 
 
 THK BI^OODY '' CUI^-DK-SAC " 
 
 Tent worship — The Federals in the bloody ^' cul-de-sac^ ^ — / 
 am under fire — Scenes of slaughter — A strange incident — 
 Church plans at Charleston — Afitiancial blunder, for which 
 I am scarcely accountable — What might have been had I 
 followed m,y business instincts. 
 
 IT was my habit to gather every Sunday night in my 
 tent a number of the young men who had fine voices. 
 Colonel Simonton allowed me to keep my light burning 
 as long as I wished. 
 
 On Sunday night, June 15th, there were about a dozen 
 of them, and after singing many hymns, they concluded 
 with ' ' Bow down thine ear, O I^ord, ' ' from Moses in Egypt. 
 
 " And now," I said, " let us all kneel, and join in the 
 Lord's Prayer," which we did, and I rose, and pronounced 
 the benediction after the prayer. We then shook hands 
 and bade good-night. 
 
 At 4 A.M. the long roll beat, the whole camp was astir, 
 and in a twinkling the troops were on the double-quick to 
 Secessionville, for an attack was being made on the battery. 
 
 There is a narrow tongue of sand projecting from the 
 village of Secessionville with a bold creek on one side and 
 a wide impassable marsh on the other. At the narrow 
 point which adjoined a wide cotton field a strong battery 
 
 138 
 
The Bloody ''Cul-de-SacT 139 
 
 had been built by Colonel I^. M. Hatch, whose death is in 
 to-day's paper, January 12, 1897. (I read as I drop my 
 pen for a second. ) There was a dense fog and the attack 
 was well planned. The Federal troops advanced, over- 
 came the pickets, Capt. Thos. Simons in command, and 
 before those at the battery were aware of it, pickets and 
 Federals together rushed in on them. A desperate hand- 
 to-hand fight ensued. The enemy were knocked on the 
 head with empty bottles, for there were plenty of them, 
 shot with pistols, clubbed with butts of rifles, and driven 
 off, so that the guns got them in range and played havoc 
 with their ranks. 
 
 By this time reinforcements had poured into the battery, 
 the I^ouisiana Tigers and many others. Our regiment 
 was marched to the flank, so that the marsh lay between 
 us and the battery. As the fog lifted, the second assault 
 was made by the Federals. It was a brave assault, but 
 scarcely to be called war. The cannon poured shot into 
 their shelterless ranks, the parapet was lined with men 
 with rifles who knew how to shoot, and we were on their 
 flank, concealed by a thick wood, dealing death. It was 
 an awful slaughter ; for when once the Confederates had 
 awakened to the situation, the attacking party found 
 themselves in a sort of cul-de-sac. 
 
 As our regiment had over a mile to run, in taking up 
 its position, Doctor Ravenel, the surgeon, and I took our 
 horses and followed, riding down into an open cotton field. 
 The enemy, fired upon from the woods by our men, re- 
 turned volley after volley, and some of the balls began to 
 whiz past our ears. 
 
 * ' lyook here, Doctor, ' ' I said, * ' this is no place for you. 
 You are wanted to help wounded men ; take my horse and 
 go back to the field hospital, for I don't wish my animal 
 to be killed, and I will go on and see if there is anything 
 for me to do." 
 
I40 Led On! 
 
 I walked down towards the edge of the woods, and took 
 my stand in the open cotton field. I could see nothing, 
 but the bullets were uncomfortably close, and too many 
 to be pleasant. Colonel Hagood (Afterwards General,* 
 and then Governor of South Carolina) rode out of the 
 thicket and asked what I was doing there ? 
 
 '' Waiting," I said, '' to see what I can do.'* 
 
 * * I order you, sir, to leave, ' ' he said. 
 
 " Well," I replied, " you are not my Colonel, and I will 
 not obey you. ' ' 
 
 We both laughed, though the situation was pretty 
 serious. 
 
 ** Well," he answered, *' go, then, and sit behind that 
 stump, or you will certainly be killed for no object." 
 
 ' ' I will obey that order. ' ' 
 
 He went back into the thicket, and I went for the 
 stump. It was the stump of a large pine tree. A moment 
 after two bullets struck the stump. Jumping up, under 
 the impression that I was in the exact range, I went out 
 again into the open field. I would have lain down be- 
 tween the cotton hills, but unfortunately they ran the 
 wrong way. Had they been crosswise they would have 
 been a protection ; for it is remarkable how slight an ob- 
 struction is a protection in battle. They ran lengthwise, 
 however, and I had scarcely reached the ground when a 
 whole volley scattered round and over me, flinging the 
 dirt upon me. I do not know why I escaped death. I 
 must have been shielded by a merciful Providence, who 
 still had some work for me to do. With a bound I stood 
 upright and said to myself, ' ' This is a mean way to die ; 
 if I am to be shot, I will fall like a man." But soon my 
 attention was drawn in another direction, for young Chris- 
 topher Trumbo came running out of the woods, and holding 
 up his hand, exclaimed : " Oh, Mr. Porter, see what the 
 Yankees have done to me ; they have shot off my thumb." 
 
 ■^General Hagood died Jan. 5, 1898. 
 
The Bloody '* Cul-de-Sacr 141 
 
 "" Thank God," I said, " they have not shot off your 
 head. Go to the rear ; you will find Doctor Ravenel 
 waiting for you." 
 
 A few seconds afterwards three men came out, two sup- 
 porting their comrade between them. He was spitting 
 blood and the others were carrying his gun. I found that 
 a bullet had struck him, but his belt or buckle had turned 
 it, and he was suffering merely from concussion. 
 
 ** Go back, men," I said, " you are needed there. Give 
 me this man ; I will take him to the rear. ' ' 
 
 They went back very reluctantly, and I did not blame 
 them. I took the man, and we had not gone far, before 
 a shower of bullets enveloped us. Fortunately, a quarter 
 drain was at hand, and we got into it. As the fusillade 
 stopped, we started again, and reaching the rear, I turned 
 the wounded man over to the Doctor and returned. 
 
 When I got near the edge of the woods, a dead man 
 was brought out ; it was Fleetwood Laneau. I helped 
 with his body, took him out of range, and went back to 
 meet the body of R. W. Greer ; did the same for him, and 
 returned to meet Thos. N. Chapman's body; repeated for 
 him what we had done for the others, and went back to 
 meet them bringing I. H. Tavener, shot through the 
 body. These were four of the twelve who had been sing- 
 ing in my tent at twelve o'clock the night before, and 
 the sun had just risen. Such is war ! 
 
 We had to take poor Tavener farther than we had car- 
 ried the others, and by the time I got back to the field, 
 the battle was over. Four as gallant assaults as have ever 
 been made had been made by the Federals. They fought 
 with determined desperation, but the more men they 
 brought the more we killed, for it was a narrow place, in 
 which they were compelled to keep advancing, so that we 
 mowed them down like wheat. We buried over a thou- 
 sand of their dead, in the immediate front of the battery. 
 
142 Led On! 
 
 While I was on James Island a circumstance occurred 
 for which I vouch, while I share in the wonder it may ex- 
 cite in the mind of the reader. I wished to have a cele- 
 bration of the Holy Communion, but had left my Com- 
 munion set in Virginia.* I tried to buy proper vessels in 
 Charleston, but could not. I did not feel authorized to 
 take the sacred vessels belonging to the Church of the 
 Holy Communion, and the only things I could get were 
 fluted tumblers. These I used in the Communion Office. 
 After the service I washed them, and put them in the 
 basket, saying I would see they were never used for any- 
 thing else. I wiped the second tumbler, and put my hand 
 into the covered basket to put the tumbler in ; it slipped 
 out of my hand and fell on the other tumbler, and broke 
 both into the smallest fragments. There was not a piece 
 left large enough to put a teaspoonful of water or wine in. 
 There was not a distance of two inches between the tum- 
 blers when the one fell on the other; all of us around were 
 amazed and awed. I upset the basket, and gathered the 
 fragments and buried them. Some may think a plain, 
 practical man, as this narrative shows I have been, has no 
 superstition in his make-up. But I do not deem it super- 
 stition, when I say those glasses had been used for the 
 most solemn rite in which man can engage ; they had 
 contained consecrated wine, the symbol of the Redeemer's 
 shed blood. Most likely sometimes they might have been 
 used for drinking whiskey out of them, and it was not 
 meant that they should be profaned by such use again. I 
 never again had the opportunity to administer the Holy 
 Communion to the soldiers ; we were kept moving about 
 and were so constantly on the alert, that there was no 
 chance for me to do so. 
 
 Some Sundays, however, I used to run up to Charleston 
 
 * This set General IvOgan has recently presented to the relic 
 collection in Richmond. 
 
The Bloody " Cul-de-Sac^ 143 
 
 and hold service at the Church of the Holy Communion. 
 It was at one such service, held in January, 1863, that I 
 stepped forward in the chancel, just before the sermon, 
 and told the congregation I felt that the war must soon 
 end, and I wished to build a church that would be a church, 
 to cost not less than two hundred thousand dollars — two 
 hundred thousand dollars as a thank-oflfering to Almighty 
 God for the restoration of peace. I proposed that we 
 would raise the walls of this present church, make a two- 
 story building of it, and give it as a home to widows and 
 orphans of the Confederacy who might be in need. Mr. 
 Geo. A. Trenholm, who was then the Secretary of the 
 Treasury of the Confederate States, happened to be in 
 church. He, the next day, wrote me a letter expressing 
 approval of my views, and enclosed a check for fifty thou- 
 sand dollars, telling me to invest it as I pleased, to collect 
 all I could from the congregation, and go on with my plans. 
 He added that whatever deficiency there was, he would sup- 
 ply the same. His wife would give the organ, he said, his 
 children the stained-glass windows. He told me that if I 
 would select a lot, Mrs. Trenholm would pay for it. I 
 bought the lot in Rutledge Avenue, nearly in front of what 
 is now Radcliffe Street, and where Mr. George Wagner has 
 his brick house, and Mr. Trenholm gave me his check for 
 J6500 for the purchase, in the name of Mrs. Trenholm. 
 With this beginning and his assurance, I was very happy. 
 Before depositing Mr. Trenholm' s check I unfortunately 
 showed it to a certain banker, and told him my plans. 
 This banker was a noble layman, but he made me make 
 an awful blunder. 
 
 '' What are you going to do with this $50,000 ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " I am going right down to the wharf to buy cotton 
 with it. There are now fifteen blockade runners in port. 
 I will put three bales on each steamer, and if three 
 
144 ^^^ O'^ • 
 
 steamers out of five get through I will sell the cotton on 
 the other side, deposit half the proceeds there in England, 
 sell exchange for the other half, and keep at it until I 
 have the whole fifty thousand in gold on the other side." 
 
 * * You shall do nothing of the kind, ' ' he said. 
 
 "And why not? Here is Mr. Trenholm's authority 
 to do as I please with it." 
 
 * * If you act so, it will show the church has no confi- 
 dence in the cause, and the money will do more harm 
 than good." 
 
 I did not see it in this way, and my business instincts 
 told me I was right, and I answered, ' ' Confidence or not, 
 this is trust money of the Church. As to my own money, 
 you know, sir, I have sold all my bank stock, railroad 
 stock, private bonds, and have bought from you Confed- 
 erate eight per cent, bonds. That was my own, and I 
 have shown my confidence, and put everything in Con- 
 federate securities save one house in Ashley Street, and if 
 there was any market for real estate, that would go too, 
 but I have no right to risk this trust fund, and I will not 
 doit." 
 
 ' ' I will go and see Mr. Trenholm, ' ' he replied, * ' and 
 he will stop your cotton speculations. ' ' 
 
 I wish now that I had let him go. I might have had 
 time to set three or four agents to work, to buy the cotton 
 before Mr. Trenholm could find me. Even if I had gone 
 myself to Mr. Trenholm I might have out-talked my 
 friend the banker, for I am sure Mr. Trenholm would 
 have been on my side. 
 
 Foolishly I gave in, and bought Confederate eight per 
 cent, bonds, which after the war I sold for $350, just 
 enough to purchase carpets for the chancel and aisles of 
 the old church. The war ran on sixteen months longer, 
 and blockade runners went regularly during that time. 
 If I had carried out my original plan with regard to that 
 
The Bloody " Cul-de-Sac." 
 
 145 
 
 fifty thousand dollars, I could have sent hundreds of bales 
 of cotton to England, and at the price of cotton here and 
 there, I could have had a million dollars for the church 
 after the war; could have rehabilitated this desolated 
 diocese, and not have been struggling as I am now to keep 
 alive that very parish of the Holy Communion, and the 
 still more important work of which an account will come 
 later. Here was a banker's judgment against a poor par- 
 son's, the class that has to do the hardest financiering of 
 any among men, but who, as most laymen think, know 
 nothing about finance. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SOMJ^ OF the; horrors of war 
 
 TAe shelling of Charleston — I am in the thick of it — A work 
 of mercy — ' * Mamma ^ I saw him die / " — Yellow fever — 
 The death of my first born — * ' O Lord, save Thy people, 
 and bless Thine heritage'''' — Grief and patience. 
 
 THK Federals had been shelling Charleston from Morris 
 Island for two years. It was a senseless waste. It 
 cost the United States a great deal and did little harm to 
 the city ; many shells fell short of the city, many struck 
 in the burnt district, or exploded in the streets, and 
 the damage was inconsiderable. St. Michael's and St. 
 Philip's steeples were the targets St. Philip's was struck 
 and injured a good deal, St. Michael's twice. The last 
 shell fired struck the chancel and revealed a large win- 
 dow that had been bricked up. There is now a hand- 
 some stained-glass window put in by the Frost family, 
 in memoriam. This senseless bombardment in no wise 
 furthered the object of the war. It killed some eighty 
 inoffensive old people, men and women, but did not hit a 
 soldier, for there were none in the city to hit. They were 
 all on the fortifications. 
 
 The Federal admiral has been blamed for not steaming 
 in and taking the city. He knew better than his critics. 
 
 146 
 
Some of the Horrors of War, 147 
 
 "*The harbor was magnificently fortified, the channel was 
 filled with torpedoes, and on every spot in it one hundred 
 guns of the largest calibre could be concentrated. No 
 vessel afloat could have been above water a quarter of an 
 hour. By the zeal of the blockade runners, and the in- 
 domitable will of the people, as soon as Sumter fell, forti- 
 fications had been planned and constructed, so that the 
 place was impregnable. Thus Charleston was never cap- 
 tured, although it was evacuated when General Sherman 
 marched through South Carolina to Columbia. 
 
 During these terrible days Rev. Mr. Howe, Rev. G. M. 
 Green, and myself were then the only Church clergymen 
 in the city, and very few others of any denomination. We 
 divided up the hospitals and each of us visited them daily 
 besides performing our parish duties. The Rev. Mr. 
 Dehon, son of the great Bishop Dehon, had died of disease 
 taken in attending the hospitals. But our calamities were 
 augmented by the fact that in August yellow fever was 
 brought into the city by a sick sailor on one of the 
 blockade runners. Smallpox was also prevalent. I heard 
 Doctor Ozier, the then most prominent local physician, 
 say that there was a case in every third inhabited house 
 in Charleston. Of course we clergymen had a great deal 
 to do. We were forced to open our doors to the shelter- 
 less. Dr. Wragg, from Broad Street, when burnt out, I 
 had invited to my house, which had twelve rooms in it. 
 Mr. Allston Pringle, from lower end of King Street, A. O. 
 Andrews, from Hazel Street, both shelled out, took refuge 
 at my home, and were there until the war ended. 
 
 One incident of these days affects me in the remem- 
 brance. When General Sherman was marching through 
 Georgia, the Federal prisoners at Anderson were removed 
 to Florence in this State. A temporary track had been 
 laid through Spring Street across the Ashley River bridge, 
 and leading to the South Carolina Railroad and North- 
 
1 48 Led On ! 
 
 eastern Railroad stations. The box-cars, for that was the 
 only kind we had, often stopped at our corner, for my 
 house is corner of Rutledge and Spring Streets. Many 
 of the poor men were down with scurvy. 
 
 I accordingly laid down a store of onions, and as each 
 train stopped, I sent out my two little boys Toomer and 
 Theodore, with loaves of bread, and bags of onions and 
 fresh water to the prisoners. On Wednesday, October 
 20, 1864, these two children had gone as usual with their 
 stores to help the poor fellows, when I suddenly saw them 
 running back weeping bitterly. The eldest, Toomer, 
 nearly eleven years old, threw himself on his mother's 
 knee, and said: " Oh, mamma, mamma, I saw him die. 
 I know he is our enemy, but I saw him die in a box-car. 
 Maybe he is some boy's papa, and suppose my dear papa 
 was a prisoner, and was to die in a box-car, what should 
 we do?" 
 
 The child sobbed bitterly, and it was a long while before 
 we could comfort him. Such was the child, as handsome 
 a boy as was to be found anywhere, and apparently in high 
 health. But even then I felt a sort of foreboding, and on 
 Friday I called to see a youth who was very ill with yel- 
 low fever. He had been an orphan under the care of an 
 aunt, and I told this woman not to distress herself, as I 
 had seen so many cases of fever, that I was justified in 
 assuring her that, judging from his symptoms, he would 
 not die, and he did not. " But," I said to her, '' I am 
 passing under the shadow of a great cloud. I do not know 
 what it is, but I feel I am about to be greatly afflicted. ' ' 
 
 She tried in vain to cheer me. 
 
 On the following Saturday I was writing a sermon on 
 the text, St. John, iv., 49, " And the nobleman said, ' Sir, 
 come down, ere my child die.' " When writing, my boy 
 came to me and said: *' Do, papa, come and help me raise 
 my kite, I cannot do it by myself. ' ' 
 
Some of the Horrors of War. 149 
 
 I was inclined to put him off, but I had been in the 
 habit always to grant my children's requests, if I could, 
 so I went, and raised his kite for him. How glad I have 
 been since then that I did it ! At supper time (a frugal 
 meal, for we had not had butter for months, and our onl}^ 
 sugar was sorghum molasses, with only a substitute for 
 tea and coffee) I noticed that my child did not eat his 
 supper. I said to him : ' ' You do not seem to fancy the 
 molasses ; perhaps your mother can spare you some 
 milk." 
 
 He took the milk, but still did not eat his supper. 
 I noticed it, and he said: " I do not feel very well, and if 
 you will excuse me, papa, I will go to the fire." 
 
 I told him to go, and my wife, happening to look at me, 
 observed there was a look of distress on my face. 
 
 *' Oh, my dear," she said, " you are too anxious." 
 
 * * You do not remember, wife, that there is a pestilence 
 raging." 
 
 The shadow of a great gloom settled on me. I pushed 
 off from the table, and said, ' * We will have family pray- 
 ers, and then you can go to bed, my son." 
 
 When we rose from our knees, the dear boy still knelt, 
 and was asleep. I went to him and took him up. 
 
 " Oh, papa ! " he said, " I am so sorry I went to sleep 
 at prayers, but I am so tired. ' ' 
 
 I said, * * Put your arms around papa, and give him one 
 good hug. ' ' He did — it was the last. I took him on my 
 back, and carried him upstairs, and in seventy-four hours 
 I brought his lifeless body down again. Doctor Wragg 
 was in the house and had done all that could be done, but 
 the boy died of yellow fever. In twenty-four hours, my 
 other two children, and my sister's little orphan girl, my 
 adopted daughter, were all down with it. Their cases 
 were mild. Toomer's was violent from the beginning. 
 His pathetic pleas for ice wrung our hearts, for the fortune 
 
150 Led On! 
 
 of the Vanderbilts could not have bought a pound in 
 the city of Charleston. We had no ice machines then, 
 and we could get nothing from the North. The last day 
 Toomer repeated the collect he had studied for Sunday, 
 the Gloria in Kxcelsis, the Creed, the Gloria Patri, 
 verses of the Psalter, hymn after hymn. But his nerves 
 seemed to have received a shock. The condition we were 
 all in seemed to prey on his mind. The crash of shells 
 falling in the city, and bursting every few minutes, the 
 alarm of fire every now and then, the poor food we were 
 eating, the prisoners passing our door — all seemed to weigh 
 him down. At last he clasped his hands, and turning up 
 his beautiful eyes, he said, ' ' O Lord, save Thy people, 
 and bless Thine heritage. ' ' Then, putting his two hands 
 in his mother's (she was standing on the left side of the 
 bed, and I on the right), he said, " Mamma, it is so hard, 
 it is so hard, ' ' then turning to me, he put his hands in 
 mine, and said, * * Papa, let me go, let me go. ' ' I, consent- 
 ing, said, '' Go, my darling, if Jesus calls you." 
 
 I sank on my knees, and before I could raise my head, 
 he had gone, — gone to be with our dear I^ord, gone to his 
 life-work in His presence. Is it any wonder that when- 
 ever I have since heard those words in the Te Deum, ' ' O 
 I/Ord, save Thy people and bless Thine heritage, ' ' my son's 
 dear voice has sounded in my ears, and this scene risen 
 vividly before my mind ? 
 
 A remarkable incident connected with the church hap- 
 pened while he was dying. In September, 1864, Mr. T. 
 D. Wagner had said, that as there was still some debt on 
 the church and on the Sunday-school, and it was no 
 time to have debts, he wished to know the full amount 
 still due. I accordingly told it to him, namely, $3,360 on 
 the church, and $5,145.95 on the school-house, for the in- 
 terest was unpaid for three years, and had increased the 
 original amount due. Mr. Wagner gave me his check for 
 
Some of the Horrors of War. 151 
 
 the sum, and thus we satisfied the mortgage on the 
 church and school-house. 
 
 It was while I was standing at the bedside of the dying 
 boy, a package was handed me from the post office. I 
 threw it unopened into a drawer and some days afterwards 
 opened and found these satisfied papers. This my son, 
 therefore, was born the hour that I was holding the first 
 service at the arsenal, 8th of January, 1854, and the papers 
 freeing the finished church from debt, were handed me 
 whilst he was dying. 
 
 lyittle Toomer was buried the 26th of October, at Mag- 
 nolia cemetery, by his brother and sister, for we could 
 not get to Georgetown on account of the blockade.* 
 
 On the 27th of October, I was called upon to bury a lad 
 named Knox, at St. Paul's Church, who had also died of 
 yellow fever. I was about to refuse, but my dear wife 
 said, " Husband, God requires of you to set an example; 
 go and do your duty." 
 
 So I went, and as I met the corpse at the door, — it was 
 in the same kind of coffin, one even of the same size, — I 
 seemed to be burying my child again. I reeled, and 
 almost fell, but gathering myself together, I read the ser- 
 vice through, and from that time just kept on with my 
 duties; preached the next Sunday, although with a heart 
 as nearly broken as a man's ever is; and I believe if I 
 had not gone right to work, and kept at it, I should have 
 become crazy. I did not grieve less because I did what 
 duty required, but it gave me strength to bear. There is 
 a large lot attached to my house, and I laid it out in a 
 handsome flower-garden, bought some plants and worked 
 hard, when not engaged in ministerial offices, just to 
 drown thought, and tire myself, so that I could sleep. 
 The other children all recovered. 
 
 * I removed their bodies to that place, and to my family burying- 
 ground in January, 1870, but the anguish was too much for me, 
 and brought on a hemorrhage while the removal was being made. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 BURNING OF COIvUMBiA 
 
 Non-combatants driven from Charleston — My lost sermons — 
 Adventures of some port wine — Burning of Columbia — 
 Drunkenness and robbery enter with General Sherman — A 
 panic-stricken people. 
 
 M 
 
 ATTKRS were getting worse ; it was determined to 
 hold Charleston to the last extremity, to fight 
 street by street, if attacked, and orders were issued to re- 
 move all non-combatants from the city; especially women 
 and children. 
 
 I therefore started with my family to Anderson, but 
 before we reached Alston, twenty-five miles from Colum- 
 bia, the train was halted. An immense freshet, we were 
 told, was coming down the river, and had carried away 
 some trestles in the railway-bridge, so that we were com- 
 pelled to return to Columbia. When we arrived there, 
 old Doctor Reynolds and his wife opened their hospitable 
 doors to us, and leaving my family with them, I returned 
 to Charleston. Sadness greeted me. General Hardee, 
 who was in command (an attendant, by the by, of the 
 services of the Church of the Holy Communion), sent for 
 me, and told me that General Sherman * had left Savan- 
 
 * When General Sherman was marching through South Caro- 
 lina, the Federals burned many buildings in Camden, among them 
 
 152 
 
Burning of Columbia. 153 
 
 nah, and was moving on Columbia. This would force 
 the evacuation of the city. He added, * * Unless you are 
 prepared to take the oath of allegiance to the United States 
 government, you had better leave. ' ' 
 
 As I had been too pronounced a man to be left undis- 
 turbed, I told him that I would take that oath when the 
 flag of the Confederacy was furled, but not till then. 
 Charging me to secrecy, he ordered me to leave ; so, on 
 Sunday, loth February, I bade the congregation farewell, 
 telling them that I was going to leave the city for some 
 time, and the church would be closed until my return. 
 On Tuesday, I left by the Northeastern Road for Florence, 
 to go thence to Columbia, for the bridge on the Congaree 
 had been washed away. I took with me the sacramental 
 vessels of the church, in a large black box, and we reached 
 Columbia on Wednesday night. I had placed a box con- 
 taining books and clothing, sermons and valuable papers, 
 in charge of a friend, Mr. Wm. Allston Pringle ; but in 
 the confusion, he lost the box. I never saw the box or 
 books again, until four years afterwards. The Sisters of 
 Mercy sent me a half-dozen of the books, which had been 
 rescued by a kind-hearted Roman Catholic priest, where, 
 or how, I have never learned. The sermons, clothing, and 
 valuable papers, I never heard of again. 
 
 I wonder if any of General Sherman's men read the 
 
 the Protestant Episcopal Theological Seminary. Bishop Davis 
 wished to revive the same, and I asked Mr. Welsman to donate for 
 that purpose a building in Spartanburg, which had been built for a 
 church school for girls, but had been vacated through the failure 
 of the enterprise. Mr. Welsman generously consented. The 
 seminary lasted a few years, but the diocese was too poor to sus- 
 tain it, and it was closed. The trustees sold it, and Converse Col- 
 lege, a school for girls, is flourishing there. The interest is donated 
 to the Theological Seminary at Sewanee, University of the South. 
 If I had not asked Mr. Welsman for that building, Sewanee would 
 not be getting that I500 a year. 
 
154 Led On! 
 
 sermons ! They were some of my best, and I would like 
 very much to get hold of some of them myself. 
 
 Wednesday, General Sherman's army had now reached 
 the Congaree River, and fighting had begun below the 
 city. Three days after my departure from Charleston, a 
 portion of this army was distinctly visible on the heights 
 outlined against the sky. 
 
 Shells were suddenly thrown into the city of Columbia 
 without warning, and as I was one day walking in the 
 street, I saw a shell strike the corner of the house just in 
 front of me, next to the house where my family was stay- 
 ing. In the front piazza a group of terrified women were 
 standing. There is still a gash in the west end of the 
 State House made by one of those shells. 
 
 General consternation prevailed in that city, which was 
 filled with women and children, refugees from the coast. 
 The shelling did not continue for any length of time, for, 
 to the credit of General Sherman be it said, as soon as he 
 learned that an over-zealous ofl&cer was shelling Columbia 
 without orders he immediately stopped it. Such was the 
 report at the time. The Confederate General Wheeler, 
 with his cavalry, then in Columbia, was in full force, and 
 one of his captains meeting me, asked if I could tell him 
 where he could procure a pair of stockings. I went im- 
 mediately to the store of the Ladies' Relief Association, 
 where Mr, Kdwin L. Kerrison was in charge, who told me 
 that he would give me a box of socks, on condition that I 
 helped him move some of the wine and liquor which was 
 there. He feared the soldiers would break in and the 
 consequences might be serious. Seeing a number, I think 
 one hundred and forty-four cases of port wine, marked 
 Ladies' Relief Association, which had arrived after run- 
 ning the blockade, I agreed to Mr. Kerrison' s proposition. 
 This wine would be of service to the sick. I then went in 
 search of the Captain, and giving him the box of socks, 
 
Burning of Columbia, 155 
 
 asked him for a squad to protect me in carrying this wine 
 through the streets, which he did; and with the help of 
 Doctor Reynolds's waiting man and a truck, I safely dis- 
 posed of one truck load of wine. 
 
 I then went about the city endeavoring to reassure 
 such ladies as were without a male protector. During all 
 these hours a constant firing was kept up above and below 
 the city ; in the midst of which, at night, we retired to 
 bed, but not to sleep — an anxious, careworn people. 
 
 The city of Shushan was perplexed. I shall record 
 what came under my own observation, which was noted 
 at the time ; 1 trust nothing that is written in this book 
 will stir up an angry feeling in a single heart. My life is 
 a striking illustration of God's Providence, and nothing is 
 further from my wish or intent than to engender strife. 
 
 The events of which this part of my narrative treats 
 have passed into history. My effort ever since General 
 Johnson surrendered has been to make peace between the 
 people of the North and the South ; and by the blessing 
 of God on my humble efforts, I have been the means of 
 bringing many on both sides to a better understanding. 
 
 During the shelling of the city on Thursday, the i6th 
 February, a large quantity of cotton was brought in great 
 haste out of many houses and yards, from both sides of 
 Main Street, and put in the middle of the wide thorough- 
 fare. This cotton had been stored in every conceivable 
 place, and when the shelling began, the owners became 
 frightened, lest the shells should set the bales on fire, and 
 they hurriedly brought them from their hiding-places. 
 In some of the other streets immense piles were heaped 
 up. I remember a large pile in front of Mr. W. F. Des- 
 saussure's house. But the cotton in Main Street was in 
 one straight line, not more than a couple of bales high, 
 and much of it was loose cotton. On Friday morning the 
 17th, between two and three a.m., there was a terrific ex- 
 
156 Led On! 
 
 plosion, which shook the city like an earthquake. Hastily- 
 dressing myself, I hastened into the street where I learned 
 that an explosion had taken place at the depot of the South 
 Carolina Railroad, where a quantity of blockade goods 
 with much powder and fixed ammunition was stored. 
 In the general demoralization of the hour, a number of 
 persons had gone there, with lighted torches, to help 
 themselves to goods, which they knew would otherwise 
 fall into the hands of the enemy. By accident the powder 
 was ignited, the depot was crowded, and many lives were 
 lost. 
 
 While out inquiring about the explosion, I met Gen. 
 Wade Hampton and staff, in front of Hunt's Hotel. The 
 coming day was just lighting up the eastern horizon, and 
 I said to General Hampton, " Do you propose to bum 
 this cotton ? " 
 
 ' * No, ' ' he replied, ' * no need ; for General Sherman 
 will not stay here. He has indeed marked his course with 
 desolation, and this cotton he would certainly destroy as 
 he is destroying all the railroads, but he is pushing on to 
 General I^ee's rear. The cotton, if saved, will be some- 
 thing for our poor people to live on after the war. ' ' 
 
 He then asked me to go to the Preston mansion, and 
 take my family there, as it would be safer with someone 
 in it. General Hampton also advised me to get notes 
 from the ladies in the city asking protection, as he thought 
 they would need it, and was sure it would be given, for 
 the city was now evacuated. I bade him good-bye. How 
 handsome he looked that day, as he sat on his horse, of 
 which he seemed to be a part, for he was a superb rider ! 
 I saw him with his staff ride out of the city, just before 
 the sun rose, and we did not meet again until the flag of 
 the Confederacy had been furled forever, and the mighty 
 contest, with all its heroic deeds and unparalleled suffer- 
 ings, had become a thing of the past. 
 
Burning of Columbia. 157 
 
 My wife declined to go to the Preston mansion, so I went 
 and urged the old servant not to betray the hiding-place 
 of the Preston family silver. He promised, but the pres- 
 sure was too much for him, and he revealed the place and 
 all the silver was taken away. Soon after the Federal 
 soldiers entered Columbia. 
 
 Following General Hampton's suggestion, I went over 
 to the Presbyterian Theological Seminary, where I saw 
 Mr. Daniel E. Huger, and many ladies, to whom I gave 
 the General's message. Several ladies went off to write 
 the notes ; many I had already from others. 
 
 While I was waiting for the notes, I heard for the first 
 time in four years, floating on the morning air, the tune 
 of " Yankee Doodle." At that time I would rather have 
 heard the awakening notes of the Angel Gabriel's trumpet. 
 Hastily gathering as many notes as had been written, I 
 ran to the Main Street, and met the advancing column of 
 the incoming enemy, soon after they entered the town. 
 As they were marching down the street, many stragglers 
 fell out of the ranks ; but I moved on among them unmo- 
 lested, for I had taken the precaution to put on my cleri- 
 cal clothes. Very soon I saw with great apprehension 
 many persons, white and colored, rushing out of stores 
 and houses with pitchers and buckets. I heard this was 
 done to propitiate the thirsty soldiers. It was soon evi- 
 dent what was in those vessels, for many of the soldiers 
 became intoxicated, and to this cause we owed some of 
 the horrors that followed. 
 
 As soon as the column halted and stacked arms, the 
 weary and drunken men threw themselves on the cotton 
 bales in the middle of the street. Thinking the officer in 
 command would make his headquarters at the State House, 
 which stood at the head of Main Street, I went there, and 
 found a perfect orgie in progress. Many trophies and 
 mementoes of a not inglorious past, especially of the War 
 
158 Led On! 
 
 of 18 1 2, the Florida War, and the Mexican War, battle- 
 flags and swords, etc., were in the possession of drunken 
 soldiers, and were being pulled to pieces and tossed about. 
 Some of the men were wrestling and boxing. Altogether, 
 the scene was so intensely painful and mortifying, that I 
 quickly returned. 
 
 Going back down Main Street, I found Colonel Stone, 
 the officer in command, and told him the city was full of 
 unprotected women and children, and appealed to him as 
 a man and a soldier to give me some guards for them, 
 calling his attention to the drunken state of his men. He 
 courteously directed me to go to the Market House, farther 
 down the street, where I could find his Provost Marshal . 
 He at the same time wrote on one of the notes orders for 
 as many guards as I needed. 
 
 On my way to the Market House I saw the first bale of 
 cotton take fire. The soldiers who were sitting and lying 
 on the cotton had begun to light their pipes, and a spark 
 or a lighted match must have fallen on the loose cotton, 
 which of course took fire. I was within twenty feet of 
 the first cotton fired that day. The flames soon spread, 
 and the men, cursing those who had deprived them of their 
 resting-place, quickly got away from the burning piles. 
 
 I saw General Sherman and his staff ride down Main 
 Street, at about 9 o'clock a.m., and when he came in, the 
 burning cotton was still smouldering. At that time he 
 was ignorant of the cause of the fire, and naturally sup- 
 posed it had been kindled by the retreating Confederates. 
 I met him that afternoon at the house of Mr. Harris 
 Simons. He had been intimate with the family in past 
 years and was kind and considerate in his general bearing. 
 He seemed to deeply deplore the terrible condition of 
 things, but said it was his duty as a soldier to stamp out 
 the rebellion, as he called it, hurt whom it might. He 
 gave a special personal protection in writing to the family, 
 
Bur ning of Columbia. 159 
 
 but notwithstanding this they were robbed and burned out 
 that night. 
 
 On leaving, I walked some distance with the General, 
 and had some conversation regarding the preservation of 
 the library of the College. He remarked that he would 
 sooner send us a library, than destroy the one we had ; 
 adding, that if better use had been made of it, this state 
 of things would not exist, and that I must go and tell the 
 ladies they were as safe as if he were a hundred miles away. 
 I went home and told the ladies at Dr. Reynolds's house, 
 to which several families in their alarm had fled for refuge. 
 It was about half-past eight at night, when I told the 
 ladies what General Sherman had said, and they only 
 replied, ** Do you believe him ? Go on the roof of the 
 house and see for yourself. ' ' 
 
 A Captain of the Federal army had billeted himself on 
 us, and was welcomed by us, as we thought he could pro- 
 tect the house. This officer went with me to the roof of 
 the house, and we there saw that the whole of Columbia 
 was surrounded with flames. I pointed this out to the 
 Captain, and said I believed they were going to burn 
 Columbia. 
 
 * ' No, ' ' he said ; * ' those are camp-fires. ' ' 
 
 I told him that I had been four years in camp, and 
 thought I knew what a camp-fire was. Then I pointed 
 out several residences on fire, the owners of which I knew, 
 namely, Mr. Trenholm, General Hampton, Colonel Wal- 
 lace, and a number of others. The environs of the town 
 were ablaze. Then a fire broke out in Main Street, near 
 Hunt's Hotel, caused by an overturned lamp in a saloon, 
 which ignited the liquor, and as the flames spread, two or 
 three small hand-engines were brought out which I saw 
 Federal soldiers work on. Suddenly three fire-balloons 
 went up, and in ten minutes eight fires broke out simul- 
 taneously across the northern street of the city, about 
 
i6o Led On! 
 
 equal distance from each other, and stretched almost 
 entirely across the town. 
 
 At once the men who had been on the engines a mo- 
 ment before turned in and broke them to pieces. I saw 
 this from the roof of the house. 
 
 '' See that ? " I said to the Captain. 
 
 He gave one long look, then darted down the skylight, 
 and we never saw him again. 
 
 A gale of wind was blowing from the north that night, 
 and that soon caused the fire to burn freely, so that in a 
 short time the city was wrapped in a lurid sheet of flames. 
 Coming down from the house, I told the family that their 
 fears had become realized. 
 
 ' * Columbia is being burned by the enemy. ' ' 
 
 They gathered up some trifles, prepared themselves for 
 flight, and awaited anxiously the progress of events. 
 
 The house in which we were was of brick, surrounded 
 by trees, but a wooden house, that of Mr. De Trevilles, 
 was on the same block, with a brick Baptist church in the 
 rear. It seemed to me that unless the house itself was 
 fired we should probably be safe. 
 
 Going into the street I there beheld a scene which, while 
 memory lasts, I can never forget. Streams of pale women, 
 leading their terrified children, with here and there an 
 infant in arms, went by, they knew not whither, amid the 
 fierce flames. They hurried on, leaving behind them 
 forever their burning homes, and all they contained. To 
 their everlasting honor be it said, no cry escaped their 
 lips, no tears rolled down their cheeks. Fearless and 
 undaunted, they moved amid the surrounding horrors, 
 silent, self-contained, enduring. In silence, the pale pro- 
 cession passed on. When the history of heroic women is 
 written, let not those Carolina women be forgotten. 
 
 The streets were filled with soldiers mounted and on 
 foot, in every stage of drunkenness. The whole of Gen- 
 
Burning of Columbia. 1 6 1 
 
 eral Howard's Fifteenth Corps, we learned, had been 
 turned loose upon us. Shouts of derision and blasphemy 
 filled the air. Cries of ' ' There are the aristocrats ! ' ' 
 ' ' lyook at the chivalry ! ' ' were yelled into the ears of 
 these defenseless women. Men seemed to have lost their 
 manhood, and the mere beast was in the ascendant. Be 
 it said, however, that although these poor women were in 
 their power, there is no recorded instance of a white wo- 
 man having been assaulted or outraged. So much cannot 
 be said about the colored women, who were not so well 
 treated. Amid all this confusion there were occasional 
 explosions of ammunition and shells, as the fire reached 
 their place of storage. The bursting of barrels of liquor, 
 the falling of brick walls, the howling of the wind, for it 
 was blowing a gale, and the swish of the flames leaping 
 wildly from house to house made up a terrific uproar. I, 
 myself, saw men with balls of cotton dipped in turpentine 
 enter house after house. Some would take bottles of 
 turpentine, throw the liquid round about, and then set it 
 afire. It seemed as though the gates of Hell had opened 
 upon us. It did not take long to fire the whole town. 
 
 Amid the accumulated horrors of fire, pillage, a drunken 
 soldiery clamoring, with ribald insults, the awful night 
 wore on until half-past eleven o'clock. Then it was that 
 the only house in the block besides Doctor Reynolds's, 
 being in the very next lot, was fired and the ladies of the 
 household, fearing to be enveloped in the flames, insisted 
 on seeking protection at General Sherman's headquarters. 
 Our flight, therefore, was determined upon. My first 
 thought was to take the silver service of the church out 
 of the box to which it belonged ; this I left open on the 
 floor and put the silver in an open box under my bed, 
 merely throwing a cloth over it. After gathering a little 
 clothing for the children in a blanket, and putting our in- 
 fant Charles in the arms of a faithful colored nurse, my 
 
1 62 Led On I 
 
 wife, Theodore, and Josephine, my adopted daughter. 
 Doctor Reynolds, his wife and daughter, and his wife's 
 sister left the house. There we found ourselves in the 
 blazing streets, amid an infuriated mob of men called sol- 
 diers, and at once joined the dreary stream of refugees, 
 whose perils and uncertain fate we were compelled to 
 share. Through street after street we pushed our way 
 until we had reached a house within a square of General 
 Sherman's quarters, and as there had been no fire set to 
 any of the houses near the officers' quarters, we determined 
 to stop at this house. The people to whose house God's 
 hand had thus led us, received us well. The reader will 
 learn what remarkable consequences followed upon the 
 chance that made us stop at that house. 
 
 Before the gate of Mr. Miot's house there were hitched 
 two horses, belonging to two Federal officers, a captain 
 and a lieutenant. As soon as the ladies had there found 
 a place of safety. Doctor Reynolds went out into the street 
 again, saying he would go back to his house, which con- 
 tained all the mementoes of his life. He would go back 
 and see the last of them. We earnestly entreated him 
 not to go, and one of the officers to whom the horses be- 
 longed seeing this venerable, gray- haired man in the street 
 approached us, and joined in the request that Doctor Rey- 
 nolds would not venture back, as he might be insulted, or 
 ill-used, by some of the drunken soldiers. The Doctor, 
 however, insisted upon going, and the young officer sol- 
 dier — he was about twenty-eight years old — then said, " I 
 will go with you and protect you. ' ' The two left us about 
 half-past eleven p.m. Meanwhile one of the ladies stood 
 guard at the back gate, while I stood at the front gate. 
 The hours of the night dragged on, and although soldiers 
 came repeatedly to the house, and threatened us with 
 many ills, they did not molest us further. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 LIEUTKNANT McQUKEN 
 
 We arrive at a place of refuge — / confront General 
 Sherman — At my expostulation he stops pillage and de- 
 bauchery — / a7n robbed of my shawl — Rcstitutio?i and 
 repentance — A noble Yankee — My first fiery meeting with 
 Lieutenant McQueen — / apologize. 
 
 IN the meantime no tidings came from Doctor Reynolds 
 and the officer who had gone with him. Mrs. Rey- 
 nolds and her daughter, as time passed, became almost 
 frantic with anxietj^ as to his fate. Added to the horrors 
 of the dreadful night, was the uncertainty as to what was 
 to come next, or what was going on in other parts of the 
 town. The fate of the helpless women of Columbia pressed 
 very heavily on our hearts, and the few men who were 
 able to exchange a word during the night, had given each 
 other a pledge that any outrage offered to a woman, should 
 meet with the instant death of the offending party. The 
 certainty that such an act of vengeance might precipitate 
 a general massacre, the dread that to burning and pillage, 
 outrage and bloodshed were possibly to be added, served 
 to make that night a period of inexpressible agonies. No 
 language can convey an idea of the actual sufferings 
 endured by our citizens, from nightfall till dawn. 
 
 But suddenly a gleam of hope appeared in our little 
 
 163 
 
1 64 Led On / 
 
 circle in Mr. Miot's house. About three in the morning, 
 the officer who had gone with Doctor Reynolds returned 
 alone. Doctor Reynolds had told him my name, and as 
 he came up to me at the gate, he said: ** Mr. Porter, 
 Doctor Reynolds begs you to bring the ladies back, for 
 we have saved the house, and the presence of the ladies 
 will make it more secure. ' ' 
 
 I frankly confess, I did not believe him. I could not 
 imagine what he had done with Doctor Reynolds, and I 
 thought he only wished to lure the ladies into the street, 
 that he might help the others to rob them of the few 
 articles they had saved. I accordingly left him at the 
 door to ascertain for myself the condition of Doctor Rey- 
 nolds's house before returning to bring the ladies out. 
 The reader may imagine my indignation when turning 
 into the street which I thought led to my house, I saw it 
 in flames. I was standing there half-petrified by the perfidy 
 of the officer, when General Sherman came by. The burn- 
 ing city made it bright as day ; the General recognized me, 
 and I said in reply to his remark, ' ' This is terrible, " " Yes, 
 when you remember that women and children are your 
 victims. ' ' 
 
 I was desperate and had lost all fear of him. 
 
 * * Your Governor is responsible for this, ' ' he said. 
 
 ''How so?" I asked. 
 
 He said : ' ' Whoever heard of evacuating a place and 
 leaving it full of liquor ? My men are drunk, and this is 
 the cause of all. Why did not your Governor destroy all 
 this liquor before he left ? There was a very great quan- 
 tity of whiskey in the town when we arrived. ' ' 
 
 ' ' The drunken men have done much, ' ' I replied ; ' ' but 
 I have seen sober men fire house after house. ' ' 
 
 Just then an officer rode up, and saluted the General, 
 who recognized him and said, '* Captain Andrews, did I 
 not order you that this should stop ? " 
 
Lieutenant McQueen. 165 
 
 " Yes, General, but the First Division are as drunk as 
 the first regiment that came in yesterday morning." 
 
 '' Then, sir, go, and bring the Second Division and 
 have this stopped. I hold you personally responsible for 
 the immediate cessation of this riot. ' ' 
 
 Captain Andrews rode off. The Second Division from 
 Stark Hill, General Woods commanding, was brought in; 
 the drunken mob was swept by them out of the city, and 
 in less than half an hour, not another house was burned. 
 The discipline of that army was superb, and we all felt 
 that fire and disorder could have been prevented or sooner 
 arrested, for thirteen hundred houses were burned that 
 night, and seven thousand women and children driven 
 into the streets amidst the scenes which, as an eye-witness, 
 I have described. 
 
 The General passed on, and I turned back to go to the 
 ladies, reHeved by the order I had just heard given. I had 
 wrapped myself in a shawl purchased in Brussels in 1856, 
 which I had used in Switzerland, and of late in camp on 
 the picket-line. As I was hastening back, I was met by a 
 drunken sergeant and two privates, and as they ap- 
 proached, the drunken man seized my shawl, saying, 
 *'What is a rebel doing with a shawl?" He jerked 
 me towards him, and drew off, and struck me a violent 
 blow on the left temple. The attack was so sudden, 
 and the blow so severe, that for a moment I was stag- 
 gered, but gathering myself up I began to tussle for the 
 shawl. The privates advised me to desist, as the man 
 was drunk, and they could not answer for him ; he, more- 
 over, was armed, and I was not. Believing that discretion 
 was the better part of valor, I yielded, and the man wrapped 
 the shawl around him, and walked off. The three had 
 not gone far, when another Federal soldier who had just 
 come across the river, and had not been in the riot, came 
 up and said, * * Stranger, I saw that man strike you, and 
 
i66 Led On! 
 
 steal your shawl ; it is an outrage. ' ' Dropping his gun 
 from his shoulder, he continued : " I am ashamed this 
 night to own that I belong to this army ; I enlisted to 
 fight and to preserve this Union ; I did not come to free 
 negroes, or to burn down houses, or insult women, or 
 strike unarmed men. Stranger, I have a mother and two 
 sisters," and raising his right arm towards Heaven as he 
 leaned upon his gun, he said, ' ' Oh, my God, what would 
 I do if my mother and sisters were in such a plight as 
 these poor women are in here to-night. Stranger, if I 
 were a Southern man in the sight of this burned city, I 
 would never lay down my arms, while I had an arm to 
 raise." 
 
 The time, the surroundings, the words, the manner, 
 added to his words a certain thrilling eloquence. I looked 
 at the man, all blackened with powder and smoke, with 
 profound admiration and intense surprise. 
 
 I told the speaker for the sake of humanity, I was glad 
 to meet one man who seemed to have a human heart in 
 his breast. He then said, '' Stranger, if you will hold 
 my blanket and knapsack, I will get that shawl for you. ' ' 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, he dropped his encum- 
 brances at my feet, and with fixed bayonet, started in 
 pursuit of the sergeant who had my shawl. A few paces 
 off he met a comrade whom he induced to join him, and 
 the two men overtook the three men. The privates left 
 the sergeant in the hands of these two men, who at the 
 point of the bayonet, brought him double-quick back to 
 me, and my friend said, ' ' Now apologize to that gentle- 
 man for striking him, and give him back his shawl." 
 
 The sergeant made every apology, for he was quite 
 sobered by his sudden arrest. He confessed that the devil 
 nad taken possession of him this night, but he was very 
 sorry, and if he could be of any service, he would stay and 
 protect me. 
 
Lieutenant McQueen, 167 
 
 Thanking the true nobleman who had acted so grandly, 
 I recorded his name in a pocket Bible, subsequently stolen 
 from my pocket that night. By that step I lost a name I 
 would give much to recall. It would afiford me great de- 
 light to meet that man again. I think his name was 
 White ; I have an impression that he was in an - Iowa 
 regiment. 
 
 All this consumed a great deal more time than it has 
 taken me to tell it, and when I got back I found the 
 ofl&cer I left there waiting at the gate, very impatient at 
 my delay. On seeing me he cried, '* Where have you 
 been ? I have taken your wife and children home, and 
 your wife is miserable about you." 
 
 * * What, ' ' I said ; ' * you have taken my wife and chil- 
 dren back to that burning house ? ' ' 
 
 He simply said: ''The house is saved; your wife's 
 hand was, indeed, slightly burned by a falling spark, and 
 your little daughter fainted in getting back, but they are 
 now safe, and Mrs. Porter is almost distracted about you." 
 
 Had I not seen the house in flames ? and yet this man 
 coolly tells me this tale. He had taken all that was 
 dearest to me somewhere, I knew not where, and I re- 
 solved that if there had been foul play the life of one of us 
 was near its end, and I determined mine should not go 
 first. 
 
 No doubt someone reading this will think. How shock- 
 ing for a Christian minister ! Yes, to you it may seem 
 so ; but to read of it, and to be one of the actors are very 
 different things. Yes, reader, war, and all its concomi- 
 tants, are sinful, devilish ; war is begotten of Satan, and 
 born in Hell ; there is nothing good about it; but before 
 you condemn you must be placed in the same circum- 
 stances (which Heaven forbid), and then you can under- 
 stand my feelings. I said to him, ' ' Go on, and take me 
 where you have taken my family." 
 
1 68 Led On! 
 
 We passed through the street in which the scene I 
 have described took place, turned down the next street, 
 and there stood Doctor Reynolds's house, evidently un- 
 harmed. This, with a Baptist church, was the only build- 
 ing unburned for some ten blocks around. I saw I had 
 done the soldier a great wrong. The revulsion of feeling 
 was quick and violent. Extending my hand, I said: 
 *' Ivieutenant, I have judged you unfairly ; I ask of God 
 and you pardon. I thought you were a villain, and now 
 I find I am under great obligations to you. ' ' 
 
 He took my hand, and shook it warmly. '' Pardon 
 you, certainly. I knew by your countenance what you 
 felt, and it is perfectly natural, after this night's experi- 
 ence. I do not wonder you have the worst opinion of 
 every member of this army ; but we are not all alike. 
 There are some gentlemen and Christians among them 
 yet ; God help them if it were not so ! Such a mob as this 
 has been would be swallowed up by your army in a few 
 days. ' ' 
 
 He then told me that his name was Lieut. John A. 
 McQueen, of Company F, 15th Illinois Cavalry, of Gen. 
 O. O. Howard's escort, and his home was Elgin, Kane 
 County, Illinois. It was God's Providence that brought 
 us together, for much that this biography will relate has 
 been the result of the fact that this young man went home 
 with Doctor Reynolds that night. 
 
 I found the ladies and children all safe in Doctor Rey- 
 nolds's parlor. They gave me glowing accounts of the 
 gentle tenderness of Lieutenant McQueen, and of the 
 protection he had been to them. Doctor Reynolds told, 
 how, when he returned to his house he had found it a 
 pandemonium. It was filled with soldiers, and they had 
 broken open drawers, and boxes, and trunks, and had 
 scattered the contents everywhere. The box in which 
 the church plate belonged was smashed, but the common 
 
Lieutenant McQueen. 169 
 
 box under the bed, in which I had put the silver, and 
 covered it over with a towel, had escaped notice ; the 
 boldness of the ruse had thrown the robbers off their 
 guard, and so the silver service of the Church of the Holy 
 Communion, Charleston, South Carolina, was preserved. 
 When Lieutenant McQueen entered the house, he ordered 
 every man out, and as he was an officer they obeyed. He 
 placed a sentinel in the front and rear, and stationed 
 soldiers on the roof. He proceeded to form a line of our 
 servants from the well to the house, and passed buckets 
 of water to the roof. Being a brick house, and surrounded 
 as it was by trees it could not take fire excepting from 
 the shingled roof, or from the inside. 
 
 The fire having swept past the block, and the house 
 now being under guard, Lieutenant McQueen had con- 
 sidered it safe, and had returned to the house in which we 
 had taken refuge, for the ladies and myself, as I have re- 
 lated. Several parties who had been burned out took 
 refuge with us and the ladies being much exhausted, I 
 opened a box of the wine I had saved, and they found it 
 very beneficial. The next day I gave a box to Miss 
 Reynolds to distribute among the many sick ladies in the 
 city. One box I gave to the Rev. Dr. Shand for Sacra- 
 mental purposes, and had it not been saved, the Holy 
 Communion could not have been administered for months, 
 for there was not another bottle of wine in Columbia. The 
 remainder I turned over to the Rev. Mr. Jenkins and to 
 Doctor Raoul, and distributed some to the sick soldiers in 
 the hospital. 
 
 The week after this a certain lady came to me, and de- 
 manded the wine. I told her all of it was inaccessible, 
 except the box of wine that Doctor Shand had, and she 
 said that it was her wine. I said, ' ' Madam, it was marked 
 Ladies' Relief Association, and I did not know that you 
 constituted that body. ' ' I told her that there were 144 cases 
 
1 70 Led On / 
 
 of it, and she had better look up the 138 boxes that I had 
 failed to save. She was very indignant, but there was 
 nothing to be done. I did not recognize her as the Ladies' 
 Relief Association. I had saved the wine, and had given 
 it all away to the best objects.* 
 
 After seeing my family safe, I went out to help others. 
 I went to the home of Mr. G. M. Coffin, an old friend of 
 mine, and with the assistance of some negroes moved all 
 his furniture into the large lot behind Doctor Reynolds's 
 house. I then sat down by it to watch, and from sheer 
 exhaustion fell asleep. The sun was high when I awoke, 
 and every piece of furniture was gone. I have no doubt 
 the very people who helped me to move it took it while I 
 slept. It was during that sleep the Bible with the soldier's 
 name who had given me back my shawl was taken from 
 my pocket. 
 
 Saturday beamed upon us in all the beauty of a clear 
 winter's day, but the sun shone down on a blackened, 
 desolated city, and a broken-hearted people. On Sunday 
 the Rev. Robert Wilson, son-in-law of Doctor Shand, 
 preached an eloquent sermon, and a large number 
 gathered at the table of the Lord. It was a solemn hour. 
 What searchings of heart there must have been ! For 
 after all we had endured at the hands of the enemy, we 
 still could go to this feast of love, where all wrath and 
 bitterness must be left behind. We thanked God that so 
 many could go to that feast, and sobs were heard from 
 many of the women, and tears ran down the cheeks of the 
 
 * Years after this I received a letter from Mr. Stevens, then a 
 clergyman of the Church, the same who commanded the Citadel 
 Guard, who had fired on the Star of the West at the beginning of 
 the war, asking me to tell him about some wine I had in Columbia, 
 for this good woman was circulating astounding stories as to Dr. 
 Shand and myself stealing some wine from her. I wrote to him 
 the account, and he put the slander to death. 
 
Lieutenant McQueen. 
 
 171 
 
 men. Reader, you would have to be placed in like con- 
 dition with us, to understand the full meaning of the first 
 Communion after that dreadful night. The record of that 
 hour is on high, and I trust faith and love have been 
 accounted of God for righteousness to the little band, who, 
 with failing hearts, but trustful, still went to their Mas- 
 ter's board and said, " Thou hast stricken us, but we will 
 not believe Thou hast forsaken us. ' ' 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 mcqukkn's e:scapk 
 
 IVe bid farewell to Lieutenant McQueen — I provide him with 
 a letter which afterwards saves him from Souther?i bullets 
 — Hearing of his further peril I hurry to his assistance — 
 He is finally restored to the army of General Sherman — 
 Story of my adventures. 
 
 MONDAY, 2oth of February, 1865, was another day 
 of balmy beauty such as often occurs at midwinter 
 in the South. But we were spent and utterly exhausted. 
 The reaction of panic and sorrow had set in, nor did we 
 know what trials yet awaited us, for the Federal army 
 was still in the city, and the awfulness of our condition, 
 and the desolation which was all around us, began to be 
 realized. All hearts were sad, and despair was visible in 
 every face. Suddenly, about noon, there was a stir among 
 the soldiers, and regiment after regiment, and train after 
 train, passed rapidly through the streets. General Sher- 
 man had received tidings of the evacuation of Charleston, 
 and he started to intercept General Hardee and the Con- 
 federate forces. It was not long before the unwelcome 
 host was gone. 
 
 And here begins a new chapter in my experiences. 
 
 On the day General Sherman left Columbia, lyieutenant 
 
 172 
 
McQueen s Escape, 1 73 
 
 McQueen lingered until near four o'clock, fearing some 
 stragglers might harm us. We at last became uneasy for 
 his safety, for his army had gone some time, and I feared 
 that he would be shot if our scouts met him alone. At 
 length I said to him, ' ' There are men enough here to hold 
 you as prisoner, but I pledge you my life to see you safely 
 returned to your lines. ' ' I could not counsel him to accept 
 me as a companion, as my presence with him might give 
 him trouble hereafter. He, of course, would not entertain 
 the thought of taking me with him, and as he was entirely 
 in our power, the temptation to hold him for the sake of 
 saving him from danger was very great. 
 
 In spite of these considerations, all of us, at about five 
 P.M., with an amount of emotion that can easily be imag- 
 ined, gathered around this young man to bid him good-bye. 
 He had come among us as an enemy, and was leaving us as 
 a brother beloved. General Hampton, with two hundred 
 thousand men, around us, could not more effectually have 
 protected us than he had done. As he mounted his horse, 
 I begged him to stop a moment, and running into the 
 house, I asked my wife, if she had not some token of re- 
 membrance she could give McQueen. She handed me the 
 gold pencil-case from her chain. This I took to him, tell- 
 ing him Mrs. Porter had sent it to him. He held it in his 
 hand for a moment and said : * ' Did Mrs. Porter give me 
 this ? Tell her I thank her, and will never forget her, 
 but — ' ' handing it back, ' ' Tell her I never could persuade 
 anyone that a Southern woman gave me a gold pencil-case 
 in Colmnbia. I would not have a piece of j ewelry from this 
 city for any amount of money. I never could convince 
 anyone I had not stolen it. ' ' 
 
 This suggested another thought. I begged him still to 
 wait, and running into the house, I hastily wrote a letter 
 to General Hampton or any other Confederate into whose 
 haijds he might fall. This I gave to McQueen, and I 
 
1 74 Led On / 
 
 said : * ' Keep this with you ; it may be of service. Use it 
 in any emergency which in the changes and chances of 
 war may come. ' ' 
 
 I knew the woods would be filled with Confederate 
 scouts, and that his life was in danger, so long as he was 
 alone and without escort. I charged him, if he went to 
 Camden, to show kindness to our blind Bishop Davis, and 
 to his family, and to do his best to stop this barbarous 
 style of warfare. He promised me that he would, and 
 nobly did he redeem his promise. Commending him to 
 God, I parted from him, neither of us expecting ever to 
 meet again. 
 
 No time was now to be lost for self-defence in Columbia, 
 for we were like a wrecked crew in a dismantled ship. 
 General Sherman, at the request of the mayor of the city, 
 had left us some muskets for our protection. We found, 
 however, that not one could be fired. He also left us 
 some cattle, such as only starving people would eat. 
 That night we barricaded our houses, and drew out guns 
 from places where they had been secreted, and organized 
 the few men into a home guard. On the following day, 
 the committee of gentlemen who had undertaken to man- 
 age affairs, persuaded all to make a joint stock of their 
 provisions. We had all things in common, and agreed 
 to take rations for each day. I think the most trying 
 thing I ever did, was to go with Mr. Alfred Huger and 
 Mr. Daniel B. Huger and others of that stamp of gentle- 
 men, and stand for hours in the crowd of women and 
 children, white and black, until our turn came to get a 
 few quarts of cornmeal, and a small piece of bacon. This 
 we did for example's sake, and it had the happiest effect, 
 for the population of the poor were thus cared for. 
 This was a matter of some difl&culty, until we could 
 send out beyond the belt of forty miles around us, 
 which General Sherman had made a desolate waste, ^nd 
 
McQueen s Escape. 1 75 
 
 draw provisions from these sections that had escaped the 
 invader. 
 
 A month, to the day, passed before I could get any con- 
 veyance to take my family out of Columbia. At length, 
 Mr. K. ly. Kerrison, who by great forethought had sent 
 his carriage and horses beyond the reach of the enemy, 
 lent his conveyance to us and we were able to leave on 
 the 17th of March. In all the past month we had heard 
 rumors that Winnsborough and Camden had been par- 
 tially destroyed, and that the Federal army had left the 
 State at Cheraw. Mr. John Cheeseborough and his family 
 were with us in our flight. We camped out the first night, 
 and reached Newberry the next day. There we found the 
 railroad intact, and next day went by the cars to Ander- 
 son. On the way going up at Hodges Station I met Mr. 
 Wyatt Aiken, afterwards Congressman, who told me he 
 had just returned from Darlington, where he had been 
 looking for the body of his brother Hugh, then a Colonel, 
 the same who had played Claude Melnotte to my Pauline, 
 years before in Winnsborough. Hugh Aiken had been 
 killed in a skirmish near Darlington, ten days after the 
 burning of Columbia, and his brother added : ' ' Your friend 
 McQueen was wounded in the same fight, and would have 
 been killed but for a letter from you, which saved his life. 
 He drew l^xis letter from his breast pocket, saying it was 
 from the Rev. A. Toomer Porter, of Charleston. Fortu- 
 nately it fell into the hands of a soldier, who knew you,^ 
 and after reading the letter, the Confederate said, ' Yoi 
 must be an uncommon Yank, to have such a letter fro^ 
 Mr. Porter, and I will take care of you. ' " * 
 
 Mr. Aiken added : * ' There are plenty of men who, 
 stead of facing the enemy, stay behind. The brave hei^oes 
 
 * Our army was so outraged after the burning of Colurnbia, 
 Winnsborough, and Camden, that they did not take anV pris- 
 oners alive. War, diabohcal war ! 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 / 
 
1 76 Led On I 
 
 of the rear, think your letter a forgery, and McQueen an 
 impostor. They have threatened to take him from the 
 farmhouse where he was carried, and hang him, notwith- 
 standing your letter. ' ' 
 
 I thanked him for his information, and at once deter- 
 mined on my course of action. On telling my wife the 
 circumstances, we both agreed that it was my duty to go 
 and see what I could do for the prisoner. When we 
 reached Anderson, I made all arrangements for the family, 
 for Confederate money was still available, and we had a 
 supply of that. I felt the family was secure, so the next 
 day, strapping my historic shawl on my back, with some 
 underwear, I took the train for Newberry, and started to 
 look for McQueen. Where he was I had not the slightest 
 idea, but if he was in Darlington district — though the 
 district is as large as Rhode Island almost — I determined 
 to find him, if above ground. If under it, I would find 
 out who had put him there. 
 
 At Newberry I left the train, for there the road stopped, 
 
 having been destroyed between that place and Columbia 
 
 by the December freshet, and by the Federals. It took me 
 
 two days to walk to Columbia, both days in the hardest 
 
 rain I have ever been in, and that without an umbrella. 
 
 At Columbia I stopped in an old mill, on the outskirts, 
 
 made a fire and dried my drenched clothes. Next day I 
 
 succeeded in getting a seat in a wagon, with no springs, 
 
 the extemporized body being placed directly on the axles. 
 
 The old, lame mule pulled six of us thirty miles to Cam- 
 
 len, and I paid fifty dollars in Confederate money for the 
 
 r de ; there was no Society for the Prevention of Cruelty 
 
 tc Animals down there. When I reached Camden, I began 
 
 m> inquiries about McQueen. Something induced me to 
 
 go 10 the old l/ord Cornwallis house, which was used for 
 
 a hospital. Going first into one room, then into another, 
 
 I finilly opened a door without the slightest idea who was 
 
McQueen s Escape, 177 
 
 in the room. There were about a dozen Confederate sick 
 and wounded lying on the floor ; but my eye caught that 
 of one dressed in blue. He suddenly rose from one of the 
 beds, and turning to me, he raised his arms and exclaimed, 
 * * Thank God, home again. ' ' Seeing who it was, and that 
 he was about to fall, I sprang over the beds, and caught 
 lyieutenant McQueen in my arms. I^aying his head on 
 my shoulder, for a little while he sobbed, and I confess 
 the tears were running down my cheeks at the same time. 
 The scene created a sensation. Here was a Confederate 
 in captain's uniform and a Federal lieutenant clasped in 
 each other's arms, and weeping. The soldiers looked on 
 amazed. 
 
 " Wait, men, until I tell you this man's story, and you 
 will weep, too. ' ' 
 
 And they did wait, and when they heard it, McQueen 
 became a hero at once. 
 
 I soon learned from him that he, with a squad, was out on 
 a scouting party forty miles to the right of his army, after 
 dark. They were attacked, and thinking they were being 
 pursued, they retreated. The Confederates, on their part, 
 thought they had fallen into an ambush and fled. In the 
 skirmish two Federals were killed, and two wounded. 
 McQueen was one of these latter. Among the Confeder- 
 ate casualties, Colonel Aiken was killed. The Confeder- 
 ates, on cautiously returning and finding McQueen, one 
 of them had drawn his pistol to shoot, when McQueen 
 held up my letter, and it saved his life. A litter was 
 made for him, and he was taken to the home of Mi 
 Postell, who had lost his arm at Petersburg. He was/ a 
 private in the company of Capt. Thomas Ford, an adoplved 
 son of mine, who had often mentioned my name in ,4he 
 hearing of Postell. Postell said that although he did/ not 
 know me, still for his Captain's sake, he would take/ care 
 of McQueen. Finding, however, that his life w/as in 
 
178 Led On! 
 
 danger from harboring a Federal soldier, Postell had 
 brought McQueen by night to Camden, only a week be- 
 fore I arrived there, and had placed him here under the 
 Confederate authorities. McQueen had been shot in the 
 groin about ten days after the burning of Columbia, a 
 month before I found him. 
 
 The delight of McQueen, when he saw me, cannot well 
 be described ; he said home was at once before him. He 
 now felt sure of safety. How he could get there he did 
 not know, but he felt sure he would soon be home. I 
 went into the town and found that he had protected the 
 Bishop's family, and many others, and had saved every 
 house that had not been burned between Columbia and 
 Camden. When I told the people that he was in the hos- 
 pital, wounded, and a prisoner, all who had received 
 kindness from him, visited him, and loaded him with 
 attention. The blind Bishop went to him and laid his 
 hands on his head and blessed him. Finding that he was 
 sufficiently recovered to travel, and there being only a 
 surgeon and a quartermaster representing the Confederate 
 government in Camden, I obtained leave of the surgeon 
 to take charge of McQueen, while he held me responsible 
 for any damage that might occur from his giving me the 
 prisoner. The quartermaster gave me an old lame mule, 
 and Mr. De Saussure loaned me an old buggy. The young 
 ladies made up some biscuits, and fried some chickens ; 
 Mr. W. C. Courtney gave him a suit of citizen's clothes, 
 ,and Bishop Davis his linen duster. We put his uniform 
 r^n a bag under the seat, and he put on the citizen suit. 
 I placed my wounded friend in the buggy, and walked 
 alongside, driving the mule. Thus we travelled sixty- 
 four miles in two days to Chester. At night we lodged 
 with farmers. As we passed through the country lately 
 travt-^rsed by General Sherman's army, the people who 
 were poor, distressed, and stripped of their provisions, 
 
 \ 
 
McQueen s Escape. 1 79 
 
 took us in. I used to tell them about the burning of 
 Columbia, and how one of the Federal officers had proved 
 himself a Christian indeed ; and when they expressed a 
 wish to meet such a man, I would introduce my com- 
 panion, and then McQueen received the best they had. 
 He remarked that he never met such a forgiving, benevo- 
 lent people. 
 
 - When we reached Chester, I gave the mule and buggy 
 in charge to an acquaintance and never heard of them 
 again. We entered the train, when I fortunately met 
 Colonel Colquitt,* whom I had known in Charleston. I 
 told my story, and asked and gained his protection, which 
 w^as necessary, for I had nothing to show for my having 
 this '' Yank " in charge. Though of course he wore no 
 uniform, McQueen's speech betrayed him all the while, 
 and I therefore advised him to be silent. It was a risky 
 business to undertake at such a time, for I was in the 
 midst of soldiers incensed and infuriated by the march 
 through Georgia, and the desolation of South Carolina. 
 As I think of it, thirty-two years after, I wonder how I 
 dared to do it, and how we escaped without one unpleasant 
 incident. But I was aiming to reach Richmond. I knew 
 Mr. Davis, the President, and Mr. George A. Trenholm, 
 one of my vestry at home, was in the Confederate Cabinet 
 as Secretary of the Treasury, and I felt certain that with 
 his aid I could send McQueen through the lines. 
 
 Before we reached Salisbury, mingled rumors of disaster 
 and success came floating around us, no one knew how or 
 whence, for we had no telegraph. When we reached 
 Greensborough, the rumors gained substance. We found 
 we could get no farther, so with the aid of Colonel Col- 
 quitt's permit, I turned to Raleigh, thinking to see General 
 Johnston there, and proceed on to Smithville. But the 
 
 * Afterwards Governor of Georgia and United States Senator. 
 
i8o Led On! 
 
 battle of Bentonville had just been fought, and when I 
 met General Hardee, at the station, he bade me stay there 
 with McQueen, until he could see General Johnston, for 
 Sherman was advancing, and Johnston was retreating. I 
 was advised by Hardee on his return from Johnston to take 
 McQueen back to Raleigh, and await General Johnston 
 there. 
 
 We went back, and I took McQueen to the Rev. Dr. 
 Mason's house, where, after they had learned his story, 
 the best they had was at the disposal of my companion. 
 I called on General Johnston the next day, at Mr. Rufus 
 Tucker's house. He had been told by General Hardee 
 of McQueen's noble conduct, and he at once sent his 
 Provost Marshal to Doctor Mason's house with a permit 
 for McQueen to pass over to General Sherman without 
 exchange. He told me if my friend would remain quiet 
 in the place where he was, he would be in the Federal 
 camp, as the Confederates were in retreat. I went there, 
 and bade McQueen good-bye. The scene of our parting 
 I pass over ; I doubt if either of us has ever forgotten it. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THK I.AST CHAPTER OF THE) WAR 
 
 A touching story of General Johnston — The last scenes of the 
 war — My blank despair — My wife's distress over my dejec- 
 tion — I read the providential working of God in history — 
 Light through the clouds — / resolve to do my best for home 
 and country. 
 
 I HAD now travelled over seven hundred miles, by rail, 
 on foot, in a wagon without springs, in a buggy, 
 amidst many dangers, to set McQueen free. I would have 
 travelled seven thousand to show my gratitude to that 
 gallant man. 
 
 McQueen's safety being assured, my own movements 
 now occupied me. General Johnston asked me what I 
 was going to do, and I frankly told him I was puzzled as 
 to my next step. General Johnston then placed me on his 
 staff, and gave me a horse, granting me authority to do 
 what I could to help the soldiers. Of this great soldier I 
 must tell the following : 
 
 Once, while waiting for dinner in the anteroom of Mr. 
 Tucker's house, where General Johnston, General Hardee, 
 and myself were the only three present, I told General 
 Johnston that all South Carolina felt his removal from 
 command at Atlanta. The General answered that my 
 partiality had gotten the better of my judgment. 
 
 i8i 
 
1 82 Led On ! 
 
 "No," I insisted, *' a black pall fell over the State 
 when you were relieved ; we all felt that General Sherman 
 would never have reached Columbia if Johnston had not 
 been removed from Atlanta. ' ' 
 
 The gallant soldier rose, and walking hurriedly back 
 and forth in the small room, said : * ' Since you have said 
 so much, I will tell you. I was in command of as splendid 
 an army as general ever had. It was stronger and larger 
 the day I reached Atlanta than it was the day I began to 
 retreat. It took me seventy-three days to fall back 
 seventy-four miles. I never lost a wagon or a caisson. 
 I put almost as many of the enemy hors de combat as I had 
 in my army. Men who were at home flocked to me. I 
 had put fifteen thousand of Governor Brown's militia on 
 the fortifications, and Atlanta was impregnable. I had 
 * tolled ' General Sherman just to the place where I wanted 
 him, i. e., between two rivers. I had divided his forces, 
 and would have fallen on one part, and if the God of 
 battles had not been against me, I would have crushed 
 that, and fallen on the other, and an organized command 
 would not have gotten back to Chattanooga. Three bri- 
 gades had marched three miles to begin the fight when 
 the order came. ' ' 
 
 By this time the General had become so much excited, 
 that the tears gushed from his eyes, and he strode out of 
 the room into the piazza. 
 
 General Hardee and I had risen to our feet, as excited 
 as the General was, and as he went out. General Hardee 
 fairly sobbed, as he said : ' ' Yes, and the grand old man 
 does not tell you, but I will. He went to General Hood, 
 and asked him to withhold the order until the battle was 
 fought. Johnston stipulated that if it should be a victory 
 it should be Hood's, if a defeat, he would not come from 
 the field alive. If it would only be a check, Johnston 
 could fall back on Atlanta, recruit and resume operations. 
 
The Last Chapter of the War. 183 
 
 Hood, however, refused. The rest we know ; history will 
 tell of the desolation and ruin that followed." 
 
 Soon after this conversation, dinner was announced. I 
 sat between General Johnston and General Hardee. As 
 we were eating soup, a telegram was handed to General 
 Johnston, and as soon as he had read it he rose from the 
 table and called General Hardee out. In a little while Gen- 
 eral Hardee called me out, and handed me the telegram. 
 It ran thus : 
 
 Sawsbury, N. C, April, 1865. 
 
 Gen. Jos. K. Johnston : 
 
 I have not heard from General Lee for three days, but 
 from reports from stragglers, he has met with a great dis- 
 aster. Come to me. 
 
 Jefferson Davis. 
 
 General Hardee then said, *' General Johnston, you, 
 and myself and the telegraph operator alone know the 
 contents of that telegram." 
 
 ' ' Where is General Johnston ? " I asked. 
 
 * ' Do you hear that train ? He is on it, and has gone 
 to the President at Salisbur>\" 
 
 * ' What now, ' ' I asked, ' * is the next move on the mili- 
 tary chess-board ? ' ' 
 
 ' * If that is true, ' ' General Hardee said, * * that General 
 Lee has been defeated, the war is over ; this is only an 
 armed mob. We have nothing but the debris of an army, 
 except the forces with General Lee. We have but twelve 
 thousand armed men here, and propose to surrender at 
 Hillsborough. We intend to retreat at once, and no firing 
 will be allowed. For any man killed now on either side 
 will be a murdered man. You will go with me." 
 
 He gave quick orders, and the armed mob was put in 
 
1 84 Led On! 
 
 motion. Mr. Tucker pleaded with me to take a favorite 
 negro boy, a pair of fine mules and a wagon for my easier 
 transportation, and I consented, drove off, and followed 
 after the army. We camped for the night six miles from 
 Raleigh, and I slept on the same blanket with General 
 Hardee in a roadside schoolhouse. The next day, when 
 we reached Chapel Hill, General Hardee told me that it 
 was all true. General Lee had surrendered, and this army 
 would be disbanded in three days. He warned me that 
 a disbanding army was dangerous, and my mules might 
 be taken from me. He advised me to leave at once, and 
 spread news that the war was over. 
 
 Remonstrance was useless ; he was imperative ; so I left, 
 and made for Pittsborough, where relatives of mine, the 
 Hills family, resided. I stayed with them that night, and 
 I never saw so much old family silver in one family in my 
 life. There were a number of large clothes baskets filled 
 with it. I told them that as there would be no Federal 
 army through there, their only danger was from the 
 emancipated negroes. But none of it was taken ; they 
 saved it all. The next day I started towards Cheraw, in 
 the wagon. It was an exciting ride. At every farmhouse 
 where I stopped, to learn the way, I was told which was 
 the straightest route, but not to go down that road, for the 
 woods were full of deserters and bushwhackers, and it was 
 not safe. But that was just the road I had to take, and 
 I rode in hourly expectation of an attack. I did not have 
 even a pocket-knife with me, but I was not troubled by 
 any one. I followed the track of General Sherman's 
 army when he was coming from Cheraw, and was seldom 
 out of sight or smell of some memorial of that destructive 
 march. I reached Cheraw in safety, and there rested, and 
 then made for Columbia. I was going back there for 
 those groceries which I had hidden in Doctor Reynolds's 
 cellar, and thither I carried the news of the collapse of 
 
The Last Chapter of the War, 185 
 
 the Confederacy, but the news was not believed. There 
 were no telegraph lines to Cheraw or Columbia, and no 
 word had been heard. At Columbia I found what was of 
 great importance to me, my barrel of sugar, bag of coffee, 
 two boxes of candles, and roll of leather, all safe and 
 sound. To Mrs. Reynolds I gave some coffee and sugar, 
 and loading my wagon I went all the way back to Ander- 
 son. 
 
 I had been gone a month, and my wife had not the 
 slightest idea where I was. There had in fact been no 
 way of letting her know that I had found McQueen, and 
 great was the joy when I drove into my yard. I at once 
 called my servants together, and told them they were free, 
 and could leave me if they so desired, but not one left. 
 The groceries were a Godsend, as Confederate money was 
 now useless, while sugar, coffee, leather and candles were 
 as good as gold, and we lived by barter. 
 
 The third day after my arrival at Anderson, a rumor 
 reached me that a party of raiders, from Asheville, North 
 Carolina, had looted Greenville, and were on the way to 
 Anderson. By the afternoon some young men from the 
 outlying farms rode furiously through the town, with the 
 news that the Yankees, as they were called, were on us, 
 and it was not long before a squad of these raiders were 
 galloping through the town. They had on the Federal 
 uniforms, but the force was principally a set of deserters 
 and bummers, and therefore the more dangerous. They 
 had heard the Confederate Treasury had been removed 
 from Richmond to Anderson, and they were after that. 
 The fact was, that all the printing-presses of the Treasury 
 had been brought to that town, and had been put into a 
 schoolhouse, on the lot where the house was that I was 
 living in. This was a large building that had been used 
 as dormitories for a boarding-school, or college, as they 
 called it, where we were living, and this large schoolhouse 
 
1 86 Led On! 
 
 in the lot was where the printing-presses had been placed 
 to print Confederate money, and eight per cent, bonds ; 
 which had been done ad libitum. It was nearly dark when 
 the squad rode into my lot, and I went out and met the 
 leader. I said to him, " The war is over ; we have laid 
 down our arms ; General I^ee and General Johnston have 
 surrendered to General Grant and General Sherman, and 
 you are liable to trouble as marauders. ' ' 
 
 The man either did not, or pretended he did not, be- 
 lieve me, and said he had come for the Confederate gold 
 that was on my premises. I told him if there was any 
 he would have to find it, for I did not know where it was. 
 ' * There is plenty of paper money, ' ' I added, ' ' and bonds 
 here, but nothing else." 
 
 One of my faithful servants, the nurse of my baby 
 Charles, had, without my knowledge, gathered every 
 piece of silver in the house and disappeared. The officer 
 dismounted, and brought five or six of his men into 
 my house. They went to the dining-room and opened 
 the sideboard, and every closet and drawer where the 
 silver was kept, and finding none, asked where my silver 
 was. I told him I did not know ; when last seen by me 
 all those places were full of silver, but where it had gone 
 I could not tell. He called up my servants and ques- 
 tioned them ; they all professed ignorance. I noticed that 
 one of them named Ann was missing, and felt quite com- 
 fortable, for I felt sure she had the silver somewhere, but 
 where, I truthfully did not know. Finding nothing down- 
 stairs, the officer led his men to the foot of the staircase, 
 but a cousin of mine, Mrs. Christopher Mathewes, who 
 with her children was refugeeing at my house, stood on 
 the lower step, and said, '' You do not go up those stairs 
 unless you do it with violence." She was a strikingly 
 handsome young woman, tall and graceful, with raven 
 hair and brilliant flashing black eyes. She was a beauti- 
 
The Last Chapter of the War. 187 
 
 ful figure as she stood there defying these men. They 
 paused. She said: " On the word of a lady, there is no 
 silver, no jewelry, no money upstairs ; nothing but our 
 wardrobes, and you shall not, if you are men, invade 
 our chambers ; if you are beasts there is nothing to be 
 done. ' ' 
 
 The leader was cowed, and turning to me he said, 
 ** Show me where the paper money is." 
 
 I knew it was worthless, and was glad to get them out 
 of my house, for my wife, who was in very delicate health, 
 had become very nervous. I led him out. As we were 
 walking along, he threw up the lapels of my coat, and put 
 his hand on my watch-pocket. Finding no watch there, 
 he said, ** What is a man like you doing without a 
 watch?" 
 
 ' ' You do not expect a man who has been through Sher- 
 man' s army to have a watch ? " 
 
 " Where did you meet Sherman ? " 
 
 ' * In Columbia, ' ' I said. 
 
 He only grunted, ' ' Oh ! ' ' and said no more about my 
 watch, which I had slipped into my shoe when they 
 came into the yard, for I had had experience. 
 
 The schoolhouse was full of very expensive machinery, 
 and the squad of soldiers ransacked the building, of 
 course finding nothing but paper. They were furious 
 with rage and disappointment. They examined the 
 presses carefully and asked, ' * Are these the presses that 
 ground out your money ? " I told them they were the 
 same, and then the work of destruction began. They 
 smashed every machine, leaving no two pieces together. 
 They did not fire the building, for which we were 
 specially thankful. 
 
 Thus was I an eye-witness on my own premises of the 
 last remnants of the Confederate Treasury. The party 
 left, but the rascals had gone to the stable and carried ofi" 
 
i88 Led On! 
 
 Mr. Tucker's two fine mules, and left two old broken- 
 down horses in their stead. 
 
 After those robbers had gone out of the town, Ann came 
 out of her hiding-place, and brought every piece of silver 
 with her. She had rescued my plate of her own accord. 
 She was a faithful servant, and died in my service some 
 ten years afterwards, faithful to the end. 
 
 When the excitement was over, I was somewhat men- 
 tally broken down, for all this time, of which I have given 
 account, the loss of our dear boy had been gnawing at my 
 heart. The stirring scenes I had been in had kept it 
 down, but now all was over, and the Confederate flag was 
 furled, and the cause for which so many lives had been 
 given, and so much sufiering endured, was lost. I was 
 overcome. I was, with the rest, left penniless ; my securi- 
 ties were worthless ; I thought I had a little real estate in 
 Charleston, but no money; nothing but that sugar and 
 coffee and leather to live on, and a house full of people to 
 support. There was not a blanket in the house — all had 
 been sent to the soldiers. There was not even a piece of 
 flannel, for the ladies had given all to make bags to put 
 powder in for cannon. The ladies were dressed in domes- 
 tic ginghams woven by country women. The curtains 
 were cut up for skirts. There was nothing but blank 
 despair, and my heart failed me. I said, '' Napoleon was 
 right ; God was on the side of the strongest battalions. ' ' 
 The question of right was after all a mere question of 
 might, and such a God could not command my love or 
 obedience. The thought that a cause in which Robert E. 
 lyce and Stonewall Jackson, such men, such eminent 
 Christian men, had drawn their swords, should fail, made 
 life worthless, and I folded my hands and wished to die. 
 
 It was thus that my religious and intellectual outlook 
 was changed. 
 
 I had always been fond of history, and had a large col- 
 
The Last Chapter of the War. 1 89 
 
 lection of historical works ; so for many weeks I went 
 early every morning up to a room by myself and read 
 until past midnight, scarcely going to meals. My dear 
 wife did all she could to cheer and rouse me ; for my 
 mental depression almost broke her heart. I read a long 
 list of English history, Michelet's France, Lamartine's 
 History of the Girondists, Motley, Prescott, Gibbon's Rise 
 a7id Fall, and finally Grote's Greece. I simply devoured 
 the books and read with lightning speed. My edition of 
 Grote is in twelve volumes. I finished the book after 
 twelve o'clock one night, when I got on my knees, and 
 thanked God for the lesson I had learned. I went down 
 to our chamber. My wife was sleepless, and going up to 
 her bed, I took her hand and said : * ' Wife, I have been 
 a great fool ; here I have been throwing away my faith 
 in God, my interest in life, my duty to you and our chil- 
 dren, under a gross delusion. The records of history 
 show that every great nation has been baptized in blood, 
 that failure does not mean wrong in the defeated, but the 
 results have always thrown the people forward. Had we 
 succeeded, slavery, which we hated, would have been per- 
 petuated with the sentiment of the world against us. It 
 would have been a cankering sore in our body politic ; it 
 would have been a source of continual strife between the 
 United States and the Confederacy ; this would have made 
 a standing army in each government a necessity. This 
 would have revolutionized the form of our respective gov- 
 ernments, and in fifteen more years we would have been 
 engaged in a war of extermination, for one side or the 
 other would have to be masters of this continent. God 
 has permitted the wrath and ignorance of men to work His 
 will. But freed from the incubus of slavery, I believe 
 there is a future for this dear Southland yet, and I am 
 going to do all I can to make it. I was, and am still, 
 true to the lost cause ; but I am not going to hug a corpse 
 
190 
 
 Led On! 
 
 and carry it about with me ; I am too young for that ; I 
 am just thirty-seven years old, and I have you, our two 
 children and our adopted daughter to make a future for, 
 and God helping me, I am going to do it. ' ' 
 
 What a burden I rolled off that precious heart that 
 night ! We thanked God that the evil spell was gone, 
 and she said, * ' Feeble as I am, I will do all I can to help 
 you." 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 HOME AGAIN 
 
 / return home — The darkey in uniform yields to a bluff- — 
 The iniquities of the Freedmen^ s Bureau — *' Give us this 
 day our daily bread " — The prayer is answered — Confisca- 
 tion or robbery ? — The ^ood George Shrewsbury — / open 
 the Church of the Holy Communion once more — My sermo?i 
 on " Set your house in order,' ^ and how it was received. 
 
 THE old horses had been well fed, so the next day, I 
 started in the wagon drawn by my sorry team, and 
 bound for Charleston. When I reached Abbey ville, Mr, 
 Edward Miles, afterwards rector of St. Luke's, where he 
 died, asked for a seat. I carried him five miles, but it 
 was too rough for him, and a returning vehicle took him 
 back to Abbeyville. I pushed on alone towards Edge- 
 field, where I had a relative, Prof. F. S. Holmes, the 
 person who after the war, first discovered the phosphate 
 rock which did so much for Charleston. When within 
 six miles of Mr. Holmes's house, one of the old horses 
 tumbled over and died. I was in a fix, but unbuckling 
 the harness from the dead horse, I took his place and led 
 the other one. It was an uncommonly tough walk. 
 Next day I left horse and wagon at Mr. Holmes's, and 
 never heard of either afterwards. I then walked over to 
 
 191 
 
192 Led On! 
 
 Aiken, where I met the Rev. J. H. Cornish, a man whose 
 characteristic was to do everything he could for another, 
 totally forgetful of himself. He had a small pony and an 
 old buggy, and offered to take me over to Orangeburg, 
 where we arrived after many difficulties. 
 
 Once at Orangeburg, I went direct to the United States 
 official, told him who I was, that I wanted to return to 
 Charleston, and had come to take the oath of allegiance 
 to the United States government, which was required. I 
 duly took the oath, not con amove, but with no mental 
 reservation. The trains were run by the army of occupa- 
 tion, and no fares were charged refugees returning home, 
 so I got on the car, and we dragged along at a snail's 
 pace, for the track was in a dangerous condition, and I 
 reached Charleston in the afternoon. I went directl}^ to 
 my hou.se, corner of Rutledge and Spring Streets, and as 
 I came in sight, I saw tall corn waving above the fence. 
 The whole of my beautiful garden and the large lot was a 
 cornfield. That was shock number one. Number two, 
 came in the form of a burly black, dressed in United States 
 uniform, with a gun on his shoulder, passing in front of 
 my door. As I approached he stopped in front of the 
 gate, and said, " You cannot go in dey." 
 
 " Why not ? " I said ; " this is my house." 
 
 " No 'taint," he answered ; ** b'longs to de Freedmen's 
 Bureau. ' ' 
 
 ''Does it?" I said; this was a revelation. I had 
 never heard of that institution. 
 
 I saw that he was one of the island negroes, dressed up 
 in a uniform ; so I thought I would try him to see if he 
 had lost the sense of obedience ; so I looked at him very 
 sternly, and in an authoritaitve voice, said, " Look, here, 
 darkey, that is my house, and if you do not get out of the 
 way I will make you." 
 
 I am sure I do not know what I should have done if he 
 
Home Again. 193 
 
 had not assented. It was a case of mere bluff, but he 
 dropped his gun from his shoulder, caught hold of his 
 woolly head by a front curl, scraped his feet, and said, 
 " Yes, boss, go in." 
 
 As I went in, I stood a few moments inside the gate 
 and was pretty well stirred up to see the beautiful flower- 
 garden I had left in February turned into a cornfield. As I 
 went to the piazza door and pushed it open, someone, I 
 saw, was behind it. I recognized the English woman in 
 whose charge I had left the house (the same I had begun 
 my industrial school with). She immediately said, " You 
 cannot come in here ; I have positive orders not to allow 
 you in." 
 
 This was a pleasant welcome home, but after I had 
 brushed aside an armed darkey and got in at the gate, 
 this woman angered me ; for I had been a good friend to 
 her in great need. 
 
 "Madam," I said, politely, ''I never strike an^^one, 
 but if you do not get out of my way I shall knock you 
 down. ' ' 
 
 She took fright, and ran into the house, and up into the 
 third story, and locked herself in. 
 
 There was an old colored servant in the yard, named 
 Lydia. My grandfather had given her to my father when 
 he was married. She had cooked for him, and for mother 
 after his death, until I was married and went to house- 
 keeping, but had not done any work for some years. She 
 lived on my premises, and I supported her, and when I 
 had left the city in February, I left her with four large 
 hogs, a yard full of poultry, a barrel of rice, and a barrel 
 of grist, so I knew that she could not want for food. As 
 soon as she heard my voice, she came as fast as her old 
 feet could carry her, and threw her arms round me and 
 kissed me on either cheek, crying : " My child has come 
 
 home ; but they rob you, my child, of all you had in the 
 13 
 
1 94 Led On ! 
 
 house ! They broke open all the closets looking for the 
 wine you had ; but I so glad they did not find any." 
 
 As soon as I could disengage myself I went into the 
 house, and it was empty. There were twelve rooms in 
 the house, and I had left them all filled with furniture. 
 Besides my own, Mr. Alston Pringle, Doctor Wragg, and 
 Colonel A. G. Andrews had a quantity of theirs in the 
 house. Old Maum Lydia could only tell me people had 
 come with wagons and carted it all away. The English 
 woman would not open her door, and I did not wish to 
 break it down, but she had some furniture in the chamber 
 she was occupying. My sexton soon came and told me 
 the Freedmen's Bureau people had taken it. He led me 
 to the house of one of the carpetbaggers who were in the 
 employ of that institution which did the negroes so much 
 harm. It defrauded them of their savings in the bank it 
 established, and by feeding them in idleness, and putting 
 the worst ideas in their heads, caused such an annoyance 
 to us white people, and it became such an abomination 
 that the United States government abolished it as soon 
 as it discovered its mistake in creating it. I went into the 
 house, and there I saw my furniture ; the parlor was filled 
 with it. I looked in a chamber, and it, too, was so fur- 
 nished. 
 
 " Why," I said, '* madam, you have all my furniture 
 here, and I have come for it." 
 
 " It is confiscated," she said. 
 
 Confiscated, indeed ! If the United States government 
 had gone round and taken our furniture, it would have 
 been a small business ; we would have to submit, but I 
 said : * ' The government knows nothing about this ; and 
 it is pure and simple stealing." 
 
 The woman had a pan of hot water on the stove ; she 
 looked at me and then at the pan. I saw by her eye that 
 it would not be long before I got the contents of the pan, 
 
Home Again. 195 
 
 so I beat a retreat, and never recovered one article. When 
 order was restored, and this driftwood was moved out of 
 Charleston, shiploads of the people's furniture were sent 
 North by these vagabonds and there was no redress. I 
 had said to my old servant, " I am very hungry, as I have 
 no money and have had no dinner." *' Oh, my honey," 
 she said, " I will get a dinner for you." So when I 
 got back from the furniture hunt, I found rice, and 
 a chicken, and some eggs. I sat on a chair she brought 
 me, and in one of her plates, with her knife and fork, by 
 a table she furnished, I ate my first meal at home. After 
 dinner my sexton and I went round to the church. It 
 was a sorry sight ; carpet and cushions, and books were 
 all gone ; even in the Sunday-school room the children's 
 library was all gone. All the sewing-machines and furni- 
 ture of the Industrial School were missing — all taken by 
 the same set of lawless thieves. My sexton told me that 
 most of the people, white and colored, were living on 
 rations furnished by the government. I found a part of 
 the cit}^, about the Northeastern Railroad had been burned 
 at the evacuation, which added to the portion burned on 
 the I ith of October, 1861. The city looked very desolate. 
 I did not wish to see any of my people at their homes, 
 and in their present pHght. After going over the church 
 and the schoolhouse, with a heavy heart I went out, and 
 leaned on the iron railing which then surrounded the 
 church, and on looking down Cannon Street, I saw a 
 country negro girl fantastically dressed in some old finery 
 she had picked up somewhere, followed by three planta- 
 tion negro men. The girl was singing at the top of her 
 voice, and as she came near I caught the words, which 
 were as follows : 
 
 *' You may paint and you may rub, 
 You may wash and you may scrub, 
 But a oigger will be a nigger till he die— Yah ! Yah ! Yah ! " 
 
1 96 Led On ! 
 
 " Dat 's so," exclaimed the three men. 
 
 It was such unexpected testimony to a great truth that 
 I had a hearty laugh, and it did me good. My never- 
 failing friend, Mr. Theodore D. Wagner, took me into his 
 house for the night. 
 
 The following morning I went early down-town to post 
 a notice, that there would be service at the Church of the 
 Holy Communion next day. The Rev. J. M. Green and 
 the Rev. J. B. Seabrook were the only Episcopal ministers 
 in the city. The Rev. W. B. W. Howe had been sent 
 out by the Federals because he would not use the prayer 
 for the President of the United States while the Confed- 
 eracy was still in existence. He and I had been the only 
 two at active work there. Mr. Keith, Doctor Elliott, 
 Doctor Pinckney, Doctor Hanckel, had all left. Mr. 
 Shanklin and Mr. Dennison had died of yellow fever. I 
 was the first Episcopal clergyman to return. 
 
 On my way through the market, I met George Shrews- 
 bury, a colored butcher ; he belonged to that respectable 
 class of free colored citizens, who were so numerous in 
 the city of Charleston before the war, and who had always 
 commanded the respect and esteem of the white popula- 
 tion. He had acquired some wealth ; he was a member 
 of the Methodist Church, but like many of the colored 
 members of that denomination, he preferred that his chil- 
 dren should be baptized, married, and buried by an Epis- 
 copal minister. I had performed several services for him 
 and his family, so that for many years there had been a 
 kindly feeling between us. When he heard in February 
 that I was going to leave the city, he came to my house, 
 and said, that if I was afraid that my servants would 
 leave me, although his family had never acted in a menial 
 capacity, he would guarantee that I should be waited on 
 by some of them, if I would only remain in the city, and 
 as long as he had any meat at -his stall in the market, I 
 
Home Again, 197 
 
 should have some. Of course, as it has been recorded, I 
 declined his kind offer. But when we met this fourth day 
 of June, 1865, he was delighted to see me, and expressed 
 his gratitude that the gentlemen were coming back, for 
 Charleston was not home without them. After his wel- 
 come, I said, " George, do you know the I^ord's Prayer ? " 
 
 " Of course," he said. — " But do you know what it 
 means ? " I told him that I feared I had never before 
 known its meaning. [Reader, are you sure that you 
 understand it ?] "I had for very many years, ' ' I went 
 on, ' * said, * Give us this day our daily bread, ' but George, 
 I am afraid that I relied more on my bank account than 
 on Him who had given me that. To-day I have not a 
 cent, and nothing with which to get my dinner, but I find 
 in the Bible this command and promise, ' Dwell in the 
 land, and be doing good, and verily thou shalt be fed.' 
 And now," I said, " I intend to do all the good I can, and 
 God knows I must be fed, or I can do no good, so I shall 
 leave the whole matter in His hands. ' ' I left my colored 
 friend with a cheerfulness more apparent than real, and 
 posted my notice. I went back home with some foolscap 
 paper which I had asked someone in town to give me, 
 got a pen, and with some ink borrowed from a Dutchman's 
 corner shop, wrote my sermon for the next day, the 5th 
 of June, 1865. My text was from Isaiah, the thirty-eighth 
 chapter, part of the first verse, ' ' Thus saith the Lord, Set 
 thine house in order. ' ' I finished writing my sermon, and 
 my old cook provided a dinner for me, and I went out on 
 the veranda, and sat on the floor smoking an old pipe. 
 
 I was thinking of my sermon, which I knew would strike 
 a discordant note, and wondering whether it was discreet, 
 when a ring at the street bell took me to the door. It was 
 George Shrewsbur}^ who with many apologies offered me 
 a roll of money, one hundred dollars in greenbacks. He 
 said he had intended buying some cattle with it, but that 
 
198 Led On! 
 
 he had had no rest since I had passed through the market. 
 To think that a gentleman in my position had no money- 
 was an idea he could not take in. I declined the loan, as 
 I had no security to offer. * * My property here, ' ' I said, 
 ** is held by the Freedmen's Bureau, and they have stolen 
 all my furniture ; you saw me sitting on the floor. I do 
 not own a chair." He insisted, saying that if I refused 
 the loan, he would think that I regarded the offer as a 
 liberty on his part, and that I was offended. Of course I 
 could not let him go away with such thoughts, so I said, 
 * ' I will give you my note for it. ' ' 
 
 ** I do not wish your note, sir, you know you owe it, 
 and I know it ; when you can return it I know you will. 
 If you never can do it, it will be all the same ; I am paid 
 enough in knowing that I have added to your comfort." 
 
 I confess my eyes were not dry ; first, from the thought 
 that I should be in the condition to need such aid, and 
 next that it should come from one not in my own sphere, 
 nor even of my own race. Money was then worth in 
 Charleston anything the most extortionate chose to ask. 
 I could not repay the one hundred dollars for eighteen 
 months ; when I paid the last five dollars, I told him, ' ' I 
 shall owe you one hundered dollars on interest account." 
 
 * * You owe no interest, sir ; I have been abundantly 
 repaid in feeling I was the means of relieving you in a 
 sore time of need, and whenever you wish it again it is at 
 your disposal." 
 
 George Shrewsbury will come on the stage later on. I 
 resumed my pipe, feeling decidedly more comfortable, and 
 quite sure I had made no mistake in my sermon for the 
 next day. Sunday morning came. I held service and 
 gave out the text, ' ' Set thy house in order. ' ' I paused, 
 and added, * ' For thou shalt live, and not die, — though that 
 is not how the sentence reads. ' ' I reviewed the text, and 
 then urged the hearers to turn their backs on the past, 
 
Home Again. 199 
 
 and look to the future; not to waste energies on vain re- 
 grets, but to realize that they were on a wreck and to 
 save life they must build, out of materials at hand, a raft 
 to bear them to the shore. They were in chaos, but out 
 of the confusion they must lay a basis for future building. 
 It was their duty to accept as a fact the freedom of the 
 slaves, and to act accordingly ; the negroes had not freed 
 themselves, and had acted well, and needed our aid ; if 
 we would, we could keep them as friends, and not drive 
 them over to the Northerners, whom they would look 
 upon as their deliverers, and would become subservient 
 to them. I added, that I should try to get into a free 
 school-board as soon as there was one, and do all I could 
 to educate the negroes, that they might learn that liberty 
 was not licentiousness. I said as free men they would 
 surely be given the ballot, and we should offer it them 
 when they could read, write, and cipher, and owned five 
 hundred dollars of freehold property, etc. 
 
 The church was packed. A number of United States 
 officers were present. Governor Aiken came to the 
 chancel before I got out of it, thanked me for my sermon, 
 and said : * ' If this is the way our public men are going to 
 speak, there is hope for the old land yet ; we shall live, 
 and not die. ' ' Not so did all my hearers take it. It was 
 the first time that they had the concrete facts presented 
 to them, and they were told they had something to do — 
 they, as well as the negroes and the Yankees. An old 
 cousin of mine, a late wealthy rice planter, then with his 
 famil}^ living on government rations, was especially sore. 
 He growled at me after service, " Why, you have gone 
 over to the enemy ; you have turned abolitionist ! ' ' 
 
 " Well," I said, ** Cousin Laurens, I expect I feel as 
 much as you do ; I am with you in the common ruin, but 
 I am not going to stay in the debris. I have taken the 
 oath of allegiance to the United States government. I 
 
200 Led On / 
 
 thought it wiser than to expatriate myself. I think it 
 wisest not to look upon the government to which I have 
 submitted as an enemy, but as a protector. We need 
 money, we need immigrants, to fill up the gaps ; we will 
 get neither without order, and we will get no order with- 
 out peace. Turned abolitionist ! What have we to 
 abolish ? The victorious arms of the Federal Govern- 
 ment abolished slavery, and I, for one, thank God it is 
 done. I would not have done it so suddenly ; it means 
 suffering, and wholesale death to the poor blacks. If more 
 judgment, and less passion, had been shown, the negroes 
 could have been freed, and the South not left so destitute, 
 and the whole country would have been the better for it. 
 But it is done, and now, if we have any sense left, let us 
 make the most and the best of it." This conversation 
 was held in my vestry room, immediately after morning 
 service. Poor man, he had come in quite angry with me, 
 but as I talked, he saw the wisdom of it, and the tears 
 rolled down his cheeks, and he said : ' ' No doubt, Toomer, 
 you are right ; but it is hard, oh, so hard ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A DESTITUTE BISHOP 
 
 / make a business venture which is highly successful — My 
 home is agai7i furnished — I dissipate the despair of Bishop 
 Davis, and see that his wants are provided for — " Porter^ 
 have you Aladdin' s lamp f " 
 
 MONDAY morning I walked down Hasell Street, to 
 a store that had been kept by the Messrs. Kerri- 
 son, and is now the dry goods store of the P. D. Kerrison 
 Co. A Mr. John Wilson, a good-natured Irishman who 
 had been a sutler in the United States army, then had the 
 building as a grocery store. I walked boldly up to him, 
 and said : " You are Mr. Wilson, I am the Rev. A. Toomer 
 Porter, rector of the Church of the Holy Communion." 
 
 * ' Yes, I have heard of you. ' ' 
 
 ** Well," I said, ''as I do not think you have heard 
 anything very bad, I have come to ask you to give me a 
 credit for five hundred dollars. I have nothing on earth 
 to offer as security but my face and my character. ' ' 
 
 He smiled and said, ' * What I have heard of you makes 
 me glad to know you have come back to this disordered 
 city. But why do you want so much credit ? You may 
 get what you need for your family, but why five hundred 
 dollars at once ? " 
 
 201 
 
202 Led On I 
 
 " George Shrewsbury," I said, '' has loaned me a hun- 
 dred dollars. Of this I wish to keep five dollars so as on 
 a pinch to get a loaf of bread with. Ninety-five dollars I 
 need to pay freight to Anderson. I will have to wagon 
 from Orangeburg to Newberry. If you will let me have 
 the groceries, I will go round, and try to get five hundred 
 dollars more credit in dry goods. Not a store has been 
 opened in Anderson, and if I can get there first, I can 
 pay you something on account in thirty days. ' ' 
 
 I now felt the good of my business training at Robert- 
 son and Blacklock's Rice House. 
 
 *' You shall have the credit. I wish you luck; you 
 look as if you mean business. ' ' 
 
 '' I do mean business, my friend. I have a family to 
 support, and my wife is in delicate health, and she will 
 soon have nothing whereby to get food for the children. 
 Yes, I mean business, and George Shrewsbury has enabled 
 me to get at it. ' ' 
 
 I went round and got credit for five hundred dollars in 
 dry goods from different parties, telling each why I asked 
 it, and none refused. I then wrote to Christopher 
 Mathewes, a cousin, who was at my house with his family 
 in Anderson, to meet me on Thursday at Orangeburg, 
 and to have two wagons to go to Newberry. On Thurs- 
 day I got a permit for transportation, and met Mathewes 
 with the wagon at Orangeburg. We loaded up that 
 evening, and camped a few miles out of town, he sleeping 
 in one wagon and I in the other, each with a pistol, for 
 it was the first lot of groceries that had gone through a 
 disordered country, and the risk was great. We reached 
 Newberry on the third day, and though it was Sunday, I 
 felt that God knew it all, and as we could only get a flat 
 open dirt car for our goods, we rigged up some boards on 
 the sides and ends, and put our goods on the car and 
 started. We danced a fisher's hornpipe on that car, keep- 
 
A Destitute Bishop. 203 
 
 ing things from going overboard, but we succeeded. I 
 had gotten the keys of a store which Mr. Wagner owned, 
 and loaned me, he being much amused at my undertak- 
 ing, but commending my enterprise. When we reached 
 Anderson, our cargo was a great surprise, and a crowd 
 gathered at once. I told them that as we would open the 
 next da}^, they might bring their money, gold and silver 
 and greenbacks, and get anything they wished. We 
 hauled our goods to the store, and Mathewes and I shut 
 ourselves in and worked nearly all night getting the 
 goods opened and arranged. I very much fear, if the 
 truth has to be told, that the advanced price was a very 
 heavy percentage. When we finished, we took some 
 large pieces of brown paper, and in large letters printed 
 on it what we had. 
 
 We went to bed full of expectation and excitement. 
 Next morning betimes we were at the store, but not be- 
 fore some customers were waiting, for the news had 
 spread far and wide. The doors had not been opened ten 
 minutes before the store was crowded, and it was all we 
 could do to supply the wants of our customers. They 
 brought nothing but silver and gold, for things they had 
 not seen for four years were before them in quantities, 
 and each seemed afraid lest what they wanted would be 
 gone before they could get their share. Stockings were 
 emptied of their hoardings, and our till received it. By 
 the evening, we had taken eight hundred dollars, and I 
 am almost ashamed to say, a good part of the one thou- 
 sand dollar stock still on hand. I sent Mathewes to look 
 for a good man next day to help as clerk. In the evening 
 I got my wife to sew the coin in a belt. '* Now," I said, 
 " Mathewes, you must carry on the store. I will go back 
 to Charleston, establish my credit there by quick payments, 
 get one thousand dollars' worth of groceries, and come back 
 to you. I can now manage by myself the transportation. ' ' 
 
204 Led On / 
 
 Early next morning I took the train to Newberry, and 
 made my way back to Orangeburg, engaged four wagons 
 to wait on me, and in less than a week I walked into Mr. 
 Wilson's store, and said : *' I have eight hundred dollars 
 in hand. I want enough out of it to pay transportation, 
 and will pay you three hundred dollars on account of the 
 five hundred dollars, and three hundred dollars to the dry- 
 goods people. Now I want one thousand dollars credit on 
 groceries. ' ' 
 
 " Five thousand dollars, if you want it," Mr. Wilson 
 said ; "for this beats all I know. How have you done 
 it?" 
 
 I made out my list, and told him to send the goods to 
 the station that day, then went round and paid the three 
 hundred dollars to the dry-goods people, who offered me 
 all the credit I wanted, but I needed none, for I found it 
 was the grocery line that had the profit in it, as food was 
 much more needed by the people. 
 
 The following days we still had a crowd at our store, 
 and in three days I had money enough to pay the debt in 
 Charleston. By this time I had waked up some of the 
 men, and I heard of several who were going to Charleston 
 for goods ; but we had skimmed the cream. It was the 
 only store in Anderson where our kind of goods could be 
 had. When I had money enough to pay the debt, to have 
 some for transportation, and a little for my own needs, I 
 said to Mathewes : * ' I shall now leave you in charge, for 
 I must go home and resume my legitimate business. I 
 must gather up my flock, rebuild the parish, and go on 
 preaching the Gospel. ' ' 
 
 It was now the first of July, and I left next morning 
 after having paid all my debts in less than fifteen days, 
 gained unlimited credit, and supported my family. In 
 November, I returned to Anderson for my family, took 
 from the store money to pay our passage down, with such 
 
A Destitute Bishop. 205 
 
 trifling furniture as we had, and a little to supply our 
 pressing necessities, presented the contents of the store to 
 Mathewes to support his family on, which he did for 
 nearly a year. At the Broad River I put my few articles 
 of furniture with my library and servants in a flat, and 
 had them floated to Columbia. There I procured a car- 
 riage and took the family to Columbia, thence to Orange- 
 burg, and so back to Charleston. There I borrowed two 
 chairs from the corner shop, the children sat on the trunks, 
 friends lent us a bed or two, and a few days later, the Span- 
 ish Consul having a sale of furniture, I bought for a song, 
 furniture for the dining-room, our bedroom, and the chil- 
 dren's room, as well as a sofa. The odds and ends I sub- 
 sequently brought from Columbia, and that was all we 
 had for some years. 
 
 And here we were at home, in November, 1865, and I was 
 then nearl}^ thirty-eight years of age, with a wife totally 
 broken in health, two children, a hoy of ten years old and 
 one of three, with an adopted daughter, and not a dollar 
 of income, still the owner of two houses, the one I was 
 living in, and the other in Ashley Street, next to the 
 Sunday-school house ; this latter unoccupied. Of course 
 there was no salary from the church. The Sunday offer- 
 ings barely paid the sexton and organist, leaving little for 
 the rector. 
 
 When I returned to Charleston in July, I found a letter 
 from McQueen, who said that if I was in any trouble 
 about my property, I must write to General Howard, as 
 the latter requested. I did write, and Howard immedi- 
 ately directed General Saxton to release my property, and 
 return it to me, which was done ; so when my wife came 
 back, at least the house was ours. I was not idle, and 
 very soon regathered such of the fragments of the congre- 
 gation as remained, while a few new families came in to 
 us. 
 
2o6 Led On / 
 
 The journal of the convention of February, 1866, shows 
 that I had, in that summer of 1865, from the 5th of June 
 (exclusive of my shop-keeping) baptized thirty-two whites, 
 and eleven colored ; nine had been confirmed in my 
 parish ; there were nineteen marriages and forty-one 
 burials. Our congregation numbered one hundred com- 
 municants and sixty Sunday-school children. Our com- 
 munion alms amounted to one hundred and eighty-one 
 dollars. Since the cessation of hostilities our communi- 
 cants were about one hundred, but as the congregation was 
 just collecting, after our total break-up, the number can- 
 not be definite. One very pleasant feature was the steady 
 attendance of my former colored congregation, and their 
 quiet, respectful demeanor. 
 
 In 1866, I invited Bishop Davis and daughter to stay at 
 our house, which they did ; my wife's ingenuity accom- 
 modating them, without their knowing our straits. One 
 night, before going to bed, the dear old Bishop said to 
 me, ' ' Porter, I am the dying bishop of a dead diocese. ' ' 
 
 * ' Oh no, not so bad as that. ' ' 
 
 * ' Yes, ' ' he said, and he ran over the churches that had 
 been destroyed, the communities and parishes that had 
 been wiped out of existence. The Theological Seminary 
 was burned, the library scattered, fifty thousand dollars 
 endowment gone, Bishops' Fund gone. Aged and Infirm 
 Clergy Society gone. Widows and Orphans of Clergy So- 
 ciety gone. Advancement Society gone. '' I myself, be- 
 sides, have received no salary for 1865, I have nothing left 
 at home, and look at me, my coat has been turned." 
 
 His pants were threadbare, and his hat — what a hat it 
 was ! — and no overcoat. It was a pitiable tale. I had 
 overlooked the Bishop's wants, for I did not know he had 
 received no salary. But anticipating that he would be 
 depressed, I had seen Mr. Evan Edwards about the 
 Advancement Society, and Mr. John Hanckel about the 
 
A Destitute Bishop, 207 
 
 Bishops' Fund, and all the treasurers of the other socie- 
 ties, so I said: " To begin with, the Bishops' Fund has 
 some $58,000 saved ; Society for the Advancement of 
 Christianity, $34,000 ; Aged Clergy Fund, $35,000 ; 
 Widows and Orphans, $57,000 ; the Theological Scholar- 
 ships, $7000, all saved. ' ' 
 
 The Bishop was half reclining in an armchair. He 
 raised himself on his elbow, and turned his sightless eyes 
 towards me, saying, ' ' Porter, how do you know that such 
 good news is true ? ' ' 
 
 * * I am reading you the report furnished by the different 
 treasurers. ' ' 
 
 He leaned back in his chair and said, * ' Thank God, it 
 is not as bad as I thought." 
 
 I said, " Bishop, our own cares have so absorbed us, 
 we have forgotten your needs, but I promise you in as few 
 hours as it can be done, you shall have the best suit of 
 clothes in Charleston, and your family shall be provided 
 for." 
 
 He asked me, * ' How are you going to do it ? " 
 
 ' ' Leave that to me, ' ' I said. 
 
 Getting up, he said, ' ' Porter, you are the first live man 
 I have met with. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Oh, ' ' I said, ' ' Bishop, I am too young to give up 
 yet." 
 
 * ' Well, ' ' he said, ' ' I have heard enough for one time 
 and I will go to bed. ' ' 
 
 Next morning he told me he had slept soundly all 
 night, the first night's sleep for months. 
 
 " And now," I said, " Bishop, I wish you to lie down 
 here till I come for you." And off I started for Broad 
 Street. I soon arranged for the Bishop's relief, by appeal- 
 ing to several church people. And the next day I took 
 his hand, and put in it a roll of bills. 
 
 '' What is this ? " he asked. 
 
208 
 
 Led On I 
 
 I said, "It is $650, and you will have your suit of 
 clothes day after to-morrow." Then I told him what I 
 had done. ' * This money is for yourself and family, you 
 are not to give it away." But I believe he did give it 
 nearly all to some of his poverty-stricken clergy. 
 He said: " Porter, have you an Aladdin's I^amp ? " 
 " No," I replied, " but you have some noble, warm- 
 hearted laymen in the Church, and they only had to be 
 told of your need, and this is the result." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 WARM NORTHERN FRIENDS 
 
 Bishop Davis at the Diocesan Conventioyi of 1866 — Churches 
 and parochial schools for the colored people — Good resolutions 
 are no use without practical perforTnance — / take steps 
 toward the carrying out of certain good resolutions passed 
 by the conventio7i — The Bishop seiids me North to collect 
 funds for the Theological Seminary and colored school — I am 
 kindly received in New York by Dr. Twinge and in 
 B?'ooklyn by Dr. Littlejohn — Munificence of Mr. A. A. 
 Low. 
 
 THE war was over and now a new chapter in my life 
 opened. I will detail it from tlie beginning. 
 Bishop Davis in his address to the Episcopal Conven- 
 tion of February, 1866, in Grace Church, the first held 
 after the war, said : ' ' I^et me say, too, that I have received 
 the strongest memorials of kindness, and to testify my 
 recognition of these in the spirit of Christian affection and 
 fellowship. The Freedmen's Aid Commission, in the 
 Department of Domestic Missions, in the Church of the 
 United States, is now in active operation. Through it I 
 have received communications from our Northern brethren 
 in the spirit of Christian kindness, and sympathy, offering 
 to us aid and cooperation in the instruction, both literary 
 and religious, of the freedmen of this State.'* 
 
 209 
 
2IO Led On I 
 
 The education of the freedmen, and their instruction in 
 the Christian doctrine of the Church was discussed at this 
 convention, and resolutions were passed advocating the 
 work.* 
 
 The Board of Missions to the colored people elected 
 were Revs. C. C. Pinckney, C. P. Gadsden, A. T. Porter ; 
 Geo A. Trenholm, K. ly. Kerrison, and Thos. W. Porcher. 
 
 Immediately after the adjournment of the convention, 
 Mr. Trenholm and myself conferred on the subject. The 
 resolutions sounded well, but were worthless without 
 action. We therefore set out to look for a building, to 
 establish a colored school. Mr. Trenholm thought it 
 would do harm to select any inferior or obscure building, 
 and we settled on the Marine Hospital belonging to the 
 United States Government as just suitable. The place 
 had been condemned and was not in use. How to get 
 possession of it was the question. The Bishop had his 
 Diocesan Theological Seminary very much in his heart, 
 and had said much about it in his address ; he wished to 
 revive it, so one night after the convention had adjourned, 
 he said, " Porter, this diocese, unaided, cannot restore the 
 Seminary, or open a school for colored children, and some 
 one must go North to raise money. I am blind, and I 
 cannot go, and you are the man, and I am going to send 
 you." 
 
 I refused at once. * * Why, ' ' I said, ' ' Bishop, I do not 
 know a single person at the North, and I do not know 
 how to go about it. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Nevertheless, ' ' he said, ' * go you must, as soon as the 
 spring sets in." 
 
 He was positive, and I yielded. The Bishop went 
 home, and I was left to prepare for my mission. 
 
 On the 4th of April, 1866, I sailed in the steamer for 
 New York. I had left green peas in my garden at home, 
 
 * See Appendix B. 
 
Warm Northern Friends, 2 1 1 
 
 but when we arrived late on Saturday night, and had put 
 up at the New York Hotel, April 6th, I found myself in 
 the midst of a snowstorm. I knew nothing of New York, 
 and on inquiring for a church to go to, was advised to go 
 round to University Place, where there was a service held 
 by some Episcopal congregation temporarily. It was a 
 dreary day, and a dreary service, and very poor preach- 
 ing. I forget what congregation it was, and who was the 
 preacher. I had not been in New York since I was a boy 
 of thirteen, when Canal Street was high uptown. On 
 Monday, New York turned out, and as I stood in the 
 hotel door, I was bewildered with the throngs of people 
 going up and down. I stood a long while, not knowing 
 what to do at first, nor where to go. I thought I was a 
 fool, on a fool's errand. How could I ever get a hearing 
 from these people ? I had my credentials, and my churchly 
 instincts told me I should first present them to the Bishop 
 of New York, Doctor Horatio Potter. The Bishop re- 
 ceived me courteously, heard my story, gave his sanction 
 to my efforts, and gave me a letter to Rev. Dr. Benj . T. 
 Haight, of Trinity Parish. The Doctor was cordial, but 
 I went back to the hotel no further advanced than when 
 I left in the morning. 
 
 And so each day passed. I was miserable, and felt that 
 I was unfit for the mission committed to me. I was nearly 
 returning home. Up to Friday morning I had made no 
 acquaintance, and of course no advance. It occurred to 
 me that I would go to the Bible House, where the Protes- 
 tant Episcopal Board of Missions had their rooms. I 
 went there, and the first person I met was the Rev. A. T. 
 Twing, the General Secretary, a large, stout man, with a 
 bright, cheerful face. I had to introduce myself, tell my 
 mission, and show my credentials. 
 
 I was listened to very cordially, and words of encourage- 
 ment were spoken, but no line of action was indicated, 
 
212 Led On ! 
 
 until I said I was an entire stranger, knew no one, that 
 there was a small coal of love in my own heart, and I hoped 
 that I might find some other heart where there was a like 
 coal, and perhaps the Holy Spirit might fan the two into 
 one bright, burning flame. 
 
 Doctor Twing opened his strong arms, and throwing 
 them around me said, *' You blessed rebel, yes, there are 
 plenty of coals up here in many hearts, and the Holy 
 Spirit will flame them into love ! " and he gave me a 
 squeeze that nearly took my breath away. He said, ' ' I 
 will put you on the track, and if on one line we do not 
 succeed, we will try another until we do. ' ' He wrote a 
 warm letter to the Rev. A. N. I^ittlejohn, D.D., then rector 
 of Holy Trinity, Brooklyn. 
 
 * * Take this right away, and if nothing comes of it, re- 
 turn here. ' ' 
 
 I left immediately, feeling that I was at length started. 
 I went over to Brooklyn, and was relieved to find the 
 Doctor at home. I sent in my card, with Doctor Twing' s 
 letter, and was shown into the drawing-room. The Doctor 
 soon entered, stately and reserved, but courteous. I stated 
 the object of my visit and the Doctor drew me out. I was 
 the first Southern clergyman he had met since the war, 
 and he asked me many questions. As our conversation 
 proceeded, his reserve melted away, and he became kind, 
 sympathetic, and tender. I felt the tears running down 
 my cheeks, and said, '' Doctor, you have succeeded in 
 doing what Federal bullets never did ; pardon my weak- 
 ness, ' ' and I brushed aside the tears. Very abruptly the 
 Doctor got up and left me in the drawing-room alone, 
 without saying a word. I felt the awkwardness of my 
 position, and was about to beat a retreat, when the Doctor 
 returned with a bottle of old port wine, and two glasses, 
 and filling them said, ' ' We will drink a glass of welcome 
 to you and wish you success. Now, where are you stop- 
 
Warm Northern Friends. 213 
 
 ping ? Go and get your luggage, and come and make 
 this house 3'our headquarters. ' ' 
 
 I had found a coal, and it was a live one. I soon had 
 my trunk at the parsonage. We went into his study, and 
 he gave orders that he was not to be interrupted except 
 for some urgent call. Neither of us took off our slippers 
 until we went to dinner that evening. He told me that I 
 must preach the next day. Before the sermon on the fol- 
 lowing day, the rector stepped forward to introduce me. 
 Never was a brother presented more favorably or lovingly. 
 He told his people of the hours we had spent together, and 
 never had he more cheerfully given his pulpit to anyone. 
 I was quite overcome by it, but in a moment or two, there 
 was a new state of feeling, for numbers of the congregation 
 in each of the aisles and in the gallery rose to leave the 
 church. Quick as a flash, and in a stentorian voice, the 
 rector directed the sexton to lock the doors, and then I 
 never did hear such a rebuke as he uttered. Kvery soul 
 sat down at once, and with this preparation, I ascended 
 the pulpit. 
 
 I knew that I was agitated ; I felt that I was pale ; but 
 after an earnest praj^er, I gathered mj^self together, and 
 in a steady voice, that I knew penetrated to the farthest 
 point, I announced my text, " I am Joseph, your brother," 
 paused, and gave the whole text, and then the book, 
 chapter, and verses. The effect was instantaneous. I 
 could see at a glance that I had riveted the attention of 
 every person in that congregation. All speakers feel when 
 they have the ear of their audience. I felt it, and it re- 
 assured me. Everyone knows that a manuscript read is 
 very different from a manuscript preached with emphasis 
 and emotion, and as I went on, it suddenly struck me, 
 " This may be taken for more than I mean," — when, 
 leaving the manuscript, I said : " My brethren, I hope you 
 will not misunderstand me. I would not have you, under 
 
214 Led On! 
 
 a false impression, give me a dollar for the Theological 
 Seminary, or for the colored school we wish to open. My 
 sympathies were all with my people. I did all I knew 
 how to do that became a minister of the Gospel of peace 
 to help them, but when, in God's providence, we laid 
 down our arms, we did so in good faith, and all wise men 
 among us are making not only the most, but the best of 
 our condition." I then resumed my manuscript, and did 
 not alter a word. 
 
 The service closed, and the offering was made ; I 
 had never seen so much money put on the plates before. 
 When we went into the vestry-room. Doctor I^ittlejohn 
 did not say a word, but he came up to me, and folded me 
 in his arms, and I have never forgotten it. We had not 
 taken off our vestments before the vestry-room was literally 
 packed with the members of the congregation, men and 
 women. I was greeted with, " Your text, sir, your text, 
 and your sermon was worthy of it. " I had to go into the 
 aisles to greet the people. I think I shook hands with 
 two thirds of them. It was a long time before we could 
 get into the rectory; then Doctor Littlejohn expressed his 
 gratification. The people followed us there. I confess it 
 was a very happy day to me. The offering, with what 
 was sent in, was about one thousand dollars. 
 
 A day or two afterwards, I received a note from Mr. A. 
 A. lyow, who said he had heard of the sermon, and enclos- 
 ing his check for five hundred dollars. He stated that the 
 rector of Grace Church would call on me with the request 
 that I would repeat the sermon at that church on the fol- 
 lowing Sunday ; which I did with full appreciation, and 
 great success. If this is ever read by any Southerners, 
 please remember that this was in April, 1866, and that the 
 sermon preached had been submitted to Mr. George A. 
 Trenholm, late Secretary of the Confederate Treasury, and 
 had received his commendation and approval. It was 
 
War7n Northern Friends, 2 1 5 
 
 preached as it was written, and contained no sentence that 
 compromised me or the South, and yet it was received by 
 my Northern brethren in the manner I have described. 
 
 On Wednesday I was invited to a reception given to 
 me by Mr. A. A. Low. 
 
 There was a large assemblage, and among them there 
 was a certain guest, who, no doubt perceiving his ques- 
 tions were annoying, still plied them vigorously, until 
 becoming a little provoked, I said, " Well, sir, we 
 Southerners are better Union men than you are." 
 
 ' * How can that be ? " he asked. 
 
 * ' We, sir, need population, and money ; we can get 
 neither until we have quiet, protection, and peace. We 
 can now get these only from the government of the Union, 
 and therefore that government is a necessity to us. ' ' 
 
 " Oh," he said, " if you are such good Union men, how 
 do you like the Freedmen's Bureau ? " 
 
 Well, at that time that subject was like a red rag to a 
 mad bull, and I found my temper, which I am sorr}^ to 
 say has always been quick, was somewhat getting the 
 better of me. I had used all the tact and skill I possessed 
 to avoid unpleasantness, but the true inwardness of the 
 man was now revealed. I said, " Sir, if you had 3^our 
 study in your place of worship, and found out that your 
 vestry, or deacons, or whatever your lay officials are called, 
 had bored gimlet-holes in the ceiling, and hid themselves 
 above you to spy on you while in your study, and you 
 were to find it out, how would you like it ? " 
 
 ' * I would not submit to it, ' ' he said. 
 
 " Well," I said, " that is just what we think of the 
 Freedmen's Bureau, and we will not submit to it." 
 
 With this, Mr. lyOW came quite hurriedly, led by his 
 youngest son, then a boy, now the distinguished Seth 
 Low, LL.D., President of Columbia University, New 
 York. He had heard the conversation, had realized its 
 
2 1 6 Led On I 
 
 import, and went for his father, whom he brought up to 
 where my unkind interlocutor was standing, with a group 
 around us. 
 
 ** I am very sorry, Mr. Porter," said Mr. Low, '' to 
 hear of the annoyance to which you have been subjected. 
 I invited you to have a pleasant evening ; please take my 
 
 arm and come with me, but let me say to Mr. that 
 
 he in no wise represents my views. ' ' 
 
 '' Thank you, Mr. I^ow, for this deliverance," I said, 
 taking his arm, and turning away with him. I was im- 
 mediately surrounded by a number of persons, who seemed 
 to vie with each other to efface the impression which they 
 saw had been made. While thus engaged, I saw a tall, 
 military-looking man pushing his way towards me. 
 Someone proposed to introduce me, but he came forward 
 and extended his hand saying : * * I have no need of an in- 
 troduction, Mr. Porter. I am Captain Worden, who 
 fought the Monitor against the Merrhnac in Hampton 
 Roads. Confound that fellow! I have heard what has 
 passed, and am glad to see the man has left. I heard you, 
 sir, on Sunday at Holy Trinity. When you announced 
 your text, I thought it was the happiest selection I had 
 ever heard. You won your audience as you uttered it. 
 And as you went on, my interest, and the interest of the 
 congregation became intense; and when you stopped, and 
 left your manuscript, and with the honest frankness of a 
 gentleman, told this people fearlessly what you had done, 
 I felt as if I could walk up to the pulpit and grasp your 
 hand, for you were pale and excited, and as you raised 
 your hand one could almost see through it. You had the 
 marks of the mighty struggle in every line of your face, 
 and when you resumed your discourse, I drank in every 
 word, and when it came to the offering, I opened my 
 pocketbook and gave 3^ou its entire contents, and gladly 
 would wish to be able to give you a hundred times more. 
 
Warm Northern Friends, 2 1 7 
 
 There are two classes of Southerners for whom I have a 
 profound contempt — that class who stayed North during 
 the war, made money, enjoyed themselves, and expended 
 their energies in abusing the North, and praising the 
 South ; for them I have a contempt that they did not go 
 to the help of the men they praised. And the other class 
 are those who come up here now, and say they had no 
 sympathy with the South and they did nothing to help in 
 the struggle. Contemptible blackguards ! To have lived 
 among a nation of heroes, fighting the greatest fight in 
 history, against such tremendous odds, enduring, suffer- 
 ing, with a heroism which was magnificent, and then to 
 say that they did not sympathize, and did not help. Such 
 fellows would be dangerous in your kitchen, for they 
 would steal your spoons. I wish it were in my power to 
 go South, and rebuild every house that was destroyed; 
 yes, and oh, if I could bring back to life all who were killed 
 on either side, and if I had the power I would blot out 
 from the pages of history the record that the war had ever 
 been fought ! ' ' 
 
 I have quoted Captain Worden accurately. I felt I 
 could embrace him, and, had I been a Frenchman, would 
 have kissed him on either cheek. 
 
 To continue my account of Mr. A. A. Low. Later in 
 the fall I said to him : " I own a house in Charleston in a 
 prominent part of the city, on a lot one hundred and 
 seventeen by two hundred feet. On it is a large building 
 used by the servants ; for before the war all of us in any 
 position had around us a swarm of people as old family 
 servants, each in the other's way, causing a constant 
 drain on our incomes, but no one thought of doing with- 
 out them. Now this is changed. I have no use for such 
 a building, and if I had the means I would cut the build- 
 ing in half, divide the lot, and make two additional build- 
 ings." I then told Mr. Low that I wanted five thousand 
 
2i8 Led On! 
 
 dollars, and as the property was unencumbered, I offered 
 to mortgage it to him. Mr. I^ow made me the loan and 
 I built the two small houses. Mr. lyow went to Europe, 
 and I found I needed fifteen hundred dollars more, for I 
 had to add to my house some servants' quarters ; his son, 
 Mr. A. A. I/OW, Jr. , loaned that to me. I pledged all the 
 rents and paid off the loan to three thousand two hundred 
 dollars, when one day I received a generous letter from 
 Mr. I/OW with my bond returned cancelled and the mort- 
 gage satisfied. This was indeed a generous gift. 
 
 Many years after, I received a letter from Mr. I^ow, say- 
 ing that I possessed qualities which made him desirous 
 that I should move to Brooklyn, and if I would come, he 
 would let me select the style of architecture and would 
 build a church for me, and I could name my own salary, 
 and he would guarantee the same to me for my lifetime. 
 I was then receiving a salary of eight hundred dollars from 
 the Church of the Holy Communion. I thanked Mr. 
 lyow, but told him he had greatly overestimated me, and 
 declined his offer. He then wrote, if I would come he 
 would endow my school. This was a great temptation. 
 My dear wife was then a great sufferer ; she had been 
 paralyzed some time before, and was in bed. I took the 
 letter to her and said, ' * Now, wife, what must I do ? " 
 
 The gentleness and tenderness of that dear wife never 
 shone out more brightly than that day ; her clearness of 
 vision and cool calmness of judgment never left her. 
 
 * ' My dear, ' ' she said, * ' do you believe that God gave 
 you the work you have in hand ? ' ' 
 
 " I do," I said. 
 
 " Has He blessed it and made it successful ? ** 
 
 " To a marvellous extent," I answered. 
 
 " Has He in any way withdrawn His presence ? ** 
 
 " No," I said, " but is not this His will, that the work 
 can now go on with an endowment ? ' ' 
 
Warm Northern Friends, 
 
 219 
 
 " It may be," she said, " but is it not true that you 
 possess the power of acquiring a remarkable influence 
 over boys, that you have their confidence as very few 
 men are able to win ? Are there not some things in life 
 more valuable than money ? " and she ceased. 
 
 ' ' Which means, ' ' I said, ' * you think I had better stay 
 where I am, and fight the great fight of faith where God 
 has put me. ' ' 
 
 **Ido," she said. 
 
 I went down to my study, wrote to Mr. I^ow, thanking 
 him, but telling him why I must decline. He wrote me 
 oh, how kind a letter ! and said, whenever the people of 
 Charleston were tired of me the offer was at my accept- 
 ance. From time to time Mr. I^ow would send me a per- 
 sonal check for my private use, and was a generous annual 
 contributor to my work to the last year of his life. I have 
 his likeness framed, and keep it as one of my treasures. 
 His sons, Mr. A. A. I^ow, Dr. Seth lyow, and his stepson, 
 Mr. W. G. Low, have continued to be my generous friends 
 up to the present time. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 MY SCHOOI. 
 
 / plead the cause of South Carolina before the General 
 Board of Missions, New York — " The most eloquent ap- 
 peal ever presented to the Board " — I am very successful 
 — I open in Charleston a school for colored children — Presi- 
 dent fohnson assists me and I obtain the Marine Hospital 
 for my school. 
 
 BISHOP DAVIS had authorized me not only to plead 
 for the support of the Theological Seminary and the 
 colored school, but to appear before the General Board of 
 Missions of the Episcopal Church, and to lay before them 
 the condition of his diocese. Rev. Dr. I^ittlejohn arranged 
 for me to meet the Board the Friday after Mr. I^ow's re- 
 ception, and I appeared at the given time. I remember 
 as present Rev. Dr. A. H. Vinton, Rev. Dr. Montgomery, 
 I think. Rev. Dr. B. T. Haight, Rev. Dr. I^ittlejohn, Mr. 
 John David Wolfe, Mr. Stuart Brown. There were others 
 whose names have escaped my memory. They received me 
 courteously and asked me to state my case. I began to 
 tell of the desolate condition of the Church, when it rose 
 up in my mind that South Carolina had been, up to the 
 war, the third contributing diocese to missions, and that 
 now prostrate, she was asking by my lips that she should 
 
 220 
 
My School. 2 21 
 
 be aided. I became very much agitated and said : * * Gen- 
 tlemen, the vision of the past has risen before me; the 
 present overwhelms me; I cannot proceed," and my head 
 fell forward, and the tears rolled down my cheeks. 
 
 Doctor Montgomery rose hastily, and came forward, 
 and said, ** You need say no more," and he took my hand 
 and pressed it warmly. 
 
 Each member of the Board did the same. There was 
 not a dry eye in that room. It was in 1866. 
 
 I bowed out of the room, and soon after Doctor Little- 
 john came out, and told me they had voted six thousand 
 dollars a year to this Diocese of South Carolina, and they 
 paid that amount for several years. Doctor Littlejohn told 
 me that my appeal was the most eloquent ever presented 
 to the Board. " Oh ! " I said, ' ' Doctor Littlejohn, I could 
 not speak, my voice failed me ; my heart was so full. ' ' 
 ' ' ' Yes, ' ' he answered, ' ' and you filled the hearts of all 
 the Board ; you had no need for speech." 
 
 Soon after this I was invited to go to Boston to address 
 the Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church. 
 Bishop Eastburn was then Bishop. At a given time it 
 was moved that the Convention suspend business, and that 
 I be invited to address the Convention. The Bishop hesi- 
 tated, but the resolution was pressed with so much earnest- 
 ness, that it passed unanimously, and I ascended the pulpit 
 to address the Convention of Massachusetts upon the re- 
 lation of the Church in South Carolina to the colored 
 people. When the invitation was given I had prepared 
 a written address, which I duly delivered. On its com- 
 pletion I received an ovation, and I heard from all sides 
 declarations that it was refreshing to hear the Southern 
 side, from the frank mind of an earnest Southern man. I 
 made then a host of friends who stood by me for many years 
 afterwards. On my return to New York, I called to see 
 the Rev. Dr. Thos. House Taylor, rector of Grace Church. 
 
2 2 2 Led On I 
 
 He had not seen me since I was an infant, but he recalled 
 the kindness he had received from my grandfather and 
 from my father. His own father had died and had been 
 buried from my father's house. He remembered he had 
 been my sponsor. He was about to sail for Europe and 
 begged me to take his pulpit for two Sundays, which I 
 did. 
 
 After finishing my engagement at Grace Church, I 
 thought the time had come for me to give up my efforts 
 for the Theological Seminary, for I found it did not 
 greatly interest the people. The total result of my mis- 
 sion was sixty-six thousand dollars for missions in the 
 diocese, Theological Seminary and colored school. This 
 was not all collected at once. The six thousand dollars 
 a year was continued for missions, I think, for six years ; 
 the rest was for the Seminary and the school. I then 
 went down to Washington, and called on General 0.0. 
 Howard, who was very glad to see me. He was at the 
 head of the Freedmen's Bureau. I showed to him the 
 resolutions of our Diocesan Convention, and told him of 
 Mr. Trenholm's and my selection of the Marine Hospital, 
 and that as it had been condemned, and we wished to get 
 the government to sell it, that I had nearly five thousand 
 dollars towards its purchase. He took me to the White 
 House to see President Johnson, introduced me, and told 
 the President my object. The President listened very 
 attentively, and turning to General Howard, said : " This 
 is the pleasantest thing I have heard from the South. I 
 told you so. lyCt these gentlemen alone ; they will do the 
 right thing. Yes sir ; get a bill through Congress author- 
 izing the sale of the Marine Hospital and I will sign it." 
 Then taking up his check-book he filled out a check for 
 a thousand dollars and said, * ' That is my subscription 
 towards its purchase." 
 
 General Howard undertook to frame the bill, and had it 
 
My School. 223 
 
 passed. The President signed it, and the building was 
 ordered sold. I telegraphed Mr. John Hanckel to buy it 
 for me. No one supposed it would sell for more than our 
 first bid of one thousand dollars, but Mr. Yates, the Sea- 
 men's Chaplain, who was very much disconcerted at the 
 sale of the Marine Hospital, bid on it and ran it up to nine 
 thousand eight hundred dollars. Hanckel' s mettle was 
 up, however, and he was determined to have it. It was 
 knocked down to him for me. He telegraphed me the 
 amount ; I was staggered. However, I went to General 
 Howard, and told him the situation, and somehow between 
 the Freedman's Bureau and the Treasur}^, they arranged it 
 so that a deed of gift was made in trust to me, Mr. George 
 A. Trenholm, and Mr, Bennett, a colored man. The 
 only condition they added was that there should be no re- 
 striction to anyone in using the advantages of the institu- 
 tion on account of color, race, or previous condition, the 
 Board to be self-perpetuating. The money I had collected 
 at the school was to go for repairs and furniture. 
 
 I then returned to New York, and again Doctor Little- 
 john used his influence, and brought me before the Board 
 of what was called the Protestant Episcopal Commission 
 to the Colored People of the South. This time I was suc- 
 cessful in rousing some enthusiasm, for it was a new work, 
 and I w^ent into the subject inspired by my success in 
 getting the building. I remember how I was plied with 
 questions, and how I answered them all with the most 
 direct frankness. Rev. Dr. A. H. Vinton was most par- 
 ticular in his interrogatories. The result was the Board 
 was determined we should have six thousand dollars a 
 year for the colored school, provided that, as principal, a 
 white man from the North should have charge. To this 
 I assented. The building was repaired, the furniture w^as 
 procured and the school was opened with a roll of eighteen 
 hundred colored children. I selected fifteen Charleston 
 
2 24 Led On! 
 
 ladies, and gave them five hundred dollars apiece salary 
 and kept the school going for four years, when the facili- 
 ties for the education of the colored children in Charleston 
 exceeded those of the white, under the city common school 
 system, and as the interest flagged in the North, the ap- 
 propriation fell off, and I turned the children over to the 
 city's care. Thus, at the suggestion of the Bishop, by 
 virtue of the resolutions passed in the Diocesan Conven- 
 tion, the first large school for colored children opened 
 solely by the white people in the South, was here in the 
 city of Charleston. When the school was closed, I turned 
 the building over to St. Mark's congregation and we es- 
 tablished a library, and a general meeting-place for in- 
 struction and amusement, which was kept up while I was 
 rector of that church, but fell through and remained idle 
 until 1895, when a Mr. Jenkins, a colored Baptist preacher, 
 through the intervention of several of my white friends, 
 obtained from me, the sole surviving trustee, a temporary 
 lease for a colored orphanage, until such time as I hoped 
 the city would take the matter in hand, when I could make 
 such disposition to them as the trust allows. I have printed 
 in the appendix an article which appeared in the Messenger, 
 on October 19, 1896, the paper of the colored people, 
 printed at the Colored Orphanage.* 
 
 While I was at the North I had studied the papers very 
 carefully, and, as the result, I wrote to Mr. George A. 
 Trenholm, saying I was sure the next move would be to 
 give the ballot to the negro, and I begged him to get a 
 dozen leading men together, and create a public sentiment 
 on the subject. It would be well, I said, if the negroes, 
 when they could read, write, and cipher, and owned five 
 hundred dollars in real estate, should have the suffrage 
 given them by the South. This arrangement would be 
 an incentive to education, to thrift, and to economy. If, 
 
 * See Appendix C. 
 
My SchooL 
 
 225 
 
 on the other hand, they received the suffrage from the 
 North, as well as their freedom, it would involve troubles 
 innumerable. If we moved first, it would forestall hasty, 
 ill-considered action on the part of the North. Mr. 
 Trenholm wrote me he agreed with every word, but 
 begged me to be very careful how I expressed my views.* 
 
 * During my visit at the North, and in the course of all the 
 work I have related, some caustic critic wrote a very severe article 
 in the Charleston paper, attacking me for all the work I was doing 
 at the North. The paper was sent to me, and being of course very 
 indignant, I wrote a reply and sent it to Mr. Trenholm, whose 
 cooler judgment withheld it, and he with others replied to my 
 vituperator and quite silenced him. I never found out the name 
 of my critic. The record I have made is strictly accurate, and the 
 reader can judge how far I was deserving of attack. On my return 
 South I paid the Bishop I5500 for the Theological Seminary, which 
 was kept open as long as the fund lasted, and was then closed. I 
 collected for purchase and repairs of Marine Hospital as a colored 
 school, $6300, and obtained a grant of $6000 a year for four years 
 for running expenses, and $6000 a year for six years for Missions 
 in the Diocese of South Carolina. It does not strike me, looking 
 back, that my mission to the North was an unsuccessful one, 
 15 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A KIND PRKSIDBNT 
 
 How I obtained Mr. Trejiholm' s Pardon 
 
 PRESIDKNT ANDREW JOHNSON, having required 
 certain persons to ask for a pardon before they could 
 be restored to citizenship, and their property recovered, 
 none of the Cabinet ofl&cers of the Confederate States had 
 then complied with his conditions and been pardoned. 
 One night, therefore, during the winter of 1866, being 
 at Mr. Trenholm's house, I said to him, that if he would 
 ask for a pardon, I was sure I could get it for him. 
 
 He had been Secretary of the Confederate States. Mr. 
 Trenholm flatly refused to ask for a pardon. 
 
 " I have done nothing of which I am ashamed," he 
 said, ' * and have committed no offence for which to ask Mr. 
 Johnson's pardon. I will not do it." 
 
 * ' Well, ' ' I said, ' ' will you write me a letter telling me 
 your views, as to what the duty of the Southern people is, 
 what you think will be, and what ought to be, the course 
 of the United States government ? ' ' 
 
 " That," he said, ** I will do with great pleasure ; but 
 I do not know of what avail it will be. ' ' 
 
 He wrote the letter, and it was a masterly production, 
 as was everything from his pen. Gen. Daniel Sickles 
 
 226 
 
A Kind President, 227 
 
 was then in command of Charleston. He was not popular 
 with our citizens, but I had a purpose, so I called on him 
 with this letter of Mr. Trenholm's, and told him I wished 
 him to recommend his pardon, which was essential to the 
 welfare of the city and State. Men like Mr. Trenholm 
 should be able to resume business. 
 
 General Sickles read the letter carefully, commented on 
 its strength and elegant diction, and said he would return 
 it to me the next day. But that afternoon he sent an 
 orderly on horseback with a note to me, and the letter 
 most enthusiastically endorsed. I went to Mr. Tren- 
 holm's house that night, and told him that I was going to 
 the North the next day, to get his pardon. I did not tell 
 him of General Sickles' s endorsement. 
 
 When I reached New York, I went to Doctor Little- 
 john, and asked him to sign the petition for Trenholm's 
 pardon, and to get Mr. A. A. Low and three or four other 
 Republican gentlemen of influence to sign it. Doctor 
 Littlejohn kept the paper two or three days, and returned 
 it to me signed, with his name, and that of Mr. Low, Mr. 
 Pierrepont Edwards, Mr. Cj^rus Curtis, and one or two 
 others. I happened to see in the morning's paper that 
 Gen. O. O. Howard was to dine that day at five o'clock 
 with Mr. Chittenden in Brooklyn. I went over, and sent 
 my card to the General, and he came down at once, leaving 
 the dinner-table to meet me. I apologized for the intru- 
 sion, but asked his endorsement of this paper. 
 
 *' I am alwa3^s glad to oblige you," he said, and after 
 reading the paper added his name to it. Thus fortified, I 
 took the evening train for Washington. 
 
 Next morning I went to the White House, and in the 
 lobby I met Mr. J. B. Campbell, a prominent lawyer from 
 Charleston. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " he asked. '* Come for a 
 pardon ? ' ' 
 
228 Led On I 
 
 " No," I said; " I am too insignificant a personage to 
 need one. I have come to get Mr. Trenholm's pardon." 
 
 * * Go home, ' ' he said. ' ' Your attempt is a waste of 
 time ; I have been here three weeks and can't get it," and 
 we separated. 
 
 The President was not approached then through a pri- 
 vate secretary, but a porter at the door let in the callers. 
 I saw this, and approached the man, but it was no use. 
 I sat by him, however, and set about to ingratiate myself 
 with him, but he would not take my card in. At dark I 
 went to the hotel to eat my dinner. I had not tasted a 
 thing all day. General Howard was in Brooklyn, and I 
 knew no one of influence in Washington. Next day I 
 found out that the porter was fond of a cigar, so I gave 
 him one after another of some fine cigars I had, and by 
 this bribery and corruption secured his promise to take 
 in my card. He at last opened the door, and I walked in, 
 but there were a dozen persons in waiting, and one by 
 one they went up to the President. The President was 
 very grufi" to some. Suddenly Secretary Stanton came in, 
 and he and the President went off into an adjoining room. 
 I thought, it is all up with me to-day ; all the other visitors 
 seemed to think so, too, for everyone left, and I was left 
 alone. I sat on the sofa and waited. There was loud 
 and stormy talking in the room where the Secretary and 
 President were, and presently the Secretary passed through 
 the room with flushed face. The President followed, and 
 seeing me, he asked, in the roughest manner, ' * What do 
 you want ? ' ' 
 
 " A pardon, Mr. President." 
 
 "For whom?" 
 
 " For Mr. George A. Trenholm, late Secretary of the 
 Treasury of the Confederate States." 
 
 " Ah," he said, " and what are you doing with such a 
 paper? " 
 
A Kind President. 229 
 
 *' Mr. Trenholm, sir," I answered, " has been as a father 
 to me, and I am his pastor. ' ' 
 
 " Then, sir, you are the proper person to be here ; but 
 there is a set of sharpers who are making money out of 
 this pardon business. I have just recalled eighteen from 
 South Carolina, which I find were costing money to the 
 pardoned. I mean them to get it without paying for 
 it." 
 
 As he was talking, he was looking over the paper I had 
 handed him, and his eye rested on General Howard's 
 name. I^ooking at me, he said, ' * How did you get Gen- 
 eral Howard's name on this paper ? " 
 
 Knowing that a man who has given his check for one 
 thousand dollars does not often forget it, I said: " Mr. 
 President, you see so many persons you have forgotten 
 me. But General Howard introduced me to you ; you 
 signed the bill for the sale of the Marine Hospital, and 
 you gave me your check for one thousand dollars towards 
 its furniture. ' ' 
 
 His manner changed in an instant. He extended his 
 hand, and said, ' ' Call in the morning early. ' ' Turning 
 to the porter, he added, '* Admit this gentleman alone, 
 and the first one in the morning." 
 
 I gave the man at the door a tip, and went away quite 
 delighted. 
 
 I was at the President's door at eight a.m. the third 
 day. At nine I was admitted. The President met me 
 very cordially, saying : " I must apologize to you for my 
 brusqueness last night. I had not had a glass of water 
 all day, I was tired out, and had just held an unpleasant 
 interview. I have read the paper and have signed the 
 pardon, and it has given me the greatest pleasure to do 
 so. ' ' He then called his son Robert, and told him to go 
 with me, and to show me the offices in rotation, to which 
 I was to go with the paper, which the President wished 
 
230 Led On I 
 
 attended to at once. Notwithstanding the President's 
 directions to his son, it was nearly five in the evening be- 
 fore I got the last signature and seal on the pardon, and I 
 walked back to Willard's Hotel triumphant.* I told Mr. 
 Trenholm before leaving I would not communicate with 
 him until the pardon was procured, and if it was, I 
 would telegraph, * ' All right. " As I was going up to the 
 telegraph office in the hotel, I again met Mr. Campbell. 
 '' You still here ? " he said. 
 
 ** Yes, but I am going home to-night." 
 
 ** I told you it was a waste of time ; you can't get it." 
 
 *' No," I said ; "I cannot get again what I have 
 already obtained." 
 
 ** What do you mean ? " he said. 
 
 ** I mean that I have Mr. Trenholm' s pardon, and if 
 you do not believe me, suppose you look at it," and I 
 handed him the document. He took it and read it, folded 
 it up and returned it to me, and said, ' ' How did you get 
 that?" 
 
 I replied : * * That, sir, is my business, not yours. Cer- 
 tainly by no aid from you. ' ' 
 
 I accordingly telegraphed Mr. Trenholm, and left for 
 home in the eleven o'clock train. I need scarcely say 
 with what grateful welcome I was greeted by that house- 
 hold next day. 
 
 I do not think it is apparent in this record of the years 
 '65, '66, or '67, that I was carrying the burden of a great 
 sorrow. The death of our son had thrown a shadow over 
 life's pathway; the sunlight did not seem so bright, nor 
 the flowers so fair. Very few were the days or nights, 
 that sometime I did not give way, but never before any- 
 pne excepting my wife, who felt as keenly as I did, but 
 was braver and stronger than I was. Many a night had 
 
 * Mr. Trenholm's letter with those endorsements is in the 
 archives of the government. 
 
A Kind President, 231 
 
 she heard a sob from the depths of my heart, and she 
 would gently rebuke me. 
 
 ' ' Husband, is that right ? Are you not afraid that you 
 are murmuring, and that leads to rebellion ? ' ' 
 
 " No, wife, I bow, but my heart seems broken, and I 
 cannot help it. The world shall not see my grief, and I 
 try to keep it from you, but you read me so thoroughly 
 that I can hide nothing from you." I believe that God's 
 loving providence had given me all the work of these two 
 years, and added to me grace and strength in mercy and 
 love, so that I was taken out of myself. 
 
 It was only in my quiet hours that the realization of 
 our loss oppressed me, and on the 25th of October, 1867, 
 about two o'clock in the afternoon, I started out on my 
 usual pilgrimage to his grave. It was a fine, bracing, 
 autumnal day, and too early for frost ; everything was 
 green, and all nature was beautiful. Magnolia Cemetery 
 is two miles from Charleston, and as I walked thither, I 
 had not the faintest conception that I was approaching 
 the crisis of my life. When I arrived at my destination, 
 as there was no other person in the cemetery but myself, 
 I knelt on the grave, and prayed for absolute submission, 
 resignation, and comfort. As I was thus kneeling on the 
 mound, my head buried in my hands, I wept bitterly ; how 
 long I cannot tell. Suddenly I heard a voice saying to 
 me, in distinct, articulate tones, * ' Stop grieving for the 
 dead, and do something for the living." 
 
 I say, articulate ; for, though there was no audible 
 sound, yet I heard as distinctly as if someone had spoken, 
 the words quoted — so distinctly, that I raised my head to 
 see who had intruded upon the privacy of my grief. No 
 one was visible, the sun was shining bright, the sky was 
 cloudless, the birds were singing in the trees. The im- 
 pression was so strong that I had been spoken to, that I 
 said aloud, * ' What can I do for the the living ? ' ' Again 
 
232 Led On ! 
 
 I heard the same voice saying, " Your child is enjoying 
 what you are only hoping for; but see his young com- 
 panions who are mostly poor orphans without churches 
 or schools. Take them and educate them." 
 
 *' Educate other people's children," I said to myself, 
 ' * when I scarcely know how I am to educate my own ? ' ' 
 
 I had fifty cents in my pocket, and was uncertain where 
 the next was to come from, but I became conscious of an 
 influence upon me such as I had felt once before, when I 
 passed that night which determined me to give myself to 
 God, and to serve in the ministry. I was four hours at that 
 grave alone with God, for I have not the shadow of a 
 doubt that the spiritual world had enfolded me, and as I 
 talked aloud I seemed to be answered, and heard my 
 child's dying words, ** O I^ord, save Thy people, and bless 
 Thine heritage." 
 
 The warm reception I had lately received at the North, 
 suggested the thought that if they had so readily helped 
 the colored school, would they not also help to educate 
 the white children ? 
 
 I knelt upon my child's grave, and used these words, 
 " Heavenly Father, if this is from Thee, give me wisdom, 
 give me zeal, give me continuity of purpose, and open the 
 hearts of people to me, and I will do it ; but if it is only a 
 fleeting enthusiasm, let it pass away as a morning cloud, 
 for Jesus' sake. ' ' 
 
 Reader, I have never shed a tear for that child from that 
 day to this. There never has been a day since that he 
 has not been in my thoughts, but the glorious work that 
 he has done on earth by his prayers in Paradise has made 
 me look upon him not as gone but as waiting for me. 
 The sun went down as I rose from my knees, and I could 
 not walk fast enough to get home, but ran a great part of 
 the way. 
 
 As soon as I reached the house, I lit a five-cent tallow 
 
A Kind President. 233 
 
 dip, in a ten-cent tin candlestick, and took it into my un- 
 furnished front room down-stairs. I then called my wife. 
 We went together into this large empty room, darkness 
 made visible by this one candle on the mantlepiece, and 
 I put my arm around her waist, and told her what had oc- 
 curred at the grave of our child. I told her that I had 
 never thought of such a work till that hour, that I had 
 no training to keep a school, and no money to begin it 
 with, but if she were willing to give up the rent of the 
 house in Ashley Street, that six hundred dollars a year 
 would be a start. It did not take her a moment to decide. 
 Throwing her arms round my neck, and looking up into 
 my face, she said : " If God has given you a work to do, 
 go and do it. Certainly, give up the rent of the house. 
 I never expected, as your wife, to have to do this, but if 
 you will go in debt, and furnish the chambers that the 
 Freedmen's Bureau people stripped, we will take boarders 
 to feed us. ' ' 
 
 ' ' But you cannot do it, " I said. * ' You are too feeble ; 
 it is as much as I can do to keep you alive now." 
 
 '* Am I not your wife ? " she answered. '' You will re- 
 quire strength to do your part, and cannot God give me 
 strength to do mine ? ' ' We both sank on our knees, 
 consecrated ourselves to our work, and asked God's bless- 
 ing. There was more light than the candle's in that 
 room ; it was illumined by the Spirit of God. He saw 
 the sacrifice she made ; it was all the living we had, 
 and he accepted it ; and to my wife, not to me, the 
 Church and the State are indebted for all the glorious 
 work that has been done these thirty years. 
 
 I sent a circular, addressed it to each clergyman in the 
 State, and, where there was no clergyman, to the lead- 
 ing layman, asking them to give me 'a list, first of orphans, 
 of widows' sons, of motherless boys, or of boys whose 
 parents were alive, but unable to send them to school. I 
 
234 Led On / 
 
 then notified my tenants that at the end of the month I 
 would need the house in Ashley Street, which I had hither- 
 to rented at fifty dollars a month. I next went round and 
 begged odds and ends of furniture, crockery, clothing, and 
 table-linen, until I had sufficient to begin on. I told Mrs. 
 John Bryan, the widow of my old friend, I would need a 
 matron ; and for a home and her food, but no salary, she 
 agreed to take charge. I then looked around for a princi- 
 pal for the school, and selected Mr. John Gadsden, who 
 had a school of a few boys in Summerville. I told him I 
 could not guarantee a salary, but would pay him as soon 
 as I could. When he accepted I went to grocer, baker, 
 and butcher, and told them I had paid eight thousand 
 dollars for my house before the war, and I could probably 
 sell it for three thousand, now that my wife had renounced 
 her dower, and if I found I was running in debt, I would 
 sell the house and pay them. Somehow everyone I ap- 
 proached seemed to catch the spirit that was in me, and 
 to feel they must help a thing which was begun in so re- 
 markable a manner. 
 
 There was a Federal officer at the citadel, who heard 
 of my intention and he sent me word that there were one 
 hundred iron bedsteads at the citadel, which had been 
 condemned, but were not too bad to be used. If I wanted 
 them, he would present them to me. Of course I was 
 grateful. I used those bedsteads for twenty-five years, 
 and passed them over to the colored orphanage at the 
 Marine Hospital last year. 
 
 In the meanwhile, responses to my circulars literally 
 poured in upon me. One letter was particularly touching. 
 It was from a widow, in Walterborough, South Carolina, 
 who said that Sunday as it was, she was compelled to 
 write. She had just' returned from church, where she 
 heard the circular read by the rector. Up to that mo- 
 ment, the cloud that overshadowed her had been im- 
 
A Kind President, 
 
 235 
 
 penetrable ; it seemed as if God had forgotten her. She 
 appeared, at least, forsaken ; but that circular had opened 
 the cloud, and let in upon her a ra}^ of light, which had 
 come from the Throne of God into her darkened heart. 
 She had a fine bo}^ fifteen 3'ears old, whom his father 
 before he died had taken through Caesar, but now his 
 education had been stopped, and there had been no 
 earthly hope for him. But now my circular had changed 
 all this, and she was going to send him whether I would 
 take him or not. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 KDUCATIONAI, NKKDS OF THK SOUTH 
 
 The ravages of the war in Southern States affected the cause 
 of education — This was especially the case among the upper 
 classes — My work was to remedy this condition of things — 
 / ope7i a day school for 4.2^ boys and 12^ girls — My board- 
 ing school accepts jj boys — / advise my boarders how they 
 should behave — A good remedy for coarseness and obscenity 
 — Mr, Wilkins Glefin of Baltimore assists me. 
 
 I DID not feel that my mission was to rescue gamins^ who 
 were no poorer than before the war, but the entire 
 wealth of the State had been swept away, and all schools 
 existing in 1861. The mere youth, the seed com, as Mrs. 
 Jefferson Davis called them, had been taken into the army, 
 and for four years had not been at school. In fact, no 
 schools had been opened, and if they had been no one had 
 money to pay for schooling. The wresting of our slaves 
 from us, involved the depreciation of our land ; railroads 
 had been destroyed, banks had failed, factories we had 
 none ; insurance companies had all failed. There was, 
 therefore, no source of income, and the most calamitous 
 result was the inability to educate our children. I aimed 
 to save for the Church and the country at large the repre- 
 
 236 
 
Educational Needs of the South. 237 
 
 sentative families of the State. I realized that the youths 
 from the army, now grown to be men, were most of them 
 descended from a long ancestry, and that their class was 
 in danger of degeneracy, through illiteracy or, perhaps, 
 obliteration. I admit that there is no such thing as an 
 aristocracy in a republic, but there are grades of society, 
 and unhappy is that land which has no educated, cultured 
 class. If everything is on a low, dead level, then ignorance 
 and deterioration are inevitable, and, as my circular said, 
 I was prepared to give the preference to my own church 
 people, although quite ready to consider applications from 
 any Christian denomination. After careful selection from 
 among the older boys who had sent in applications, I 
 agreed to take thirty-three, as soon as I was ready, and 
 among them the widow's son, Josiah B. Perry.* 
 
 I began at once making arrangements for the opening 
 of the Home for the country bo^^s, and this took more 
 time than it takes to tell about it, for I had to accommo- 
 date the thirty-three boys whom I had consented to take. 
 In the course of these preparations it occurred to me that 
 I might utilize the schoolhouse in full, and add a day- 
 school which would only involve additional teachers. I 
 probably could procure some who were idle, trusting me 
 to pay when I could. At that time no large common 
 school for whites had been opened — the common- school 
 buildings having been appropriated by the Freedmen's 
 Bureau, and several large schools were in operation for 
 the colored children. I therefore consulted Mr. Tren- 
 holm, and he urged me to open the school, which I ac- 
 cordingly did. Teachers were engaged on my terms, and 
 
 * He was fitted for college, and obtained in time a scholarship 
 at Trinity, Hartford, where he graduated creditably. Subsequently 
 he studied law, but after a year or two of practice took Holy Orders, 
 and is now the successful rector of St. Andrew's Church, Washing- 
 ton, D. C. 
 
238 Led On / 
 
 at the Church of the Holy Communion, on the 9th day of 
 December, 1867, after a full service, and addresses by 
 Bishop Davis and myself, the day-school was formally 
 opened, with four hundred and twenty-five boys, and one 
 hundred and twenty-five girls. I charged fifty cents a 
 month for tuition, but such was the poverty of the people, 
 that from the day-school and the thirty-three boys in the 
 Home, I received in ten months just three hundred and 
 sixty-eight dollars. I moreover gave out eight hundred 
 dollars' worth of books, for which I received no more 
 than one hundred dollars in return. Scribner & Co. sup- 
 plied me, and generously made the school a present of the 
 four hundred dollars balance which the school owed on 
 this amount. On the 21st of March, 1868, the first boy 
 came to the Home, the orphan son of highly respectable 
 parents, a child who gave sad evidence of the degenerat- 
 ing effects of poverty. I wondered whether his was the 
 condition to which all our country boys had fallen. I had 
 been called of God none too soon. 
 
 Within a week the thirty-three boys were all in the 
 Home, where they stayed until August. When the first five 
 boys arrived, I took them into my study and said to them : 
 ' ' Now, boys, you have come here to be my sons. Your 
 circumstances are such that you will be my guests. 
 There is no money to be made out of you. You are here 
 to study, and to take advantage of this great opportunity. 
 Your spiritual mother, the Church, has opened her arms 
 to shelter you, and to lead you on the way of life. ' ' I 
 charged these boys never to allow anything improper or 
 indecent in the school. I told them I expected them to 
 attend to this. 
 
 * * The boy, ' ' I added, ' ' who writes or draws anything 
 improper on the walls needs cleansing, and although you 
 cannot make him clean within, you can externally. Take 
 every such boy, therefore, to the pump, and wash him 
 
Educational Needs of the South. 239 
 
 well. When I hear you have done this, I will dismiss 
 him from the school." * 
 
 The school was opened in December, but up to the 
 middle of March in the following year I had received little 
 or no money. My expenses were running on, and no 
 salaries or bills had been paid. Things looked desperate, 
 but neither my faith nor my courage failed me. The firm 
 conviction that God had given me this work sustained 
 me, and how much I bore from doubting, discouraging 
 friends whose want of sympathy produced want of confi- 
 dence in my success, only God knows. How many earnest 
 prayers went up to heaven, how many sleepless nights 
 and waking hours of anxiety were passed, only He can 
 count ! After the bo3^s had all come to the Home, and 
 everything was organized, I felt that God required of me 
 to make personal exertions to carry out His will, by pro- 
 viding material means for this important work. Not 
 knowing whither I should go, I started North, my ob- 
 jective point being Baltimore, where I knew there was 
 great interest felt in the South. Although I knew none 
 of the clergy, I called on Rev. Dr. Milo Mahom, rector 
 of St. Paul's Church, and he invited me to stay with him. 
 I had with him the same experience I had with Doctor 
 I^ittlejohn in 1866. We talked till the early hours of the 
 morning. What a glorious man he was ! He had a 
 
 * Some years after this Mr. William Cullen Bryant, while visit- 
 ing the city, called on me. He addressed the boys, and I after- 
 wards told him how successful I had been, for in seven years I had 
 never had to discharge a boy for obscenity. Turning to the boj'-s I 
 asked if they had ever ducked any one? I was somewhat taken 
 aback by the general laugh and their emphatic, Yes ! They had, it 
 seemed, ducked three, who had begged so hard not to be betrayed 
 to me, as they would then have to leave, and had promised so 
 earnestly never to offend so again, that I had not been informed 
 of the duckings. There was a general laugh at my expense, but 
 after such a record I was willing to endure the laugh. 
 
240 Led On ! 
 
 splendid mind, and a heart surcharged with sympathy. 
 He wept that night like a child as he read the pathetic 
 appeals contained in the letters which had responded to 
 my circular. 
 
 * ' Now, ' ' he said, ' ' go into my pulpit to-morrow morn- 
 ing, and tell the story just as you have told it to me." 
 
 I did so. I will never forget that Sunday. It was soon 
 after the war, and all hearts there were tender towards 
 our people, and South Carolina in particular. The Spirit 
 gave me utterance on that occasion ; men were not ashamed 
 to wipe their eyes and many women sobbed. It had not 
 been announced that there was to be a collection, but 
 eight hundred dollars were found in the plate, and checks 
 came next day, and it went at once to Charleston, where 
 it caused unspeakable joy. Mr. Wilkins Glenn, a mem- 
 ber of the congregation, then owned and was editor of the 
 Baltimore Gazette, and after an interview with me, devoted 
 several columns, day after day, in the Gazette, to me and 
 my cause, and proposed to form an association to assist in 
 carrying on the work. I stayed five weeks in Baltimore, 
 preaching at Emanuel Church and St. I^uke's, and ob- 
 tained one thousand dollars from these churches, besides 
 what was given at St. Paul's. Day after da}^ I went 
 through the snow from house to house — we had five 
 snowstorms during my stay — but I returned to Charleston 
 with sufficient to relieve my most pressing necessities. 
 
 I had scarcely reached home when I received a telegram 
 from Mr. Glenn requesting me to return to Baltimore, 
 which I did. Mr. Glenn had been to New York and had in- 
 terested Hon. Clarkson N. Potter, Mr. Charles O'Connor, 
 Mr. William B. Apppleton, Mr. J. S. Thayer, Mr. William 
 B. Duncan and others, who had agreed to assist in placing 
 me on a firm basis. Mr. Glenn called a meeting of influen- 
 tial gentlemen in Baltimore, who organized a society with 
 Mr. Samuel G. Wyman as its President, and this society 
 
Educational Needs of the South, 241 
 
 pledged me six hundred dollars a month, for three years. 
 I started back for Charleston, but was stopped in Wash- 
 ington by Rev. Dr. Pinkney, afterwards Bishop of Mary- 
 land. He took me to his warm heart and asked me to tell 
 my story to his people. His people, he told to show their 
 love to him, by listening to what I had to say, responding 
 to the extent of their ability. This they did generously, 
 and I thus obtained money enough to pay up every debt, 
 and to carry me to the end of the year. 
 
 The pledge of the society organized by Mr. Glenn was 
 fulfilled, and I ended the first year out of debt, having 
 had over five hundred children in the day-school and 
 thirty- three living in the Home. These latter I had for 
 the most part clothed as well as fed and educated. 
 
 There is a record of thirty years still of this biography, 
 in which there is much to tell of the wonderful providence 
 of God, His Presence, and Hand in the life of this institu- 
 tion. It will be seen how He has used one means after 
 another to make me realize that His hand has guided, 
 His voice has counselled. Was it a fanatical dream at the 
 grave of my child or was it the call of God ? I went to 
 that grave without one thought of a school, surrounded 
 as I was by desolate poverty. To build up a great charit- 
 able institution then and there seemed as preposterous as 
 to project a great cathedral in the Desert of Sahara, with- 
 out one co-operator, and with no materials. Yet the 
 record of this one year begins a series of events, as the 
 story will unfold, of which I wish to take a reasonable 
 view. I believe in the miracles recorded in Holy Scrip- 
 ture ; I believe that God is the same Being now, and that 
 if each man would ponder His paths we all would find 
 miraculous interpositions in our behalf. But God works 
 by human means. Through a series of years and events 
 He had been training me for the mission of my life. 
 
 When the time had come, and all the conditions were 
 16 
 
242 
 
 Led On / 
 
 favorable, He gave me my commission, and led me into 
 the positions favorable to the necessities of the work, and 
 then required me to use all the ability with which He had 
 endowed me. He required me to work as though it all 
 depended on me, while He made that work successful, or 
 thwarted it, as in His wisdom He had seen best. If my 
 experience can strengthen one failing heart, and encour- 
 age it in energy, patience, waiting, endurance, and faith, 
 this narrative will not be written in vain. If I can make 
 any heart realize that our Father is not far off, but nigh, 
 that His hand is stretched out still, and His ear open to 
 our praj^ers, if I have comforted some soul, and helped 
 someone to cling closer to God, I shall have magnified the 
 grace of God, and this will be my exceeding great reward. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 "THK lyORD'S BOX*' 
 
 My method of appealing to the honor of boys— An incident 
 testifying to its success — ''''The Lords box'^ — few els 
 among the lowly — My public work outside of the school — 
 My ' ' Romish ' ' tendencies — A very practical rebuke. 
 
 THE association in Baltimore, through Mr. Glenn, 
 continued to send to me, each month, the six hun- 
 dred dollars promised, but it was not near enough to meet 
 expenses, and I therefore went on in November, 1868, to 
 New York. The introductions given me by General 
 Howard, and the friends I had made in 1866, assisted me 
 very much. While in New York I saw the advertisement 
 of the sale of a building in the rear of the Church of the 
 Holy Communion, Charleston. As only a fence divided 
 the yard from my house, which held but thirty-three, and 
 as the terms on which the house was to be had were one 
 third cash, and the balance in three years, I prayerfully 
 considered the purchase of it, and telegraphed to a friend 
 to buy the house, if it did not exceed five thousand dollars. 
 I did not have a cent when I received a telegram to the 
 effect that the house had been purchased in my name for 
 five thousand one hundred and fifty dollars, and I must 
 pay seventeen hundred dollars as soon as the papers were 
 made out. I went round at once to see my dear friend, 
 
 243 
 
244 L^^ ^^ ' 
 
 Mr. John David Wolfe, and told him all my plans. He 
 was a man whose ear was ever open to every story of 
 work for the glory of God and the good of men. He 
 scattered of his abundance through the land, and though 
 dead, he yet liveth in the institutions he fostered and 
 founded. After patiently hearing my story, he said, 
 '' You are as bad as the bishops, — a regular stand-and-de- 
 liver man." 
 
 Then, turning to his desk, he wrote a check for one 
 thousand dollars, and said, ' ' If you are good for anything, 
 you can soon raise the other seven hundred dollars. Go 
 and see Stuart Brown and Mr. Aspinwall, and if they 
 do not help you, come back to me. ' ' 
 
 The seven hundred dollars was collected that day, and 
 the amount was remitted to Charleston, and by the time 
 the rest was due, it was all paid by the generosity of my 
 Northern friends. Mr. Wolfe continued to be my gener- 
 ous friend, and gave one thousand dollars every year, until 
 he died, and after his death his daughter. Miss Catherine 
 ly. Wolfe, continued her father's subscription until she 
 died. How I have missed them ! 
 
 I was spending an evening at Mr. Wolfe's, and an old 
 lady was there, Mrs. Spencer. I did not know at the 
 time she was his sister. Mr. Wolfe told her all about me, 
 from his first acquaintance, when he found me at the 
 meeting of the Board of Missions in 1866, and he enlarged 
 on my present work. Mrs. Spencer asked me if this was 
 something that was to be, or if it was now in existence. 
 Of course I told her it was now in being. She then left 
 the room, and when she was going away from the house, 
 she handed me an envelope. In it was a check for five 
 hundred dollars, which she renewed yearly until she died. 
 
 When I began the vSchool, I placed my boys on their 
 honor, and told them that there would be no espionage, 
 and in thirty years, having had over three thousand under 
 
*' The Lord's Box'' 245 
 
 my charge, I have seldom known my confidence abused. 
 The following incident is illustrative of the tone of the in- 
 stitution : 
 
 Two of my oldest boys had been given tickets to go to 
 the theatre, and the principal permitted them to go and 
 waited for their return. When they came in they were 
 under the influence of liquor. This was on Friday night, 
 and on Monday Mr. Gadsden told me of it. I said he 
 must leave the matter to me to manage, and during the 
 day I stayed about the premises, treating those young 
 men as if I were not cognizant of their misdemeanor. On 
 Tuesday morning after service, these two boys came to 
 me in the vestry-room, and under great embarrassment 
 stated the case. The night was very cold, they said, and 
 they had gone into a saloon, and each had taken one 
 drink, and being unaccustomed to the use of ardent 
 spirits, they had been overcome. They said they did not 
 feel at their age (one was nineteen and the other twenty) 
 they had done so great a wrong in taking a drink. The 
 wrong was going to a bar-room at all ; it was a breach of 
 confidence. This was their error, and they feared they had 
 lost my respect, and they were willing, they said, to sub- 
 mit to any punishment I was prepared to inflict. They 
 implored me not to expel them. I asked them if this con- 
 fession was of their own volition. They replied, "En- 
 tirely. ' ' I asked if the offence would be repeated by them. 
 *' Never," they answered, ** while we continue under your 
 charge." 
 
 Then I said, * ' Young men, your offence is as fully for- 
 given as it is freely confessed ; I will never refer to it 
 to you again." 
 
 They pressed my hand ; the big tears rolled down their 
 cheeks ; their hearts were too full for words ; everything 
 was gained, and until they finished at the school those 
 young men were patterns. I think that is the way our 
 
246 Led On ! 
 
 Father forgives sinners. In after years one of these 
 young men came to see me, and, referring to this circum- 
 stance, said it was the turning-point of his life. Had I 
 thrashed them, he said, they would have submitted, but 
 probably would have despised me, but when I forgave 
 them they loved me, and would on no account have again 
 displeased me. 
 
 Two other incidents are worthy of note, and may be of 
 use. I had preached one Sunday at Emanuel Church, Bal- 
 timore, and on the Thursday after my sermon, the rector, 
 the Rev. Dr. Randolph, now Bishop of Southern Virginia, 
 brought me six hundred and five dollars, saying, ** My 
 brother, you will be thankful for these six hundred dol- 
 lars, but here is a check for one hundred dollars which 
 might have been one thousand dollars without incon- 
 venience to the giver. ' ' Then he ran over the different 
 amounts from various parties, and when he came to the 
 five dollar bill, he said, * ' This is the most precious of all ; 
 it is the gift of a white washerwoman." He had remon- 
 strated with her saying, she could not afford to give this 
 much, but she replied, " It is the I^ord's, not mine." 
 
 She had then told her pastor, " As the gentleman 
 preached, she became interested, and said, * I will give 
 him all that is in the I^ord's box.' " 
 
 It seems she had a box, which vShe called *' the lyord's 
 box, ' ' in which she deposited a certain percentage of her 
 gross daily earnings. As I went on, she added to her 
 mental offering the receipts of the next three days ; she 
 made three dollars, she found two dollars in ** the I^ord's 
 box, ' ' so added the two sums ; she brought the five dol- 
 lars as her gift to the Orphans' Home. I asked to be per- 
 mitted to call on this woman, but the rector said she would 
 be hurt if she thought I had heard this story. Some six 
 years after this, I had preached at St. Peter's, Eaton 
 Square, I^ondon, of which Canon Wilkinson was the vicar. 
 
** The Lord's Box!' 247 
 
 Next day I was to dine at Brighton, and at the door I 
 met a gentleman who was also to be a guest. He intro- 
 duced himself, and said, ' ' I heard your story last Sunday, 
 and gave you all that was in '' the I^ord's box " and here 
 is five pounds." 
 
 I asked him what he meant by " the lyord's box," and 
 he gave me an account of his rule of life. It was the 
 same as that of the Baltimore washerwoman. He was a 
 dentist, and put a percentage of his gross receipts in '* the 
 Lord' s box, ' ' and always had something to give. If every 
 churchman did the same, how abundant would the treas- 
 ure be at the Church's command. 
 
 Another incident in a different sphere of life. I once 
 preached in Grace Church, Newark, New Jersey, of which 
 the Rev. Dr. Hodges was rector. The next morning the 
 friend with whom I was staying came into the rector's 
 study, where I was, and, taking both my hands in his, 
 said : "I thank you for coming here ; you have helped to 
 form the character of my child. It is my custom when 
 m\^ daughters are seventeen to give them a watch, and at 
 eighteen add a chain and such trinkets as they wish. My 
 daughter reached eighteen last week, and I had told her 
 to go to Tiffany and get whatever she wished. Last 
 night she was much moved by your sermon, and begged 
 me to give to you the amount her chain and trinkets 
 would cost ; but I refused. I feared it was a sudden im- 
 pulse and that she might regret it. I told her to sleep on 
 it, and see how she felt next day." She had done so, but 
 she had just come to him and said, ** Do, Father, give Mr, 
 Porter the full amount, and make it a great deal more." 
 
 He cautioned her that he would not give her the usual 
 gift that 3^ear, if she thus gave it to me. She persisted, 
 and her father did give me the amount and much more. 
 
 To anticipate. In 1874, I preached in the same church. 
 The congregation was large, and after service I received 
 
248 Led On ! 
 
 words of appreciation and sympathy from very many, but 
 that did not go far towards feeding a hundred hungry 
 boys, and paying for educating five hundred. The rector 
 gave me fifty dollars, his wife gave me a marriage fee 
 of ten, a Presbyterian lady sent me fifty, and a Southern 
 woman from Georgia, who happened to be present, sent 
 me twenty. Nothing else came from that large congre- 
 gation in the way of substantial help ; but next day, when 
 I was leaving, a colored servant girl, who had come from 
 Augusta, Georgia, with her former owners, followed me 
 to the door, and slipped into my hand an envelope. ** I 
 do not look for aid from you, ' ' I said. She replied : * ' May 
 I not do a little for your cause ? I love those Southern 
 people ; they were good and kind to me. ' ' 
 
 Of course I did not rebuff her, but took the envelope, 
 which contained a five dollar bill, rolled round a slip of 
 paper, on which was written by herself : 
 
 '• We give Thee but Thine own, 
 What e'er the gift may be ; 
 All that we have is Thine alone, 
 A trust, O I/ord, from Thee. 
 
 " May we Thy bounties thus, 
 As stewards true receive ; 
 And gladly as Thou bless est us, 
 To Thee our first fruits give." 
 
 Of all that congregation, only that humble servant was 
 found to show her faith by her works. I believe that act 
 has been written in a more important book than this. 
 Christ's jewels are often among the lowly ; let us not 
 despise a brother or sister of low degree. 
 
 In the year 1869, 1 was elected a member of the Standing 
 Committee of the Diocese of South Carolina, and have 
 been reelected every year since (this is now 1897), with the 
 exception of three years, 1886 to 1889, during the intense 
 
The Lord's Box!' 249 
 
 excitement in the diocese on the subject of the colored 
 question, the position I had taken rendering me unpopu- 
 lar with the laity. 
 
 I was elected in 1870 as a deputy to the General Con- 
 vention, and have been elected to every succeeding con- 
 vention save the one held in Chicago ; I was still under 
 the ban, but by 1889, the second solemn thought of the 
 laity reversed it all, and since, some of those who were 
 most opposed to me have become my warm friends. 
 
 I was elected in 1868 a trustee of the University of the 
 South, and continued to be until 1886, when I declined a 
 reelection. I recall these facts only to show that the 
 school which took up so much time did not withdraw me 
 from the duties of the Church. I could write a long 
 account of the condition and struggles of the early history 
 of the University of the South ; what a very inefficient 
 grammar school it was, and how, by the untiring efforts 
 of Bishop Quintard, it was brought into new life. 
 
 The University of the South looms up now, in ever 
 greater and grander proportions, the product of as much 
 self-sacrifice, zeal, energy, and perseverance, as was ever 
 spent on any human work. 
 
 My report to our Convention of 1869, says : ** There are 
 eighteen or twenty pupils there. Commander Maury 
 declined the Vice-Chancellorship. General Gorgas was 
 elected Vice-Chancellor. It is the day of small things with 
 the Board, the grand designs of its projectors having faded 
 into the distant future ; the heavy shadow which has 
 fallen on all things pertaining to the South has not left 
 this out in the sunlight of prosperity ; but a great idea 
 never dies. This generation may only see the germ ; 
 coming ages we trust will enjoy the blessings of the great 
 thoughts, and high hopes, and zealous labors, of these 
 masters in Israel, Bishops Polk and Elliott, and Otey and 
 Cobb." Thus I wrote in 1869. There are bishops in the 
 
250 Led On f 
 
 Church who have graduated there since ; so that my 
 prophecy has already been fulfilled. By referring to my 
 parish register, I find that this busy year with the school 
 was not an idle one in my parish. There were one hun- 
 dred and thirty-seven communicants, thirty-eight bap- 
 tisms, twenty confirmed, and that the parish contributed 
 $6661 to church purposes. My salary, which had been a 
 trifle in '67, was J1200 in '69. One Sunday in November I 
 said to the congregation, that the hope I had of building 
 a new church had perished, but that I greatly desired to 
 improve the present church, and make room to bring my 
 boys from the gallery on to the floor of the church. The 
 next morning, before I had left my chamber, an architect 
 and builder was sent to me by Mr. Theodore Wagner to 
 find out what I wished to have done. Mr. Wagner prom- 
 ised that if my alterations were within bounds they should 
 be made. Accordingly, we had the rear wall taken down, 
 a recess made sixteen by thirty-five, to be used for the 
 present as a chancel, and an organ chamber built for a 
 new organ. The cost was three thousand eight hundred 
 dollars, and Mr. Wagner paid for it. The vestry then 
 sold the lot in Rutledge Avenue, that Mr. Trenholm had 
 given for a new church, for the sum of three thousand 
 dollars, and with this they took down the galleries and 
 altered the roof of the church, adding twenty-five pews. 
 Mr. John Hanckel presented a handsome stained-glass 
 window. A marble altar and font were also presented 
 with other chancel furniture. The vestry sold the old 
 organ for six hundred dollars, and bought a new one for 
 three thousand two hundred dollars, for which they bor- 
 rowed the money. I think, considering this was four 
 years after our terrible war, that it indicated much life 
 and activity in the parish. About this time I discon- 
 tinued the black gown to preach in. I had the pews 
 arranged for the people to kneel toward the altar, and 
 
* * The Lord 's Box, " 251 
 
 not turn round towards the front door, as they had been 
 doing. I induced them to rise at the offertory, and intro- 
 duced a change of colors in the hangings. 
 
 Captain Ramsey, of the United States army, who was 
 in command of the arsenal, I had induced the congrega- 
 tion to elect as a vestryman. He lost an only child, and 
 asked that he might place a memorial marble cross on the 
 super-altar, which I put there quietly. It was the first, 
 as were all these developments, in this diocese. One of 
 my parishioners, who was really a Congregationalist, from 
 which denomination he had come to the Church, was at 
 service one day, and found fault with all that we were 
 doing as Romish. 
 
 "Well," I said, "point out the marks." He men- 
 tioned the organ put by the chancel, the pews fixed so 
 that people must kneel forward, the marble altar, etc. 
 Finally he said, ' ' Your dress shows your tendency. ' ' (I 
 had on a clerical coat and collar.) 
 
 * ' Well, ' ' I said, * ' how much are you giving for all 
 these changes ? ' ' 
 
 * * Not a dollar ; it is wasteful to be beautifying and 
 enlarging the church, when people are needing blankets 
 and food and clothes and shoes. ' ' 
 
 ' * Oh, ' ' I said, * ' I can accommodate you ; ' ' and taking 
 out of my pocket several lists, I said : " I always carry 
 these with me, for I am looking after all these things. 
 Here is a blanket list, and a garment list, and a shoe list 
 — all for the poor, and there are enough of them. On 
 which, or on how many of these lists will you subscribe ? ' ' 
 He would not subscribe to any. " Well," I said, " do 
 not find fault with those who are making these improve- 
 ments, and have their names for small amounts on every 
 one of these lists. And now, about my clothes. That is 
 a personal matter ; you are at liberty to wear any style 
 you please, and I claim the same privilege for myself, and 
 
252 
 
 Led On ! 
 
 will not permit you or anyone else to regulate the cut of 
 them." Poor man, if he is alive now, he would find in 
 every church in Charleston everything done that was 
 then being done in the Church of the Holy Communion 
 in 1869. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE WORK OF MY I.IFK IS RECOGNIZED AND HKI.PKD. 
 
 / enlarge the ho7ne — New and old friends still help me — I 
 find a friend of my childhood in Governor Ligon — " Cast 
 thy bread upon the waters " — A reminiscence of my 
 mother's New Haven days — Mr. Charles O' Connor recog- 
 nizes the statesmanlike character of my work — The class 
 of the refined and educated was to be saved to the South 
 through my efforts — Hence the support of outsiders. 
 
 I SOON found that the home I had purchased was not 
 large enough, so I built an addition to it, which in 
 time was all paid for. I had agreed to take boys to fill it 
 to overflowing, which niunber, added to those who were 
 to live in the house my wife and I had given up, had 
 trebled my responsibilities. Relying on the pledge of the 
 society in Baltimore, I felt I had a nucleus to which I 
 might add the amounts which each boy could pay ; for 
 from the second year I had always required that each 
 should pay what he could, if it was only a barrel of 
 potatoes. The last week in September, 1869, I received 
 a letter from Mr. Glenn, of Baltimore, saying that cir- 
 cumstances would prevent him further aiding me. This 
 was a staggering blow ; only my wife knew of this calam- 
 ity. The school I opened as usual, but with a trembling, 
 anxious heart. Yet I believed I was doing the work that 
 
 253 
 
254 Led On I 
 
 God had given me, and He had been gracious to me. His 
 resources had not failed, and He did not let my faith fail 
 me. I left for Baltimore as soon as practicable, and some 
 of the members of the association assured me that what- 
 ever others did, they would continue their assistance. I 
 then went to New York ; and I wish to place on record 
 my gratitude for the uniform kindness, consideration, and 
 affection even, with which I have been treated for thirty 
 years by my Northern friends. Men and women of every 
 political association, of different religious affiliations, and 
 of different grades of society, have been kind and generous 
 to me. I have never had manifested to me any bit- 
 terness towards the South. When it is remembered that I 
 came from South Carolina, from Charleston, the hot-bed 
 of secession, and frankly asked for aid for the sons of those 
 who had been foremost in the strife, from those with whom 
 they had fought, and that I was received with a warm 
 welcome, and that through their generosity I have been 
 sustained all these years, it is, indeed, to me marvellous. 
 It evidences the power of the grace of God. I think my 
 work is a testimony and a tribute to the goodness there 
 is in human nature.* 
 
 From Baltimore I went, as I have said, to New York, 
 where Mr. Wolfe, Mr. I^ow, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Aspinwall, 
 Mrs. A. M. Minturn, Mr. Stuart Brown, Mr. J. W. Chan- 
 ler, and others helped me. Mr. Wm. P. Clyde gave me 
 groceries enough to carry me seven months. By the month 
 of February I had run down to almost nothing, and things 
 were looking very blue, when one day I received a tele- 
 gram from Mr. Glenn telling me that it was important 
 that I should come to Baltimore. I went, and if I here 
 say that I believe that it was God's providence, I hope 
 there will be none to regard me as a fanatic ; but if this 
 book is read, and it helps to make only one person believe 
 
 * See Appendix E. 
 
The Work of My Life Recognized, 255 
 
 in the precious truth of God's loving, special providence 
 over His children, it will not have been written in vain. 
 
 Mr. Glenn told me that Mr. Caleb Dorsey had died, 
 and had willed thirty thousand dollars to be distributed 
 to those in need in the South ; that Governor I^i^n had 
 been left executor for the distribution of this sum, and 
 that when I had been in Baltimore two years before, he 
 had been struck by my Christian name, Anthony Toomer, 
 which he had seen in Mr. Glenn's paper repeatedly, and 
 had wondered who I could be. At that time he was not 
 able to assist and therefore made no inquiries, but as soon 
 as this fund was at his disposal, he asked Mr. Glenn to 
 telegraph for me. I rode out to th^ Governor's residence 
 with Mr. Glenn's introduction, and the Governor asked 
 how I came by the name of Anthony Toomer I told 
 him I was named after my great-grandfather and my 
 grandfather ; the former an officer in the Revolutionary 
 war. My mother's name was Toomer. 
 
 * ' Were you ever in New Haven ? " he asked ; " if so, 
 when?" 
 
 '* In 1832 and 1833." 
 
 " How many brothers and sisters did you have, and 
 what were their names ? ' ' 
 
 I told him. He said, " Then I am right. You were 
 that curly-headed little boy I used to ride on my horse. 
 When I was in Yale College, your mother, who was a 
 strikingly handsome woman, of most engaging and fasci- 
 nating manners, and with a generous heart, was very 
 kind to me, and it gives me great pleasure that I am able 
 to show my appreciation of kindness, shown long ago, by 
 now aiding your mother's son in his noble work." He 
 drew a check for three thousand dollars, and handed it to 
 me, saying, "You can use it for your own or your mother's 
 needs, or in any manner you see fit. " Of course it was 
 given, every dollar of it, to the school. My mother was 
 
256 Led On ! 
 
 very glad that her bread cast upon the waters had come 
 back to do so much good in later days. 
 
 Being in New York later in the season, I requested Hon. 
 Clarkson N. Potter to introduce me to Mr. Charles 
 O'Coniior, who for three years had regularly subscribed to 
 my work without meeting me face to face. Mr. O'Conlior 
 was a Roman Catholic, and I feared that he might not 
 understand that I was an Episcopalian, and of course the 
 boys were under that influence ; though there is no effort 
 at proselytism made among Roman Catholics, Presby- 
 terians, Methodists, Baptists, and I^utherans, who are 
 taken care of as well as our own church boys. I brought 
 this fact to Mr. O'Connor's notice, as I did not wish him, 
 or anyone else, to give me one dollar under a false impres- 
 sion. Mr. O'Coniipr's reply was thorougly characteristic. 
 " I know, sir, that you are an Episcopal clergyman, and 
 if you are the man I take you to be, I have no doubt your 
 boys will lean very much to that Church ; indeed, if you 
 made them all good Episcopalians, I think you could 
 make them some things a great deal worse." Mr. Potter 
 and myself assented with a good laugh. ' ' But, ' ' added 
 Mr. O'Connor, ''to be frank with you, it is not the re- 
 ligious aspect of your work which attracted me. Your 
 aim has been to save a representative class of our fellow- 
 citizens, which is relatively small everywhere, and we of 
 the North cannot afford to lose that class in the South, 
 any more than you at the South can lose that class at the 
 North. I have regarded your action as that of a states- 
 man, and a most beneficial political movement. For that 
 reason I have helped and do now, (and he handed me a 
 substantial check) and wish I could do more. ' ' He helped 
 me until he died. How I wish, now, the broad-minded, 
 substantial men, of whom there are still many, could see 
 it likewise, for the work is just as essential now as then, 
 only it is so hard to carry it on. 
 
The Work of My Life Recognized, 257 
 
 I was reading Franklin's autobiography recently, when 
 I met the statement that the great revivalist preacher, 
 Whitefield, who gathered money to build an orphanage in 
 Savannah, Georgia, was accused by some miserable 
 slanderer of appropriating the same to his own use, and 
 Benjamin Franklin, of his knowledge of the man, vouches 
 for his honesty. That was long ago, but human nature 
 is the same in all ages, and an equally vile slander was 
 sprung upon me. At the time, my wife and I were 
 giving every dollar of our certain income to sustain the 
 work ; were taking boarders to get money to live ; when 
 many days I gave away the last dollar I had, without 
 knowing where the next was to come from ; yet there was 
 some poor soul so mean as to accuse me of making 
 money out of my work. Of course such things are brought 
 to your attention by well-meaning friends, and I traced it 
 pretty surely to its source. It did me no harm where I 
 was known, but it was spread from the same source in 
 Baltimore, and did, not me, — for I was not living on the 
 plane where such motives dwell, — ^but the work harm, and 
 deprived me of the opportunity to assist many who needed 
 help. It is ver}^ sad that men should live who are eager 
 to impute wrong motives to good deeds. There is compara- 
 tively, so little self-sacrifice in the world that it is difficult 
 for a great many to believe that there is not some ulterior 
 purpose in an action, however benevolent it may be. But 
 the good Lord has compassion on us all, and I am only 
 sorry for such narrow-minded and limited souls. I have 
 heard the same of others as of myself through the years, 
 but dismiss the subject with free forgiveness to every 
 traducer. 
 
 During the fall of 1869, I engaged from the State 
 Normal School of Albany, New York, Mr. George W. 
 Chaloner, who proved in time a very superior mathemati- 
 cal teacher. He was not in good health when he came to 
 
258 Led On I 
 
 us, but the Southern climate built him up and he lived 
 for fifteen years in my employ, when he died. I brought 
 him from the North for two reasons. Our young men at 
 home, owing to the war, had not received that systematic 
 education which alone qualifies one for an important posi- 
 tion. It is a great pity, indeed it is a great robbery, for 
 incompetent persons to attempt to teach. They rob a 
 child of that which can never be given back, time and 
 opportunity. Secondly, I wished to prove to my generous 
 Northern friends that in 1869 a Northern teacher could 
 come to the South, could teach, and be kindly treated by 
 the children of the best people of the land. I never once 
 heard it urged against him, from first to last, that he had 
 come from the North. He was a good teacher and I was 
 satisfied, so that ended it. But Mr. Chaloner's coming 
 here is a fine illustration of how little some Northern 
 people understood or knew the South ; quite as little as 
 some Southern people understood or knew the North. I 
 had the following statement from Mr. Chaloner himself. 
 Remember this was in 1869. When he determined to 
 accept my offer there was a family meeting held, and by 
 every argument and persuasion he was besought to de- 
 cline. He would be murdered as surely as he came ; but 
 his health was poor, and he thought he would risk it 
 among the savages. If he would go, they told him that 
 he must go armed ; so his trunk was loaded with a rifle 
 a pair of pistols, a dirk and a large knife, as well as 
 with plenty of ammunition, and he was urged to sell 
 his life as dear as possible. When the parting came, it 
 was as with one going to sentence of death. When he 
 arrived and was greeted and put to work, it did not gradu- 
 ally, but suddenly, burst upon him what a fool he had 
 been. When he knew us as we are, he concealed his war- 
 like arsenal, and never told me of it for some j^ears, when 
 the ludicrousness of the whole thing convulsed him with 
 
The Work of My Life Recognized. 259 
 
 laughter. It was ludicrous, but it was sad. They were 
 not the only people who thought this of us. Much of the 
 legislation which has caused so much sorrow and loss to 
 the people, sprang from this suspicion in the multitude, 
 which designing politicians for years played upon to keep 
 us apart. It has been wicked — it is wicked. There are 
 thousands of good and noble people at the North and at 
 the South, and it is lamentable how ignorant they have 
 been of each other.* 
 
 * See Appendix F. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 CAI.UMNY AND REBUFF MEET ME 
 
 A calumny stops the flow of beneficence in Baltimore — The 
 vicissitudes of my financial life — Reflections on God' s 
 providential care — I am roughly rebuffed by a friend of 
 Dr. Muhlenberg — I give him a sharp lecture — He proves 
 his repentance by a small gift. 
 
 IN October, 1870, we began the fourth year of our Home. 
 I went to Baltimore in November, but found the doors 
 unaccountably shut. I did not then know the calumny 
 of which I had been made the victim, and to which I have 
 before referred. Mr. and Mrs. S. G. Wyman, indeed, con- 
 tinued their aid, but I found it necessary to go on to New 
 York ; but even there I found the task of collecting money 
 was not easy. I was told it was a bad time to ask for help, 
 but then, when has a poor beggar ever found it a good 
 time ? How often one hears, what is undoubtedly true, 
 that there are so many calls. And it seems to me we 
 ought to be glad there are. We may not be able to 
 give to all, but is it not an evidence that Christ's 
 Spirit is working in the hearts and lives of so many, 
 who, feeling the life of Christ in themselves, are trying to 
 spread His Kingdom, trying to enlighten ignorance, to 
 relieve suffering, to make the world brighter because they 
 live in it ? What better use can be made of superfluous 
 
 260 
 
Calumny and Rebuff Meet Me. 261 
 
 means than in helping those who have the capacity of 
 using means for God's glory, and the opportunity, which, 
 perhaps, the giver has not ? Suppose there were not these 
 calls, that no benevolent work was going on, that every- 
 thing that is evil and deteriorating were left to work in 
 human life, what would become of the world ? If men 
 acted on the belief that these things are in the masses, 
 and it is best to leave them to themselves, how long would 
 life and wealth be safe ? On the low plane of self-preser- 
 vation, we should thank God for the many calls, and re- 
 spond favorably to as many as we have the ability to assist. 
 
 I remember one day during my visit to New York going 
 with Mr. A. A. Low to Staten Island, to some celebration 
 at the Sailor's Snug Harbor. The meeting had gone on 
 very well, and speeches had been made. I had taken an 
 obscure seat in the rear when Mr. lyow began to speak, 
 but I saw in the first few sentences that I was going to be 
 called out. I tried to hide but it was no use. Mr. lyOw 
 called me to the platform and I had to make a speech. It 
 was there I met Mr. W. H. Aspinwall, who greeted me 
 warmly after the speech, and before we left handed me a 
 check of a considerable amount for my work ; and he con- 
 tinued until his death to be an annual contributor. Then 
 his pious wife, a sister of the great J. lyloyd Breck, con- 
 tinued to be my generous friend until she died. So much 
 came of that invitation of my dear friend Mr. I^ow. 
 
 But I was sometimes terribly disheartened. One day 
 the Rev. Dr. Morgan, rector of St. Thomas's volunteered to 
 give me a letter of introduction to one of his wealthy par- 
 ishioners, who had just moved into a new house, newly fur- 
 nished. He appreciated the compliment of his rector in 
 singling him out, and began to make excuses for not help- 
 ing me, by telling me how much he had recently given, — 
 thirty thousand to this object, five thousand to another, 
 and four to "another, and so on. He estimated his recent 
 
262 Led On ! 
 
 gifts at about forty thousand dollars. I deprecated his 
 giving his reasons for refusing me help. I was quite 
 ready, I said, to believe them good, and congratulated 
 him and his beneficiaries, and only regretted I was not 
 so fortunate as to be one of them. His conscience seemed 
 to be awakened, and he began to tell the conditions on 
 which each sum was to be given. They were such in each 
 case, I perceived, that his bank account had not been de- 
 pleted, nor was it in much danger. I learned on good 
 authority afterwards, that he did give five thousand of the 
 forty. My reflections as I left him were on the self-decep- 
 tion of the human heart ; how prone we are to cheat our- 
 selves into believing we have done what we know we 
 ought to do. 
 
 During this visit to New York another great forward 
 movement was made ; it came about apparently very 
 naturally. I was dining with my friend Mr. Howard 
 Potter, brother of my early and long generous friend, 
 Hon. Clarkson N. Potter, who helped me until he died. 
 It so happened that the Rev. E. N. Potter, D.D., then 
 President of Union College, came in to dine. He had 
 happened in 1868 to sit behind me in the outskirts of the 
 General Convention, in New York, and he heard my com- 
 ments on a speech which some idiot was making. Every- 
 thing had been peaceable and lovely. It was the first 
 General Convention since the war, when all the South was 
 again represented, and all the Northern brethren had been 
 cordial and considerate. Then this young man, in spread- 
 eagle style, was just rubbing the fur of us all the wrong 
 way. Everybody was nervous ; there was apparent 
 agitation, and I was talking to Bishop Davis's daughter, 
 wishing that I could get hold of the man by the nape of 
 his neck, and throw him out of the window. Doctor Potter 
 seemed so much pleased with my remarks that he intro- 
 duced himself. When Doctor Potter went home to his 
 
Calumny and Rebuff Meet Me. 263 
 
 charge in Bethlehem, he sent me, unsolicited, five hun- 
 dred dollars, and a valuable box of clothing for my boys 
 from his parish. So we were not strangers when we met 
 two years afterwards at dinner at his brother' s. He asked 
 me if I had any boys read}^ for college. I said I had five, 
 but I had no hope of sending them, as the provision at 
 Trinity had failed me. He told me to send them to him, 
 and that they should be no expense to me, save for their 
 clothing. I afterwards learned that he proposed to provide 
 for them at his own expense. One of those boys has been 
 head master at the Porter Militarj^ Academy for several 
 years. It will readily appear what an impetus this again 
 gave to me and to my institution, and when it is stated 
 that there has not been a year since that we have not had 
 from five to ten boys, at one time twenty-six, either at 
 Union College, Schenectady, or at Hobart College, Geneva, 
 through the instrumentality of Doctor Potter, it will be 
 seen what an invaluable benefactor Doctor Potter has 
 been to the Church and to the State. Miss Catherine L. 
 Wolfe, daughter of Mr. John David Wolfe, once told me 
 she had given fifty thousand dollars to Union College to 
 be invested, and the interest of that fund was to be used 
 for the benefit of my boys. And while Doctor Potter was 
 there it was so appropriated. 
 
 During the summer of 1870, I enlarged the schoolhouse 
 by adding four rooms twenty by twenty, well ventilated 
 and built of brick. I had no money at the time, but the 
 rooms were a necessity, and I trusted in the goodness of 
 God to assist me in paying for them. The cost was three 
 thousand dollars. It took some time, but the debt has 
 long since been paid. Should I record all the ways by 
 which God has led me, this biography would be extended 
 to undue limits, but I give two incidents only, by way of 
 illustration. 
 
 I owed a bill of two hundred and forty-nine dollars and 
 
264 Led On I 
 
 fifty cents for kitchen utensils and other necessary articles. 
 This had troubled me much, for I knew the parties had 
 but little capital, and they had been very considerate in 
 not pressing me. Indeed, this has been singularly true 
 of all to whom I have owed money. Being in daily ex- 
 pectation of a demand on me, and not having been able to 
 save the amount, I had made it a subject of earnest prayer. 
 I was writing a sermon one Saturday afternoon, when the 
 thought came suddenly in my mind, that the bill ought 
 to be paid, and that perhaps there were letters in the Post 
 Office containing money for me. There was no letter de- 
 livery then and no street cars ; of course I had no con- 
 veyance, so I walked a mile and a half to the Post Office, 
 and found quite a number of letters for me. The first I 
 opened was from the Rev. James Saul, of whom I had 
 never heard. He stated that one of my circulars had 
 been sent to him by a friend in New York a year before, 
 that it had lain on his desk long enough, and now he en- 
 closed a check for one hundred dollars for my work, if still 
 in existence. The second was from the Rev. Dr. Pinck- 
 ney of Washington, D. C. He wrote that he had one hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars over what he needed for some certain 
 object for which he had asked an offering, and he knew 
 no work he would rather help than mine. This was just 
 the amount I needed with fifty cents over. The bill was 
 paid in a few minutes, and I gave thanks to God, and w^as 
 cheered and encouraged by this manifestation of His care. 
 To neither of these parties had I written ; indeed, one of 
 them I had never heard of. 
 
 Oftentimes my work has been compared to that of Mr. 
 Miiller in Bristol, Kngland. The difference is, his is far 
 more extensive, and it rose up surrounded by the wealth 
 of Kngland. Mine rose in a desert, and has depended for 
 help from those who had no special interest. He says he 
 has never asked for aid save from God ; but he has an- 
 
Calumny and Rebuff Meet Me. 265 
 
 nually written the story of his work, and scattered it by 
 thousands of copies, and that is as much asking as by 
 word of mouth. I have, however, literally laid this work 
 before God, by day and by night, pleading that as I had 
 not sought it, but He had given it to me, He would give 
 me wisdom to do His will ; and then I have worked as if 
 it all depended on me, believing God required this of me. 
 Often all my work is vain. If ever I have reason to 
 expect results, and meet failure instead, God does not 
 forsake me. Often w^hen in direst necessity, in some way 
 with which I have had nothing to do, help has come tiding 
 me over the difficulty. Would it have come, if I had su- 
 pinely sat down without exerting myself ? If there were 
 no self-sacrifice, no self-denial, no mortification of the 
 spirit, could I prove that I was willing to do even if I 
 suffered ? I do not believe anything short of the most 
 powerful convictions of duty, and the strengthening grace 
 of the Holy Ghost, ever enables a man to undertake such 
 a work. Sometimes I met with things hard to be endured. 
 Cases like the following, I trust, are rare. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Muhlenberg of blessed memory became 
 very much attached to me, and one day while sitting with 
 him in St. Luke's Hospital, he said : " I am going to give 
 you a letter to an old man who can give you ten thousand 
 dollars and he would n't miss it a moment ; I do not know 
 whether he will give you anything, but give him a 
 chance. ' ' For he certainly thought his letter would bring 
 some aid. I called at the house Doctor Muhlenberg 
 suggested. I told the servant, who wished to refuse me 
 admittance, that I had a letter which I wished to deliver 
 in person. I was ushered into a cheerless anteroom, and 
 kept waiting for nearly half an hour before the master 
 appeared. As he came in, in the most ungracious man- 
 ner, he said, * ' Well, sir ? I have received your card. 
 What is it ? What do you wish ? ' ' 
 
266 Led On f 
 
 " To deliver you a letter from Doctor Muhlenberg." 
 
 He stood in the doorway and did not ask me to be 
 seated, but took the letter most ungraciously. It was a 
 large letter-size sheet, written on four sides. He glanced 
 at a sentence or two, turned over the page, and then to 
 the signature. 
 
 ** Yes," he said ; '' this is Doctor Muhlenberg's hand- 
 writing, and this is his signature, but — ' ' crumpling it in 
 his hand, he pushed it back into the envelope, and thrust 
 it at me, saying : ' ' there are so many impostors going 
 about I cannot attend to it. ' ' 
 
 Utterly unprepared for so gross an insult, and feeling 
 that I had done nothing to call it forth, I was naturally 
 indignant, and my temper rose at once. I flushed, and 
 grew pale, but I put my hands behind my back, and said, 
 * * That letter is addressed to you, not to me. ' ' I trembled 
 with suppressed rage, but fortunately I had read the Book 
 of Nehemiah that morning at my morning devotions, and 
 Nehemiah flashed through my brain ; how, before he an- 
 swered the king's question, why he was of that sad coun- 
 tenance, he sent up a silent prayer for wisdom. I stood, 
 accordingly, and looked at the man, did the same, and 
 when at length I had full control of myself, I said: " I 
 know, sir, in this great city of New York, there are a great 
 number of unworthy persons who are going about. But 
 for my own protection as well as yours, I presented that 
 letter, which entitled me to politeness at least. Your in- 
 sult is more to Doctor Muhlenberg than to me. Now, 
 sir, if my personal appearance and my manners do not in- 
 dicate the gentleman I belie my ancestry. But I have a 
 message to you. I am a clergyman of the Church of 
 which you are a member ; my social position is as good 
 as yours. I have been the rector of a prominent church 
 for eighteen years, a member of the General Convention, 
 and of the Standing Committee of my diocese, trustee of 
 
Calumny and Rebuff Meet Me. 267 
 
 the University of the South, and of the General Theologi- 
 cal Seminary and Board of Missions. I should have been 
 elected Bishop of Africa by the House of Bishops, but for 
 the intervention of my Bishop, who said he would advise 
 me not to accept ; so that my position is established. It 
 is an apostolic injunction, ' Be courteous.' You may be 
 that, if you cannot be generous. Perhaps the next appeal 
 to you may be by some young man, as well introduced as 
 I am now, who, if he is met by you, as you have met me, 
 may go from your presence abashed and humiliated, and 
 may say, ' If this is the way I am to be treated, I will give 
 up the work. ' And at your door will be laid at the great 
 day, some great work for Christ and His Church destroyed. 
 To save you from this, I must give you the Master's mind 
 on this subject. If, sir, you could call on Doctor Dyer, 
 who has visited me, you will find out whether I am an 
 impostor or not. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Do you know Doctor Dyer ? " he asked. 
 
 " That is my privilege, and I count him my friend." 
 
 ** I did not call you an impostor." 
 
 * ' No, sir ; you dared not ; but you classed me with 
 impostors. ' ' 
 
 * * You Southerners are so high-toned and impulsive, ' ' 
 he said. 
 
 ** A gentleman, sir, whether from the North or South, 
 Bast or West, is always high-strung, and knows when he 
 is insulted." 
 
 I had been very bold before this old man, but so keenly 
 had I felt the indignity, that I was glad to seek an obscure 
 street to hide the traces of feeling which I knew must be 
 visible. I went back to the hotel, and shut myself up 
 until next morning, asking that God's grace would con- 
 quer the natural man, and give me strength to rise above 
 such unworthy conduct, if I had to meet any more of it. 
 
 A week after I met Doctor Muhlenberg, and he said, 
 
268 Led On ! 
 
 ' ' I heard about that visit ; you gave the best sermon that 
 old man has ever heard. I have one hundred dollars for 
 you from him. ' ' 
 
 I thanked him, but begged him to return it to the old 
 man, as I declined to receive it. 
 
 ' * You must take it, ' ' the Doctor said. 
 
 " Some things cost too much. Doctor, and this is one 
 of them." 
 
 The Doctor said, ' ' You do not know what it cost that 
 old man to give one hundred dollars, and you must take 
 it." 
 
 " Well," I said, " it cannot go to my school ; that is 
 God's work, and those who help it must do it for Christ's 
 sake. I will take the one hundred dollars, and give it to 
 twenty poor women." 
 
 " I do not care what you do with it, so you take it." 
 
 I am glad to say this is an exceptional case, and it is 
 here recorded, not in malice, but to encourage some fellow- 
 laborer to continue his work even in the face of insult or 
 contumely. The good Lord sees it all and will recom- 
 pense. Mr. W. P. Clyde renewed his gift of groceries, 
 and I closed the year with a debt of sixteen hundred dol- 
 lars, one thousand of it on the enlargement of the school- 
 house, which had cost three thousand dollars. My son, 
 Theodore Atkinson Porter, having finished at my school 
 when only fifteen years old, I was unwilling to send him 
 to college so young, and he was unwilling to remain in 
 the school where he had graduated, so I sent him to Lon- 
 don, Canada, to Dean Helmuth, but after six months I 
 brought him back to New York,* and kept him at the 
 
 * He graduated in 1875, went with me to Europe, entered Berk- 
 ley Divinity School, and was ordained Deacon by Bishop Williams, 
 in 1879 ; remained in Connecticut at Pine Meadow for a year ; 
 came home, and was ordained priest and made rector of the church 
 in Sumter. Fourteen years ago I brought him to be my assistant 
 
Calumny and Rebuff Meet Me, 269 
 
 Anthon Memorial, until he was old enough to go to 
 Trinity, Hartford. Mr. Clyde volunteered to bear his 
 expenses through college. 
 
 at the Church of the Holy Communion and the Academy, and 
 here he has been trained, I trust, to take up my mantle when God 
 shall call me to lay it down. He married Kate Fuller in 1879, ^ 
 devoted wife, and to me a blessed daughter ; she died in 1893, 
 leaving five children. He was married again in 1895 to Louise 
 Salmon, by whom he has one son. 
 
 •tS^ 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 SCHOOI. AND CHURCH FI.OURISH 
 
 The good health of the school — / escape being made Bishop 
 of Africa —I find the needs of the work met by many 
 providential interpositions — The Church of the Holy 
 Communion is at length enlarged and beautified — I intro- 
 duce a surpliced choir — Not an innovation^ but merely a 
 revival of a past practice in Charleston. 
 
 IN 1 87 1, the full school opened for the fifth year, but not 
 until November, because of yellow fever. At the close 
 of the last term we lost our first boy by death. This was 
 William Cornish, son of the Rev. J. H. Cornish, of Aiken. 
 His death was the result of carelessness in bathing, and 
 eating unripe fruit. He was a communicant.* 
 
 * During thirty years there have been but five deaths in this in- 
 stitution (and not one of them in any way connected with ordinary 
 disease). One from a congestive chill, one from organic aflfection 
 of the heart, one from Bright's disease, one the effect of an acci- 
 dent which befell the pupil before he came to me, and one a case 
 of country fever, developed three days after the boy's entrance. 
 We have had but one case of typhoid fever, one of scarlet, a few of 
 pneumonia, but no deaths. Taking the number that have been 
 here I believe it is without parallel in the history of any school. 
 It shows this is a healthy place ; it is evidence of medical skill 
 and care ; but above all it manifests the watchful providence of 
 God, who has spared me this trouble. I have known the time 
 
 270 
 
School and Church Flourish, 2 7 1 
 
 I discovered accidentally this year that it was necessary 
 for me to give closer attention to the personal purity and 
 habits of the boys, and I consulted Bishop Howe as to my 
 proper course. He told me if I had the wisdom and the tact 
 for this side of the work, I would indeed be a benefactor 
 and he would stand by me. I have carefully and prayer- 
 fully given close attention to each individual boy from that 
 day to this, with very remarkable success, and I have piles 
 of letters received from many who have been my pupils, 
 thanking me for the care and counsel I had given them, 
 and expressing gratitude that they had been physically, 
 as well as mentally and spiritually, saved, by my fearless 
 and faithful dealing with them. I am confident from wide 
 experience, that boys often go wrong simply from the 
 neglect of fathers and friends. 
 
 During the summer of 1871, I had been compelled to 
 give my note to two parties, one for ninety-eight dollars, 
 and one for one hundred and ninety-nine, for the school, 
 and I did not know how I was to meet them. While at- 
 tending a man with yellow fever, I was taken sick at his 
 bedside with a sympathetic fever. Having once had the 
 yellow fever myself, I was not very liable to a second 
 attack. 
 
 The General Convention was then sitting in Baltimore, 
 and it was the first time I was privileged to go as a deputy. 
 The Rev.W. B. W. Howe was to be consecrated Assistant 
 Bishop of South Carolina, so I left my sick-bed and went 
 to Baltimore, not being able to provide for my notes, but 
 having told the parties I would use every effort to meet 
 them. When I reached Baltimore I found the attention 
 
 when there was scarlet fever of a virulent type, and diphtheria in 
 every one of the four streets which surround this square, and not a 
 single case here, while we have often had measles and mumps, 
 and less dangerous and fatal diseases. I ascribe to God's goodness, 
 not our merits, this wonderful exemption. 
 
272 Led On! 
 
 of the Church was taken up with the General Board of 
 Missions, Domestic and Foreign, the Missionary Bishops, 
 the Indians, the Chinese, and the Africans, and that was 
 no place for me to present the needs of the white people 
 of the South. I therefore kept my needs to myself, making 
 them known only to God, and as there was a Celebration 
 every morning, at seven a.m. , at St. Paul's, I was glad to go 
 to it, to bring the burden to Him who there draws so nigh 
 to us. One morning as I was leaving St. Paul's, Miss 
 Mary Glenn met me at the door, and handed me an en- 
 velope, saying, that her sister had requested her to give 
 it to me ; it contained a hundred-dollar bill. My note for 
 ninety-eight dollars was due at two o'clock that day, in 
 Charleston ; so I telegraphed Mr. Hanckel to pay it 
 and draw on me. Two days afterwards, as I was seated in 
 the pew of the South Carolina Delegation, I had in my 
 mind that twelve o'clock had passed, and my note for one 
 hundred and ninety-nine dollars was due at two o'clock. 
 I was nervous, but felt the conviction that a kind Provi- 
 dence would bring it all right. A little after twelve o'clock 
 one of the ushers told me a lady wished to speak with me. 
 A woman again ! Blessed woman ! What headway 
 would religion or charity make without her ? It was to 
 a woman, at the well in Samaria, our lyord first revealed 
 His Divinity, a woman was first at the grave, the first to 
 whom He revealed Himself after the Resurrection. As 
 woman ministered to Him when and where tenderness 
 were needed, so has she ministered to His Church ever 
 since. 
 
 In the vestibule Mrs. S. G. Wyman met me and handed 
 me an envelope. She said Mr. Wyman had given her one 
 thousand dollars to give to such work as she desired to 
 aid, and she had divided it among five objects, of which 
 my work was one. The envelope contained a check for 
 two hundred dollars. I at once telegraphed to pay the 
 
School and Chtirch Flourish. 2 y^ 
 
 note ; and thus nvy credit was saved. I had not said one 
 word to Miss Glenn, nor to Mrs. Wyman, nor indeed to 
 any human being, but I had at the daily Celebration 
 asked help, even as the Syro-Phoenician woman asked it on 
 the coasts of Tyre and Sidon, and God sent His help to 
 me. In each case the relief was exactly according to the 
 need. If I recorded every such incident in these thirty 
 years, this work would be voluminous. In the early days 
 these things occurred again and again; when the work 
 had been well established, and was widel}^ known, God has 
 seemed to require that I should present it to the notice of 
 the benevolent ; but when I have been in extremity. He 
 has always opened the way for me to go on. I believe in 
 the special providence of God, as firmly as I do in the 
 Atonement ; without belief in both, Ufe to me would not 
 be worth living. 
 
 During one of the evening sessions of the General Con- 
 vention, the Rev. H. C. Potter, then Secretary of the 
 House of Bishops, now the distinguished Bishop of New 
 York, came in with a message from the Bishops. As he 
 was going out he stopped at our pew and whispered in 
 my ear, " Hail, Bishop of Africa ! " I should not have 
 been more startled if he had fired a pistol at my ear. 
 
 ' * What do you mean ? " I asked. 
 
 * ' You are about being elected Bishop of Africa by the 
 Bishops. ' ' 
 
 I did not sleep a wink that night. I felt the Bishops 
 were making a mistake, for I knew I had neither the 
 learning, the ability, nor the strength for such an ofl&ce, 
 and I earnestly prayed that it might not be done. Bishop 
 Davis was stone blind, and every day I went for him, and 
 took him home from the House of Bishops. 
 
 One evening he said to me : " Porter, I do not know 
 whether you will thank me, but I prevented you last 
 night from being elected Bishop of Africa. I told the 
 
 i8 
 
2 74 Led On ! 
 
 Bishops I would use all my influence to prevent your 
 accepting, or allowing your name to go to the Lower 
 House ; that you had a wife in extreme ill-health, and 
 two young boys ; that you yourself were not strong ; but 
 the chief point of all, — you were doing a work for the 
 Church even more important than you could do in Africa. ' ' 
 
 I told him I was grateful to him for relieving me from 
 the situation ; for I most certainly should have declined 
 an office for which I knew myself to be unfit. That was 
 as near as I ever came to the Episcopate. 
 
 The great fire of Chicago occurred during the sitting 
 of this 1 87 1 Convention, and made it more difficult for me 
 to collect money in New York ; but I had to have aid, or 
 stop. My best friends told me that it was useless to try, 
 but to try I was compelled, and I worked day and night, 
 footsore and heart-weary, but not forsaken. After some 
 weeks I gathered enough to make me comparatively easy 
 until the spring. I then returned North, and for the first 
 time stopped in Philadelphia, made some few friends, 
 and collected one thousand dollars ; then went to New 
 York, collected a little, and went on to Boston. This was 
 my first visit since 1866, and my first appeal for the school. 
 I was kindly welcomed in Boston, and from that city has 
 come a large part of the help that has sustained me all 
 these years. 
 
 From the time that I consented to build the Church 
 of the Holy Communion, in 1854, I always determined, 
 when the time came, I would try to build a church which 
 would be more appropriate than the one we then built. I 
 have written the account of how I was defeated when, 
 through the gift of Mr. George Trenholm, I had had the 
 opportunity. The first movement towards my project was 
 when Mr. Wagner built the addition which was used for 
 a chancel, but this was only one step. 
 
 I found the picture of the roof of Trinity Hall, Cam- 
 
School and Church Flou7nsh. 275 
 
 bridge, England, had it drawn by a draftsman, framed, 
 and hung up in the vestry-room. One of the vestry 
 seeing it there asked what it was. I told him it was 
 a rafter of the roof we would one day put on this 
 church. He told me he was afraid he would never see it 
 up. I told him I could wait ; and there it hung on the 
 wall for nearly two years. I took occasion at each vestry 
 meeting to bring the matter up. One night at a vestry 
 meeting, Mr. Trenholm said : " Gentlemen, we are none 
 of us growing younger, and the rector has this matter of 
 improving the church much at heart. I propose that we 
 take steps to carry out his wishes, if he will explain them 
 to us." 
 
 I at once told them that I wished to take out the back 
 wall of the chancel, and build a recess chancel ; that I 
 would assume the cost of that if they would do the rest, 
 namely, build two transepts, and put that roof on the 
 church, and give me the present chancel for my choir. I 
 told them the cost would be about seventeen thousand 
 dollars, and proposed a scheme of subscriptions running 
 over five years. 
 
 The vestry resolved to adopt my scheme, and we began 
 operations next day. The present church is the result. 
 At Easter many pledges, amounting in all to fifteen thou- 
 sand dollars, payable in five years, were placed on the 
 altar. They ranged from fifty dollars to one thousand 
 dollars each. It was a bold venture, for the incomes of 
 my people had then been greatly reduced, but as everyone 
 agreed to do something, we borrowed from the bank and 
 worked it off, using these pledges as collaterals. I gave 
 my individual note, and Mr. Trenholm endorsed it. I 
 also insured my life for five thousand dollars and assigned 
 it to the vestry, so as to secure them from my pledge for 
 the chancel in case I died before it was paid for. In the 
 course of time the alterations were all paid for, costing 
 
276 Led On! 
 
 seventeen thousand eight hundred dollars. It was a long, 
 hard struggle. In the fall of 187 1 I went to New York 
 and had a very difficult time, but people were kind, even 
 when they gave nothing. I collected a little and went 
 home, and struggled along I scarcely know how. I 
 again went North in the spring intending to go to Boston ; 
 but the great fire there broke out the day I reached New 
 York, and of course I did not go, but turning westward, I 
 visited Pittsburgh and Cincinnati. In the former place I 
 met Mr. J. H. Shoenberger, who was very generous to me, 
 and often afterwards helped me. I also visited Cincin- 
 nati, and Mr. Larz Anderson and Mr. George Shoen- 
 berger gave me each five hundred dollars, with subscrip- 
 tions from others. I afterwards went to lyouisville, 
 Kentucky, but was not compensated for the effort. When 
 I look back, I realize more and more how this work has 
 been sustained of God. I do not believe any man living 
 could, unaided by Providence, have sustained it. During 
 the year Mr. William Cullen Bryant, the poet-editor, vis- 
 ited us, and in the Evening Post, of New York, he gave a 
 glowing account of the school, and as long as he lived, 
 whenever I went to New York, he always gave me the 
 benefit of a cordial editorial, which helped me much. Mr. 
 J. C. Hoadley, of Boston, also visited us and gave me 
 substantial aid. 
 
 On the 31st of March, 1872, Kaster Sunday, at the visi- 
 tation of Bishop Howe, and with his consent, I introduced 
 the surpliced choir. I had for several years been utilizing 
 the boys as choristers, but I had not then adopted a uni- 
 form, and it was not a pleasant sight to see them in their 
 motley dress ; so I consulted Mr. Trenholm as to the 
 wisdom and expediency of this departure. 
 
 I never will forget Mr. Trenholm' s advice to me. 
 
 *' I have wondered," he said, " why you did not long 
 ago put those boys in cassocks and cottas. Now you get 
 
School a7td CJiMrch Flourish. 277 
 
 patterns and I will give you the materials, and if you go 
 among the ladies and get them interested by making the 
 garments, after they are made, they will wish to see them 
 used ; and when the women of the parish are all in favor 
 of it you will have no trouble." 
 
 I followed his advice, and when the vestments were 
 ready, the ladies scarcely wished me to wait until Kaster. 
 The news of the innovation was noised abroad, and the 
 church was crowded to excess that Kaster; for we had a full 
 choral service. Two families left the church, but ten came 
 in their place. Two vestrymen withdrew their sons from 
 the choir, but in six months asked that they be allowed to 
 return. Save that, I did not have the least trouble in my 
 parish. All liked it. Outsiders made a great stir, and it 
 was amusing to hear how much the brethren of the de- 
 nominations had to say about it; but the people continued 
 to come, and now, twenty-five years from then, I never 
 have an extra service that the church is not packed ; and 
 there are very few found who do not enjoy the service. 
 Several newspaper attacks were made upon me which I 
 did not notice, but I was preparing a sermon, reviewing 
 seventy years of the Society for the Advancement of 
 Christianity, and I had to read up a great many old 
 records, among them the proceedings of the vestry of St. 
 Michael's. There I found an entry of a charge, so many 
 shillings paid for washing the surplices of the choir-boys, 
 some sixt}^ or seventy years before. I immediatel}^ pub- 
 lished the item. This refreshed the memory of old Colonel 
 Fergurson and Doctor Prioleau, who remembered they 
 had been surpliced choir-boys at St. Philip's, long, long 
 ago. This ended the controversj^ It had been done be- 
 fore in Charleston ; it was really no innovation, and Doctor 
 Porter was not, therefore, going to Rome. In the late 
 spring of 1872, I was in desperate straits ; I really did not 
 know what to do. I went to Philadelphia, and was the 
 
278 Led On I 
 
 guest of the Rev. B. A. Hoffman, D.D., then rector of St. 
 Mark's, now the Very Reverend Dean of the General 
 Theological Seminary, New York, who has written his 
 name in flames of perpetual light by his princely gener- 
 osity to that great Church Seminary, and by his munificent 
 gifts to St. Luke's Hospital. Doctor Hoffman asked me 
 on Saturday to preach for him on Sunday, but I had 
 already accepted an invitation from Rev. Mr. Harris, 
 rector of the Church at Chestnut Hill. Doctor Hoffman 
 reminded me that I would address a much larger congre- 
 gation at St. Mark's, but I felt it my duty to fulfil my pre- 
 vious engagement. I accordingly went to Chestnut Hill, 
 and on Sunday it rained in torrents. There were very 
 few persons in church, so I preached, but did not mention 
 my work. At that service two ladies in very deep mourn- 
 ing asked the sexton who I was, and afterwards came to 
 the vestry-room desiring to speak to me. One was for- 
 merly from Charleston, the other was Mrs. Birkhead, 
 from Baltimore. The latter told me that she had become 
 greatly interested in my work through Mrs. Heminway, 
 of Boston, who had established a school in Wilmington, 
 North Carolina, and through Mr. William Cullen Bryant. 
 She asked me to come over to her friend's house. Then 
 she said she must have been led to church to meet me, for 
 she never went out in such weather. Strange to say, she 
 had come from Philadelphia to spend that Sunday only, 
 and we probably would never have met had she not come 
 out in the storm. She had seen her only child drowned 
 on Long Island, and the origin of my work had touched 
 her heart with sympathy, and she desired to help me. 
 She assisted me much by giving me several letters of in- 
 troduction to very prominent people, among them Mrs. 
 John Jacob Astor and Miss Gilston of New York, now 
 Mrs. Mary Winthrop. These letters, given in 1872, have 
 been the means in these twenty-five years of my collecting 
 
School and Church Flourish. 
 
 279 
 
 about fifteen thousand dollars ; so that was not a profit- 
 less Sunday. Was it a chance meeting, or was it Provi- 
 dence ? These letters and their immediate result enabled 
 me to go on. Without them I should have been obliged 
 to disband the school. One of these letters took me to 
 Albany, where, at an old ancestral manor house, I was 
 most hospitably entertained, and generously helped. I 
 went from there to see Mr. Nat. Thayer, of Boston, with 
 a letter, and he gave me five hundred dollars. As the 
 immediate result of these letters I returned with three 
 thousand five hundred dollars, the gifts of people I had 
 never met before. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 UNEJXPKCTKD HKI.P IN 'TROUBI.B 
 
 Our school feels the panic of i8'/j — ''Master, carest Thou 
 not that we perish f " — An unfeeling bank president who 
 finds in me his match — My congregation sympathize and 
 assist — Seven drays full of groceries unexpectedly drive 
 into my yard — A71 unjust appropriation to the Roman 
 Catholic orphanage becomes the occasion of assistance for 
 m,e. 
 
 EVERY preparation was made for our October opening, 
 1873, the sixth year of the Institute. Jay Cook & 
 Co. had failed in September, and I had sufficient business 
 capacity to know that it was the beginning of a terrible 
 panic. All who remember the panic know that it swept 
 through the country like a tornado. It struck us on 
 Friday, 26th of September. It so happened that about 
 that time I was writing a sermon on the text '' Master, 
 carest Thou not that we perish. ' ' 
 
 The sermon lay on my desk half finished, when I re- 
 ceived a note from the president of the bank, reminding 
 me that my note for five thousand dollars, due that day, 
 must be paid in full. This note was endorsed by Mr. 
 George A. Trenholm, and was given for the enlargement 
 and improvement of the church. It was given and taken 
 
 280 
 
Unexpected Help in Trouble, 281 
 
 as accommodation paper, to be renewed indefinitely, pay- 
 ing each time as I could. I called on Mr. Trenholm, who 
 was unable to help me. Everyone who remembers that 
 panic of 1873, knows that the richest man could not draw 
 any amount from any bank. North or South. I went to 
 the president and told him that so far from receiving pay- 
 ment in full, he would have to renew it in full ; he had 
 known what the money was loaned for, and the terms on 
 which it had been borrowed. He, however, remained in- 
 exorable. I told him so far as I was concerned he might 
 protest it and do his worst, but he was striking at my 
 endorser, and to save the credit of this latter, I would 
 sacrifice anything I had. Finding I could not move him, 
 I lost my temper and said : ' ' Well, sir, go ahead, crack 
 your whip, and do what you please. ' ' 
 
 I then walked out of his ofiice giving the door a sharp 
 bang behind me. I had not gone far, when a clerk came 
 after me, saying the president wished to see me. I went 
 back, and he said, ' ' You must not get vexed. ' ' 
 
 I then told him that he was not dealing with a specu- 
 lator, and that he had been quite willing to take my paper. 
 He had known it was good, but now, in that extraor- 
 dinary state of the financial world, instead of every man 
 standing by his neighbor and helping him to breast the 
 storm, people were for grinding down and crushing out 
 others, as if by such policy in the long run they would 
 help themselves. ' ' As you measure, ' ' I added, ' ' it will 
 be meted to you again. ' ' 
 
 '' Well," he said, *' I thought you could make some 
 arrangement ; but if you cannot, I will give you until 
 Monday." 
 
 I really did not see how I could do more on Monday 
 than on Saturday, but it was all I could get out of him, so 
 I went to Mr. Trenholm and got another note endorsed, 
 payable on Monday. 
 
282 Led On! 
 
 On my way from the bank I met the butcher George 
 Shrewsbury, to whom I owed five hundred dollars on 
 account of the last year's beef for the Home. After ex- 
 pressing his regrets, he told me that unless I paid off that 
 five hundred dollars, he could no longer supply me with 
 meat for my boys. Here was another shock ; what was I 
 to do ? On Wednesday, October ist, ninety-six boys 
 were expected from the country, eight teachers had been 
 engaged, and one was on his way from the North. Here 
 I had a great institution on my hands, with neither 
 money, provisions, nor credit, and the country trembling 
 on the verge of ruin. 
 
 When I reached home I received my mail, and in it was 
 a letter from my son Theodore, at Trinity College, whom 
 I had just fitted out for the winter with a fine overcoat 
 and everything necessary. The letter said, while at reci- 
 tation, a sneak-thief had gone in his room and made a 
 clean sweep. All this came on the 27th of September. 
 
 I could not finish my sermon; the text had become a 
 direct, personal question, and my poor weak heart of un- 
 belief was very like to that of the affrighted apostles in 
 the storm ; the wind blew, and the waves ran high and 
 filled the ship and I was about to sink. O what a ca- 
 lamity ! First, to those who had learned to look to this 
 institution as the only but sure hope for the education of 
 their children; and to me what a sorrow to see a work 
 crumbling to pieces which had cost so much labor, for 
 which so much had been endured, on which so much love 
 and faith had been bestowed. I was supremely wretched. 
 Could I have been mistaken after all, and was not this a 
 God-given work ? I cannot describe the agony of that 
 evening. My dear wife was at Clifton Springs, New York, 
 under the care of Doctor Foster, for she was a confirmed 
 invalid, and I did all I could to relieve her sufferings. I 
 did not have her strong faith and clear mind to counsel me. 
 
Unexpected Help in Trouble, 283 
 
 My aged mother I would not perplex with my difficulties, 
 so we passed the evening together, and after she had gone 
 to bed I went round at ten o'clock and locked mj^self in 
 the church, and in the solemn and silent darkness, alone 
 with God, I poured out my soul in prayer. I asked that 
 help might come to me if it was my Father's will. I 
 knew that man's extremity was God's opportunity; there- 
 fore I implored Him not to forsake me now in this time 
 of need. Again and again I threw myself on the floor 
 and prayed. I paced the middle aisle from door to chancel 
 and had no comfort. At length at two o'clock in the 
 morning I went up into the chancel, prostrated myself in 
 front of the altar, and said; " Oh, my Father, if this work, 
 which I thought and hoped was Thine, must now be ended, 
 Thy will, not mine be done." 
 
 I rose, feeling the first sensation of calm resignation I 
 had known in this midnight struggle with God. I went 
 home and finished my sermon before morning and 
 preached as I believe I never did before and never have 
 since. My congregation were not aware of the night's 
 experience, but I have never moved a congregation as I 
 did that day. After the sermon I came out of the pulpit, 
 and getting near the congregation, I told them about the 
 note I had to meet the next day, and begged each to do 
 what he could. Some of them offered the last dollar 
 they had. Two or three watches, several diamond rings 
 and breast pins, even a w^edding ring were in the plates, 
 and three hundred and twent3^-eight dollars, part of it 
 being pledged to be sent to me when the donors went 
 home. I told the vestry to take out all that jewelry; that 
 the sacrifice should not be made; the president of that 
 bank should not have it. I returned each piece to the 
 owners, and asked the trustees of the school (for it had 
 been incorporated by the legislature the year I bought the 
 house in the rear of the church, and, when paid for, I 
 
284 Led On / 
 
 had deeded to them) to meet me after service. They did 
 so, and agreed to go as a committee of the whole, to 
 baker, butcher, and grocer, and ask for three months' 
 credit, and if at the end of that time there was no apparent 
 way of carrying the work on, we would wind up, and 
 gradually pay the debt. We then knelt and asked God's 
 blessing, and adjourned to meet the next day at eleven 
 o'clock, and go together on our mission. Troubled as 
 each of them was, not knowing what a day would bring 
 forth, they were willing to leave their business and go and 
 further this. 
 
 On Monday morning I went round to the schoolhouse, 
 and was standing in the quadrangle looking at the two 
 houses, wondering whether this great work had come to 
 an end, whether these halls would no longer ring with the 
 merry voices of my boys, whether there was to be no open- 
 ing in the cloud, no hope for them, whether I had labored 
 only for this, had prayed, battled — only for this. I cannot 
 present in words the lonely wretchedness I was in that 
 day; my heart was full to overflowing; tears I could not 
 restrain flowed down my cheeks. I sorrowed for myself, 
 for my boys, for their parents and friends. How many 
 hearts which had suffered so much would that blow 
 reach ? It was just nine o'clock, and I was about to leave 
 the place, when I heard a noise at the gate, which was 
 thrown open and a dray was driven into the yard; then 
 another, and another, until seven were drawn up in line, 
 every one of them heavily laden with boxes and barrels. 
 Astonished, I walked up to the drays, and there on every 
 box and barrel was my name in full, with " Orphans' 
 Home, Charleston, South Carolina," added. Perfectly 
 awestruck, I looked at the drays, while I seemed to hear 
 a voice from heaven : * ' O thou of little faith, wherefore 
 didst thou doubt ? " 
 
 I asked one of the draymen where these goods had come 
 
Unexpected Help in Trouble, 285 
 
 from and where was the bill ? His answer was : * ' From 
 the steamship Georgia, which arrived last night. There is 
 no bill, no freight, no drayage ; I was told to deliver them 
 to you. ' ' 
 
 I seemed to hear a voice saying, * * Now stop your work 
 if you dare ! ' ' 
 
 I locked up the groceries, fully six months' supplies, 
 and then went into the church, and kneeling at the altar, 
 I asked forgiveness for my want of faith, while I thanked 
 God for His goodness. I then went home, gathered up 
 all my silver — spoons, forks, sugar-dish, milk-pot, and 
 every piece of silver I owned — and getting someone to 
 take the load, I started to go to the bank. On the way 
 I stopped at George Shrewsbury's, told him of the 
 groceries, and he said: *' Mr. Porter, this is the Lord's 
 work, and as long as I have a pound of meat in my stall 
 you shall have it. Pay me when you can." 
 
 I paid him in time ; indeed, I paid him several thou- 
 sands of dollars before he died, for he was my butcher for 
 seven years. I went to the baker, who was willing to 
 wait. Then I went to Mr. Trenholm, got a note deduct- 
 ing the three hundred and twenty-eight dollars, and left 
 the time open. Then I went to the banker who held 
 my note, and offered the renewal note and my silver. He 
 said he did not want that ; he wanted currency, and 
 if the three hundred and twenty-eight dollars was all I 
 could do, he would renew it for ten days. I then saw 
 the trustees, communicated the joyful news, and excused 
 them from going round as the crisis was past. I had no 
 money, but I had evidence that God was watching over 
 our needs. Before the ten days were over, I went to W. 
 C. Courtney, President of the Bank of Charleston, and 
 told him how I had been treated, and he went with me to 
 the President of the South Carolina Loan and Trust Com- 
 pany. The two agreed to divide the note; and when the 
 
286 Led On! 
 
 day came, I drew the amount in bills and took tliem to 
 my own banker, asking for my note. 
 
 '' Where did you get that money ? " he asked. 
 
 I told him it was none of his business ; it was >ood 
 money, and if that was the amount due, to take it, and 
 give me my note. Things had then eased up somewhat, 
 and people were getting over their scare, and he said, ' ' I 
 do not wish for it ; I will renew your note for just as long 
 a time as you wish." 
 
 I thanked him, but declined keeping it in his bank ; but 
 the intense nervous excitement of this transaction was 
 eventually the cause to me of a long and serious illness. 
 
 I called the trustees of the school together, and told 
 them to whom I believed I was indebted for the groceries, 
 and we passed resolutions which we engrossed and framed 
 and sent to the donor. We received no reply; but in 
 June, 1874, being in New York, I went to his office and 
 told him I knew we were indebted to him for the supplies 
 of groceries, and before he replied, I wished to tell him 
 that under God he had saved the institution. Had those 
 supplies not come, credit no doubt would have been re- 
 fused ; I should have been obliged to stop the boys from 
 coming from the country, and have advertised in the 
 papers the next day that the school would not be opened. 
 Probably I might have re-commenced it at some future 
 day, but even a temporary cessation would have shaken 
 the confidence of everyone in the permanent success of 
 this work to so great an extent that I could scarcely have 
 regained my former position. 
 
 My friend was moved by my statement, and said : ' ' Well, 
 you have cornered me. I must tell you that during the 
 height of the panic, I remembered that your school opened 
 about that time, and no doubt you would be in trouble, so 
 I ordered the grocers who supplied my ships to send you 
 the groceries you received." That man, God bless him ! 
 
Unexpected Help in Trouble. 287 
 
 is Mr. Wm. P. Clyde, the tried, firm friend of all these 
 years. This was in June, and he turned to his confiden- 
 tial clerk, to send me at once supplies for two more 
 months. May the blessing of God be with him and his 
 in time and in eternity ! 
 
 Be it remembered all this happened during the year of 
 the great panic, and though I had the groceries, I had no 
 money. During the six j^ears past the expenses had ex- 
 ceeded my receipts, and each year there was an accumu- 
 lating debt. There was money indeed due me from 
 pledges of persons whose sons had been here, which if I 
 could have collected would have paid my indebtedness; 
 but in consequence of the successive failure of crops, the 
 high taxes, the wretched government — for this was during 
 the so-called reconstruction period — the people in the 
 country had been growing poorer and poorer, and it was 
 out of their power to paj^ The Roman Catholics had for 
 a number of years been drawing from the city treasury six 
 thousand dollars a j^ear to support their orphanage. I 
 knew that this was contrary to the Constitution of the 
 United States, and of the State of South Carolina, and I 
 was spending a certain evening with Bishop Howe, and 
 told him that our people were just sleeping over this im- 
 position, but after awhile would make another move, and 
 get hold of some of the common school fund, and I be- 
 lieved I was in a position to open the eyes of the com- 
 munity as no one else was. 
 
 '' I have a larger work than they are supporting," I 
 said to the Bishop, ' ' and suppose I send in a petition to the 
 City Council for the same appropriation ? I have no doubt 
 it will be refused, but at least it will raise the question." 
 
 " Neither of you," he answered, *' have any right to 
 such an appropriation, but what is sauce for the goose is 
 sauce for the gander. Go ahead with my approval, and 
 let us see what will come of it." 
 
288 Led On! 
 
 I therefore got Mr. Henry Buist, a lawyer and a warm 
 friend, to draw up my petition. It was a very astute 
 paper, and proved a bombshell in the Council. It so hap- 
 pened that C. C. Bowen (who had married the daughter 
 of Mr. James ly. Pettigru, who was a member of my 
 congregation) was a member of Council, and he saw at a 
 glance that the appropriation for the Roman Catholics 
 could not be continued unless my application were 
 granted. Political influence was too strong to allow of 
 discontinuing the six thousand to them, so he moved and 
 carried through, the appropriation of three thousand to 
 my school. I thought it was a mistake when I read the 
 account in the paper, but it was true. The two hundred 
 and fifty dollars a month paid my butcher's bill and was 
 a great help, and was continued for three years, when Mr. 
 Edward McCrady and Mr. Meminger got Mr. Johnson of 
 Baltimore, who owned some city stock, to allow them to 
 use his name to institute a suit to stop these appropria- 
 tions.* I told both of those lawyers, *' Stop both, and I 
 
 * In this connection I will anticipate a few years. I was elected 
 one of the school commissioners, in charge of the city common 
 schools, and in course of time, after the suit was forgotten, there 
 came an application from the Roman Catholic Bishop and clergy 
 for the support of their parochial school, they to elect their own 
 teachers, and to have the sole management, but to draw their pay 
 from the common school fund. Everything had been arranged, 
 and they had secured a majority of the Board, when Mr. O'Driscol 
 offered a resolution consenting to this petition. Mr. C. C. Mem- 
 inger, in the chair, before putting the resolution, presented a writ- 
 ten protest, which he read. It was an unanswerable paper. 
 
 ** If I am the only man to sign this," he said, " I will do so that 
 it may go on record." I immediately asked him to pass the paper 
 to me. I affixed my signature to it. Then I made a speech and 
 told the Board if they passed the resolution I would secure the best 
 legal talent in the city, and would take out an injunction against 
 the Board, preventing the payment of the appropriation. I would 
 placard this city, and call a mass-meeting of the Protestant com- 
 
Unexpected Help in Trouble. 289 
 
 am satisfied, ' ' but they made their fight against me, and 
 of course won it. The Roman Catholics have had their 
 six thousand dollars, however, ever since, and have it 
 still. 
 
 munity, who were strong enough, if once aroused, to nip this thing 
 
 in the bud. It was a stormy meeting, but the resolution was never 
 
 presented ; it just died. 
 19 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 SPEJCIAI, PROVIDKNCK 
 
 God'' s Special providence is apparent in the way my work 
 was supported — The incidents of this chapter will appeal 
 to the most downcast or disheartened. 
 
 PANIC year as it was, this seventh year, opening Octo- 
 ber, 1873, closing in August, 1874, I raised in South 
 Carolina nine thousand dollars besides the three thousand 
 from the City Council, which shows how we tried to help 
 ourselves ; for be it remembered the first year I gathered 
 only three hundred at home. Generous friends at the 
 North had given me six thousand dollars. But after all 
 this anxiety and labor, after writing hundreds of letters, and 
 often sitting at my desk till two or three in the morning, 
 my overtaxed nervous system gave way. I had never re- 
 ceived one dollar remuneration for all that has been re- 
 corded in these seven years. We had a Christmas tree 
 and a dinner for the poor children of the Sunday and 
 Industrial School on the 26th of December, 1873, and 
 after it was all over I broke down. Then began a long 
 and severe illness ; but as soon as I could be moved I was 
 sent to Florida, where I remained two weeks, and returned 
 home only to have a second attack, more severe than the 
 first. I then went to Aiken, and after a while returned 
 
 290 
 
special Providence. 291 
 
 to Charleston, and resumed my work. I was very feeble 
 all winter, and of course the burden was heavier to be 
 borne; but the parish and the school went on, carried by 
 the unseen hand of God. The last of May I went to New 
 York, and my family physician wrote to the Bishop and 
 the vestry that, in his opinion, if I did not have complete 
 rest my life would be the forfeit. Accordingly, at their 
 earnest solicitation I spent the summer at the North, 
 making friends, and seeking aid wherever I could find it. 
 I have grateful memories of that summer in New York, 
 Boston, New Haven, Newport, Lenox, and Stockbridge, 
 where friend after friend was raised up for me, through 
 whose kindness I paid off all my indebtedness. It is not 
 taken from mere memory, but from the record which I 
 made at the time, that in 1874 I met everywhere an ear- 
 nest desire for the restoration of fraternal feeling between 
 the North and South. I wish it were possible for every 
 man and woman of the South to share the experience I 
 have had at the North. I have heard the views of those 
 who differ from us, and have given my own with perfect 
 frankness, never concealing my war record, or feeling 
 that my Northern friends expected me to make an apology 
 for the course I pursued during hostilities ; and I believe 
 I have been the means of informing many as to the real 
 condition of the South, and have in a number of cases in- 
 duced a kindly feeling. 
 
 During the summer I preached at St. Thomas's Church, 
 New Haven, and after service, a lady sent into the 
 vestry-room to ask me to come to the hotel to see her. It 
 was Mrs. Ogle Taylol^ of Washington, D. C. She was 
 on her way to New Britain, but being fatigued, stopped at 
 New Haven for the night, and had gone to Trinity 
 Church, which she was compelled to leave on account of 
 some fresh paint about the church. Seeing St. Thomas's 
 Church, she had gone over there, and was glad she had 
 
292 Led On I 
 
 done so, as she had heard my appeal. After giving me 
 one thousand dollars, she invited me to visit her at Wash- 
 ington, and promised the aid of friends whenever I was 
 ready to do the same work for the girls of the South as I 
 was doing for the boys. As Mrs. Tayloi£will appear 
 prominently again in this record, I hope my readers will 
 remember her name. Now, was it chance only that she 
 came to that church that day ? I believe it was Provi- 
 dence. During the same year, Rev. Mr. I^earoyd, of 
 Taunton, gave me a letter to the Rev. Justin Field, of 
 I/Cnox, Massachusetts, who most kindly received me, 
 and kindness upon kindness was extended to me. I was 
 the guest of Mrs. BHison, whose hospitality can never be 
 forgotten. She gave me a letter to her brother, Mr. 
 Robert M. Mason, and to his daughters. Mr. Mason 
 has long entered into rest, but the generosity of his 
 daughters has never failed me in all these years. With- 
 out them, as far as I can see, this work would have come 
 to an end long years ago. I wish to place on record as 
 a monument to them, living in this book after I have 
 passed to my rest, that their munificent generosity for the 
 past fifteen years has been the nucleus round which I 
 have gathered the means to carry on the work, and but 
 for them it would have been impossible to continue it. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. White, then rector of Trinity Church, 
 Newport, also kindly invited me to preach. Although I 
 was a stranger, he did not introduce me, but bade me tell 
 my story. As the congregation did not know who I was, 
 I felt the awkwardness of the situation, and in as straight- 
 forward and delicate a manner as I could, I introduced 
 myself. 
 
 Mr. Daniel Leroy leaned over to his wife, and said, * ' I 
 never heard of him before, but he is a gentleman. ' ' This he 
 told me afterwards. Mr. lyeroy was a brother-in-law of the 
 Hon. Daniel Webster, and his dear wife the sister of the 
 
special Providence, 293 
 
 Hon. Hamilton Fish, then United States Secretary of 
 State. Mr. and Mrs. I^eroy invited me to be their guest. 
 I was liberally assisted in Newport, and the friendship, 
 begun then, lasted until the death of both of my friends. 
 Again and again they entertained me in Newport. At 
 several of the General Conventions held in New York I 
 was always their guest. It would be impossible to tell 
 all the acts of personal kindness I received from them, and 
 how generous they were to this school, nor did it cease 
 then. Mrs. Edward King, their daughter, and Mrs. 
 King's sons and daughters, have been, and are now, 
 among my dearest friends. Somehow, I have been with 
 them in many times of joy, and oftener in scenes of sor- 
 row ; so that I feel that I am one of the family.* 
 
 * I put on record the names of those who were my principal 
 helpers in those days : Mr. A. A. Low, Mr. and Mrs. J. Jacob 
 Astor, Mr. Wm. P. Clyde, Mr. W. H. Vanderbilt, Mr. Isaac Hen- 
 derson, Mr. Fred Hubbard, Mr. W. H. Aspinwall, Mr. Adam 
 Norrie, Mr. John David Wolfe, Mr. Stuart Brown, Mr. Charles 
 O'Connor, Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan, Mr. A. H. Bend, Mr. A. M. 
 Benson, Mr. Charles K. Bill, Mr. Charles D. Dickey, Mr. James C. 
 Fargo, Mr. Jos. E. Sheffield, Mr. J. M. Dunbar, Mr. Percy K. 
 Pyne, Mr. Augustus Schermerhom, Mrs. Robert C. Winthrop, Mr. 
 W. B. Dodge, Jr., Mr. Henry B. Pellew, Mr. John Welsh, Mr. 
 Wm. Welsh, Mr. Geo. W. Childs, Mr. Bdward T. Buckley, Mr. 
 Larz Anderson, Mr. John H. Shoenberger, Mrs. A. M. Mintum, 
 Mr. George K. Shoenberger, Mrs. Caroline W. Suydam, Mr. James 
 M. Brown, Mrs. B. ly. Spencer, Miss Gilston, Miss C. L. Wolfe, 
 Mr. Saml. D. Babcock, Mr. Ed. S. Jafiray, Mrs. Ogle Taylor, Mrs. 
 Mary Heminway, Mrs. W. H. Aspinwall, Mr. Edw. King, Mr. B. 
 R. Mudge, Mr. Clarkson N. Potter, Mr. Alex. Brown, Mr. Howard 
 Potter, Rev. Arthur Lawrence, Mr. A. A. Lawrence, Mr. Daniel 
 Leroy, Mr. George M. Connarro, Mr. J. C. Sowdan, Mr. J. Carey, 
 Jr., Mr. W. R. Robeson, Mr. R. Mason, Mr. Junius S. Morgan, 
 Colonel Auchmuty, Mrs. Auchmuty, Miss Ellen F. Mason, Miss 
 Ida M. Mason, Mr. C. J. Joy, Mrs. Edw. King, Mr. B. T. Reed, 
 Mr. Jos. S. Fay, Mr. Jas. M. Beebe, Mr. H. C. Kiddar, Mrs. N. B. 
 
294 Led On ! 
 
 I have bought and paid for a house which cost ten 
 thousand dollars, have added four rooms to the school- 
 house at a cost of over three thousand dollars, have paid 
 all current expenses for the seven years. I would like to 
 know if the reader thinks it was a delusion at the grave 
 of my child, when I began this, or was I given a work to 
 do by our Heavenly Father ? To God be all the praise ! 
 He has honored me by using me as His agent, but He has 
 given me the friends and provided the means. Though 
 I have never had an income, I have only depended on what 
 I could collect from day to day. 
 
 I was still at the North when the school opened for its 
 eighth year. Mr. John Gadsden was still the principal, 
 and managed for a while ; but the yellow fever broke out, 
 and the Home boys returned into the country until after 
 a frost. I still had the three thousand dollars from the 
 City Council, and a few of the boys paid from one dollar 
 to twenty per month. I must have had a hard struggle, 
 for I see in my diary of February 27, 1875, the following 
 
 entr}^ : " Received a letter from Mr. , of New York, 
 
 very cold and unsympathetic. O, lyord God, the silver 
 and the gold are Thine; Thou knowest how anxious my 
 heart is ; Thou knowest how I depend on Thee ; Thou 
 knowest all our needs ; Thou knowest what we are doing ; 
 Give us each day our daily bread ; O lyOrd God, make my 
 work Thine ; make me Thine, and may many deacons, 
 priests and bishops be raised out of this work for Christ's 
 sake. ' ' That entry tells the story of these thirty years ; 
 
 Bayliss, Mr. Albert Fearing, Dr. George C. Shattuck, Mr. Wm. 
 Niblo, Mr. Wm. Amory, Mr. Wm. Endicott, Mr. Jno. Hogg, Mr. 
 JRobt. L. Kennedy, Mr. J. C. Hoadley, Dr. J. J. Crane, Mrs. C. R. 
 jGoddard, Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Annie Ives, Mr. Wm. Goddard, Mr. 
 and Mrs. S. G. Wyman, Mr. Fred S. Winston, Mr. H. F. Spauld- 
 ing. These are my principal helpers, from soon after my beginning, 
 and all of them continued annually to assist me during their life. 
 
special Providence. 295 
 
 for there has scarcely been a week when it did not de- 
 scribe the situation. And none but God knows what 
 a strain on the nerves, what a drain on the vital energies 
 it has been, and how the sunshine of personal life has all 
 gone out in the struggle. But for the sustaining grace of 
 God, and the cheerful encouragement of my dear wife, 
 while she was with me, I would have given up long since. 
 I find in that diary I was particularly low-spirited on the 
 30th of March. I had published the first chapters of a 
 little work on the school, and it had fallen unappreciated 
 from the press. When, on the 4th of April, the widow of 
 an esteemed clergyman called on me, she said she had 
 just read my pamphlet, and supposed she was behind 
 many others in bringing her offering. It was fifty dollars, 
 a very large contribution for her limited means. On the 
 5th of April, I receiv^ed a letter from Mr. Seth I^ow, say- 
 ing he had just read my pamphlet, and if I would send 
 him one of my two-hundred- dollar endowment bonds he 
 would gladly sign it. These two cases came as a reproof 
 to me ; they seemed to say, ' ' O thou of little faith, where- 
 fore didst thou doubt ? " * 
 
 * This is a good place to remember an incident. I had contin- 
 ued my book, of which three or four editions have been published, 
 brought down to 1880, and there is a great deal from 1875 to iSSo. 
 Some years after 1880, I was seated in my study, when a lady 
 called. She asked me if I was the Rev. Dr. Porter. I told her, 
 "Yes." She said she had come all the way from St. Louis, Mo., 
 to look into my eyes and to take my hand, and to thank me for 
 what I had done for her. I was much surprised, as she was a total 
 stranger to me. She said, " I have come to see your wonderful 
 work. I had lost my belief in God, for I had lost my faith in the 
 efficacy of prayer, and if there is no efficacy in prayer there can be 
 no loving, merciful God and Father. For if there is a Father in 
 Heaven, He must hear and answer prayer. By what the world 
 calls chance, but what I call Providence, your book was put into 
 my hands. I read it over three times, and then knelt down and 
 
296 Led On ! 
 
 My good friend George Shrewsbury, of whom I have 
 made frequent mention, died on the 8th of March. He 
 was the donor of five hundred dollars to the Academy. 
 He was a member of the City Council, though a colored 
 man, and he represented the conservative element in that 
 board. I acted as one of his pall-bearers, and assisted in 
 bearing his body to the grave ; a thing it required some 
 nerve to do in this community, but my friends all com- 
 mended me for doing it. I was still during that year very 
 much pressed for money. I owed a bill for three hundred 
 and twenty-four dollars which had to be paid on the 17th. 
 On the 8th of March I received a letter from Miss Cathe- 
 rine Wolfe, enclosing a check for two hundred dollars. I 
 had made no appeal to her, but she wrote saying that she 
 thought it might help a little. She had previously given 
 me, in the fall, one thousand dollars. I received from 
 different sources enough to pay my note on the 17th. On 
 the 29th, the mattress maker, a colored man, came for 
 one hundred dollars I owed him. I did not have a dollar 
 in the bank, but I gave him a check, telling him, as it 
 was after bank hours, he could not present it until next 
 day. I determined to put a note in the bank to meet it. 
 That night the choir boys were at my house, when Mr. 
 W. F. Winston, of New York, called to see me. The next 
 day he went with me to see the colored children's school, 
 at the Marine Hospital, and then visited my academy. 
 When leaving he handed me a check for a hundred dol- 
 lars. I deposited it before my check to the colored man 
 came in. These coincidences, and they have been num- 
 berless, are only things of chance to some minds, but 
 thank God, they help to strengthen my faith in the 
 providence of a personal, present Father. 
 
 said, ' My Lord and my God.' You have been the means of giv- 
 ing me back my faith, and I have come to thank j^ou for it." I 
 was very grateful for this, even if the book never brought me a 
 dollar. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 SKRVICE) WITH THB ANGKI.S 
 
 / am inopportunely seized with sudden sickness — A time of 
 rest in which I hold service with the angels — My co7ifi- 
 dence in God is justified by convalescence — My financial 
 troubles — Friendly help — The far-reaching results of my 
 pamphlet. 
 
 MY story is now brought down to the i6th of May, 
 1875. Whit-Monday, the day before, we had a 
 glorious service at the Church of the Holy Communion. 
 The congregation was large, the school was full, the 
 music was devotional, and unusually good. The Rev. Dr. 
 DuBose, then Chaplain of the University of the South, 
 preached on Whitsunday. The Sunday-schools of the 
 different city parishes assembled at the church to practise 
 for the anniversary service next day. I had been with 
 them, practised all the tunes, and had returned home, and 
 was preparing one of a series of lectures on the Prayer- 
 Book, when about ten at night, I was called to see a man 
 who was supposed to be djdng. I remained until after 
 twelve o'clock with him, and had resumed the writing of 
 my lecture when, without warning, I was attacked with 
 a hemorrhage. It was a great shock, for I had no cold or 
 cough ; and although tired and wearied and worn had 
 not the slightest suspicion of my condition. In the very 
 
 297 
 
298 Led On I 
 
 midst of work, everything going on well save the finances, 
 which were considerably in arrears, with two months and 
 a half still before me, I, apparently the mainstay, was thus 
 stricken down helpless. It did seem desperate, but I 
 rallied, however, and seemed to have recovered. During 
 the winter, Mr. Wm. A. Courtenay and Col. Thomas 
 Simons, Major R. C. Gilchrist, and myself had been very 
 busy inducing the Washington lyight Infantry, of which 
 I was, and still am, chaplain, to accept an invitation to 
 take part in the Bunker Hill celebration ; for we had to 
 create a public sentiment at home which would make it 
 possible for them to go. At length it was all arranged, 
 the day came, and I was to go with them. Nearly 
 four weeks had passed since my attack of sickness and I 
 felt quite well again. The company was on board the 
 steamer for New York, my trunk was packed, Mr. F. A. 
 Mitchell, one of my friends and vestrjmien, had come to 
 bid me good-bye, the carriage was at the door, and while 
 talking to him, the hemorrhage returned, this time very 
 much more severe than at first. 
 
 Of course this ended my trip to Boston. As soon as I 
 could be moved I was taken to Aiken, and Doctor Ogier 
 said I had not a month to live. Thank God, I did not 
 lose my faith. Firmly convinced that my work was God's, 
 I felt assured it would be carried on by Him through 
 every difficulty. If He had used me as far as He wished, 
 and was about to take me to Himself, He could raise up 
 some other agent to do His will. His hand was laid 
 heavily upon me. I was forbidden to write, even to 
 speak, but I felt by some means God would sustain the 
 work. The blow to me personally was a severe one, but 
 I had no doubt He would make it conduce to His glory, 
 and to the good of the work, and if what has gone before 
 has excited any surprise and interest, that which is still 
 to be told will show that this sickness was the instrumental 
 
Service with the Angels. 299 
 
 means of far more wonderful results than any that have 
 been as yet recorded. My not going with the company, 
 and the cause of my absence, was of course published in 
 the papers, and was copied in the New York Churchman. 
 I^etters of sympathy poured in on me. Mr. Howard Potter 
 wrote, ' * I need not tell you how profoundly I feel for you 
 and the cause you represent. Both you and it have my 
 deepest sympathy and warmest admiration, but you know 
 in Whose hands both you and your work are, and to 
 Him and to His grace I commend you, in perfect confi- 
 dence that your heart will be kept in the peace which is 
 promised those whose minds are stayed on Him. I will 
 send you in a few days what I can collect for you. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Potter very shortly afterwards sent me nine hun- 
 dred dollars, Mr. A. A. lyawrence, of Boston, sent me 
 money and a loving letter. Kven from London, Mr. 
 Junius S. Morgan, whom I had met at Mr. R. M. Mason's, 
 when he gave me a check for five hundred dollars, wrote 
 me, expressing his sympathy, and said of my work : " I do 
 not doubt great good will come of it, and my prayer is, 
 that you may be long spared to superintend and develop 
 the good work." And he enclosed a check to help me. 
 These are specimens of the letters and the character of 
 those to whose kind feeling God had given me entrance. 
 This sympathy was very soothing, and the pecuniary aid 
 voluntarily sent to me greatly relieved the situation. Still 
 there was a deficiency, for the school was going on, up 
 tothefirst of August. I recuperated very slowly. Doctor 
 Amory Coffin, of Aiken, was very kind, and Mr. Finlay, a 
 Presbyterian friend, put his pony at my disposal, and I 
 took a short ride in the pines daily. It was my habit to 
 take my Bible, Praj^er-Book, and Hymnal, and sit in the 
 pine grove, and hold service with the angels. On the 
 14th of August, I came to the psalter for the day, the 
 Seventy-first Psalm. I had then the same sensations I ex- 
 
300 Led On! 
 
 perienced at the grave of my child, on the 25th of October, 
 1867. I seemed to be enveloped in a Spiritual Presence, 
 and the first words of the Psalm seemed to be my own. 
 ' ' In Thee, O I^ord, have I put my trust, let me never be 
 put to confusion, but rid me and deliver me in Thy right- 
 eousness, incline Thine ear unto and save me. Be Thou 
 my stronghold whereunto I may always resort. Thou hast 
 promised to help me, for Thou art my house of defence, 
 and my castle." 
 
 I never before had felt all the comprehensiveness of 
 these words. The feeling of devotion was so deep, that 
 when I reached the fourth verse, " Thou Lord God art 
 the thing that I long for, Thou art my hope even from 
 my youth, through Thee have I been holden up ever 
 since I was born, Thou art He that took me out of my 
 mother's womb, my praise shall always be of Thee," I 
 knelt on the ground and said, * ' Father, I can say this as 
 truly as the Psalmist. I do not remember the time when 
 I did not love Thee ; why, then, am I cast down ? " I 
 read on, and when I came to the eighth verse, ' ' Cast me 
 not away in the time of age, forsake me not when my 
 strength faileth me, ' ' again I knelt and prayed, that God 
 would graciously hear this prayer. I read on to the six- 
 teenth verse, ' ' Forsake me not, O God, in mine old age, 
 when I am gray-headed, until I have showed Thy strength 
 to this generation, and Thy power to them that are yet to 
 come." Had I been spoken to, and told directly that my 
 prayer had been answered, the efiect upon me could not 
 have been greater. I knelt again alone in the quiet depths 
 of the forest, the bright summer sky above me, that was 
 looking up as it were in the face of God, and thanked Him 
 that He had granted me this respite, that I might have 
 more time to work for Him here, and that He was willing 
 to use me, His most unworthy servant, to magnify His 
 grace, and to manifest His power. I could scarcely keep 
 
Service with the Angels. 301 
 
 still long enough to finish all the morning prayers. I did, 
 however, and mounting my horse, I cantered back to the 
 village of Aiken. Hitherto, I had not dared to ride faster 
 than a walk. Going into my wife's room, I said to her: 
 * * Wife, I cannot explain it all now, but I have had a mes- 
 sage from God, through the Seventy-first Psalm. I am 
 not going to die, I will soon be well. I have to bear wit- 
 ness for God, as to His strength and power, in this unbe- 
 lieving age. I do not know where the help is coming 
 from^ which is so much needed, but come it will. I^et us 
 kneel and thank God for His great goodness." 
 
 My wife burst into tears of thankfulness at seeing me 
 so cheerful and hopeful, for she, dear helpmate, had been 
 bearing a heavy load to keep up her spirits in the presence 
 of my depression and hopeless condition. And we knelt 
 and thanked God for His goodness. Two days passed, 
 and in the mail arrived a budget of letters. The first I 
 opened was from Mrs. W. H. Aspinwall, of New York, 
 dated Tarrytown, August 14th: " My dear Mr. Porter, I 
 see by The Churchmaii that you are still sick at Aiken. I 
 know you must be disturbed, and to help relieve your 
 troubles, I beg to enclose a check, which I hope will be 
 of some service to you. May God spare your valuable 
 life, and soon restore you to health and strength." 
 
 Before opening the other letters (there were nine in 
 all), I said to my wife, '' Did I not tell you that relief was 
 coming ? Look at the date of that letter ; Mrs. Aspinwall 
 must have been writing it at the very hour I was on my 
 knees in the pine woods. ' ' I had not had one word of com- 
 munication with Mrs. Aspinwall for a year. The other 
 letters were all dated 14th of August, and contained 
 checks unsolicited. Thus my pressing necessities were 
 relieved. I thanked God for this manifestation of His 
 loving care. My health continued to improve, and on the 
 9th of September I left Aiken for Charleston, and on the 
 
302 Led On / 
 
 17th took the steamer for New York, in charge of twenty- 
 nine of my boys, passed free by Mr. W. P. Clyde, on their 
 way to Union College, Schenectady. On our way up the 
 Hudson, the river was low and the trip was long. Whether 
 the change from the South brought it out, or what I do 
 not know, but when I reached Newport, with my youngest 
 son, Charles, then a little boy, I was stricken down with 
 a fever at the house of my kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Daniel lyC Roy, and was desperately ill. I knew I was 
 not to die ; the message in the pine woods was ii; my 
 heart, and under God, by the skilful treatment of good 
 Doctor King, and the tender nursing of my friends, I was 
 restored. Mrs. J. W. Chanler, seeing how very miserable 
 I looked after getting about, insisted on my going to 
 Saratoga. She paid my expenses there for a month. A 
 few friends there gave me some money for my work, and 
 I returned home, preaching at the Church of the Holy 
 Communion on Advent Sunday, the first time in seven 
 months, with no sign of the two serious sicknesses I had 
 passed through. It is now twenty-seven years since the 
 events above recorded, and the work that has been done 
 is before the Church and before the world. It has not 
 been in a corner. Some who read this book may know 
 about it ; many will not have heard of it: but if any 
 one doubts, I beg him to make inquiries, if these things 
 can be so ? Come and see, and if this recital strengthens 
 the faith of anyone, I shall not know it, but God will, and 
 it will go on showing God's strength to this generation, 
 and His power to those that are yet to come. Is it asked, 
 ' * Have these visitations been often granted you ? " I 
 answer : ' ' No ; I recall three — the night I gave myself up 
 to the ministry ; again, at the grave of my child ; and this 
 in the pine woods near Aiken." If I have failed to con- 
 vince ray readers, then they must account for this history 
 as best they can. 
 
Service with the Angels, 303 
 
 The visit of the Washington I^ight Infantry to Boston 
 in 1875, has passed into history. Their enthusiastic re- 
 ception as representatives of South Carolina, carrying 
 their old historic flag, of Eutaw, which had waved at 
 Kutaw Springs, and Cowpens, in the Revolutionary War, 
 when Col. Wm. Washington gave Colonel Tarleton and 
 his British forces such a merciless thrashing. This flag 
 is of red damask, and had been the seat of a parlor chair, 
 which Colonel Washington's sweetheart cut out of the 
 chair, and gave to Colonel Washington, as he had no flag. 
 In all that throng in Boston, this small command was the 
 observed of all observers. 
 
 Mr. A. A. Lawrence wrote me from near Boston on the 
 17th June, 1875 : '' I am sorry to hear that you have not 
 recovered your strength so as to come here. But it 
 would have been a great risk under any circumstances. 
 The excitement would have been too great ; you can 
 hardly estimate it, without seeing the expression in Bos- 
 ton to-day. Your friends will tell you about it. The 
 revulsion of feeling is complete, and it goes to prove what 
 I told you a year ago, namely, our people only have to 
 know the trouble to range themselves on the side that is 
 oppressed, and against the oppressors. What you have 
 done to bring this about will be a lasting comfort and 
 satisfaction to you, and it will come at the right time, 
 ^hen you most need cheering up. May God bless you in 
 sickness and in health ! " 
 
 That visit of this small company did indeed revolutionize 
 the feeling throughout New England and the North, and 
 years after ex-President Hayes told Mr. Courtenay at 
 a meeting of the trustees of the Peabody Fund, of which 
 both were members, that the political influence of that 
 visit had made it possible for him, when President, to 
 recognize the government of South Carolina under Gen- 
 eral Hampton. As I have said, Mr. W. A. Courtenay, 
 
304 Led On / 
 
 Major Gilchrist, Col. T. Y. Simons, and myself were the 
 mov'ing spirits in that transaction. I still look back with 
 much satisfaction to my share in the event. 
 
 While I was lying sick in Newport, at Mr. Daniel Le 
 Roy's cottage, in the fall of 1875, I received a letter from 
 Miss B. Waterman, of Providence, Rhode Island. It had 
 been sent to Charleston and forwarded to me. * ' Dear sir, 
 please find enclosed a check for one hundred dollars, for 
 your Institute. [At that time it was known as the Holy 
 Communion Church Institute, changed b}^ the Board of 
 Trustees some years later to the Porter Military Academy.] 
 Although an Episcopalian, and trying to keep pretty 
 well informed on what is done in the Church, I heard of 
 your work for the first time about two months ago, through 
 your report. On starting on a little excursion, with my 
 
 friend. Miss B , a Baptist, she said to me, ' I have a 
 
 pamphlet which I wish you to read ; it was handed to me 
 by my cousin, a Unitarian, for me to read, and give to 
 another lady, but I thought it so wonderful and interest- 
 ing, that I decided to take it with me, and see if I could 
 not induce people to aid so excellent an object.' I read 
 it, and shared her enthusiasm, and we took it to I^ake 
 Mohunk, a charming quiet watering-place, near the Hud- 
 son River. Here we took pains to have it read by one 
 and another, and as a number of wealthy people seemed 
 interested in it, and asked many questions about it, I hope 
 ere this you have had more than one contribution as the 
 result. Rev. Wiliam I^eonard, of Brooklyn [now Bishop 
 of Ohio] told us that he was acquainted with you, and 
 highly commended your efforts. Finally, he gathered a 
 little circle round him, and read your pamphlet aloud. 
 If you could send me two copies, or direct me where to 
 get them, I shall be greatly obliged. I heard with great 
 regret that your health was much impaired ; I hope that 
 it is now restored, and that you may long be spared to 
 
Service with the Angels. 305 
 
 labor in the noble cause for which you have done so much. 
 I never heard of a work more evidently of God, nor one 
 which was so eminently and wonderfully blessed of Him. 
 May He still continue His favors, granting all needed 
 spiritual and temporal blessing ! " 
 
 I had never heard of the lady until this letter came. I 
 afterwards found out she had relatives in South Carolina, 
 the Thurston family. I have had several of her relatives 
 in this school as beneficiaries ; I had one for three years, 
 until his graduation, last year, and have one now, in 1897. 
 Mr. Alex. Brown, that noble Christian gentleman of 
 Philadelphia, was one of those who heard the pamphlet 
 read. He said nothing, but went to his room, and wrote 
 a warm letter, enclosing a check for two hundred and 
 fifty dollars, and this he did on the 15th of May, from 1875 
 until he died. Nor was this all. Many kind letters I re- 
 ceived, and whenever I was sorely pressed, a letter to him 
 always brought a response, sometimes one thousand dol- 
 lars, sometimes five hundred ; but this intermediate giving 
 never interrupted that annual two hundred and fifty, 
 which came without a reminder every j^ear until the day 
 of his death. Some years after, during a visit at Mohunk, 
 as the guest of Mr. Smiley, I addressed a large audience 
 on Sunday afternoon. Mrs. Ed. Morgan gave me a check 
 for five hundred dollars, and a large offering, over a thou- 
 sand dollars besides, was taken up that afternoon, and all 
 of this came from the Unitarian lady giving my pamphlet 
 to a Baptist friend, who gave it to Miss B. Waterman; and 
 this was the pamphlet which I thought had fallen unap- 
 preciated. * ' O ye of little faith, wherefore did ye doubt ? ' ' 
 Miss Waterman, finding I was so near, sent my pamphlet 
 to my reverend brethren in Providence. The Rev. Dr. 
 David H. Greer was one of them, and the Rt. Rev. Bi.shop 
 Clark, who extended me an invitation to visit Providence, 
 which I did, receiving some thirteen hundred dollars, be- 
 
3o6 Led On! 
 
 sides making many friends. Now it is right to recount 
 right here how all this sympathy and aid came of a five- 
 dollar bill. It happened in this way. The Rev. Mr. 
 Tustin, who had been a Baptist minister in Charleston, 
 but in charge of the Huguenot congregation, had become 
 very friendly with me, and was eventually ordained by 
 Bishop lyittlejohn, in Rome, to the priesthood of the 
 Church. He had sent from Sweden his wife's annual 
 
 contribution to my work to Miss B , the Unitarian 
 
 lady who had given the pamphlet to the Baptist, and she 
 to Miss Waterman. When she sent the five dollars she 
 did not know that I was a clergyman, or what the five 
 dollars were for, but in acknowledging its receipt, I had 
 sent her the pamphlet which did so much good work. 
 Hence her efforts on my behalf. I pray God if this book 
 ever sees the light, it may be used in the same way, 
 whether I be alive or dead, for the work is the same great 
 philanthropic work it was then, and needs all the help the 
 generous will give. 
 
^■^ 
 
 
 
 
 WSJfW 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 ^^MM 
 
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 ^^^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 MORK TRAVKI^ ABROAD 
 
 The admission of colored parishes into the Diocesan Conven- 
 tion — A burning question^ on which I espouse the cause 
 of the blacks — A final compromise — / succumb to the toils 
 and anxieties of my work — / seek for renewed health in a 
 voyage to England — Thence I travel over the continent of 
 Europe — The kindness of English friends. 
 
 THE Convention of the Diocese of South Carolina met 
 at St. Philip's Church, on the 13th of May, 1875, 
 and in the journal of that date is this harmless-looking 
 entry : ' ' The Bishop communicated the application of St. 
 Mark's Church, Charleston, for admission to the Conven- 
 tion." It was in the regular course of business, and there • 
 was a standing committee on the admission of new parishes, 
 of which Rev. P. T. Shand, D.D., Mr. Jas. M. Davis, and 
 Mr. Wm. Parker were members. The regular course 
 was to refer the application to that committee. But St. 
 Mark's was a colored congregation, of which Rev. J. B. 
 Seabrook, an old white ex-planter and slave-holder, was 
 rector. Mr. Edw. McCrady rose immediately, and made 
 the following motion : ' * Resolved, that the application of 
 St. Mark's congregation for admission into union with this 
 Convention, be referred to a commission to be appointed 
 by the Bishop, to report to the next Convention upon the 
 
 307 
 
3o8 Led On / 
 
 same, and all its relations to the Church and constitution 
 of this diocese. ' ' 
 
 I did not know that the Bishop had received this peti- 
 tion of St. Mark's Church, nor that he proposed to offer 
 it. I did know that Bishop Davis, in 1866, had re- 
 ceived the vestry of this congregation at my house in 
 Rutledge Avenue, when they asked if they then should 
 apply for admission, and he had told them he thought 
 not. They were made up of the colored members of St. 
 Philip's, St. Michael's, Grace, St. Paul's, and the Church 
 of the Holy Communion, in which parishes they had 
 worshipped, as part of such congregations, before the war, 
 but had since separated from the whites, and formed this 
 congregation, and were worshipping at the Orphans' 
 Chapel, under the rectorship of the Rev. J. B. Seabrook. 
 The Bishop told them they were not yet established, they 
 had no church building, and it was not clear that they 
 could maintain their organization. It would, he added, 
 be wiser to wait, and when the time came, he would be 
 ready to welcome them into the Convention.* I was 
 reading the morning paper, as it was only routine busi- 
 ness, but as soon as Mr. McCrady offered his resolution, I 
 dropped the paper, and looked around the church, to see 
 if no one would meet it ; as no one moved, I rose, and 
 said : * ' Mr. President, is not that an extraordinary reso- 
 lution ? We have a committee appointed to consider 
 all such applications ; have we lost confidence in that 
 committee ? What does the gentleman from St. Philip's 
 mean ? " 
 
 * The time never came in his administration. He was blind, 
 and sick, and feeble, and was not equal to the emergency, and 
 they waited for nine years. Then Bishop Howe thought the time 
 had come, and took counsel only from the Canons and Constitu- 
 tion of the Church, from his own Catholic spirit, and from the 
 Divine Master, who established His Church for all mankind. 
 
More Travels Abroad. 309 
 
 This brought Mr. McCrady to his feet, and he gave a 
 lawyer's intricate reasons for his motion. I replied, by say- 
 ing: " Why should we dodge the question raised ? Sooner 
 or later that petition had to come. It was the logical re- 
 sult of the surrender at Appomattox, and all this opposition 
 springs from the fact that St. Mark's is a colored congre- 
 gation. Let us here and now say, that if they have 
 complied with all the requirements of the constitu- 
 tion, they be admitted into union. Or, like men, let us 
 say at once they shall not be admitted because they are 
 colored, and no colored delegates shall sit in this Conven- 
 tion." 
 
 Mr. George A. Trenholm sustained me, so did Col. E. 
 M. Seabrook and others ; while Judge H. D. Lessesne, 
 Mr. Meminger, and others ranged themselves on Mr. 
 McCrady' s side. The discussion was very warm, but an 
 adjournment was made before the vote was taken. The 
 next day the discussion was resumed, motion after motion 
 followed, but all were lost, and finally Mr. McCrady' s 
 resolution was adopted. That year was not unimproved 
 by those in the opposition, and when the Convention met 
 in Columbia, May 10, 1876, the. whole diocese was in 
 fever heat, and on the second day, Mr. McCrady read the 
 report of the commission appointed under his resolution, 
 which was signed but by three of the commission. 
 
 In the providence of God, the majority of the commis- 
 sion had dwindled away by sickness, removal, or death, 
 and the minority, as appointed, became the majority, and 
 had their first say. Among others I made a speech, which 
 was published in the News and Courier, in full, and is 
 therefore on record in the annals of the State, and I have 
 never been ashamed of it, nor have ever doubted I was 
 right. Of course I opposed Mr. McCrady' s report with 
 all the force I possessed. At the close of the debate, the 
 Bishop addressed the Convention at length, and his speech, 
 
310 Led On! 
 
 as recorded in the Journal of 1876, is instructive and in- 
 teresting reading to-day. 
 
 This controversy went on for thirteen years, and shook 
 the Church in the diocese to its centre. It was a sad 
 and a miserable time. Friends and families were divided ; 
 the Bishop was an intense sufferer, but he was unflinching 
 in his convictions. His life was a martyrdom for the 
 truth, and he went to his grave with the iron lodged in 
 his soul. He was unfortunately a Northerner, a New 
 Hampshire man by birth, but he had been in the diocese 
 since he was twenty-one years old, and had been the 
 idolized rector of St. Philip's Church. But all the love 
 was forgotten in that bitter contest. As for myself, I 
 stood by him through good and evil report, loving the 
 people, working for them, educating and supporting their 
 children, and being a Southerner, an ex-slaveholder and 
 planter, the son and the grandson of slaveholders, it could 
 not be attributed to me that it was my foreign birth, but 
 rather that I was a traitor to my section. But as the 
 Bishop stood on Catholic ground, so did I, and fought as 
 long as it was possible to fight. It was only when Col. 
 John Haskel and Mr. Robert Shand, in Anderson, rose in 
 Convention and told us we knew they were with us, but 
 they never would be permitted to meet with us again un- 
 less some way was found to pacify the diocese, that I came 
 forward and offered resolutions which will be found in the 
 Journal of 1888, of the Convention held in Anderson. 
 These were unanimously carried, and paved the way for 
 rehabilitation. It was a compromise, but it stilled the 
 tempest, and in time brought back all the parishes which 
 had seceded, save St. Paul's and St. Michael's, — the latter 
 of which, under the judicious guidance of the Rev. John 
 Kershaw, the present rector, will undoubtedly soon return 
 to the Convention. 
 
 The ecclesiastical troubles of 1875- 1876 had greatly 
 
More Travels Abroad, 311 
 
 absorbed me. The political atmosphere was thick and 
 gloomy. I had collected no money anywhere, and had 
 been compelled to do exterior repairs, and make additions 
 to buildings, and I saw that without some help I could 
 but face a debt of fifteen thousand dollars at the close of 
 the term, in July, 1876. So I wrote a letter to a very rich 
 man in New York — he died leaving an estate to an only 
 son, worth near one hundred millions of dollars. He 
 knew me well ; I had dined at his house with the Rev. Dr. 
 Dix, and he and his wife had been kind to my work, and 
 yet, for no reason whatever that I could account for, save 
 the political feeling about the time of General Grant's 
 election to the presidency, which ran quite bitter against 
 the South, I received from him the coldest kind of a letter, 
 in which he stated that he had so many calls immediately 
 around him that he had nothing to give to anything be- 
 yond. Well, I thought, if that be true of one of the richest 
 men in America, what is the use of telling your needs to 
 anyone else ? So I did not. 
 
 Thus matters went on, each day putting me deeper in 
 debt for teachers' salaries, and daily expenses for this large 
 school ; till without one cheering event to show that God's 
 watchful care was over us, the, anxiety to which I was con- 
 stantly subjected began to tell upon my enfeebled con- 
 stitution. It was about the time of my severe illness the 
 year before, and my appearance excited alarm among my 
 friends. One day in May, 1876, Mr. Charles T. Lowndes, 
 whom I met in Broad Street, remarked, '' You are look- 
 ing very sick and feeble." I said, " I do not look worse 
 than I feel." He went on, '* You must go to Europe." 
 '* Why, Mr. Lowndes," I said, " I could as easily go to 
 the moon." " No, sir," he replied, " you must go ; you 
 have made yourself necessary to the Church and to the 
 State. You must not die yet if it can be prevented." 
 
 I thanked him for his kindness, but saw no way 
 
312 Led On I 
 
 by which the visit could be accomplished, and so we 
 parted. 
 
 About ten days afterwards Mr. Lowndes inquired if I 
 had made any arrangements to go. I told him I had not 
 thought of it, except to thank him for his kindness. ' * I 
 have thought of it, ' ' he answered, ' * and have made ar- 
 rangements for you to go. As I dare say your basket is 
 empty at your school, I have already sent you my annual 
 subscription " (which, by the way, was a large one), '' and 
 I can send you some more money, but if I do it will only 
 go into the general fund and be consumed. If I send you 
 abroad and you recover your health, I will be doing more 
 for the school than merely paying its present baker's 
 bill." 
 
 Thus saying, he asked me to step into his counting- 
 house. There he filled up a check, and said, " Now, sir, 
 when you get on the other side let me know and I will 
 send you more." 
 
 I was quite overwhelmed by this unexpected kindness, 
 but feeling I had not in any way moved in the matter, I 
 believed it was God's method of helping on my work. I 
 frankly thanked Mr. I^owndes for his generous and 
 thoughtful kindness, and expressed my willingness to go, 
 provided my vestry consented, which they promptly did. 
 Several friends hearing of this, notably Mr. Theo. D. 
 Wagner, helped me with funds. Dear Mr. Trenholm was 
 too ill to think of such matters ; he died while I was in 
 Europe. As these friends thought that I was too feeble 
 to go abroad alone, they arranged that as soon as my son 
 Theodore graduated in Hartford from Trinity College, 
 he must go to take care of me, and they provided the 
 funds. I took my wife and child Charles, and Josephine, 
 my adopted daughter, to Asheville, where I procured 
 board for them. My mother preferred staying in Charles- 
 ton, and on the 5th of July, 1876, I sailed in the Abyssinia, 
 
More Travels Abroad. 313 
 
 leaving the school in the charge of Mr. John Gadsden, 
 and the church in the hands of the vestry, committing 
 them all to God. I left behind a debt of fifteen thousand 
 dollars, not knowing how it ever could be paid. But my 
 creditors were all very considerate, and told me that they 
 would wait, being sure they would be paid in time. Now, 
 previous to sailing thirty-three of my boys were confirmed, 
 and there were six graduates of colleges in course of 
 preparation for the ministry. During the winter of 1876, 
 I had frequently visited the United States arsenal grounds, 
 as many of the officers attended the Church of the 
 Holy Communion. It is a whole square of eight acres of 
 land, with many buildings on it. I became impressed 
 with the belief that in not a very long time, Charleston 
 would be given up as a military post and the arsenal 
 would be abandoned. The needs of my school had out- 
 grown the capacity of my builidings and grounds, and I 
 felt that this arsenal was the place I needed. How to get 
 it was of course the question. I told my wife what was 
 in my mind, and daily at our prayers together we asked 
 that, if it were possible, when the Government had no 
 further use for it, I might obtain it. It seemed a far-off 
 hope, but I did a great deal of thinking about it, in our 
 ten days' trip across the Atlantic. 
 
 We landed at Queenstown on the 15th of July, and 
 went to Cork, Killarney, and Dublin, across to Glasgow 
 and Edinburgh, Stirling, and the lakes of Scotland, and 
 down to Ivondon, where we arrived on the 5th of August. 
 I had left London on the 15th of October, 1858, with my 
 wife. How much had happened in those eighteen years ! 
 I had taken letters of introduction to Messrs. Brown, 
 Shipley & Co., to the Lord Bishop of Winchester, to the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, to Dean Stanley, and to Doctor 
 Tremlett, of St. Peter's, Hampstead. I called at the office 
 of Messrs. Brown, Shipley & Co., and sent in my card, 
 
314 Led On I 
 
 with Mr. Howard Potter's letter of introduction. Mr. 
 William Collet met me with the words, " Where have 
 you been ? We have been expecting you for three weeks. 
 You are doing a very wonderful work in America, and no 
 doubt you would like to get some help in England. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Pardon me, ' ' I said ; ' ' how do you know anything 
 of my work ? ' ' 
 
 '' Oh," he said, '' Mr. Howard Potter sent me your 
 pamphlet. It reads like a novel, and if it did not come so 
 endorsed is scarcely credible. ' ' 
 
 I said to him : '' It is all true ; God's providence has 
 sent me abroad, in search of health. I have become much 
 shattered by my anxious life. I have come only for health. 
 There is too much money in America, for me to come to 
 England for help. It would be a reflection on the gener- 
 osity of my fellow-citizens. ' ' 
 
 ** Well," he said, *' your work will touch the religious 
 heart of the English people, and if we give you money 
 without your asking for it, will you not take it ? " 
 
 " Of course," I answered, " on those conditions I would 
 be grateful for any help. ' ' 
 
 He said : " You look like a sick man. Go to Switzer- 
 land, and spend the summer there. Try to forget your 
 responsibilities at home and get well. Come back in the 
 autumn, when people return to I^ondon, and we will help 
 you." 
 
 We remained a few days in London, where I met my 
 friend, Mrs. Ogle Taylo^ of Washington, D. C, with her 
 niece. Miss Price, of Troy. She insisted on my seeing 
 that celebrated physician, Sir Andrew Clark. I told her 
 it was impossible ; I did not have the means to visit such 
 a celebrity. She said she had arranged for all that, and 
 had made an appointment for me. I called, and Doctor 
 Clark was very kind. He gave me a searching examina- 
 tion, and told me my lungs were perfectly sound, and 
 
More Travels Abroad. 315 
 
 that the hemorrhage had been from the heart's feeble 
 action ; that the anxieties of an overtaxed life had told 
 upon my nervous system, and that separation from my 
 work was my only safety. I must try to forget America, 
 the church and school, for had I remained much longer at 
 my post my case would have been hopeless. Rest and a 
 bracing air would bring me all right again. I felt better 
 at once on hearing this opinion. My son Theodore was 
 a young man fresh from college, and Miss Price,* a bright 
 blooming young girl on her first outing. Mrs. Taylor was 
 very glad for her to have an escort, and they had a good 
 time together, at the theatres, drives, and general sight- 
 seeing of London. 
 
 We went to Paris ; from there to Switzerland, visiting 
 Geneva, Chamouni, Lausanne, Martigny, the Ghorner 
 Grat, the Rhone Glacier, the Wengem Alp, Interlaken, 
 Lucerne, Basle, Berne, Cologne, Antwerp, Brussels, and 
 Paris, returning to London on the 29th of September. 
 My son, with Colonel Simons, who was our companion in 
 travel, left me that afternoon and sailed for America to 
 enter the Berkeley Divinity School, at Middletown. My 
 health was so far restored, that I too could have returned 
 home, but there was that fifteen thousand dollars debt 
 staring me in the face, and the promise of Mr. Collet to 
 fall back on. I can never forget the awful loneliness of 
 that moment, as the train rolled out of Huston Station, 
 and I stood on the platform — alone — in London, knowing 
 only Mr. Collet, of Brown, Shipley & Co. The school 
 had been disbanded a month earlier in consequence of my 
 absence, but the ist of October was at hand, and how 
 could I open again with that debt before me ? The Bank 
 of Charleston had enabled me to tide over the summer, 
 but notes would soon fall due, and not a dollar had come 
 in. I felt as powerless as a child alone on a raft in the 
 midst of the tempestuous sea. I was very much in the state 
 
 *Miss Price married Mr. Ham mersley, then the Duke of Marl- 
 borough, and is now I^ady Berresford. 
 
3i6 Led On! 
 
 of mind in which I stood on Broadway, New York, in 1866, 
 when Bishop Davis sent me on his mission. But I felt I 
 was in London in the providence of God, and I cast my- 
 self on Him, who has said : ' * Cast thy care upon God, for 
 He careth for thee. ' ' I believed it, and trusted Him. I 
 went to Russell Square and engaged a room. The next 
 day I took a hansom, and drove five miles to Doctor 
 Tremlett's at Belsize Park. It is not easy to describe my 
 reception there. The Doctor was engaged and could not 
 see me, but he sent my letter to his mother and sister, 
 who received me cordially, making me feel I was no 
 longer a stranger in a strange land. I found that this 
 hospitable house had been the headquarters of many 
 Southerners during the civil war, all of whom were 
 known to me. Bishop Quintard, an old friend who had 
 visited England in the interest of the University of the 
 South, had also been Doctor Tremlett's guest. Thus 
 bound together by subjects of common interest, we soon 
 became well acquainted, and a friendship began that night 
 which strengthened with years and is one of the sweet 
 memories of life. Hours rolled on and still the Doctor did 
 not make his appearance. In the meanwhile, not having 
 learned the ways of London, I had kept the cab, much to 
 the satisfaction of the driver, but dearly to the cost of my 
 not overfull purse. As I was leaving, the Doctor came 
 in apologizing for his delay, but he said, ' * As a clergy- 
 man, you can easily understand." His first words were, 
 ' ' Where are you staying ? " I told him my address. 
 " Stay where you are, and give me the number of your 
 packages, and I will go and bring your luggage here." 
 This I declined with many thanks, but he said : * * You 
 are a South Carolina clergyman, in London alone, with a 
 letter from the Bishop of Alabama, and not staying in my 
 house. I will not tolerate it. You must come here and 
 make your home here while you stay in London. ' ' 
 
More Travels Abroad. 317 
 
 He was so earnest that I yielded, but refusing his offer 
 to get my effects, I went myself, and by ten o'clock I 
 found myself the guest of a gentleman I had never seen 
 before, and at whose house I remained four months and a 
 half, only broken by occasional visits to others. I cannot 
 convey an idea of the genial and generous hospitality of 
 those months ; had I been a brother I could not have 
 been treated with greater kindness. Just before retiring 
 that night, I gave the Doctor one of my pamphlets which 
 contained the records of my school to the close of 1875. 
 Next morning he said to me : ' ' You ought never to give 
 that book to anyone late in the evening if you do not in- 
 tend to take away his night's rest. I began to read it, 
 not intending to spend much time over it, but I read on 
 and on until I had read every word, and it was near 
 morning when I finished it. I had no idea who you were 
 when I asked you to stay with me. You must get some 
 aid in England." 
 
 I told him that I had come to England for health, and 
 would have returned with my son, but for the observation 
 of Mr. Collet, which was similar to his, and it did seem 
 that God was making a way for me, and therefore I had 
 remained. He said there were many persons in England 
 who would be interested in such a work ; the only trouble 
 would be to reach them, but he would lend me his aid, 
 which he did most royally. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 gene;rous hkivPKrs 
 Account of my warm reception in England. 
 
 NOW, reader, do you see the hand of God in all this ? 
 My broken health alone put me where I was. If 
 you do not yet understand, read on, and you soon will. 
 That day I called on Mr. Collet. By this time Mr. Hamil- 
 ton, the head of the firm of Brown, Shipley & Co., had 
 returned, and I received from himself, his wife and 
 daughter, most cordial and enjoyable hospitality, at Brent 
 lyodge, Finchley, near I^ondon. Mrs. Hamilton had lost 
 two dear boys in one week, and when my story was 
 known it struck a responsive chord. Mr. Collet gave a 
 dinner party to which he invited a number of gentlemen 
 whom he had told that he wished to introduce me and 
 desired them to hear the story I had to tell. After dinner 
 Mr. Collet requested me to tell my story. I did not know 
 at the time that those gentlemen had come to hear it, and 
 I told it as succinctly as I could. They asked many 
 questions and before we left the dinner-table, a day had 
 been named by each, asking me to dinner. Next day I 
 received a note from each containing a check for from 
 five pounds up to fifty pounds. I dined with each of 
 these gentlemen and met a different party each time, with 
 the same results. I had twenty-five copies of my pamphlet 
 
 318 
 
Generous Helpers, 3 1 9 
 
 with me and my friends requested me to cable the Messrs. 
 Appleton, who had published it, for five hundred copies : 
 these arrived and were soon distributed. My friends pub- 
 lished in England an edition of one thousand, which they 
 distributed, so that help came to me from many quarters. 
 By the ist of December I felt that I had been long enough 
 in lyondon, so I prepared to return. I had letters to Mr. 
 Stephen Watson, from Mr. Wm. M. Lawton, of Charles- 
 ton, and to Mr. A. H. Brown, M.P., from Mr. Howard 
 Potter. I sent these to lyiverpool, and soon received 
 pressing invitations from both gentlemen to visit them. 
 During my visit in London, I had presented my letter of 
 introduction to the Lord Bishop of Winchester, Harold 
 Browne, well known as the author of the work on the 
 Thirt3^-nine Articles of Religion. He entertained me at 
 his Episcopal palace, Fulham. He was a charming man, 
 simple and unostentatious. Walking with him in his 
 grounds, I two or three times addressed him as Bishop, 
 when catching myself, I begged pardon by saying * * My 
 Lord. ' ' He put his arm around my neck and said : " I 
 am only Bishop to you ; never mind about the * My 
 Lord.' " 
 
 I also presented my letter to Archbishop Tait, of Canter- 
 bury, with whom I dined. He took me all over Lambeth 
 Palace, and pointed out many historic places, and was 
 genial and courteous. I also met Dean Stanley, but dis- 
 tinguished as he was, he did not interest me. He gave 
 me a letter to his sister, Mrs. Vaughan, the wife of the 
 Master of the Temple, and Mrs. Vaughan invited me to 
 several receptions, and to dinner. She was rather given 
 to assemble in her parlors everybody and anybody from 
 all parts of the world who had been in any way distin- 
 guished for having done anything out of the ordinary life. 
 
 Quite an amusing circumstance occurred while I was 
 in London. There were some persons from India, or from 
 
320 Led On f 
 
 Africa, I forget which, and she invited them to dinner, 
 with guests to meet them. Of course they were of dark 
 complexion. The day came, and the hour for dinner, 
 and five minutes are allowed a guest for delay, after 
 which the dinner is served. Ten minutes passed and the 
 dinner was announced, but the special guests did not put 
 in an appearance. The hour passed and still they did not 
 come. At length Mrs. Vaughan asked the butler if no 
 one had called during dinner. * * No one, ' ' he said, ' ' ex- 
 cept some nigger minstrels, but they had been sent away." 
 Mrs. Vaughan' s consternation can be imagined, for they 
 were not nigger minstrels, but her guests. I heard a good 
 story in I^ondon of a certain merchant : There was a 
 clergyman noted for good works, who had a ready entrie 
 to the prominent offices in I^ondon. He called on this 
 merchant and told his object. Of course the merchant 
 assented and drew his check, put it in an envelope, and 
 gave it to the minister. He was raising two thousand 
 pounds and when he went out of the office he opened the 
 envelope and found it was for one thousand pounds. Re- 
 turning at once, he said : ' ' Surely you have made a mis- 
 take, you meant to give me one hundred pounds and you 
 gave me one thousand pounds." " No," the merchant 
 answered ; '* your time is too valuable to be going about 
 much, and I wished to hasten the time when you would 
 get what you need for your work. But I am glad that 
 you have come back. Since you left I have opened my 
 mail and find that things have changed with me. Two 
 of my ships have gone down in the China Sea, and as we 
 are our own insurers, they are a total loss. I will have 
 to get you to return that check." 
 
 The clergyman of course gave it back and very much 
 regretting his friend's loss as well as his own, he turned 
 to go, but the merchant stopped him saying : * * You can- 
 not go from this office empty-handed." So he drew 
 
Generous Helpers, 321 
 
 another check, put it in an envelope, and gave it to the 
 clergyman, who again looked at it when he reached the 
 street. He thought he could not read aright, as the check 
 was written for two thousand pounds. So he hastened 
 back, saying: *' My friend, you certainly now have made 
 a mistake. You meant twenty pounds and 3^ou have made 
 it two thousand pounds. " " No, ' ' was the repl}^ ; "I 
 meant two thousand pounds, for if my fortune is going 
 to the bottom of the sea, I wish to deposit some of it first 
 where it cannot be lost. ' ' 
 
 Some 3^ears after this I was again in lyondon and dining 
 with my dear friend, Mr. Fred. A. White. I related the 
 story and wondered if it was true. His uncle, the Rev. 
 Kdw. White, was at table, and said it was true ; he had 
 known the merchant and the clergyman and the circum- 
 stance. But how many of us Christian people are like 
 that merchant ? 
 
 I left lyOndon and went to lyiverpool, to be the guest of 
 Mr. Stephen Watson and Mr. Brown, by both of whom 
 I was most hospitably entertained and generously helped. 
 I noticed one evening that Mr. Watson, who was an old 
 gentleman, was a little fidgety, and it occurred to me that 
 whist was a habit with some old gentlemen, so I asked, 
 * ' Mr. Watson, do you play whist ? ' ' He said, ' ' Yes, 
 he was very fond of it. " 
 
 ' ' Why do you not play, then ? ' ' 
 
 ** We are only three, and the dummy would not be 
 entertaining to 3^ou. ' ' 
 
 ** Oh," I said, " I have not played a game of whist for 
 twenty years, but I will be as good as dummy ; if you will 
 let me take a hand, I will do so with pleasure." 
 
 The old gentleman brightened up : ''You will?" he 
 said. ' ' Why, certainly. ' ' 
 
 The cards were ordered, and we played over five games. 
 
 I soon found I was doubly welcome, and instead of a 
 
322 Led On I 
 
 couple of days, he insisted on my staying a week. Friday 
 came and I was to leave on the Scythia. The next day a 
 budget of letters were forwarded from I^ondon; among 
 them was one which has had a great influence on the 
 shaping of many events of my after life. It was very 
 short : it was in these words : 
 
 * ' R:ev. AND DEAR Sir : 
 
 ' * I have read your little book and would like to make 
 your acquaintance. I am a very busy man, and therefore 
 if you will make an appointment, I will call and see you, 
 but if you will not stand on ceremony and will call on me, 
 I will be glad to see you. 
 
 ' * Yours truly, 
 
 " Ge;org:e: H. WiIvKinson.'* 
 
 I had read Mr. Wilkinson's book, The Devout Life, and 
 had heard a great deal about the author in I^ondon, of 
 whom what Churchman in those days who entered the 
 church life in I^ondon did not hear ? Such a man had 
 made himself felt even in such a mighty world as London. 
 He was then the vicar of St. Peter's Church, Eaton 
 Square, and afterwards Bishop of Truro, where he suc- 
 ceeded Doctor Benson. Doctor Wilkinson became the 
 Bishop of St, Andrew's, Edinburgh, Scotland. He was 
 the very centre of an immense church work. To reach 
 him had never entered my head ; to interest him in my 
 work I had never presumed to hope ; I had not done or 
 said a thing to bring this about. How he had got hold 
 of my pamphlet, I did not know, and yet, here was a let- 
 ter from him asking me to call and see him. 
 
 Here was another door which God had opened for me. 
 I was very much in the same state of mind in which I 
 think St. Peter was when the angel opened the prison 
 
Generous Helpers, 323 
 
 door and let him out. I telegraphed Doctor Tremlett 
 that I would return on Saturday, for the Cunard Line 
 agreed to extend my ticket for six months. 
 
 I therefore forwarded five thousand five hundred dollars 
 to Charleston and went back to London. How different 
 my frame of mind from what it had been two and a half 
 months before, when I was left by my son and Colonel 
 Simons alone ! I showed Mr. Wilkinson's note to Doctor 
 Tremlett and he told me how Mr. Wilkinson had received 
 my book — that he, Doctor Tremlett, had given it to the 
 Rev. Dr. Cutts, the author of Turning Points in Church 
 History^ a most interesting book. Doctor Cutts had given 
 my pamphlet to Mr. Wilkinson, and told Mr. Tremlett 
 that he was sure if Mr. Wilkinson read it, he would be 
 my friend and I would find his friendship valuable ; that 
 the door was now open to me wider than it was before. I 
 went to St. Peter's, Baton Square, on Sunday morning, 
 when Mr. Wilkinson preached from the text, St. Mark 
 ii., 2: "And Jesus entered into Jerusalem and into 
 the Temple : and when He had looked round about upon 
 all things, and now the eventide had come, He went 
 out unto Bethany with the twelve. ' ' I thought I never 
 heard such preaching. It was not learned or abstruse, 
 nor what in general would be called eloquent, but it was 
 eloquence of the sublimest kind. Every word came with 
 power and the congregation seemed spellbound ; there 
 was a deathlike stillness over the throng of worship- 
 pers, and when he came to the close, he said slowly and 
 calmly: " And now, my brethren, this same Jesus has 
 come into this Temple to-day, and is looking around upon 
 all things. He is looking at you. Yes, He is looking 
 through you (pointing to one portion of his flock), and 
 through you (pointing to another quarter of the church), 
 yes, through me, through ever>^one of us, and " — leaning 
 on his pulpit, gazing with a fixed earnestness into the 
 
324 Led On I 
 
 faces of his hearers, he added, slowly, ' ' and what does He 
 see in us ? " 
 
 He waited a moment, then rising, he turned and made 
 the ascription to the Triune God. I have never forgotten 
 the moment; every countenance seemed to express the 
 thought, ' ' What does He see in me ? " Over twenty years 
 have passed, but my reverend brother's words have often 
 been asked since then : ' ' What does He see in me ? ' ' Mr. 
 Wilkinson was a man, at that time, whom to know was a 
 privilege. If ever a man lived within the veil, it was 
 himself. He was nearly exhausted with hard work when 
 he was made Bishop of Truro. At Truro he built the 
 Choir of the Cathedral, and an exquisite work it is, but 
 the pressure was too great, and he broke down in health 
 utterly. 
 
 In due time after the close of the service, I sent my card 
 into the vestry-room. Never will I forget that day. Mr. 
 Wilkinson came forward and extending both of his hands, 
 took mine in them, saying: '' My brother, I am glad to see 
 you ; I have read your book ; I know I am very full- 
 handed, and thought I could not take hold of another 
 thing, but you are doing a work that has upon it so mani- 
 festly the impress of God, that I claim the privilege of 
 sharing with you some of the blessing. I can help you 
 and I will." 
 
 Then I was introduced to his dear wife and children. 
 She has now gone to her Saviour, leaving a vacancy that 
 only memory fills ; a memory that dwells fondly on her 
 beautiful, loving presence, that made her home so attrac- 
 tive and so enjoyable, for she was everything to that 
 household, its sunlight and its joy. 
 
 In 1 88 1, when we had moved from our old quarters in 
 the building I had bought in 1868, I refitted the house 
 and called it, in memory of her, The CaroUne Wilkinson 
 Home. It was a refuge for ladies in reduced circum- 
 
Generous Helpers, 325 
 
 stances, with accommodation for fourteen, and it has been 
 filled nearly ever since. Several widows and orphans of 
 clergymen have there found shelter. It is the charge of 
 my parish, and we do all we can to add to the comfort of 
 its inmates. I wish I had a few thousand dollars invested 
 to make it a more desirable home. 
 
 Mr. Wilkinson had invited me to preach for him the 
 following Sunday night, which I did, but Mrs. Wilkinson 
 said that was not the opportunity that I ought to have. 
 It was the morning congregation I needed to address. 
 
 The Vicar looked over his engagements and found I 
 could not have his pulpit until the 14th of February. 
 This was the i8th of December. In the meantime Mr. 
 Wilkinson undertook that home after home was thrown 
 open to me, several pulpits were secured, friends were 
 made in new circles, and offerings began to come in 
 again. 
 
 My good friend. Doctor Tremlett, whose guest I still 
 was, had introduced me to many of his flock, so that when 
 I preached at his church, I addressed a number of persons 
 whose acquaintance I had made. I preached morning and 
 night to a large congregation and the offering was, next 
 to St. Peter's, Eaton Square, the largest that I received 
 in England. Indeed, it was much larger than I ever re- 
 ceived after preaching in any church in America. 
 
 I had now been absent from home since the ist of July 
 and affairs there needed my presence. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Perry had broken down in health, had been 
 called to Maryland, had gone, and I was needed in the 
 school ; and my wife, whose health was so frail, had begun 
 to feel the separation. 
 
 A frightful state of things had prevailed at home. 
 
 One of those horrors of the American system of govern- 
 ment that occurs every four years, the election of a Presi- 
 dent, which always deranges finance and politics, had 
 
326 Led On/ 
 
 been held, the result having brought the country again 
 to the verge of civil war. 
 
 South Carolina had been the scene of violent agitation, 
 Charleston had been taken possession of by a desperate 
 mob of negroes, and blood had been shed in the streets. 
 
 A young man who had been educated at my school, and 
 was then a member of my choir, had been shot dead, while 
 quietly walking with his father to his business, ignorant 
 of the disturbance that was going on. 
 
 But for the firmness of General Hunt, who lived at the 
 arsenal, and was in command of the United States forces 
 in the city, and the cool courage and tact of General 
 James Conner (the same man to whom I had offered the 
 command of the Washington lyight Infantry Volunteers 
 in 1 86 1 under St. Michael's porch), there would have 
 been an awful massacre of negroes, and none can tell 
 what might have been the consequence. 
 
 The negroes had been incited by some of the miserable 
 carpet-baggers and scaliwags, as they were termed, rene- 
 gade Southerners, to deeds of violence, and in this case 
 they were the aggressors. Every white man flew to 
 arms. The Rifle Clubs rendezvoused at their armories 
 and five thousand armed, incensed men chafed that they 
 were held in check. One word and the trouble would 
 have been quelled, but thousands of blacks would have 
 died. James Conner, however, rode from armory to 
 armory and appealed for the obedience of the men, and 
 for their trust in him. Such was the respect and confi- 
 dence they had in him that they obeyed. Going to General 
 Hunt, he reported a large body of citizen soldiery ready 
 for duty, and General Hunt directed him to bring out his 
 men, and to range them in the rear of his United States 
 troops. So overwhelming a display of organized power 
 soon quelled the mob, and so the bloodshed was stopped 
 and a fearful massacre prevented. All honor to the 
 
Generous Helpers, 327 
 
 memory of General Hunt and General James Conner, two 
 names worthy of high place in American history, and to 
 whom Charleston ought to be eternally grateful. 
 
 Under all these circumstances I determined my duty 
 was to start home, although it was a risk to make the pas- 
 sage at that midwinter season, on the 17th of February. 
 
 On the 14th day of February, I preached to an immense 
 congregation at St. Peter's, Baton Square. Mr. Wilkin- 
 son had said, * ' Do not preach longer than twenty minutes, 
 for I will announce that you will again preach at four 
 o'clock, when I only have a hymn and a few collects and 
 the sermon, and you can then preach as long as you desire. ' ' 
 While the service was going on, he asked if my voice 
 could fill the church. '' Try me," I said, " with the first 
 lesson." I read it, and as I came back he said, '* You 
 will do. ' ' I went into the pulpit, feeling that I had be- 
 fore me the very cream of the English aristocracy, titled 
 people without number, but I did not feel one tenth the 
 excitement I did the day, in 1865, I preached to Doctor 
 lyittlejohn's congregation in Brooklyn. 
 
 I went on very quietly for a quarter of an hour, when 
 my mind suddenly failed me ; I could not have said an- 
 other word for my life. So I turned and made the ascrip- 
 tion and came down. Mr. Wilkinson said : * * Just right, 
 you have left off where you have made them wish to hear 
 more." It was not premeditated ; memory had left me. 
 The verger told Mr. Wilkinson that the Marquis of 
 Westminster, as he went out of the church, said to him: 
 " That gentleman evidently had more to tell," and he 
 came back at four o'clock to hear what I had to say. 
 The church was again crowded at four o'clock and Mr. 
 Wilkinson told me he saw persons there he had never 
 before seen at a second service. 
 
 I preached again at night to a wholly different class of 
 people, but this time my effort was to help them, not they 
 
328 Led On! 
 
 to help me. After the service in the morning, a card was 
 sent into the vestry and a gentleman desired an introduc- 
 tion ; this was Mr. Frederick A. White, then of Kenross 
 House, Cromwell Road. 
 
 I had but one night unengaged before I was to leave 
 lyondon, which he requested me to spend at his house, 
 as I did. An ever-memorable night it was, for then 
 began a friendship which I prize as one of the most pre- 
 cious of my life, and even up to January i, 1897, ^ ^^" 
 ceived a cable from him of love and greeting. He added 
 largely to the offering made at St. Peter's. On the i6th 
 I received a card from the Earl of Aberdeen, then quite 
 a young man, inviting me to luncheon, and to spend the 
 evening with him. 
 
 I was to leave at four o'clock in the morning, and had 
 bidden them good-bye at Doctor Tremlett's and at Mr. 
 White's, and so I stayed with the Karl. About ten 
 o'clock I proposed to go, for I had to get my luggage 
 from where I had left it, but he asked for the receipt 
 from the expressman, and begged me to stay and we 
 talked on until three in the morning. Perhaps he may 
 have forgotten that night ; I never shall. His landau 
 was at the door, and he told me his man would meet me 
 at the station with my trunk, and as he bade me good- 
 bye he handed me an envelope with a check for one hun- 
 dred pounds, the same amount which he had previously 
 given me. 
 
 At the house of Mr. Wilkinson, I had met Mr. and Mrs. 
 Thomas Kinscote, he, the grandson of Lord Bloomfield, 
 and she, the daughter of I^ord Gordon, both of whom are 
 still my warm friends. 
 
 I also met Hon. Edward Thesinger, son of Lord Chelms- 
 ford, who, with his wife, were warm friends. 
 
 Through the Earl of Aberdeen, I was introduced to 
 Lord High Chancellor of England, and Lady Shelborne, 
 
Generous Helpers. 329 
 
 at whose hands in after years, I received many acts 
 of kindness, as I did from Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, and 
 Sir William Collet, from the Messrs. Gilliat of Crosby 
 Square — yes, from a host of friends, I received kindness for 
 which I have not language to express my gratitude. 
 
 My fellow countryman, Mr. J. S. Morgan, extended to 
 me warm hospitality, renewed his donation, and con- 
 tinued until his death to do the same. 
 
 When I arrived at Liverpool I wrote to Mr. Wilkinson 
 that I was going home with all my fifteen thousand dol- 
 lars provided for, except seventy-one pounds, which I 
 knew I could collect in New York. When I reached 
 Queenstown a telegram met me, saying : " Go on your 
 way rejoicing, as the Karl of Aberdeen has put seventy- 
 one pounds to your credit." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 A CHURCH FOR COIyORKD PKOPI,:^ 
 
 The School is full — The colored question in the Church — The 
 Bishop piles another burden on my willing shoulders — How 
 I went to work to build up St. Mark' s — I found the House 
 of Rest. 
 
 WHEN I look back at that visit to England, whither 
 I went a sick man, knowing no one, with a debt 
 of fifteen thousand dollars on my shoulders, when I re- 
 member how I returned with health reestablished, with a 
 host of friends and the debt all paid, am I wrong in stating 
 that God had His own way to accomplish His ends ? 
 Had I not been sick I would never have gone to England, 
 and much of my after life had not been lived. On the ist 
 of March, 1877, I arrived in New York, after a long voy- 
 age, for the Abyssinia was a slow boat, but the ocean was 
 as smooth as a mill-pond. I have crossed the ocean five 
 times in summer, but have never had so calm a passage 
 as this in midwinter. After a short visit to my boys at 
 Union College, Schenectady, I returned home, where a 
 warm welcome greeted me. 
 
 The Home and School were full of boys. Mr. Perry 
 had been ordained priest ; Mr. P. H. Whaley had been 
 ordained a deacon, in Connecticut. Both of them had 
 been my boys, the latter had been a playmate of that 
 
 330 
 
A Church for Colored People. 331 
 
 sainted child at whose grave this institution arose, and 
 he was the first boy who came into my mind, when God 
 told me to rouse myself from my grief, and go and do 
 something for Christ and His Church. Thus has He 
 blessed me. My child is in Paradise, but his young com- 
 panion, through my instrumentality, is doing His Master's 
 work in the Church miUtant. 
 
 He is now rector of the church in Pensacola, and has a 
 bright boy at my school. The generous treatment I had 
 received in England stimulated our people at home, but 
 though friends at the North aided me to some extent, we 
 closed the school in July with a debt of three thousand 
 five hundred dollars. In June, 1877, at St. Philip's 
 Church, Rt. Rev. W. B. W. Howe had ordained Mr. C. 
 J. La Roche to the diaconate. He was one of my boys, 
 was educated at my school, went to the University of the 
 South, and to the Theological Seminary at Nashotah, 
 and is now rector at Thomasville, Georgia. 
 
 I have mentioned that my wife and I had daily prayed 
 that whenever the arsenal was given up by the govern- 
 ment we might get it. 
 
 I had told General Hunt, who was in command, my 
 wishes, and he promised if ever the time came he would 
 assist me. In the fall of 1877, the General Convention 
 sat in Boston and I was the guest of Mr. Robert M. 
 Mason, as was Rt. Rev. Horatio Potter, of New York, 
 Bishop Whipple, of Minnesota, and others. It so hap- 
 pened that the delegations from I^ouisiana and South 
 Carolina sat in adjoining pews. Next to me was General 
 Auger, who was in command of the Southern Department, 
 and was a delegate from lyouisiana, who became my close 
 friend, and when I told him what I had told General 
 Hunt, he promised his aid also. This was in October, 
 1877. 
 
 We had reached the beginning of the eleventh year. 
 
^^2 Led On I 
 
 and the reader can form some faint idea of how full these 
 years were of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, all of 
 which are known in Heaven. But no one can tell what 
 such a work as this costs, but those who have the like 
 work to do. Does my reader say, * ' Why do you perse- 
 vere in doing it, why not give it up ? Enough has been 
 done and you are likely to weary your friends, and we 
 know all the work, the labor, the anxiety." My only 
 answer is, * ' I do not dare to stop. There is no cessation 
 for me until I lie down in the grave. God sent me to do 
 a work, and this work He has carried on in a manner that 
 is miraculous. ' ' 
 
 An amount of good has been accomplished which never 
 can be estimated in this world, and unless it becomes ap- 
 parent by the entire failure of means that the appointed 
 end has come, I simply must go on. Woe would be to 
 me, and more, if I should stop because of weariness. I 
 can no more cease my efforts than St. Paul could forego 
 to preach the Gospel ; like him, I must ' * forget the things 
 behind, and press for the mark." If this is fanaticism, it 
 is a strong conviction. 
 
 The last words of my dying child were, " O I/Ord, save 
 Thy people and bless Thine heritage," and I feel his 
 prayer is being answered. 
 
 While we were in Boston at the Convention, the Rev. 
 J. B. Seabrook, the rector of St. Mark's (the colored con- 
 gregation), died and they were left without a head. 
 
 They had bought an old building in Alexander Street 
 from St. Luke's Church, a building which Rev. C. P. 
 Gadsden had built while St. Luke's Church was in pro- 
 cess of erection. They had also bought a lot at the 
 corner of Thomas and Warren Streets, laid a brick founda- 
 tion, and set the frame of a large church up, and after the 
 death of Rev. Mr. Seabrook had stopped work from Octo- 
 ber to May. By very bad management some eleven thou- 
 
A Church for Colored People. 333 
 
 sand dollars had been wasted and this exhausted their 
 resources, and the congregation was fast disintegrating. 
 One day in May, 1878, Bishop Howe came to see me. I 
 was in my study and having just received several boxes 
 of very superior claret as a present from my friend Mr. 
 Thomas Kinscote, from England, I offered a glass to my 
 guest. After refreshing, the Bishop said : ** Porter, does 
 not St. Mark's Church trouble your conscience ? " 
 
 " Well," I said, "it is a shame. Bishop, that they are 
 not helped, and I never pass that frame building that I do 
 not feel the Church at large should take hold of it and 
 finish it." 
 
 * ' That is what I have come here for you to do. ' ' 
 
 * ' Bishop, I cannot do it, I am overwhelmed with work 
 now. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I know it, ' ' he said. ' ' You have more to do than 
 six men ordinarily have, and I think this will kill you, 
 yet it is a good cause to die in; but," he added, '' you 
 have always taken an interest in the colored work, they 
 are fond of you, and you are the only one of the clergy 
 who knows anything about finance, and there will have to 
 be a great deal of financial work done there, and you can 
 doit." 
 
 " Is it W. B. W. Howe who says this to me, or the Rt. 
 Rev. W. B. W. Howe ? If the former, I answer at once, 
 ' No, I will not touch it ' ; if it is my Bishop, I am under 
 orders and I will obey." 
 
 The Bishop laughed, and said, '* Well, it is the Bishop." 
 
 * * Very well, ' ' I replied, ' * you do not expect me to give 
 up the Church of the Holy Communion or the School, do 
 you?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, no, but you must take this too. ' ' 
 
 " Very well," I said ; '' go and have me elected rector, 
 and promise to give me, for one year, each of the deacons 
 as they are ordained, and I will undertake it," 
 
334 Led On ! 
 
 As he went out of my office, he added : ' * You have 
 rolled away a weight that was on my heart." 
 
 He went and assembled the vestry of St. Mark's and 
 told them their prospects. They were delighted, and at 
 once unanimously elected me rector. On Sunday night 
 the 7th of June, 1878, I held service for them and after 
 the sermon said : 
 
 ' ' Now, friends, your vestry have elected me your rector. 
 I can only give you a service one Sunday morning a 
 month, when I will have a Celebration, and also service 
 every Sunday night and Wednesday night. 
 
 '' I will visit your sick, bury your dead, and marry 
 those who desire me to do so. The Bishop promises me 
 Mr. La Roche, who will be ordained in a few days deacon, 
 and he will minister at other times, but if there is a man 
 among you who does not wish me to accept, now is the 
 time to say it or forever after hold your peace. 
 
 ' ' All who wish me to accept, rise. ' ' 
 
 Ninety-one men rose. ' * Now, ' ' I said, ' * those who do 
 not wish me to accept, rise. ' ' None rose. * ' While, ' ' I 
 said, '* women do not vote in this church, yet all of you 
 can express your wishes ; all the women who wish me to 
 accept, rise. ' ' Over two hundred rose, being all the wo- 
 men present. *' It is unanimous," I said, " and in the 
 name of the Trinity I accept the rectorship and next 
 Wednesday night I will be here, and after service I shall 
 talk about money and nothing else. Those who do not 
 wish to hear about that subject can stay away." 
 
 On Monday night I called a meeting of the younger 
 members of the vestry, C. C. Leslie, Richard Birnie, Wm, 
 Ingliss, and John Stoken, at Ingliss's house, and said : 
 " You know your people better than I do. How can I 
 best reach them next Wednesday night ? ' ' Birnie sug- 
 gested that I draw up two copies each of subscriptions for 
 twenty-five, twenty, fifteen, ten, and five dollars, payable 
 
A Church for Colored People. 335 
 
 quarterly, and then for miscellaneous amounts, and send 
 one after the other down the aisle. 
 
 I adopted his plan, and on Wednesday night the build- 
 ing was packed with the congregation. 
 
 I then told them I did not propose to stay long in 
 this tumble-down shanty, nor let their church go un- 
 finished ; that we must be in it in six months ; I would 
 not go for help outside until we had raised our last 
 dollar. That I would send these lists down among 
 them, and none of them must sign one of them for an 
 amount they would not pay. That I would place these 
 lists on the altar as a gift to God, and they must not rob 
 Him. 
 
 I then started the lists. I had no singing, no excite- 
 ment, but calmly read the offertory, expounding each 
 verse as I went along. As the lists were brought up, I 
 reverently placed them on the altar, and started sending 
 down another set. It took some time to do it; but when 
 they were all in, I gave them to the vestry, and told them 
 to add up the amount that I might announce it to them. 
 The pledges footed up three thousand five hundred dol- 
 lars, and I collected every dollar of it except one hundred 
 and seventy-nine dollars, which failed from deaths; and 
 this from a colored congregation in 1878. The vestry 
 met, and voted me a salarj^ of nine hundred dollars. 
 
 When Mr. La Roche was ordained and came to me, I 
 gave him every cent of the nine hundred dollars ; indeed, 
 I served those people for ten years, and never received, per- 
 sonally, one dollar for my work. They presented me with 
 a horse and buggy to enable me to do my extra parish 
 work ; with that exception, they had my labors without 
 money and without price, as the deacons in charge received 
 all the salary. I had in succession, C. J. La Roche; Theo. 
 A, Porter, my son; Thaddeus Saltus, a colored man, first 
 as deacon, then as priest ; and after his death, Rev. Mr. 
 
33^ Led On / 
 
 Bishop; and then Rev. J. H. M. Pollard, into whose hands 
 I resigned the work after ten years in 1888, leaving him 
 with a communicant list of three hundred and fifty, a 
 church built and paid for, all to some eleven hundred dol- 
 lars contracted for repairs. 
 
 But I must go back to the first efforts. Next day after 
 this free offering, on Wednesday night, June loth, I went 
 to Mr. Wm. C. Courtney, President of the Bank of 
 Charleston. I told him I had set the contractor at work 
 on the church that morning, and would need money from 
 time to time, at ninety days, to be paid out of these pledges. 
 He asked if I would give my note. ' ' Yes, with the names 
 already mentioned as endorsers. " * * Well, ' ' he said, ' ' I 
 shall look to you for the money." *' Yes," I answered, 
 * ' I will be responsible, but I will never pay one dollar of 
 it beyond my subscription ' ' ; and I never did. They paid 
 it all themselves, and we never renewed without taking 
 off a good slice of the debt. On the 7th of November, the 
 church was consecrated, as the debt was all personal, 
 being mine and three members of the congregation. We 
 had not long occupied it before I induced them to buy an 
 organ which cost sixteen hundred dollars, and we had just 
 paid the last dollar we owed when the cyclone of 1885 un- 
 roofed the church and ruined the organ. 
 
 It was a terrible blow to these hard-working people, 
 and they seemed ready to give up, but I called the vestry 
 together, and invited the congregation through them to 
 worship at St. Timothy's Chapel, which held fully five 
 hundred persons. This chapel I had built on my grounds, 
 at the old arsenal. There they worshipped for six months. 
 About one thousand dollars came from the North to help 
 them, and about one thousand dollars at home, but it cost 
 them four thousand five hundred to repair and enlarge the 
 chancel and restore the organ. Then the earthquake of 
 1886 again damaged them about fifteen hundred dollars, 
 
A Church for Colored People, 337 
 
 and it was from this cause I left them with that eleven 
 hmidred dollars debt. It did not kill me as Bishop Howe 
 thought it would. I gave up my summer's holidays in 
 1878 to them, and worked very hard, but I look back with 
 much gratitude to the work I did for Christ and His 
 Church in that congregation. When I left them they 
 ranked second in numbers in the diocese, and fifth in the 
 list of contributions for Church work. 
 
 St. Mark's Church has become historical, for it was 
 about it that that dreadful contest waged in this dio- 
 cese; it almost killed me, and it did kill the Bishop, for he 
 died of a broken heart ; broken by his love for the Church 
 which he ruled and loved so well. 
 
 When I came back from England, my blessed friend, 
 Mr. George A. Trenholm, was dead — one of the noblest, 
 greatest men this State has ever produced. I missed him 
 then ; I have missed him in all these long years ; I need 
 him now, for our parish needs his wisdom and his aid. 
 
 But a new work was now opened up to me, for Miss 
 Celia Campbell and Miss Jane Wagner came to me in the 
 church, after a week-day service, in the seventies, and 
 told me they had found in their visits to the City Hospi- 
 tal an unfortunate woman who wished to lead a better life. 
 She had been ill, and was now convalescent and had to leave 
 the hospital, and they did not know what to do with her. 
 
 I soon saw what was in their minds. " Go," I said, 
 " and hire a house and begin your work. I will be respon- 
 sible for three months' rent." I did not have to pay the 
 rent, for these blessed women themselves established The 
 House of Rest, which has done a great work for fifteen 
 years. 
 
 The school began again on the ist of October, 1878, and 
 I find nothing of note, save the consecration of St. Mark's 
 Church, and the steady routine life of the two parishes, 
 and the school. 
 
338 Led On! 
 
 My notes tell of the same trials, perplexities, and needs 
 as we drifted along I scarcely know how ; but God was 
 preparing a new movement in my behalf 
 
 I had begun the year with a debt of thirty-five hundred 
 dollars. I saw in the month of December that my debt 
 at the end of the year would be nearly double that amount. 
 I wrote several letters to persons whom I knew to be very 
 rich and whom I regarded as my friends. From one I 
 received a very curt reply ; another, an immensely wealthy 
 person, said he had nothing to spare. I concluded if such 
 men could give me such answers, it was useless to apply 
 to any others. About the 2 2d of December I wrote to my 
 friend Canon Wilkinson, and told him of my distress, 
 adding, in the then depressed condition of things in Eng- 
 land, I could not think of turning to my friends there for 
 help. A committee of gentlemen, after my first visit to 
 England, had agreed to keep my memory green in the 
 hearts of my English friends, and they had sent me each 
 year, several hundreds of pounds* Early in February, 
 1879, I received a letter from Fred. A. White, Secretary, 
 stating that the committee had held a meeting and di- 
 rected him to write me that they could not counsel me 
 to come across the water, but that I had many friends in 
 England, and although the times were very hard, still, if 
 I determined to come they would ensure me a hearty 
 welcome, and would render me all the assistance they 
 could. The decision they must leave with the Bishop of 
 my diocese and myself, but if I came not to do so until 
 after Easter. I immediately went to the Bishop and laid 
 the whole matter before him. He asked me if I went, 
 what would I do with my two parishes, the Holy Com- 
 munion and St. Mark's? I told him the Rev. Mr. La 
 Roche would fill one, and for the other, I proposed to get 
 three or four of the brethren who were in small country 
 parishes to take my place. ' ' On what grounds ? ' ' the 
 
 * For list of English Committee, see Appendix H. 
 
A Church for Colored People, 339 
 
 Bishop asked. I said : " On the ground that this Acad- 
 emy was rearing laymen for every parish in the diocese. 
 That from it, we had to look for most of the clergy of the 
 future, and if it failed now, it would carry desolation into 
 hundreds of households. ' ' 
 
 The Bishop remained thoughtful for some time, and 
 then said : " I regard your work of so much value to the 
 Church that it must not fail if human aid can prevent it. 
 I will recall my appointments to the diocese for the Sun- 
 days, and I will myself take charge of your parish until 
 you return." 
 
 I told the Bishop this endorsement of my work would 
 be worth a trip to England if I did not bring back one 
 dollar. I called the vestry and board of trustees together, 
 and submitted to them the question — to go, or not ? They 
 deplored their inability to deny that it was my duty to 
 go. After the cheering offer of the Bishop, and the 
 unanimous advice of the vestry and trustees, there seemed 
 nothing else to do. During all this while my wife had 
 been desperately sick, and had been confined to her bed 
 for weeks, and was so feeble she could not hold up her 
 head. I shrank from leaving home under such circum- 
 stances. My wife very ill, my eldest son to be soon 
 ordained to the diaconate, my other son in my confirma- 
 tion class — from all of which I would be absent. How 
 could I go ? I laid all this before my wife, who, hearing 
 me through, said : " I have determined your duty long 
 since ; you must go." '* I 'm leaving you," I said, " in 
 this condition." Her answer was worthy of the best age 
 of the Church — * ' ' He that loveth father or mother, wife 
 or children, houses or lands, more than Me, is not worthy 
 of Me.' If your Master has given you a work to do, do it, 
 whatever sacrifice it costs. ' ' 
 
 This determined me, and all my arrangements began 
 to be made to leave, on the 2d of April, in the Scythia. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 I APPI,Y FOR THE ARSKNAI, 
 
 Vague thoughts of obtaining the arsenal buildings for the 
 Institute — lam well supported by friends in my application 
 — General Sherman endorses it — Help in England for 
 my school. 
 
 DURING the month of February, my friend General 
 Auger had visited Charleston, and sent me a mes- 
 sage by General Hunt that he was in the city and invited 
 me to see him. I accordingly called, and in the presence 
 of General Auger, General Hunt said, " I wish you to 
 tell General Auger what you have told me. ' ' I did so, 
 saying to the General I did not know what it meant, but 
 I had done as General Hunt requested, though he had 
 heard the same from me in Boston. The General smiled 
 and replied, ' ' I will remember this, and if in anything I 
 can be of service to you, you may depend on my assistance. 
 It is the best purpose the property can be put to. ' ' 
 
 I had thought no more of this matter and turned my 
 attention to my duties, and to my preparations for leaving 
 America in April. A few days before I was to leave for 
 England, I received a letter from General Auger, from 
 Newport Barracks, Kentucky, telling me that the authori- 
 ties at Washington had determined to withdraw the troops 
 
 340 
 
I Apply for the Arsenal. 341 
 
 from Charleston, and if I would make proper application 
 he thought T could get the arsenal, and that he would 
 assist me. His letter nearly took my breath away. Were 
 the prayers of my wife and self so near fulfilment ? We 
 never mentioned it to a soul, but I wrote to General 
 Auger of my contemplated trip to England, and asked 
 what steps I should take. He telegraphed me to get a 
 strong letter of endorsement from General Hunt, and that 
 I would find letters from him in New York. 
 
 In the goodness of God my wife's health improved, so 
 when I left Charleston on the 27th of March, 1879 for 
 New York, I took her with me, to go and be with my 
 adopted daughter, Mrs. De Witt, whose husband, a most 
 distinguished surgeon in the United States army, was 
 stationed in Montana. I thought the change would be 
 good for her, and with Doctor De Witt's care, would re- 
 vive her, which it did. I took with me the following 
 paper : 
 
 ** To the Hon. G. W. McGrary, Secretary of War : 
 
 *' Sir : I have been informed that it is the purpose of the 
 Government to withdraw the troops from the arsenal 
 property in Charleston, South Carolina, and leave it prac- 
 tically vacant, for the present, at least. If such be the 
 case, I have the honor to make application for the lease 
 of the property upon such terms as will secure its preser- 
 vation and protect the interests of the Government. My 
 purpose is to occupy the buildings and grounds with my 
 school, The Holy Communion Church Institute, an in- 
 stitution incorporatd under the laws of South Carolina 
 for educational purposes, and which has accomplished im- 
 portant results in the last twelve years, in the education 
 of a large number of boys and young men, almost entirely 
 by voluntary contribution from the North and England 
 and other sections of this country. I am anxious to ex- 
 
342 Led On f 
 
 tend and enlarge the scope of this work, and am encour- 
 aged to hope that the Government may help me by con- 
 tracting with me for a lease of the vacant property, which 
 is admirably adapted to the purposes of a school such as 
 mine. It is quite competent for the institution to contract 
 for a lease, and I am prepared to guarantee the preserva- 
 tion and return of the property in such order as I find it, 
 upon proper notice. I invite your attention to the letters 
 of General Auger and General Hunt, with General Sher- 
 man's endorsement, and I am prepared to furnish any in- 
 formation which may be desired as to the character and 
 purposes and history of this institution, which I think 
 commends itself to the sympathy and kind offices of every 
 lover of education and progress. It is perhaps proper that 
 I should say that I derive no pecuniary benefit from this 
 school, and have no compensation from it, more than the 
 satisfaction of knowing that I am and have been instru- 
 mental, through it, in extending the blessings of a liberal 
 education to numbers of boys who would not otherwise 
 have enjoyed them. In other words, I desire to impress 
 upon you that I am not making application for speculative 
 purposes. 
 
 " Very respectfully, etc., 
 
 "A. TooMER Porter, 
 " Chairman Board of Trustees." 
 
 The above, in part, was the substance of the paper I 
 prepared, which General Hunt refers to in the following 
 letter : 
 
 "Headquarters Fifth Artii,i.ery, 
 
 **Chari,eston, S. C, March 21, 1879. 
 
 ** I have examined Rev. Dr. A. Toomer Porter's paper 
 with respect to the acquisition of the arsenal grounds, 
 
I Apply for the Arsenal. 343 
 
 Charleston, for the school of which he has charge, and 
 believe that all the statements found in it are correct. In 
 all excavations made in these grounds human remains are 
 found, a boggy creek originally ran through the Square, 
 diagonally, and it is difficult to get good foundations for 
 new buildings. The locality is entirely outside the busi- 
 ness part of the town, and the existing quarters, barracks, 
 storehouses, and hospital are unfitted for any private use. 
 To tear them down and sell the old materials would prob- 
 ably be the most profitable money use they could be put 
 to. If no longer needed for military purposes, the place, 
 nearly as it stands, would be admirably adapted for the 
 uses of such a school as Dr. Porter's. I know the school, 
 it is all it is claimed to be, has done incalculable good, 
 and the transfer of the grounds to it would greatly aug- 
 ment its value to the people of this State. No other 
 grant of lands (of the same money value) for purposes of 
 education, would, in my opinion, be so useful, at this time, 
 as the transfer of this reservation to the school for its per- 
 manent establishment. 
 
 ** Henry J. Hunt, Bvt. Major-Genl., U. S. A., 
 '' Comdg. Post of Charleston." 
 
 In New York I met a long and warm letter from Gen- 
 eral Auger telling me how to proceed. I had but six days 
 now to work in, as I was to leave on the 2d of April. I 
 left Mrs. Porter in New York and hastened to Washing- 
 ton. I called immediately on General Sherman. He and 
 I had frequently met in the intervening years, and he 
 always spoke of that trip I made with McQueen, and what 
 he thought of the act on my part; and again and again he 
 had asked me what the Government had done for me in 
 return for my saving that 3^oung man. I had always 
 said the Government could do nothing. It certainly could 
 not pay me money, for I had taken my life in my hand to 
 
344 ^^^ ^^ ' 
 
 manifest my gratitude to McQueen, and that the running 
 of such a risk had no money value. 
 
 ''Just Hke you South Carolina fools," he had said ; 
 ' ' very pretty, but not business. ' ' 
 
 This time when I called I said, *' General, now the 
 Government can do something, not for me, but for the 
 State ; ' ' and I unfolded my wishes. - 
 
 The General had gone on writing while I was talking, 
 and when I had finished, he put down his pen, and turn- 
 ing his chair round, he said : * ' Do you never mean to stop 
 putting this Government under obligations to you ? " 
 
 ' ' What do you mean ? " I asked. 
 
 ' ' Why, you saved the life of a valuable officer at the 
 risk of your own in the war, and now the Government 
 has a piece of abandoned property that it does not know 
 what to do with, and here you are with this noble use to 
 put it to. You do not think a man like you can hide 
 himself? I have watched your career. I know about 
 your colored school, and how you have struggled to edu- 
 cate the children of the impoverished white people there 
 in Charleston. You ought to have a vote of thanks for 
 taking it. I could give it to you with a stroke of my pen, 
 but just as you get fixed, some politician might come and 
 take it from you. You go to General Hampton and Gen- 
 eral Butler, and get them to draw a bill, and let them 
 go to the Democrats, and me to the Republicans, and we 
 will see if we cannot get it done." 
 
 General Sherman then took the paper I had drawn in 
 Charleston, with General Hunt's letter, and drafted him- 
 self the paper given above. He then endorsed it strongly, 
 and himself went with it to the Secretary of War, who 
 also favorably endorsed it and sent it to the Adjutant- 
 General to find out who had the power in the matter. 
 The Adjutant- General said it would be necessary to get 
 an act of Congress authorizing the lease. I then saw 
 
I Apply for the Arsenal. 345 
 
 General M. C. Butler, who became very much interested, 
 and drafted a joint resolution, and had it introduced into 
 the Senate. There it was referred to the Military Com- 
 mittee, of which General Wade Hampton was a member, 
 and the next day they brought in a report recommending 
 the adoption of the resolution and it went on the calendar. 
 The same process was observed in the House of Represent- 
 atives, and General Butler told me that was as far as it 
 likely would go this session, and I need not stay longer. 
 So I returned to New York, having no doubt about 
 ultimate success. I felt I had been led on by an unseen 
 hand to undertake the work, and God's blessing would 
 go with it, and committing it to our Heavenly Father, 
 asked that His will, not mine, be done. I made arrange- 
 ments for my wife to go out to my adopted daughter, and 
 on the 2d of April, 1879, sailed in the Scythia for my 
 third trip across the ocean. On this trip I made the 
 acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. James T. Swift, both 
 of whom were warm and generous friends until they 
 died. 
 
 I arrived in I^ondon on Easter Eve, April 12, 1879, and 
 stayed at Kenrose House, Cromwell Road, London, the 
 guest of the truest friend I have ever had on earth, Mr. 
 Frederick A. White. I met with a warm reception from 
 him, his wife, and his sister, and found a letter of kindly 
 welcome from Canon Wilkinson, saying I had done right 
 to come. On the table was a note from my host contain- 
 ing twenty pounds as an Easter offering for my own use. 
 This was only a sample of the unbounded kindness I re- 
 ceived at their hands. For three months I was the guest 
 of these dear friends, who left nothing undone to make 
 m}' visit agreeable to myself and profitable to my work. 
 Through Mr. Wilkinson, Doctor Tremlett, Mr. White, 
 and Mr. Thomas Kinscote, all the plans were laid out for 
 me, and I preached in several churches, where offerings 
 
34^ Led On I 
 
 were made to my cause. Several dinner parties were 
 given to me, and thus more friends were made for my 
 work. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Doctor Tait, the 
 Archbishop of Dubhn, the celebrated Doctor Trench, the 
 Primate of Scotland, I^ord Cairns, then lyord High Chan- 
 cellor of England, I^ord and I^ady Shelborne, and the Karl 
 and Countess of Aberdeen all extended to me social hos- 
 pitality and some of them generous contributions. Mr. 
 John Welsh, the American Minister at the Court of St. 
 James, Mr. Junius S. Morgan, Mr. Sturgis, of the firm of 
 Baring Brothers, gave me liberal assistance. It would be 
 almost impossible to tell of all the kindness manifested to 
 me in word and act. I look back to this visit with great 
 pleasure, and am filled with gratitude not only to those 
 liberal and hospitable friends, but to the Giver of every 
 good and perfect gift, who moved the hearts of Hi6 people 
 to aid me so materially in sustaining an institution, the 
 importance of which I know I do not overestimate. Oh, 
 that I could impress my own countrymen. North and 
 South, with an idea of the good such an institution is 
 capable of doing ! Single-handed I have maintained the 
 struggle. I have begged and prayed daily for an endow- 
 ment which will secure its continuance and give me some 
 little rest, but it has not been the will of God to grant 
 either yet, and here I am, after thirty years, battling hard 
 as ever, and not seeing how I can maintain it another 
 month. The proposed transfer of the arsenal property by 
 the United States Government gave increased interest in 
 my work. Soon after I arrived in England, I received 
 papers from home containing the introduction of the joint 
 resolution by Senator Butler, and the favorable report of 
 the Military Committee of the Senate. This gave pub- 
 licity to my work, for I had hitherto studiously kept the 
 whole matter a profound secret, and this publication was 
 the first intimation, at home, of my movement, and for 
 
I Apply for the Arsenal. 347 
 
 several days the papers published articles laudatory and 
 congratulatory. 
 
 Of course all undertakings of a public character meet 
 with a certain amount of opposition. In due time I re- 
 ceived a letter from General Butler stating that a certain 
 person in Charleston had employed a lawyer to defeat my 
 object. The person intended, if he could, to purchase the 
 arsenal, pull down the buildings and put up in the middle 
 of the square a private residence. I was not alarmed, for 
 I knew the Government would not sell ; but I foresaw 
 some trouble. I knew, however, that if it was true that I 
 had been led so far by God's hand, and if it was for His 
 glory and the good of the Church, I would not be defeated 
 in my efforts, and I was quite willing to leave it all to 
 Him. 
 
 The Rev. John Morgan, of the American Protestant 
 Episcopal Church in Paris, invited me to come to Paris 
 and preach for him on the 15th of June. From a few 
 Americans in Paris I collected nearly one thousand dol- 
 lars. But there was an incident of my visit to Paris that 
 is worth repeating. 
 
 I met there Miss Mason of Virginia, who told me that 
 she was anxious for me to go and see a Virginia family 
 who were stranded in Paris. I was very much pushed for 
 time, but I hunted them up in an obscure part of Paris, 
 and called at eleven o'clock at night. I found the family 
 looking for me. The father, from Virginia, had been a 
 buyer of silk, but the house he represented in New York 
 had failed and left them in great destitution. I really 
 did not know what I had gone for, except to express my 
 sympathy, but a rather handsome boy of about twelve 
 years of age came out of an adjoining room in his 
 night dress. I inquired if they had other boys, and they 
 took me into their sleeping apartment, where I found 
 another little fellow of ten or eleven, asleep. I asked 
 
348 Led On / 
 
 what prospects were ahead for these boys, and found there 
 was really little hope for them so far as their education 
 was concerned. I had prayers with them, and then said 
 to the master of the house : " I do not know why Miss 
 Mason asked me to come here, unless it was to interest 
 me in these boys. Suppose I take them to America and 
 place them in my institute. ' ' 
 
 Both father and mother said they had been praying for 
 two years that some means would be found to send these 
 boys home to be educated. 
 
 ' ' Well, ' ' I replied, * ' perhaps I am to be the answer to 
 your prayers. I have been, perhaps, sent for them, and 
 I will take them on two conditions. First, that I can get 
 them free passages to America, and next that they be not 
 interfered with by any of the family. ' ' To these condi- 
 tions they readily assented. 
 
 On my return to London I called on Mr. William 
 Cunard and told him their story. 
 
 ' ' Well, ' ' he said, ' ' I will let them go for ten pounds 
 each." I said I did not have the twenty pounds, but I 
 would go and see if I could raise the amount. 
 
 * ' Well, ' ' he said, ' ' if you have to get it from anyone 
 else, I may as well give it myself, and if you will go home 
 in the Abyssinia I will pass them free." 
 
 My ticket was for the Gallia, and the other boat was to 
 leave before I was ready, but the way seemed so clear, 
 that I sent for the boys, Kendall and Henry, and after 
 furnishing them both with a full outfit of clothes, in 
 which some friends in London helped me, we sailed in 
 the Abyssinia on the 5th of July. I had collected seven 
 thousand five hundred dollars. Here it is a good place 
 to mention that my English friends, from first to last, 
 have contributed forty-five thousand dollars towards the 
 maintenance of this work. 
 
 As the school had closed, I took these two boys into my 
 
I Apply for the Arsenal, 349 
 
 family, and kept Kendall from 1879 to 1885, Henry from 
 1879 to 1886, and most faithfully did their family observe 
 the conditions. I never received from them in all these 
 years the value of a straw hat to assist in clothing them. 
 In 1885 I sent Kendall to the University of the South. 
 Kor his brother Henry, through the Rev. K. N. Potter's 
 kindness, I got a scholarship at Hobart College. He 
 graduated well, at the head of a small class. I let him 
 teach for a while, and then sent for him to give him a 
 position in my school. 
 
 During my absence in England, my son Theodore was 
 ordained on the 4th of June, 1879, by the Rt. Rev. John 
 Williams, to the order of deacon. He returned with me 
 to Charleston, and was married on the 29th of July, 1879, 
 to Kate Kuller, with whom he lived in happy wedlock for 
 fourteen years. She died on the i8th of March, 1893, 
 leaving five children. Mysterious are the orderings of 
 Divine Providence ! A devoted wife and mother, and to 
 me all that a daughter could be ! By her death a great 
 shadow fell on my life, for she was the brightening of my 
 declining days when the light went out. Kor three years 
 my son and myself struggled along alone, with two faith- 
 ful colored women-servants, in charge of this family of 
 children, the youngest twelve days old when the mother 
 died, the oldest only thirteen years. It was the Kather's 
 will and we accepted it. The day of my son's wedding 
 a niece of mine had died, leaving two little children, a boy 
 and a girl, who fell to our lot to care for. Some people 
 are dripping-pans of fortune ; my fate has been to be a 
 dripping-pan of penniless orphans. I first had my wife's 
 brother Charles, who was killed in the civil war ; then a 
 cousin, Thomas Kord, whom I educated, and he did gallant 
 service as captain through the war ; then two daughters 
 of one sister, then one daughter of another. In 1867, the 
 only son of my friend, Joshua Ward, had inherited a 
 
350 
 
 Led On ! 
 
 million dollars from his father. It was all swept away by 
 the war, and when he died he left his only son, Samuel 
 Mortimer, to my wife and myself without a dollar. Then 
 came these two children of my niece in 1879, and so on ; 
 all through my dear wife's life, she, in her wretched 
 health, took cheerfully the charge of one after another of 
 these orphans and was a mother to them. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 OUR NE)W HOME IN THK ARSENAI, 
 
 My efforts to obtain the Charleston arsenal as a home for 
 my school — Obstructions and oppositions — The military 
 committee treats me generously — The kindness of Presi- 
 dent Hayes — The arsenal is duly transferred to me — 
 Newspaper reflections on the transfer — Warm support of 
 my Philadelphia friends . 
 
 AS soon as Congress assembled in December, 1879, I 
 went to Washington. Before going I called on the 
 party who had tried to obstruct me in getting the arsenal 
 and told him all my plans. ' ' Now, ' ' I said, ' ' would you 
 try to defeat so great a public benefaction for your indi- 
 vidual gratification?" His answer was characteristic. 
 " I do not care a snap for the public. I want that prop- 
 erty and I mean to get it. Money can do anything in 
 Washington." " Very well," I said ; '* I shall use that 
 speech in Washington." *' I do not care if you do," was 
 his reply. " Agreed," I said. " The longest pole will 
 get the persimmon." 
 
 I did not tell him that I had every prominent official on 
 record in its favor. I knew that I would not have to pay 
 one dollar, and I knew his fortune, twice told, could not 
 get the property. My only object in seeing him was to 
 
 351 
 
352 Led On! 
 
 get it through Congress without any opposition from 
 Charleston. In any case I knew I would not come out 
 worsted. I had taken with me to Washington very strong 
 letters from my staunch friend, Hon. Clarkson N. Potter 
 and others, some to Democrats and some to Republicans. 
 
 Day after day passed, and I sat on the Senate Chamber 
 floor beside General Hampton, who was to watch his 
 opportunity to call up the joint resolution from the calen- 
 dar. Oh, what anxious days those were ! I had told 
 General Butler what had been said about money being 
 able to do anything in Washington, and with a term 
 more emphatic than I can repeat, the General replied : 
 " He said that ? Well, I will show him." 
 
 On the 1 2th of December, there was a lull in business 
 in the Senate, when General Butler said to General 
 Hampton, '* Now is the time to call for the resolution." 
 General Hampton answered, '* I will do it." Then Gen- 
 eral Butler asked consent to take it from the calendar. 
 How my heart did beat ! Consent was given and General 
 Butler read it. When Senator Edmunds from Vermont 
 rose and said : '* What does General Sherman say about 
 this transfer ? ' ' No better card could have been played 
 for General Butler, who said: " I will read General Sher- 
 man's endorsement, which is very strong." " Does Gen- 
 eral Sherman say that ? ' ' asked Mr. Edmunds, when the 
 endorsement had been read. " If the gentleman wishes 
 to see, I will hand him the paper," said General Butler. 
 * * Certainly not ; I am satisfied, and I will vote for it. ' ' 
 
 I had letters to Mr. Blaine, having spent an evening 
 with him at his house, and he had promised me his sup- 
 port, and had the next day crossed the floor of the Senate 
 to give General Butler the assurance of his support. As 
 Senator Edmunds ceased speaking, the resolution was 
 ofiered, and passed the Senate unanimously. General 
 Hampton, General M. C. Butler, Senator Bayard, Gover- 
 
Our New Home in the Arsenal. 353 
 
 nor Randolph, and others shook my hand warmly, and 
 congratulated me on the progress of the affair. Governor 
 Baldwin of Michigan, a warm friend of mine, told me 
 afterwards, no sooner had the action been taken, than 
 Senator Logan came in from the cloak-room, into which 
 he had gone only five minutes before, and asked, ' ' What 
 is that you have passed ? " When he was told, he said, 
 " Why I meant to have opposed that," but several Re- 
 publican Senators said to him : *' It is a good thing it is 
 done, and we are glad you were not here, if you had any 
 such intention." 
 
 Governor Baldwin once told me some years after, 
 ' * Doctor Porter, God seems to watch over you with lov- 
 ing care. But for General Logan leaving the Chamber 
 for those five minutes, there is no telling what might have 
 been the fate of the paper" ; and he added, "I never 
 knew while I was in the Senate another moment when 
 it could have been done in the manner it was." I was a 
 happy man that night. 
 
 The news was flashed to Charleston, but there was one 
 man there not happy next day. 
 
 The House of Representatives had to be faced. ' ' Now, ' ' 
 said General Butler, * ' we must get Mr. Kvans of Spartans- 
 burg, South Carolina, to take charge of the resolution." 
 Hon. M. P. O'Connor would cheerfully have done so, but 
 it was thought expedient to bring in interest from the 
 interior of the State. General Butler told Mr. Kvans 
 that he must, if possible, get me before the Military Com- 
 mittee of the House, to which the resolution went after it 
 had passed the Senate. By great good fortune this was 
 effected, and on its first meeting I was invited in. To my 
 great joy I saw General Joseph H. Johnston was a member 
 of the Committee. He recognized and saluted me, and I 
 was politely invited to take a seat, when the Chairman of 
 the Committee, who, with a majority of its members were 
 23 
 
354 Led On / 
 
 Republicans, asked me how I had managed to get such 
 an endorsement as this from General Sherman. I said, 
 " It is rather a long story, but if you have the time to 
 hear I will tell. " ' * Let us hear it, ' ' the Chairman an- 
 swered. Then I related in full my adventure with 
 McQueen, who was on General Howard's escort. This 
 adventure had brought General Howard and myself to- 
 gether, and he had brought me to General Sherman, who 
 became my warm friend. The Committee listened with 
 intense interest. I had no sooner finished, than General 
 Johnston arose, and said : ' ' Gentlemen, every word of that 
 story is true. I am the ofl&cer to whom Mr. Porter brought 
 that young Federal ofiicer. I thought it then, as I think 
 it now, a noble deed on his part, and I gave the young 
 man his parole without exchange, and told him to stay in 
 Raleigh until General Sherman occupied it." 
 
 The whole Committee to a man rose. The Chairman 
 came forward, took my hand, and said : "Such a man 
 should get anything he asks from the Government. I am 
 sure you will have the unanimous recommendation of this 
 Committee." Everyone of them shook hands with me, 
 and told me I should have it, and that afternoon their 
 recommendation came in and was placed on the calendar. 
 I went over to Mrs. Ogle Taylor, to tell her the good 
 news, for the battle was half won. " But," I said, " if it 
 passes the house, it will have to go to the President and 
 pass that ordeal." She immediately wrote a note to Mrs. 
 Hayes and sent it to the White House, and asked if the 
 President and herself would be at home the next day as 
 she wished to bring a friend to introduce to them. Mrs. 
 Hayes replied, that the President and herself would be 
 at home, and would be glad to see Mrs. Taylor with her 
 friend. Friday evening we went over to the White 
 House, and found our hosts alone. ** Now," Mrs. 
 Taylor said to me, ' ' tell the President the story of your 
 
Our New Home in the ArsenaL 355 
 
 work." Which I did concisely, and found that I had in- 
 terested my hearers, especially Mrs. Hayes, who said : 
 * ' You must have it, you must have the arsenal, and your 
 boys must be brought up under the old flag." 
 
 When leaving, I said, *' Mr. President, nothing will be 
 done until Monday. If the resolution passes the House, 
 as it has passed the Senate, it will have to come to you. 
 I am going to-night to Charleston. I have to preach a 
 special sermon there on Sunday ; but I will be back by 
 Tuesday. If the resolution reaches you before my re- 
 turn," I added, turning to Mrs. Hayes, and bowing, " I 
 leave myself in the hands of Mrs. Hayes." The Presi- 
 dent laughed and said : '' I cannot tell what influence 
 Mrs. Hayes has with Congress, but she certainly has great 
 influence over the President." '* Then I am safe," I an- 
 swered. We were all pleased with the graceful turn the 
 President had given to the incident, and I left in very high 
 spirits, i started that night for Charleston, discharged 
 my duties there, and left for Washington on Sunday 
 night. On my arrival on Tuesday morning, my friend 
 Rev. Dr. KHiott told me a severe attack had been made 
 on me in the New York Times. I hastened to the Capitol, 
 and in the library of the Senate Chamber found the paper 
 containing the attack. However, I went boldly to those 
 who I heard would oppose me. Hon. Randolph Tucker 
 introduced me to General Garfield, the leader of the Re- 
 publican side of the House, and I called at his house that 
 night, and told him my story in brief. He said the piece 
 in the Times had had an effect, but he promised to correct 
 it for me. I^ike Mr. Blaine in the Senate, he expressed 
 much pleasure to hear of such a work, and pledged his 
 assistance. I saw the reporter for the Times, and told 
 him the facts. He expressed great regret at having 
 written the article, and said he would correct it ; which he 
 did, but it did not appear in his paper until its necessity 
 
356 Led On I 
 
 had passed. General Hunt was in Washington, and he got 
 General Fitz John Porter to use his influence. General 
 Sherman was roused by the attack and he exerted himself 
 in my behalf. General Butler gave himself up to seeing 
 the members of the House. Two or three days passed, 
 and no opportunity occurred to call it up, till at length 
 General Butler came over from the Senate Chamber to 
 the Speaker of the House, and begged him to recognize 
 Mr. Dargan, and briefly told him what for. God must 
 have opened the hearts of the people, for the Speaker con- 
 sented. General Butler spoke to Mr. Dargan, and as I 
 was in the gallery I saw him rise and the Speaker recog- 
 nized him. The resolution was read. A member on the 
 Republican side rose and began to speak against it, but 
 Mr. Chittenden, a friend of mine, sitting by him, pulled 
 his coat and whispered something to him, and he took 
 his seat again, but I was in such a state of excitement 
 that I could not stand any more. My nervous system for 
 a week had been overtaxed, and I went down to Mr. 
 Butler's room, thinking nothing could be done, but in 
 those few moments the favorable report of the Military 
 Committee was read, the vote taken — one hundred and 
 eighteen ayes and thirty-six noes. As soon as it was de- 
 clared passed, General Butler's son came rushing into his 
 father's room, saying, '' We have got it, we have got it." 
 " Got what," I said. '' Why, the arsenal. The resolu- 
 tion has passed five to one. ' ' It was then my turn to rush 
 down to the lobby of the House, where I met the whole 
 South Carolina delegation. The House had adjourned, 
 but not until it had passed the resolution ; and if ever a 
 man was congratulated, I was by every one of them. I 
 felt sure now, for that morning the President had told me 
 he would sign it if it passed, and I felt that this, which 
 would give such an impetus to my work, was an accom- 
 plished fact. I thanked God, and prayed for wisdom and 
 
Our New Home in the Arsenal. 357 
 
 strength for the increased responsibility, and that the 
 hearts of many would be opened to me. The members of 
 Congress told me what to do, what course had to be pur- 
 sued, and I went at it at once. I approached each person 
 who had anything to do with it, and next day I followed 
 the messenger from the Capitol to the White House, he 
 having the resolution to submit to the President. I had 
 no difficulty in getting it sent to the President, or to get 
 admittance with it, and said : " Mr. President, here is 
 the resolution. " * * Why, ' ' he answered, ' * you have been 
 expeditious." He read it over, took up his pen, and 
 signed it at once. It was then registered, and the paper 
 delivered to me. 
 
 Thus, in seven days from the day that General Butler 
 called up the Resolution, the whole transaction was com- 
 pleted. I was told that such expedition had never been 
 known in Congress before. The Adjutant-General issued 
 the following paper: 
 
 HEADQUARTERS OF THE ArMY 
 
 Adjutant Generai,'s Ofeice. 
 
 A Joint Resolution of Congress, approved Dec. 19, 
 1879, entitled. Joint Resolution to transfer the arsenal 
 property, in the City of Charleston, South Carolina, to the 
 Trustees of the Holy Communion Church Institute, for 
 the use and accommodation of said school required, — 
 
 ' ' That the Secretary of War be and is hereby authorized 
 and directed to lease and deliver possession upon such 
 terms and conditions as to him may seem best, for the use 
 of, or in the interests of, the Government, to the Trustees 
 of the Holy Communion Church Institute, the property 
 known as the arsenal, situated in the city of Charleston, 
 State of South Carolina, together with all the buildings, 
 rights, and appurtenances thereto belonging, to be had 
 and held by said Trustees for the use and accommodation 
 
358 Led On I 
 
 of said School for such time as said lease may run, if not 
 theretofore required by the Secretary of War. 
 
 *' Sec. 2. That the Secretary of War be, and is hereby 
 authorized to make such terms and arrangements with 
 said Trustees, for the care, and protection of said property 
 during its occupancy by said School, and for the re- 
 delivering of possession to the Government when thereto 
 required, as will best subserve the interests of the Govern- 
 ment, provided that the Government shall not be required 
 to pay for any improvements that may be placed on said 
 grounds during the continuance of the lease. ' ' 
 
 Accordingly the Secretary of War directs, that the 
 United States property known as the arsenal (Charleston 
 Barracks), situated in the city of Charleston, State of 
 South Carolina, together with all the buildings, rights, and 
 appurtenances, and the United States flag thereto belong- 
 ing, be transferred to the Rev. A. Toomer Porter, D.D., 
 to hold until a lease of said property is duly executed by 
 the Secretary of War. 
 
 The Quartermaster's ordnance, and other property in 
 store, at the arsenal, will be properly disposed of under 
 the direction of the Department. 
 
 By command of General Sherman, 
 
 B. D. TOWNSKND, 
 
 Adj utant-General. 
 
 In due time this lease for ninety-nine years at one dol- 
 lar a year was duly executed. The reader will find when 
 he reaches the record of ten years after, how that lease 
 was supplemented by an act of Congress, signed by the 
 President, giving a fee simple title to this property to 
 the Trustees, the only condition being that it shall always 
 be used for educational purposes. 
 
 The article which appeared in the New York Times, 
 attracted some attention, and what was meant to do me 
 
Our New Home in the Arsenal. 359 
 
 harm, in God's providence resulted in much good. I put 
 it here on permanent record in the appendix. The Wash- 
 ington correspondent says : 
 
 ' ' A very objectionable Joint Resolution was passed very 
 quietly in the Senate, upon the motion of Mr. Butler of 
 South Carolina, and in the absence of Messrs. Edmunds, 
 Logan, and McMillan, who had been prepared to oppose 
 it. The original Resolution, which was introduced May 
 6, 1879, authorized and directed the Secretary of War to 
 transfer the United States arsenal property in Charleston, 
 South Carolina, to the Trustees of the Holy Communion 
 Church Institute, to be held by those Trustees for the use 
 of the school as long as it is not wanted by the Govern- 
 ment, etc. 
 
 ' * This arsenal is not now used by the Government, and 
 like other unoccupied arsenals, is left to the care of an 
 ordnance sergeant. The Rev. A. Toomer Porter is the 
 rector of the Church of the Holy Communion in Charles- 
 ton, and after the war he came to the North to raise sub- 
 scriptions to aid his church. Attached to his church is a 
 sectarian school, under his charge, and for some time he 
 has desired to obtain possession of the United States 
 arsenal, with its large buildings, for the use of his school, 
 at a nominal rent, for a long period. Leading Republicans 
 in Charleston have opposed this design on the ground that 
 this school is sectarian, aristocratic, and exclusive, and 
 one to which the children of no Union man or Republican 
 can gain admission. They assert that the youths educated 
 in it are taught the extreme doctrines which were held in 
 the South before the war, and were powerful in causing 
 the war, and they claim, if the Government has no use 
 for the arsenal, and desires to leave it, it would be more 
 equitable to the residents of the State, and more profit- 
 able to the Government, to allow competition for it, and 
 lease it to the highest bidder. Some day, if it is no longer 
 
360 Led On f 
 
 of use, it should be sold, and the proceeds carried into the 
 Treasury; but all agree, that special privileges should not 
 be granted to this aristocratic school, in which they say 
 pupils and teachers are unfriendly to the Gov^ernment. 
 Having no Representatives on the floor of Congress, the 
 Republicans of South Carolina depend for support upon 
 Republican Senators and Representatives from other 
 States, and think these gentlemen should guard their in- 
 terests. It was stated by Mr. Butler in urging the passage 
 of the Resolution, that the transfer had been recommended 
 by the Secretary of War and General Sherman, but those 
 who oppose the transaction say that thCvSe officers could 
 not have fully understood the matter. ' ' 
 
 It was not difficult to find who had inspired the article. 
 The agent from Charleston, finding he had failed to stop 
 the progress any other way, supposed he could instil into 
 these Republican Senators and Representatives views 
 which were absolutely false in every particular, save as 
 related to General I^ogan. If Mr. Edmunds had intended 
 to oppose, he was not absent, but his few words secured 
 the unanimous vote of the Republican Senators. At the 
 very time two sons of a prominent Republican official 
 were members of the school, and as soon as the article 
 was seen a number of Republicans, white and colored, 
 united in writing to me a paper in which they denied 
 their opposition. So far from opposing me, they would 
 do anything they could for me, if I needed their assistance ; 
 and so false statements ran through the whole paper. My 
 record at home and abroad had been for fourteen years so 
 pronounced as to my views with regard to the duties of 
 citizens who in good faith had laid down arms, that the 
 charge that my pupils were taught the extreme doctrines 
 held in the South before the war was so extremely 
 absurd it was easy to confute, and as I have said, the 
 writer retracted the whole article and apologized. It was 
 
Our New Home in the Arsenal, 361 
 
 so unjust, however, and my friends at the North were so 
 much afraid it would do me harm, that some of them wrote 
 a special article and published it in several of the Phila- 
 delphia papers, sent it to New York, and had it published 
 there.* 
 
 I was entirely ignorant of their act of kindness, as I had 
 heard nothing of it, nor had seen the paper. I forget now 
 what induced me, but after getting the resolution approved 
 by the President, I ran up to Philadelphia for a little rest, 
 and was the guest of Rev. Mr. McVickar, who read to me 
 this communication, which of course was very grateful to 
 me. The signers of it did not know I was coming to 
 Philadelphia, as no communication had passed between 
 us. Their action had been dictated by Christian love and 
 justice towards an absent brother. The week after this 
 there appeared in the Episcopal Register^ an editorial undei 
 the heading, *' The Charleston Arsenal turned to the Uses 
 of Peace and Education." It detailed the circumstances 
 I have just related and ended thus : 
 
 * * The liberal contributions already made in this city for 
 his work show how unjust assaults are mercifully turned 
 into benefits, and it is only proper to add, that no man in 
 the South has done more to allay sectional bitterness, and 
 further good-will to men throughout the country, than 
 the Rev. Dr. Porter." f 
 
 This editorial was an immense help to me in the com- 
 
 * See Appendix D. 
 
 I I see, in looking over these papers, I am called Doctor. It had 
 escaped my mind to say that in the year 1876 I was at one of the 
 Commencement exercises of Union College, Schenectady. I was 
 astounded by hearing my name called out with some distinguished 
 gentlemen — Rev. C. Vedder of Charleston, and others — as having 
 the degree of D.D. conferred on me by the Trustees. I had to 
 laugh, for never was the honor bestowed on one more utterly un- 
 worthy to receive it. My life has been too exacting, too active, 
 too much employed with afifairs, to enable me to be a student. I 
 
362 
 
 Led On ! 
 
 passing of my great undertaking. As I recount all these 
 wonderful deliverances that have come to me in time of 
 the greatest needs, I reproach myself most earnestly when 
 this poor heart fails me in emergencies. God has not 
 changed, and if it be in accord with his Divine will, He 
 will in His own way raise up some means for the necessi- 
 ties of His work. If I have been faithful to my trust, I 
 want it to go on record that if ever this work fails, it is 
 not that prayer and faith are absolutely ineffectual, but 
 simply because the poor, weak, earthen vessel has failed. 
 To God be all the glory, to me be all the blame. 
 
 have to do a great deal of reading, but study very little, and I pro- 
 tested that while I appreciated the compliment, it was too unde- 
 served ; but my protest was unheeded, and so through the kind 
 feeling of Rev. Dr. E). N. Potter I have borne this title ever since. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 SCHOOI. OPKNS IN THK ARSKNAL 
 
 Ceremonies attending the opening of the arsenal as our new 
 home — Points of m^y parochial work — Mr. E. R. Mudge 
 of Boston — His soldier son — Progress of our school. 
 
 1 RETURNED to Charleston on the 24th of December, 
 1879, having had all the papers for the transference 
 of the arsenal properly made out in Washington. Before 
 service on Christmas morning I went to the arsenal with 
 the workman, a very intelligent colored man named Bell, 
 and pointed out the work necessary to be done at once. 
 A kitchen and pantry had to be built, the store-room con- 
 verted into a dining-room and study hall, the second and 
 third stories to be converted into dormitories, and other 
 changes absolutely necessary to be made. I had no funds 
 with which to carry on the work, but I felt after such an 
 achievement friends would now come forward and help 
 me. On the 8th of January, 1854, as a young man not 
 twenty-five years old, I had held my first service in one of 
 these buildings, and it occurred to me that day would be 
 the proper time for a grand ceremonial. I accordingly 
 prepared a programme which I submitted to the Bishop, 
 and on the 8th of January, 1880, just twenty-six years 
 from the day I came on one cloudy Sunday morning to 
 minister there to eight people, I took formal possession 
 
 363 
 
364 Led On ! 
 
 of the whole property. Manifold have been Thy mercies 
 to me, O God, and wonderfully hast Thou used one of the 
 most unworthy of Thy servants to manifest Thy power to 
 the people with whom I have lived ! 
 
 We had sent invitations far and wide, and I received 
 congratulatory letters from Mr. John Katon, Commissioner 
 of Education, Mr. James S. Amory, of Boston, Gen. Henry 
 J. Hunt, U. S. A., Mr. C. T. Lowndes, Dr. Manning 
 Simons, Gen. Joseph K. Johnston, Gen. W. T. Sherman, 
 Judge A. G. Magrath, and many others. These letters 
 have all been published and preserved in my little volume 
 of the History of a Work of Faith and Love, so they need 
 not be presented here. The ceremonies as reported next 
 day in the daily papers were as follows : 
 
 * * The celebration of the formal occupation of the grounds 
 and buildings hitherto used as the United States arsenal 
 by the Trustees of the Holy Communion Church Institute 
 was an impressive event. The ceremonies were simple, 
 but conveyed, as they were meant to do, an expression of 
 the warm sympathy of the community with the work, and 
 the general satisfaction at the success that has so far at- 
 tended it. A short service consisting of the Creed, some 
 Collects, and the Lord's Prayer was held at the Church of 
 the Holy Communion. Promptly at five o'clock the pro- 
 cession moved from the Church in the following order : 
 
 St. Patrick's Helicon Band, the Washington Light In- 
 fantry, Capt. G. D. Bryan ; Charleston Riflemen, Capt. 
 R. J. Magill ; carriages containing the Bishop in his robes 
 and the clergy in surplices ; ofi&cers of the Army and Navy 
 of the United States ; Judge of the United States Court, 
 and other oflGlcers ; Mr. James G. Holmes and Mr. W. M. 
 Lawton, two venerable and prominent citizens ; the Mayor 
 and City Council ; Honorary Members of the Washington 
 Light Infantry; President and Faculty of Charleston Col- 
 lege ; Teachers of Schools ; Board of Trustees, Holy Com- 
 
School Opens in the Arsenal. 365 
 
 munion Church Institute, Principal and Teachers of the 
 Institute, Alumni Students and Residents of the Institute, 
 with a long procession of citizens on foot. In this order 
 the procession moved down Ashley Street to Doughty, to 
 President, up President to Bee, and back through Ashley 
 to the gate. Here those who were in carriages alighted, 
 and all passed in on foot. Three large flags were sus- 
 pended at intervals ; the United States flag, the State 
 flag, and a large white banner with a red cross, and 
 H. C. C. I., 1867, in large red letters on it. The Bishop 
 preceded, reading a remarkably appropriate selection of 
 verses from the Psalter, the clergy responding immediately 
 behind him, followed by the choir-bo3^s in their cassocks 
 and cottas. The procession had encompassed the grounds 
 when the Bishop finished, and the choir-boys sang the 
 hymn, 
 
 * Glorious things of Thee are spoken, 
 Zion City of our God.' 
 which was taken up by the crowd assembled, among 
 whom were very many ladies. The national flag, which 
 had been given by the order of General Sherman, 
 floated from the flagstaff. The two military companies 
 presented arms, as the Bishop and clergy and guests 
 filed into the very building Doctor Porter had held 
 his first service in twenty-six years ago on this day." 
 Then, and now, the choir sang, "The Church's one 
 foundation, ' ' the Bishop repeated the Creed and a Collect, 
 
 and Rev. A. Toomer Porter rose and said, '' ." It 
 
 was a long oration, too long for this work, but it is printed 
 in a book for preservation. The Hon. W. D. Porter, 
 known as the silver-tongued orator, then delivered an 
 address as only he could do. Mayor W. A. Courtenay, 
 my friend from boyhood, then addressed the audience 
 with words which came from his heart. Mr. S. Y. Tupper, 
 the President of the Chamber of Commerce, then ad- 
 
366 Led On ! 
 
 dressed the audience in a most noteworthy speech. Mr. 
 Tupper was a Baptist, and his pastor had made a violent 
 attack upon the whole transaction, and Mr. Tupper' s 
 speech was a pointed rebuke. The Bishop, Rt. Rev. W. 
 B. W. Howe, made the closing address. Nothing ever 
 fell from Bishop Howe's lips that was not good, and 
 now he declared that he was grateful that God had so 
 blessed the labors of one of the presbyters of his diocese. 
 All these addresses are also published in my little book ; 
 therefore, they are not here repeated. A warm editorial 
 of the News and Courier concluded with the words, ' ' The 
 transfer of the arsenal to the Church Institute was the 
 joint work of the President, the Cabinet, and Congress. 
 Both Democrats and Republicans supported the proposi- 
 tion. This is, as Doctor Porter says, ' Practical Recon- 
 struction,' honorable alike to both parties, to North and 
 South, to President and people. The ambition of Doctor 
 Porter's life bids fair to be realized, and the greater his 
 success the broader and deeper the benefit to the people 
 of the State." 
 
 The improvements and alterations had so far progressed 
 that on the nth of February, 1880, Mr. Gadsden, the 
 principal, and Miss Seabrook, the matron, moved with 
 all the boys into quarters in the arsenal. I had to use the 
 old schoolhouse for some months until I could convert the 
 foundry, which the Confederate Government had built 
 during the war, into a schoolhouse, changing its use from 
 moulding bullets into moulding brains and hearts and 
 characters. It cost the Government twelve thousand 
 dollars to remove the old cannon and shot and shell, etc. , 
 a work which General Sherman had done as expeditiously 
 as possible. I was then living at the corner of Rutledge 
 Avenue and Spring Street, and one day General Sherman 
 asked me if I was not going to move into the arsenal ? I 
 told him, No. * * How ever can you manage such a work 
 
School Opens in the Arsenal. 367 
 
 if you are not on the spot?" I soon saw that he was 
 right, and with my wife's consent we left the house en- 
 deared to us by many associations and moved into these 
 grounds. Thrown more immediately in contact with the 
 work, I very soon found it necessary to take the reins into 
 my own hands and apply myself to the remodelling and 
 development of that which had been but a large private 
 school, into what had become a great public institution! 
 My friends had cheered me with their presence and their 
 words. They little knew the mighty burden I had as- 
 sumed, but I did not fear that God, who had given me the 
 work, would fail to give also the strength to carry it on. 
 
 Up to the time that we had been in my private buildings 
 two thousand boys had been under my charge, and I had 
 sent sixty-three to college. In all those years there had 
 been but one death in the institution. The sum necessary 
 to fit up the buildings for our use amounted to sixteen 
 thousand dollars, and I had not a dollar to do it w;th, but 
 from one source and another the money came, ^-'^iss K. 
 F. Mason and Miss Ida Mason, of Boston, Massachusetts, 
 were in Cannes, France, when they heard of my success, 
 and each sent me one thousand dollars, and from then 
 until now they have been my steadfast friends. I have 
 never needed to ask their aid. Yearly they have munifi- 
 cently helped me, and as I have said before, but for their 
 systematic annual aid, I do not see how this institution 
 could have lived a year. God bless them ! 
 
 Our thirteenth year closed with a debt of two thousand 
 five hundred dollars for current expenses, and eight 
 thousand due on the improvements of buildings and 
 grounds. The property could not have been available 
 without these improvements and adaptations, and I felt 
 that I had been carried on by the felt but unseen power 
 of God ; and I knew that He would not forsake me. It 
 is a wonderful record, that I, single-handed, with no 
 
368 Led On / 
 
 counsellor except my wife, should have gone unheralded 
 to Washington, with a long line of preparatory Provi- 
 dences stretching through a series of years, each appar- 
 ently independent of the other, but all preparing the way ; 
 should have come from Charleston, the hotbed of seces- 
 sion, and gone to a Republican General of the armies, a 
 Republican President and Cabinet, to a Republican Con- 
 gress, either, or any one of whom, could have put an insur- 
 mountable obstacle in my way, and yet, step by step, each 
 became my friend, cooperated with me, and delivered to 
 me without money or price that which no money could 
 have bought. Reader, go back with me to the grave of 
 my child, on that 25th of October, 1867, and stand with 
 me in those grounds this 8th of January, 1880, knowing 
 all the facts — was it infatuation, enthusiasm, delusion ; or 
 was it inspiration, the finger and the voice of God that 
 had driven me forward ? Whatever you may think, my 
 conviction is as strong this night, 23d February, 1897, ^s 
 it was thirty years ago — ^yes, stronger, for I did not know 
 then what experience has taught me now, * ' If thou hast 
 faith as a grain of mustard seed," — ^you know the rest. 
 
 Some reader may think that the church of which I am 
 rector seems all these years to have been lost sight of. It 
 was not, but is not often referred to, because the regular 
 ministrations were carried on, for I had two hundred 
 and fifty-nine communicants, to whom I ministered, and 
 a congregation of some five hundred souls. We raised in 
 the parish during the year some four thousand dollars for 
 parish expenses and Church purposes. I baptized twenty- 
 three, presented for confirmation forty persons, so there 
 was no neglect of that work ; but there is nothing of gen- 
 eral interest in the usual clerical life which needs to be 
 recorded. 
 
 After giving up my house in Ashley Street for the use 
 of the school for twelve years, I now rented it out, and 
 
School Opens in the Arsenal. 369 
 
 the house I had bought I deeded to the vestry, in trust 
 for the Caroline Wilkinson Home, a refuge for indigent 
 ladies which is still in existence, and has been a sweet 
 refuge for many in these seventeen years. From 1867 to 
 1880 one hundred and thirty-eight of my bo3^s had been 
 confirmed, of whom eleven had been ordained to the sacred 
 ministry, and one of my graduates is Vice- Chancellor of 
 the University of the South. I find in the closing para- 
 graphs of the book which was written up to the occupa-. 
 tion of the arsenal, * ' I know not what is before us, in the 
 unwritten future ; God's eye alone can penetrate that 
 darkness. We propose, by God's grace, to try to do our 
 duty faithfully. We shall endeavor to give our boys the 
 best education in our power, and shall try to bring them 
 up as loyal citizens of the government under the flag of 
 which they live. Ours is not a political nor a partisan 
 school, but an educational institution governed by the 
 laws of religion and morality. We give our boys the 
 training of Christian gentlemen, brought up in the fear 
 and admonition of the I^ord, and neither political party 
 nor religious sect need fear the result. We have so far 
 had over two thousand boys in our charge, and I have 
 sent sixty-three to college. Has this been God's work ? 
 We ask the prayers of the faithful that God will continue 
 to bless us, and that in all our cares, necessities and 
 anxieties, and disappointments, we may keep a single eye 
 to His glory, and the welfare of our fellowmen." 
 
 I must now show what use I have made of the property 
 committed to my care. When October i, 1880, had come, 
 the usual stir began, and every train and steamer brought 
 the new and old boys to the Institute. The General Con- 
 vention of the Protestant Episcopal Church was about to 
 meet in New York, and I was a deputy to it from the Dio- 
 cese of South Carolina, so I received a few of the incoming 
 boys, but had to leave the organization of the school to the 
 
 24 
 
3 7o Led On ! 
 
 principal, Mr. John Gadsden. The school year closed 
 with a debt of ten thousand five hundred dollars, which 
 had been increased by some fifteen hundred dollars for 
 furniture and repairs, and when I reached New York, 
 knowing the large gathering of boys which was taking 
 place at home, and the daily expense of it all, with this 
 large debt before me, my heart was anxious, but not 
 despairing. The year of the meeting of the General Con- 
 vention is a very bad year to collect money for private 
 charities. The cost of the Convention is so great, the 
 Missions of the Church in the organized channels have 
 the field, and the presence of Missionary Bishops who, 
 from their oflScial station, have erdrie everywhere, and 
 reach those whom a simple presbyter cannot, add greatly 
 to the difficulties in the way. I approached an old and 
 true friend. Mr. K. R. Mudge, of Boston, and told him my 
 needs. I never can forget the blank look he gave me, and 
 the ominous shake of the head, as he said, " You never 
 can carry on that work ; it is too much for any man." 
 
 I told him the Government had given me the oppor- 
 tunity to do a good work for the country and the Church, 
 and I felt bound, as fast as I could, to develop it to its 
 utmost capacity ; that I did not believe I would be in the 
 position I then was, had it not been the will of God for me 
 to hold it, and I would work and pray, and wait and trust, 
 as I had been doing all these years ; that now the work 
 had been brought prominently before the public, and those 
 extraordinary events which marked the earlier j^ears did 
 not now so often occur, but God seemed to purpose that 
 the ordinary agencies should work. It is like the estab- 
 lishment of the Christian faith ; at first miracles were 
 common, but as years went on the Church was left to 
 grow by natural processes. 
 
 Mr. Mudge seemed to think it hopeless, and was not 
 reassuring. Indeed, were I to put in print all of my ex- 
 
School Opens in the Arsenal. 371 
 
 perience, the days and nights of anxious suspense, the 
 disappointments and rebuffs, the mortifications and trials 
 which every year of the life of this institute has entailed 
 upon me, there is no reader of these pages who would not 
 feel as intensely as I do, that I can account for my per- 
 severance only by the indwelling presence and power of 
 the Spirit of God, who gave me the work to do and has 
 not suffered me to withdraw my hand, even though it 
 has cost, and still costs, an amount of self-abnegation of 
 which, unaided by Divine grace, I am utterly incapable. 
 I now called on another friend, Mr. Robert I^enox Ken- 
 nedy, and told him my needs. He at once drew his check 
 for five hundred dollars, and gave it to me. He told me 
 to cheer up and keep on, for if I was doing God's work, 
 of which he had no doubt, the ways and means would 
 come ; and come they did, I scarcely know how. 
 
 Having mentioned Mr. Mudge's name, I relate an inci- 
 dent of 1866, when I first went to Boston and was his 
 guest. As we walked upstairs from the dining-room, 
 there was hanging in the hall a life-size portrait of a 
 handsome young officer in the United States uniform. 
 * * This, ' ' Mr. Mudge said, ' ' is the portrait of my son, 
 who laid down his life for his country." 
 
 We all stood for a few moments in silence before the 
 picture, when I said : " Mr. Mudge, what an illustration 
 this is of the triumph of the Christian religion. Here is 
 the likeness of your dead boy, killed in fighting against 
 those I represent. Here am I, an ex-officer of that op- 
 posing army, in the presence of that picture, a welcome 
 guest of his father and mother and sisters. ' ' Mr. Mudge 
 put out both his hands and with much emotion said, "And 
 none more welcome ; he gave his life for what he thought 
 was right; you risked yours for what you thought to be 
 right ; you were each as conscientious the one as the other. 
 The God of Battles settled it as He saw fit, but that does 
 
372 Led On ! 
 
 not convict you of wrong, nor does it prove him right. 
 You have accepted the decision in the spirit of a Christian 
 patriot, and my son would rejoice to know that we have 
 welcomed you to our home and to our hearts. ' ' * 
 
 Mr. S. G. Wyman had given me a letter of introduc- 
 tion to the Mr. Robert lycnox Kennedy mentioned above ; 
 he was a prominent Presbyterian who from time to time 
 had given me a little help. One winter he was visiting 
 the South with his wife. She was taken sick in Savan- 
 nah, and he hastened towards home, but she was so ill 
 that they had to stop in Charleston, and one Sunday 
 morning Mr. Kennedy wrote for me to come to him at 
 the Charleston Hotel. There I found his wife desperately 
 ill with diphtheria, and Mr. Kennedy at a loss what to do. 
 I immediately summoned Dr. T. I^. Ogier, the most dis- 
 tinguished physician of that day in Charleston, and I 
 hunted the town for a nurse. Between the services of the 
 day I stayed with Mr. Kennedy and remained all night 
 and all Monday. On Tuesday, Mrs. Kennedy died, and 
 I closed her eyes. Of course this made Mr. Kennedy a 
 warm friend and a generous helper until he died. 
 
 I was in New York in the Spring of 1881, and one even- 
 ing I went with a very heavy heart to visit my friend, 
 Mrs. Samuel G. Wyman of Baltimore, who was then in 
 New York. She had always taken a lively interest in the 
 work. She said to me, " There is to be a meeting at 
 Doctor Barker's of the friends of Mrs. Buford, who is 
 engaged in a great work among the negroes in Virginia ; 
 I wish you to go there." It was useless for me to remon- 
 strate and urge that I did not know the people, nor had I 
 
 * Death has since severed Mr. Mudge and myself as friends. 
 But has it ? I remember him with love and gratitude, and has he 
 forgotten where he is that he knew, and loved, and helped me 
 here ? Will we not meet again and talk it all over in the land 
 beyond ? I believe it. 
 
School Opens in the Arsenal. 373 
 
 been invited. ** Nevertheless, go," she insisted; " I feel 
 that good will come of it." 
 
 With great reluctance I went, feeling, as all my readers 
 may imagine, very much out of place. I was, however, 
 greeted by host and hostess with a very courteous wel- 
 come. They both knew of me, and there I was introduced 
 by Mr. F. Winston to two gentlemen whom I had long 
 wished to know, but never before had been brought in 
 contact with, Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt and Mr. R. Fulton 
 Cutting. We had some pleasant conversation, and from 
 then until 1896 they have been anually large contributors. 
 Had I not gone, I do not know a time or place when and 
 where I could have met either of them, for all our subse- 
 quent interviews have come through our past acqaintance, 
 and not by an accidental meeting. I find strength in be- 
 lieving that we are led by an unseen hand. 
 
 Friends in New York that year gave me $4698 ; in 
 Boston, $3580 ; and a few friends in Philadelphia, Balti- 
 more, Hartford, Providence, Newport, Bllicott City, 
 Md., Albany, Brookline, Brooklyn, added their aid; and 
 altogether, I collected $10,532.41, and friends in England 
 sent me $4,716.76. I collected in Charleston and South 
 Carolina, $12,207.86 — a total of $27,457.03. The cost of 
 the year was $20,535.57; I had to meet a debt of $12,000 
 —a total of $32,535.57, and I received $27,457.03; leaving 
 a deficit of $4978.54 to carry over to the next year. 
 Although the burden still was very heavy, to have paid 
 ofif $7000, and still carry on the work, proved to me that 
 I was not forsaken by the gracious Providence which had 
 so long provided for me. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 IMPORTAiSr'T ADDITIONS TO OUR CURRICUI<UM 
 
 Death amongst my teachers — / am enabled to build a gym,- 
 nasium — / m,ake an important addition to the curriculum 
 in the shape of linear drawing for machine shops — The 
 powder m.agazine is flooded for a reason — Typewriting 
 and stenography added to our course — The beginning of 
 an endowment. 
 
 JUST after the close of the last term, Miss Emma 
 Rhett, who for nearly fourteen years had served this 
 institution as one of the teachers with a zeal and devotion 
 beyond her strength, died on the 15 th of August. Mr. 
 Wm. Benjamin Roper, one of our pupils who had gradu- 
 ated from Union College, Schenectad}^, and had been our 
 assistant in the classical department, sickened and died on 
 the 27th of July. These teachers were much beloved and 
 deeply mourned. Nine of those who have been teachers 
 here have passed to their final account, and the principal 
 was the only one left, in 1881, of those who were first en- 
 gaged on December 9, 1867. Only one death has so far 
 occurred at the Home in all these eighteen years. The 
 scarlet-fever prevailed during the year, and was in every 
 street around these grounds, and though one boy, who 
 had just come in, was taken sick with the fever, it did not 
 spread, and not another case occurred ; so graciously has 
 
 374 
 
Important Additions to our CMrriculum. 375 
 
 God taken care of us. During the year I had many loads 
 of sand brought in to fill up the low places, and the whole 
 square has been thoroughly drained with subsoil tile 
 draining. 
 
 Mr. James T. Swift, of New York, one day in going 
 over the premises, asked why we had no gymnasium, since 
 we had a building suited for it ? I told him we found it 
 so hard to provide for necessaries, that I had not felt 
 authorized to use any money given for other purposes. 
 He kindly told me to fit up the gymnasium, and to send 
 the bill to him. He subsequently added to the gym- 
 nasium. 
 
 One day in 1881, I chanced to be in a machine-shop of 
 Messrs. Smith & Valk, when, observing that one of the 
 youths seemed to be doing clumsy work, I asked if he 
 could draw the piece of machinery he was making. Find- 
 ing that he could not, and learning after careful inquiry 
 that this was the case in all of the machine-shops, I in- 
 vited all the leading mechanics to my house to supper, and 
 from them learned that there was no teacher of linear 
 drawing in the city. Failing to get a teacher at home, I 
 went to Boston in February where Mr. Mudge took me to 
 his house, and the next day gave me a fifteen mile sleigh- 
 ride, the first and last of my life. When we reached home 
 I told him it was magnificent, but I had not come to enjoy 
 myself, but on business, and he gave me a letter of intro- 
 duction to Mr. Rogers, the President of the School of 
 Technology. This, with letters from Mr. A. A. Lawrence 
 and Mr. R. C. Winthrop, secured the president's attention, 
 and he sent for Mr. C. S. Gooding, a 3^oung man whom 
 he highly recommended. I told him that while I knew 
 nothing at all about linear drawing, I had discovered a 
 great need, and had boys whom I wished to be taught 
 linear drawing ; if he felt himself man enough to under- 
 take it, I wanted him to do so. He said he would take 
 
37^ Led On ! 
 
 the situation for twelve hundred dollars. This seemed a 
 good deal of money, but as he was a specialist, said to be 
 an expert, and I knew to make my place a success I must 
 have a good man, I engaged him. Mr. Wm. P. Clyde 
 gave me a ticket for him, and I authorized him to pur- 
 chase instrtunents. I went out among my friends in 
 Boston, and they gave me money enough to cover the 
 first year's expenses, for they seemed pleased at this prac- 
 tical development of my educational scheme. Mr. Good- 
 ing stayed two years, married, and returned North, but I 
 have kept up this branch of instruction, always having a 
 good teacher, for the past sixteen years. At first it was 
 not understood, for it was a new thing in the South, and 
 I had to take a firm stand and insist upon its being taught. 
 It has since grown to large proportions, is a popular 
 branch, and has turned out a large number of young men 
 who, with no further education than that received in this 
 school, have obtained places as draughtsmen and en- 
 gineers. There were two boys who were as good as boys 
 are ever made, but they were very slow at books. I took 
 these two to Mr. Gooding, and begged him to try and 
 make something of them. In about a month he told me 
 those boys had a wonderful talent in this line, and as they 
 improved, their capacity for mathematics seemed to de- 
 velop, and when they graduated one became the head 
 draughtsman in the shop in which the idea came to me, 
 and the other went to the Baldwin Locomotive Works, 
 where he is occupying a responsible position. If I had 
 not started that branch of education they would probably 
 be to-day in some country store, poor and unknown. 
 These are illustrations only, for several hundred have 
 been taught mechanical drawing. One is now with the 
 Cramps in Philadelphia, and I find in my report to the 
 Trustees of that year, these words : 
 
 " The needs of this fast-developing republic, on this 
 
Important Additions to our Curriculum. 2>17 
 
 vast continent, with its shops and manufactories, demand 
 an immense corps of draughtsmen. Thus a new avenue 
 is opened to our boys to earn a lucrative and an honorable 
 support. I shall save some from seeking situations in 
 small country stores, or following laborers in our cotton 
 and rice fields, or flocking to every opening in the city 
 where a vacancj^ occurs, to receive a small compensation. 
 These places must be filled, but it is sad to see much good 
 material comparatively wasted in such limited spheres, 
 sadder to know how many are pining in enforced idleness, 
 so that every additional means of earning a livelihood is 
 a benefaction. ' ' 
 
 In the spring of the year the boys were permitted to go 
 in swimming in the river. Two of these came near drown- 
 ing ; so that it is needless to say this was the last swim 
 my scholars had in the river. I at once converted the 
 powder-magazine into two large swimming pools. The 
 water I brought into the ponds from the city artesian 
 well, and thus I have carried out General Sherman's sug- 
 gestion to get as far from the military associations of the 
 place as possible. I knew not how to do so more effectu- 
 ally than to turn water into a powder magazine. It will 
 be noticed that my friends in England continue to re- 
 member us. They sent some four thousand seven hun- 
 dred dollars this year to help at a time of very pressing 
 need. But still we closed the twelve months with a debt 
 of five thousand dollars. 
 
 As I was going backwards and forwards to the North, 
 and coming in contact with many minds, I endeavored to 
 keep my eyes open to the march of events and to fit my- 
 self for greater usefulness to my fellow-citizens, and per- 
 ceiving that stenography was becoming fast a factor in 
 modem life, I determined to introduce this into my 
 school. I obtained the services of a young lady, through 
 the Cooper Institute, and brought her to Charleston, 
 
378 Led On! 
 
 where I tried for three years to incorporate the study into 
 my curriculum. But the boys were so overloaded with 
 work that I found it impracticable. They would have 
 had to give up studies which they could not do without, if 
 I pressed this in. I did induce some young ladies of my 
 congregation to take lessons. One of these became a pro- 
 ficient and then a teacher, and has found it a source of 
 income. At that time, save in the daily press, there 
 were no stenographers in Charleston, but I foresaw the 
 time would come when they would become a necessity in 
 all our prominent ofiices. 
 
 One young lady, singularly bright, began to take les- 
 sons from Miss I/Ce, the young lady who had first perfected 
 herself, and her uncle. General James Conner, was quite 
 put out at this useless waste of time. He actually remon- 
 strated with her father, then a bank president, who re- 
 plied that as she had the time, and it was her pleasure to 
 so employ it, he had no objection. In time her uncle and 
 father both died, the father leaving a very insufiicient 
 estate to support his daughter and her mother. This 
 daughter applied herself, became an adept, in time became 
 as she still is, the stenographer of the United States District 
 Court, and is comfortably supporting herself. She would 
 scarcely have thought of it if I had not brought Miss 
 Scott here. 
 
 The year 1882 brought to me a sore affliction. My 
 wife, who had been so feeble and sick for so many years, 
 was stricken with paralysis, from which she never recov- 
 ered, but bore her incessant sufferings with that same 
 gentle submission which characterized a life of thirty 
 years' of ill-health. She lingered thus for nine long years ; 
 it was another burden our dear lyord required us both to 
 bear. Why, we know not now ; we shall know hereafter. 
 The only time she ever broke down would be on Sunday 
 morning, when I would go to her room to have a short 
 
Important Additions to Our CurrictilMm. 379 
 
 service for her, before I went to church. Then at times, 
 it would seem so hard, for she loved the church, but for 
 fourteen years she had never been able to go to it. This 
 was not a refreshing preparation with which to go to my 
 public duties, but God gave me grace to hide deep down 
 with Him the sorrow that was there, that the public eye 
 never saw. I hope it drew us both nearer to Him. 
 
 Some years ago, long before there were any railroads 
 going to Asheville, in casting about for some place where 
 life would be more bearable to my wife, we had chanced 
 to think of Asheville, North Carolina, and there she 
 seemed to be more at her ease. Though boarding-houses 
 were uncomfortable, property was cheap; so I borrowed 
 some money and bought some land with a house on it. 
 M3- second son, Charles, was in business, and devoted the 
 half of his salary to help me pay for it. My dear friend, 
 Fred. A. White, from I^ondon, for many years every 
 January and July sent me a munificent personal gift which 
 I put on this debt, and so I got a summer home for this 
 dear wife, where I took her every year till the year she 
 died. It was a great struggle to pay for it, but I look 
 back thankfully that I did my best to give her comfort. 
 
 My purchase turned out a good investment, for with 
 the arrival of railroads, property enhanced in value, and 
 by renting out the house in winter, and throwing in every 
 dollar I could spare, I have improved the property and it 
 is improving itself, and in time I trust my children may 
 have some little estate from that which was started only 
 to give their mother a home where she could have some 
 rest. 
 
 This year, at the suggestion of Mr. W. Bayard Cutting, 
 I began to try to gather an endowment for the Institute, 
 and little by little I have accumulated a beginning. I 
 have an abundance of land on these premises, and have 
 with the consent of the trustees so far erected seven houses, 
 
380 Led On ! 
 
 on tlie streets surrounding the grounds. All of these are 
 rented and yield a little income. I have room for about 
 fourteen, and I hope to use the rents to build on, until the 
 ground is all taken up.* 
 
 I have prayed daily three times a day, at my stated 
 prayers, and always at the celebration of the Holy Com- 
 munion, that God would put it in the heart of someone, 
 or in the hearts of many, to give or to bequeath to the 
 academy a sum sufi&cient to insure its permanence, and 
 to relieve me from this annual torture of nervous anxiety. 
 I have known very many men and women who in life 
 were very generous to me, but none of them have be- 
 queathed anything to the work. I do not doubt my 
 prayers are heard, and even if it be not the will of God 
 that I may live to see it, yet the promise stands, ** Ask 
 and ye shall receive ! " 
 
 Some two months before my wife was stricken with 
 paralysis, I had been very much run down from over- 
 strained nerves, and the doctor advised a trip to Florida. I 
 went to Palatka, not knowing who was there, and met at 
 the hotel my old friend, Mr. John H. Shoenberger, who 
 told me there was an old lady in the house, Mrs. Robert T. 
 Stuart, whom he would like me to know. He sent her 
 his card, with mine, and we were invited to her parlor. 
 She became interested in my work, gave me one thou- 
 sand dollars for that year and repeated the gift several 
 other years. Afterwards she increased her donation to 
 two thousand dollars annually, until she died. She was 
 
 * One of the houses was built by funds supplied by Mrs. Ed. 
 King and children, of Newport, and is a memorial of her son 
 Alexander. Another home was erected by Miss Mary LeRoy 
 King, in memoriam of her brother, LeRoy King, a noble man, cut 
 down in the flower of his manhood. The decrees of Divine 
 Providence are an inexplicable mystery. He had so much to live 
 for, and filled so well his life. They received their bereavement 
 with Christian submission. 
 
Important Additions to Our Curriculum. 381 
 
 a Presbyterian, and I said to her one day, at her palatial 
 home in Fifth Avenue, New York, that I hoped she knew 
 I was an Episcopal minister. "I do," she said, " but 
 what of that. I have been down there in the South, and 
 I know the need of the work, and how well you are doing 
 it. You are doing the work of Christ, and I am glad to 
 help you. I am only sorry for all who can and yet will 
 not help such a work." It was a dreadful loss when she 
 died a few years ago. And so one after another has 
 gone and no new friends come. Still God does not pass 
 away. He is the same yesterday, to-day and forever, 
 and there I rest. 
 
 Mr. James H. La Roche and John E. Bold, two gradu- 
 ates of this school, were ordained to the diaconate this 
 year. We closed with a debt of near six thousand dollars. 
 
CHAPTER XI,I 
 
 THB PORTKR ACADKMY 
 
 ^^ My grace is sufficient for Thee'*' — Honor among boys — 
 Improvements in the building ~ General Lee' s most dan- 
 gerous antagonist — A risky bridge — / see McQueen at 
 his home — Death of a wise and good physician — A strange 
 dream — The Institute becomes the Porter Academy — 
 Friends in need. 
 
 IT will be seen how this school had been developing and 
 extending ; ever growing larger, needing greater 
 efforts, requiring more money, and yet by the goodness 
 of God, meeting its obligations, or tiding them over until 
 they were met. I often ask myself, " What am I that 
 God should so honor me ? " for the whole responsibility 
 had been concentrated in my hands, and my poor head 
 had to do all the planning and devising. My one stay is 
 the promise, *' My Grace is sufficient for thee." There 
 will be no greater burden than He will give strength to 
 bear. I cannot help it, but if I see what ought to be done 
 I feel that I ought to try to do it. I am aware that there 
 must be kindred spirits who will say that man must and 
 shall be helped to do his Master's work. 
 
 During the year 1883, I was forced to expel two youths 
 who were incapable of living up to the high standard of 
 
 382 
 
The Porter Academy, 3 S3 
 
 honor and self-control which has been established in the 
 Institute. One incident will illustrate my system of in- 
 ternal government. I have a rule that every boy is on 
 his honor not to leave the premises, da}^ or night, without 
 permission. One night I was called out to see a sick 
 parishioner, and did not get back until half-past one. 
 Seeing a bright light in one of the alcoves, I feared some 
 boy was sick, and therefore went to learn what was the 
 matter. I was astounded to find one of the students was 
 not in the dormitory, and on inquiring, found a second 
 boy absent. Both of these were over twenty-one years 
 old. I gave orders that they should report to me in the 
 morning. 
 
 Both came to me next day and one of them said, ' ' Doctor 
 Porter, had you not found us out, we intended to tell you 
 we had gone out, where we were, and how we came to do 
 it ; we left the light on purpose, thinking it would at- 
 tract attention." 
 
 I heard their statement quietly, and answered, * ' Young 
 gentlemen, you know the rule of this institution. You 
 have forfeited your word, and violated your honor. 
 There is nothing left for me to do, but to express my 
 sincere regrets, and to tell you both, to ' ' 
 
 But before I could get out the fatal word, they both ex- 
 claimed : *' Doctor Porter, on the honor of gentlemen, it 
 is the first time, and it happened just as we have told you. 
 We did what we have said and nothing else. We felt we 
 had betrayed ourselves, and feel miserable, and throw 
 ourselves on your mercy." 
 
 * ' But, ' ' I said, * ' when a man violates his plighted 
 word, how can he be again trusted ? " 
 
 The elder of the two, threw himself on his knees, 
 clasped me round my waist, and burst into tears, saying, 
 ' ' Doctor Porter, I have nothing on earth to depend upon 
 but my character. Do not brand me for this. Forgive 
 
384 Led On! 
 
 me, and take my word. This incident shall be a lesson 
 to me through life, and you shall never have reason to re- 
 gret your clemency." 
 
 I accepted their pledge, and retained them, and they 
 gave me no cause to regret my deci.sion. 
 
 In the year of 1883, I erected a large four-story building 
 for a dining-room, and dormitories ; this had become a 
 necessity. We needed a chapel, so I removed the roof 
 from a large artillery shed, raised the walls four feet, and 
 put a Gothic roof upon it ; I also inserted some stained- 
 glass windows. The chancel window I placed in me- 
 moriam of my dear boy at whose grave the idea of the in- 
 stitution rose. In September I went to Bar Harbor, the 
 White Mountains, and to Newport. At one of the hotels 
 in the White Mountains I met General George B.McClel- 
 lan. I told him that General I^ee had regarded him as 
 his most dangerous antagonist, and had said of him, 
 that he had done what he believed no other man in the 
 United States could have done, gathered the debris of 
 Pope's shattered armies, and with raw recruits organized 
 his force in eleven days, met General Lee's victorious 
 army at Antietam, fought, and checked him, with a suc- 
 cess resulting in a drawn battle. The General was much 
 pleased, and remarked that General Robert K. Lee was 
 the most knightly man who had ever drawn sword in battle. 
 In December I went to Boston ; thence, at the invita- 
 tion of Bishop Harris, the Bishop of Michigan, I went 
 to Detroit, in the month of February. The change of cli- 
 mate at that season made me very sick, and I lost my voice 
 entirely. Returning by way of Cincinnati, I encountered 
 that great flood memorable in history. I had waited at 
 Toledo for two days, and then took an experimental train 
 with a half-dozen other men, and remember coming to a 
 submerged town — I think it was Lima — where the water 
 was up to the window-sills of the church, and the people 
 
The Porter Academy. 385 
 
 could only get out of their houses by boats. We dragged 
 along until we came within three hundred yards of a long 
 covered bridge. The track was under water, and the fire 
 in the engine was nearly reached when we stopped. The 
 water was rushing past us, so that we could neither 
 advance nor recede. The report was that the bridge was 
 some inches out of pliunb, and was expected to go over 
 every instant. At last the conductor determined to try to 
 get over the bridge, and we began to crawl along, and 
 when the bridge was reached, the few men on board 
 crowded on the rear platform to save themselves if the 
 bridge went over. Through this covered vault we pulled ; 
 it could not have been for over five minutes, and though 
 we went as cautiously as possible, it seemed an hour. I do 
 not think I ever spent so long a time in so few moments in 
 my life. When we cleared the bridge, and reached higher 
 land on the other side, we felt we had escaped from the j aws 
 of death, as the bridge went over in a very few moments 
 afterwards. I went to Florida, as far as Palatka, in April. 
 The fourth Sunday in May, I preached at Grace Church, 
 New York, at the invitation of the Rev. H. C. Potter, 
 D.D., then rector ; and at Christ Church, New York, at the 
 invitation of Rev. Hugh Miller Thompson, rector, and 
 afterwards at Christ Church, Hartford. Having been in- 
 vited by Rev. Dr. Clinton Locke, to go to Chicago, I there 
 visited my friend, lyieutenant John A. McQueen, at his 
 home in Elgin. It was our first meeting for eighteen 
 years. We had parted in Raleigh, North Carolina, where 
 I left him with General Jos. K. Johnston's pass to go back 
 to his army. It was a very happy meeting. I returned 
 to Hartford to meet the Washington Light Infantry of 
 Charleston, who had gone there as the guests of. some of 
 the military companies, and then returned home. I think 
 I can say I have been in journeyings often, and sometimes 
 
 in peril, to prosecute my work. The Duke of Newcastle, 
 25 
 
386 Led On ! 
 
 England, visited Charleston, and called on me, and left a 
 check for the school of $300. 
 
 In the year 1884, as Chairman of a committee in our 
 Diocesan Convention, I presented a preamble and resolu- 
 tions expressing our sympathy with the movement in the 
 general Church, in the organization of sisterhoods and 
 deaconesses. It was warmly supported by some and as 
 warmly opposed by others. After much discussion, a 
 milk and water resolution was passed, which meant 
 nothing, and has resulted in nothing. This staid, 
 ultra-conservative old diocese was not ready then, but 
 the world has moved since then, and were I a younger 
 man I would press the subject, for I think the day has 
 come. 
 
 During the winter of 1885, I lost a warm friend, Mr. 
 Charles T. I^owndes. To the day of his death he was a 
 supporter of the institution and of myself It was he 
 who sent me to Europe in 1876, and thereby my life was 
 prolonged. Mr. I^owndes understood that my work was 
 hard, and I needed sympathy and aid, and he gave me 
 both. Dr. Wm. T. Wragg, who had been my physician 
 from my boyhood, and of this institution from its founda- 
 tion, five days before he took to his bed told me that he 
 knew his hours were numbered, his work was done, and 
 he added that I was the first person to whom he had 
 mentioned his condition. 
 
 ' ' I wish you to remember, ' ' he added, ' ' that I told you 
 I know in whom I have believed, and I am now readj^^ and 
 willing to go. I have no regrets that the end of the 
 journey is in view." We were seated in the ofiice of the 
 hospital after his visit to the wards, and he seemed so calm 
 and composed that no one would have supposed he was 
 speaking of his own case. Suddenly a paroxysm of pain 
 seized him while we were talking, and when it passed, he 
 remarked: " This is it, angina pectoris, and there is no 
 
The Porter Academy. 387 
 
 cure." It was Ms last visit to the hospital. His last 
 words to me from his sick bed were : ' ' No one shall ever 
 speak against you in my presence." He was a true 
 friend, and his death left a blank in my life. 
 
 Elias D. H. Ball, a grandson of Bishop Odenheimer, of 
 New Jersey, had the same year died of heart disease. 
 This was the second death in the institution in seventeen 
 years, and Doctor Wragg remarked when standing by his 
 corpse, ' ' He was as perfect a specimen of a gentlemen as 
 I have ever known." The following incident was told 
 me by his grandmother, Mrs. Odenheimer. 
 
 Just before he came to me he dreamed he found himself 
 in a great throng with others in the presence of a high 
 seat, veiled from sight, but in which they understood God 
 was seated. Bach one was to pass singly before that 
 throne, and to receive whatsoever was appointed to be 
 borne for God's sake, and to accept it, if willing. One 
 who preceded him was offered " consumption " and it was 
 refused. To the next, ' ' heart disease, ' ' and it was 
 refused. He determined to accept whatever was offered 
 to him, and as he in his turn passed, he received a paper 
 containing the words: " Be good and faithful, true, and 
 kind, and just ; be brave and benevolent, and you shall 
 enter the Kingdom of Heaven. ' ' His life was an applica- 
 tion of this dream. He lived in the faith and fear of God, 
 and died in the Communion of the Church. 
 
 Mr. Henry B. Pellew, of New York, presented me this 
 year with 166 volumes of the I^atin Classics, handsomely 
 bound, which since have found their place in the Hoffman 
 Library. There were 226 boj^s in the institution this year, 
 and yet I refused with much pain over one hundred appli- 
 cations to be received as beneficiaries. Six boys went to 
 Hobart College this year, during which I carried 108 total 
 beneficiaries. I received from South Carolina, that year, 
 $14,527.63 ; from other States, $12,756.46, and from Bng- 
 
388 Led On I 
 
 land, $340. I began the year with a debt of $8435, and 
 closed with a deficit of $6450. 
 
 Two of the trustees, Mr. W. C. Courtney and Mr. John 
 Hanckel, died within a month of each other, during the 
 year 1885 and 1886. They were lifelong friends, and are 
 greatly missed. Mr. John Gadsden, the Principal of the 
 Institution for eighteen years, accepted another position, 
 and my son, Rev. Theo. A. Porter, came to my assistance. 
 The Board of Trustees, during my absence, on the 28th 
 of January, 1886, changed the name of the institution from 
 the Holy Communion Church Institute, to the Porter 
 Academy, and took measures to have the same legalized 
 by act of the I^egislature. This is the resolution that was 
 passed at the meeting of the Trustees. The Hon. Henry 
 Buist offered the following preamble and resolutions, 
 which were unanimously adopted : 
 
 ' ' The trustees of the Holy Communion Church Insti- 
 tute, of Charleston, think that the time has arrived for 
 the change of its corporate name to that of the Porter 
 Academy. They deem this a just tribute to a great 
 Christian philanthropist, who from its origin, and amid 
 all its trials and struggles, has borne the burden and heat 
 of the day. His name should in the coming years be in- 
 dissolubly connected with it, for he has devoted to it the 
 best years of a long and honorable life ; in its darkest days 
 his faith never wavered, his heroic courage never failed. 
 
 " Resolved, therefore, that the Institute hereafter be 
 known as the Porter Academy, and that application be 
 presented to the next General Assembly for change of its 
 corporate name." 
 
 Of course this procedure was gratifying to me, and being 
 the act of the unanimous board, save myself, there was 
 nothing for me to do. It was a mistake at the first in 
 attaching the name of a parish church to the work, and 
 had I conceived that it would have grown to the extent it 
 
The Po7^ter Academy. 389 
 
 has, it would not have been done. If regarded ouly as an 
 Episcopal school, the prospect of general aid and patron- 
 age is diminished. Hence it is necessary to put the work 
 on a broader basis, and while it will ever, as far as I can 
 control the future, be under the influence of Episcopal 
 ministration, it is now dissevered from all official connec- 
 tion therewith, and stands upon the broad platform of a 
 school, the aim of which is to afford the best facilities for 
 training mind and heart and body for the duties and obli- 
 gations and privileges of life here and hereafter. At the 
 same meeting of the trustees, Mr. R. Fulton Cutting, of 
 New York, was elected a member of the Board, which 
 he accepted, and is still a trustee. Mr. Cutting w^as a 
 generous friend for many years and has continued to be 
 so. I was very glad at this latter action of the Board. 
 Surely it is an evidence of a genuine reunion of the coun- 
 try, when a Southern board voluntarily elects a Northern 
 friend to be a trustee of a Southern school, and he gener- 
 ously accepts the place.* 
 
 While speaking of the trustees, it is proper to say here, 
 that but for the kindness of Trustee E. Horrj^ Frost, f I 
 would often have been at a standstill. Frequently, at the 
 close of a term, he has endorsed my private note for two 
 thousand dollars to meet our obligations. He endorsed 
 not as a trustee but as a friend, feeling confident that if 
 I lived I w^ould pay, but if I died, he w^ould have to 
 make the deficit good. They w^ere always paid, but it 
 does not make me the less grateful to him. I began this 
 year with a debt of $6456. I supplied students at college 
 with clothes to the amount of $509, and w^e had been visited 
 by a cj'-clone, in August, 1885, which damaged the build- 
 ings to the amount of $1500, so that it was a hard, hard 
 
 * The Board, on April 5, 1897, unanimously elected Mr. Charles 
 Frederick Hoffman, Jr., of New York, a member of the Board, and 
 he, too, has generously accepted the position. 
 
 t Mr. B. Horry Frost died in the summer of 1897. 
 
390 
 
 Led On ! 
 
 year, but I came to the end with a debt of but $2116. Can 
 anyone doubt that God's watchful and loving care has 
 been over it all ? 
 
 The change in head masters caused me to throw myself 
 more entirely into the administration, and from that year 
 we began to rise in efficiency. There were several 
 changes, but in 1890, 1 made Mr. Charles J. Colcock head 
 master. He was a graduate of the school, and afterwards 
 of Union College, Schenectady, and from his appointment 
 our progress has been steadily on and upward. 
 
CHAPTER Xlyll 
 
 THK CHARLESTON EARTHQUAKE 
 
 / introduce a department of carpentering into the Institute — 
 The Charleston earthquake — Strange and terrible scenes 
 — The ludicrous side of the situation. 
 
 DURING the year 1887, my steadfast friend, Miss Ida 
 Mason, gave me a sufficient sum of money to pur- 
 chase a Harris- Corliss engine, twenty-five horse-power, 
 and a boiler of forty-horse power, and to equip a first-class 
 carpenter machine shop. Since then all the boys of the 
 first, second, and third classes, have worked one hour a 
 day in the carpenter shop, and some of them have learned 
 to make really excellent furniture. It is worthy of note, 
 that boys who stand highest in their classes generally 
 stand highest in this department, which supplements that 
 of mechanical drawing. This gift of Miss Mason has 
 been of inestimable value, for the engine not only propels 
 the machinery of the machine shop, but it also operates 
 the steam laundry, and pumps the water from my artesian 
 well, and supplies the dormitories with water and steam 
 heat in winter. A swimming pool, which is thirty feet 
 long, twenty wide, and ten feet deep, receives the water 
 and steam from the boiler in cold weather, thus heating 
 the room, and enabling the boys to swim all winter. 
 
 39T 
 
392 Led On I 
 
 On the 31st of August, 1886, I was seated in my parlor 
 in Asheville, North. Carolina, about a quarter to ten at 
 night, when I heard strange noises in my wife's chamber 
 above. They continued so long, I went to the foot of the 
 stairs and called to her nurse, for, as I have stated, my 
 wife had been a confirmed invalid for many years. I asked 
 the nurse why she was moving the furniture about in my 
 wife's chamber. She replied: "We thought you were 
 moving the drawing-room furniture, for we heard the 
 same noise ; I thought it strange. ' ' Next I heard the 
 wheels of many vehicles, apparently driving up the moun- 
 tain very fast. Next the sound of many trains of cars, 
 and immediately after one corner of the house seemed to 
 be lifted up, and came down with a thud. 
 
 I then realized that it was an earthquake ; and as my 
 summer cottage is built on the side of a mountain, I did 
 not know whether it was over a cave, and something had 
 not given away. I rushed upstairs to take Mrs. Porter 
 out, and directed the rest of the family to get ready to 
 leave the house, but as the disturbance subsided, we all 
 remained quiet. After awhile I went over to some neigh- 
 bors, and found them all quite wild with excitement. The 
 earthquake had been felt down in the valley much more 
 distinctly than on the mountain, and the vibration of the 
 turret on the City Hall had caused the bell to toll. We 
 imagined it was local, and as it seemed to be over, soon 
 settled down. 
 
 Next day about noon, a telegram was received from 
 Columbia, by someone, saying : '' We are all safe, but 
 poor Charleston," and nothing more. We all began at 
 once to telegraph to Charleston, but received no response. 
 
 It was not until eleven o'clock at night that we began to 
 get news. A half sentence, and then a break. After three 
 or four hours incessant telegraphing, we patched together 
 sufficient to show that Charleston had been destroyed by 
 
The Charleston Earthquake. 393 
 
 an earthquake. The Rev. Theodore A. Porter had gone 
 down on the 31st, and we could hear nothing from him. 
 My aged mother, an aunt, and a niece were in my house 
 in Charleston. The Church, the school, and the little 
 property I owned was there, and no tidings could be had. 
 My other son, Charles, returned home with me from the 
 telegraph office at four o'clock a.m., when we deter- 
 mined to take the train next morning, and get as near to 
 Charleston as we could. But in taking the horse out of 
 the buggy he put his foot down on mine, and in a few 
 seconds I could scarcely move. It was impossible for 
 me to leave next morning as my foot was terribly swollen. 
 Charles, however, by constant telegraphing, at last learned 
 that the members of my family were uninjured, but the 
 city was in ruins. 
 
 On the following Friday, all bandaged and bundled up, 
 I determined to go to Charleston, as I felt I must be 
 needed; and as we neared Summerville, we met a sad 
 sight, for everyone had left their houses, and were camp- 
 ing in their yards. We learned that the train on which 
 my son and a large excursion party had been on Friday 
 night, near Summerville, had a fearful experience. The 
 cars had been swayed from side to side, throwing people 
 from their seats, and had suddenly been stopped, with the 
 rails in front and rear twisted into the letter S. Summer- 
 ville, indeed, seemed to be the centre of the disturbance. 
 We reached Charleston about ten at night, and it was 
 pitiable to see the distracted people all in the streets, afraid 
 to enter their houses. I hastened with my son Charles to 
 the Academy, and such a sight met my eyes. Over six 
 hundred men, women, and children were camped out on 
 the grounds where there was ever}^ conceivable kind of 
 extemporized tent. Blankets and even shawls had been 
 stretched over poles, and sick and well, men, women, and 
 children were all gathered there. I found my aged mother 
 
394 ^^^ ^^ ■ 
 
 had beea taken out of bed, carried on to the grounds 
 and laid on a bed over which they had rigged up some 
 kind of shelter. I at once went into my house, which is 
 of brick, and found the chimney-tops gone; but saving 
 some cracks here and there, no damage sufficient to en- 
 danger the house was apparent. It was the month of 
 September, when it is not safe in this climate to sleep in 
 the open air, and I insisted in moving my mother back 
 into the house. There had been a constant rumbling 
 under the earth, but no shock since Tuesday night, so I 
 had beds brought into the lower story, and had just made 
 them all comfortable, when someone exclaimed : ' ' There 
 it is again ! ' ' and an awful roaring, rushing sound swept 
 under us. The large brick house swayed and swung like 
 a ship at «i^-a., and as it settled down, every brick in it 
 seemed to grate one on another. This shock was almost 
 equal to the first. All were so much alarmed, that we 
 beat a hasty retreat back on to the open ground, which 
 rose and swelled like waves at sea. As soon as mother 
 was made comfortable, and was protected as far as she 
 could be from the weather, I went through the crowd; 
 some of them were bearing it very heroically, others were 
 totally unnerved. I found an aged relative, who had been 
 an invalid since she was fifteen, among the refugees. 
 Poor old lady, her spirit took its flight in the midst of it, 
 and she was at rest. I found cases of typhoid fever, and 
 there had been one or two births from fright. It was a 
 heart-sickening sight. The air was filled with many 
 sounds. The negroes were terrified, and took to vocifer- 
 ous praying, loud shouting, and weird singing. Sleep 
 was impossible. All night the rumbling underneath and 
 the quivering of the earth told us that all was not over. 
 Indeed, during the year there were seventy-nine shocks 
 in all before it ceased. 
 
 Early on Saturday I received a cablegram from lyondon, 
 
The Charleston Earthquake. 395 
 
 from my friend, Hon. Fred. A. White, which said: ** Are 
 you safe ? What damage ? " I replied, " Safe. About 
 $20,000, as far as I can now estimate." Immediatel}' I 
 received another cable ; it ran : ' ' Brown Bros, will send 
 you $3800." I devoted Saturday to going over the field. 
 Not a house had escaped ; not one hundred chimney-tops 
 were left ; many houses had crumbled, the fronts had fal- 
 len from some, the sides from others. St. Michael's Church 
 seemed a hopeless ruin ; it eventually cost $40,000 to re- 
 pair it. Grace Church was in the same plight. Indeed 
 all the churches and large buildings were in ruins. The 
 Church of the Holy Communion, having an open wood 
 roof, seemed to have swayed and given way, with less 
 damage, than almost any of the large brick churches. 
 Early Sunday morning, I received a telegram from Mr. 
 J. Pierrpont Morgan : ** Intense sympathy ; draw on me 
 for $5000." 
 
 I could not induce anyone to go into the church, so I 
 gathered the crowd on the green, and held a full service, 
 and preached an ex tempore sermon out in the open air, 
 and had a celebration of the Holy Communion. It was 
 a solemn occasion and a devout congregation. On Satur- 
 day night I was exhausted, for I had not slept since 
 Thursday night, and I threw myself on the floor of a 
 small wooden house which was on my grounds and tried 
 to sleep. I could hear a whirling sound, and ever and 
 again a violent shock, as if the ground beneath me had 
 been struck with a tremendous sledge-hammer, which was 
 not soothing ; but added to this, a large crowd of negroes 
 had assembled just outside my wall, in the street, and 
 they were indulging in howls and yells, screaming, pray- 
 ing, and singing. It was a very pandemonium. I could 
 not stand it, so I went out to them. I soon singled out 
 the ringleader. He was an old gray-headed man, and was 
 praying at the top of his stentorian lungs, and informing 
 
39^ Led On / 
 
 the lyord how very wicked he and all of them had been, 
 that hell was open, and that they were all going down 
 into its burning jaws. I let him go on until, while he did 
 not mean it, he was bordering on profanity, and was stir- 
 ring the crowd round him to frenzy. 
 
 I put my hand gently on his head, and said : " My 
 friend, look at me ; you know who I am, and that I am a 
 preacher, too. I believe in prayer, but you can't fool the 
 Lord. If you have been doing all those things you sa}^ 
 He knows it is fright, not conversion, that is bringing out 
 all this excitement. Now you are not going to hell j ust 
 now ; the earth has not opened and it is not going to open. 
 The most religious thing you can do now is to keep quiet 
 and go to sleep and let everybody else do the same. Just 
 over that wall is a lady not two weeks out of the lunatic 
 asylum, and you have nearly made her wild again, and 
 you must stop. ' ' 
 
 He remonstrated, and said the negroes were having 
 meetings all over the city. ' ' It must stop, ' ' I said ; * * Mr. 
 Courtenay, the Mayor, is on the sea, but Mr. W. K. Huger 
 is Mayor pro tern, and I have seen him, and arranged to 
 have all this noise stopped by ten o'clock. It is now 
 eleven. Go to the Citadel Square where the largest 
 crowd is, and you will find it all quiet. ' ' 
 
 He went, and soon came back, saying it was so, and it 
 should be stopped. He had scarcely gone, when a negro 
 woman came at me in a rage. 
 
 " Yes," she said ; "just like you buckra. Here we is 
 all going down to hell, and you won't let us even say a 
 prayer ! ' ' 
 
 I saw a row was imminent; so I went up to her, and 
 raising a small cane I had in my hand, I said : * * Look 
 here, I never struck a woman, but if you do not hush up, 
 this instant, I will wear this out on you." 
 
 The threat took effect; silence followed ; but I had not 
 
The Charleston Earthquake. 397 
 
 gone ten feet, when she, and the crowd who wanted to 
 pray, broke out with a song. " Oh, pretty yaller gal, 
 can't you come out to-night." I turned back, and told 
 her, not that, any more than her hymns ; silence was 
 what I had come for. 
 
 The old man came back by this time, and we had silence 
 and I got some sleep. The Sunday-school house which 
 had such a history, the first industrial school of the South, 
 the place where all the uniforms of the soldiers of the State 
 for some time were made, the Confederate States Post 
 Ofiice, where the first twelve years of the school had been 
 held, were all shaken into ruins. The Church, School, 
 Wilkinson Home, House of Rest, The Academy, and 
 my own private property, were damaged to the amount 
 of $21,000; but kind friends at the North, and in Eng- 
 land, enabled me to restore them. My gymnasium was 
 so unsafe I had to take it down. As I had the bricks, 
 Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt gave me $1500 to replace it. 
 The earthquake cost the city six millions of dollars to re- 
 pair damages. 
 
 The great generosity of the whole land sent some 
 $900,000 to help us, which was a splendid exhibition of 
 philanthropy. The North forgot there had been a war 
 which had separated us, and gave us freely, as if we were 
 on the other side of Mason and Dixon's line. Our people 
 should never forget this, and when hungry politicians seek 
 to stir up strife, they should answer: " Remember the 
 earthquake ! ' ' Much of the remaining five million dol- 
 lars was borrowed, and added to other causes, has helped 
 to keep us down and poor. Ever since that, six millions 
 to Charleston is more than six hundred millions to New 
 York. 
 
 I must put on record some of the funny doings that hap- 
 pened during the earthquake. It is told of a young man, 
 that he had been visiting a young woman a long while, 
 
39^ Led On! 
 
 but had never had the courage to come to the point. 
 They were upstairs in the parlor when the shock came, 
 and as the house was on the battery, with the bay just in 
 front of it, and was much exposed — for everyone supposed 
 a tidal- wave would accompany the earthquake — the young 
 man rushed to the front window, and putting his arms 
 out, sure enough, he thrust them to the shoulder into 
 water. Running back, and throwing his arms round the 
 young lady, he exclaimed: *' Come, O my darling, let us 
 die together." And so they stood, dying together; but the 
 water also stood, for it did not come in at the windows. 
 After awhile the mother and father came upstairs and 
 caught the pair in this fond, if alarmed embrace. They 
 wished to know the meaning of it, and the wet arms were 
 the explanation. The young man was, however, in- 
 formed, that he only plunged into the aquarium which 
 was outside the window. He felt bad, but it did the busi- 
 ness; and they have not died, but lived together. 
 
 It was an awfully hot, still night, and nearly everyone 
 was in the bath-tub at the time of the first shock. This 
 resulted in many ludicrous scenes. One young man 
 seized his gauze undervest and put it on, and rushing 
 out, jumped a fence, and of course there was a nail that 
 caught the garment in the rear. He had gotten over, but 
 the nail was on the other side, and do what he would, he 
 could not tear the garment. There he hung with his toes 
 just touching the ground, when a party of young ladies 
 came by, and not recognizing his condition, said: " Mr. 
 
 , where, oh where shall we go ? " " Go, ' ' he answered ; 
 
 " for Heaven's sake, go anywhere, but don't come here." 
 
 A staid old gentleman who had married late in life but 
 had two young children, jumped out of the bath, seized 
 his beaver hat, put it on his head, caught up the two little 
 ones, and rushed out into the street with one in each arm. 
 As he was hurrying along, he knew not whither, someone 
 
The Charleston Earthquake. 
 
 399 
 
 met him, and said; " Why, Mr. , do you know you 
 
 have no clothes on, save your beaver ? " " Oh ! " he 
 cried, and dropping both children, ran off. There is a 
 ludicrous side to almost everything in life. 
 
 This was the 31st of August; but I worked like a beaver 
 all September to get everything in order, and promptly 
 on the ist of October opened the Academy. It was the 
 only school opened in town, for all the free school build- 
 ings had been so much injured that it was impossible to 
 open them; so I placed my large schoolhouse at the dis- 
 posal of the Commissioners of the Meminger School for 
 girls, and they occupied it for over a month. I utilized 
 other buildings for my own until the girls left, much to 
 the regret of the boys, very naturally. A great deal has 
 passed from memory, but I wrote a full account, and pub- 
 lished it in the Churchman of November, 1886. 
 
CHAPTER XI,III 
 
 KOTHKN 
 Travels in the East 
 
 DURING the summer of 1888, I met Hon. M. C. But- 
 ler, Senator from South CaroHna, at the Battery 
 Park Hotel, in Asheville, and talking over the school, he 
 remarked : ' ' That work, sooner or later, will have to get 
 an endowment, and if you had the property on better 
 terms, I think people would be willing to give you an en- 
 dowment. Come to Washington next term and see what 
 we can do. ' ' At Washington I went, with General But- 
 ler, to see the President. It was Mr. Cleveland's first 
 term, and when General Butler introduced me, I told the 
 President that we were going to try and get a bill through 
 Congress giving to the trustees the title of the arsenal, in 
 fee, on the condition that it be always used for educational 
 purposes. I gave Mr. Cleveland a hasty sketch of the 
 origin and history of the work, and how I had the ninety- 
 nine year lease of the property. He asked, ' * Why have 
 you come to me ? " * ' What is the use, ' ' I answered, 
 " of our taking the trouble to go through Congress, if, 
 after passing the bill, it is met with your veto. We wish 
 to know, first, what you think about the matter ? " He 
 laughed, and said: " You are a diplomatist." " No," I 
 answered ; ' ' only a man with a little plain, hard, common 
 
 400 
 
Eothen. 401 
 
 sense. ' ' He then asked me to tell him all about the event, 
 which I did. I gave him the family name of many of my 
 boys, and he said: ** Do you tell me that boys bearing 
 those names are using a jack-plane and handsaw ? " 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' I answered. ' * Do you have any difficulty in mak- 
 ing them ? " * ' None whatever, ' ' I said. " It is part of 
 my curriculum and if any boy is socially too good to do 
 this, he is too good socially to stay there ; but I have 
 never dismissed any boy for this cause. ' ' 
 
 The President was very much interested and asked a 
 great many pertinent questions; at last he was satisfied, 
 and he said : ' ' Have you any particular friend here ? " I 
 said, " Yes, your Assistant-Treasurer, ex-Governor Hugh 
 Thompson, is a very great friend of mine." " Well," he 
 said, ' ' you tell Thompson to keep his eye on this bill, and 
 if it passes to come and tell me and I will sign it." 
 
 In due time the bill was passed. Governor Thompson 
 took it to the President, who not only signed it at once, 
 but wrote an autograph letter to General Wade Hamp- 
 ton, and wished him to telegraph me that he had signed 
 my bill with much pleasure. So that now this property 
 is held in fee by the Board of Trustees, and the only con- 
 dition is that it be used for educational purposes. It is 
 somewhat of a white elephant without an endowment ; but 
 I have the hope that the hard struggle of my life, and the 
 marvellous success of the work, will touch some generous 
 hearts, and cause somebody to take it up, and by their 
 own gifts, and those of their friends, place its future, 
 humanly speaking, beyond a peradventure, if it is the will 
 of God. 
 
 On the 1 2th of January, 1889, I went to New York, and 
 delivered an address to the Missionary Association of the 
 General Theological Seminary, at Calvary Church, New 
 York. I had been invited in October to deliver this ad- 
 dress. I gave up much time to put my best thoughts into 
 26 
 
402 Led On! 
 
 it, and read it to Mr. Julian Mitchell, a distinguished 
 lawyer of Charleston. He then read it over himself, and 
 when he sent it back he wrote me that old Southern ex- 
 slaveholder as he was, I had taught him things he did not 
 know. He regarded my lecture as a most valuable contri- 
 bution to the subject of the colored question. It is a long 
 journey from Charleston to New York, and costs some 
 money. Of course I supposed I was to deliver the address 
 of the evening, when to my surprise, I found that three 
 speakers were to speak on general missionary subjects. 
 At the end of the evening, when everyone was tired, I was 
 to come in for a five or ten minutes' talk on a subject so 
 great as the Church's relation to seven millions of people, 
 conditioned as are the negroes in the United States. I 
 frankly confess I was a little put out. When, at a quarter 
 to ten o'clock, I was introduced, I very deliberately walked 
 into the pulpit, and said: " I have come one thousand 
 miles to read an address to which I have given much 
 thought and time after a three months' invitation to de- 
 liver it. It is here, ' ' and I held up the paper. ' ' It will 
 take all of an hour to deliver it, for I cannot relegate so 
 great a subject to a few minutes' off-hand speech, and I 
 must either decline to address you or deliver this. ' ' When 
 intimations were given to go on, I told the audience that 
 if any of them desired to leave, they had better do so at 
 once but no one left and I delivered it. It was published 
 afterwards in three issues of the Church^nan. The publi- 
 cation brought me many letters of commendation and 
 thanks from many sections of the country. I took a vio- 
 lent cold that night and left the next day for home. I 
 had to stop at Sumter to meet the Bishop of South Caro- 
 lina and a committee of clergymen and la3'men — such 
 men as the present Bishop Ellison Capers, and ex- 
 Governor Manning, and General J. B. Kershaw, to formu- 
 late a report to be submitted to the Diocesan Convention 
 
Eothen. 403 
 
 on this same negro question. It was a cold, rainy night, 
 and I had to remain on the platform at Florence, South 
 Carolina, four hours, not under shelter, until another 
 train came along. Of course my cold was increased, and 
 when I reached Charleston I had to go to bed a very 
 sick man. I was confined to my bed for nine weeks with 
 a severe attack of bronchitis, and when I was able to sit 
 up there was not much left of me. Again a Divine Provi- 
 dence turned my sickness into a great blessing. My good 
 friend, Mrs. Daniel Le Roy, hearing of my illness, wrote 
 me a letter saying that she, with her daughter, Mrs. Edw. 
 King, and the Misses Mason had heard of my state of 
 health, and that my life was too valuable not to do every- 
 thing to preserve it. They had made up a purse, and she 
 would send me the check, provided I would use it, and go 
 abroad for the summer. I had repeatedly been urged by 
 my friends in England to visit them, but my wife's health 
 had deterred me. Now, she insisted on my going, so I 
 accepted the kindness of my friends, and determined to 
 go. My son Charles had been in business as a cotton 
 buyer for some years, and he had saved up some of his 
 salary, and he determined to go with me to take care of 
 me. So we sailed on the 17th of June and duly arrived at 
 I^iverpool, this making the fourth time I have crossed the 
 ocean. We travelled through England and Scotland, and 
 went to Paris; thence to Italy, through Switzerland and 
 Germany, up the Rhine, and on to Antwerp; back to 
 Paris, and then to lyondon. Two young Charlestonians 
 were with us, Wm. Gregg Chisholm and E. H. Cain. 
 Having gone over all this ground before, I was of some 
 use to these young gentlemen. We were about to return 
 to America, when Doctor McKenzie, who had attended 
 me, assured me that although I was better, if I returned 
 and attended the General Convention which was to meet 
 in October, and joined in a debate, especially upon this 
 
404 L,ed On I 
 
 negro question in which I was much interested, I ran the 
 risk of throwing myself back where I had been the year 
 before. 
 
 So I wrote to Bishop Howe that I would not be present, 
 and asked him to supply my place. My friend, Mr. Fred. 
 A. White, insisted on my staying with him, when my son 
 had left me and returned home. There I determined to 
 wait until the middle of the month. I had just gone 
 down to pass a few days with my friend Mr. Thomas 
 Kinscote, at the Trench, near Tunbridge Wells, in Kent, 
 forty miles from lyondon, when I received a telegram 
 from Bishop Wilkinson, of Truro, from Florence, Italy, 
 saying he had been ordered to Egypt for the benefit of 
 his health, and asking me to come and go with him. Mr. 
 Kinscote sent this telegram to Mr. White, who telegraphed 
 me from lyondon asking whether I would go ? If so, he 
 would pay all my expenses. I cabled home to ask what 
 I should do. My wife and vestry cabled : * ' Go. " So on 
 the 14th of October I joined Bishop Wilkinson at Florence. 
 We remained there a few days and went over to Venice, 
 where we took ship and went to Brindisi, and from thence 
 to Alexandria. It may be well imagined the intense in- 
 terest of that visit to the land of so much history. We 
 did not stay long at Alexandria, but went on to Cairo, 
 where we remained until the 14th of December. The 
 Bishop's health was very bad. He was in a distressingly 
 nervous condition, broken down from overwork as Vicar 
 of St. Peter's, Eaton Square, and then as Bishop of Truro, 
 where he took up the task left by his predecessor, who 
 had been made Archbishop of Canterbury — the sainted 
 Bishop Benson. Bishop Wilkinson had continued the 
 task of completing the first, and I think only cathedral 
 erected since the Reformation in England, and a magnifi- 
 cent cathedral it is, as far as it has been built. It cost the 
 Bishop years of much sufiering, and nearly his life. The 
 
Eothen. 405 
 
 delta ot the Nile is nearly one hundred and sixty-five 
 miles wide, and the English have reclaimed much of this 
 fertile land, but our sea-island planters, who plant long 
 staple cotton, have to regret it, for Egyptian cotton is a 
 sore menace to them. At Cairo, the fertile land of Egypt 
 narrows down to about nine miles, which is about the 
 average width to the first cataract where the Nile runs 
 between two ranges of hills, covered with sand, with this 
 nine miles of alluvial deposit on either side. There is 
 much to interest one in Cairo, the old city, and the new. 
 During the French occupation, they built a miniature 
 Paris where all the modern hotels are; but old Cairo re- 
 mains. There is a fine carriage drive to the Pyramids 
 nine miles off. This road was built by order of the Sultan 
 of Turkey for the Empress Eugenie of France to get there 
 comfortably. I frequently visited these great and wonder- 
 ful works, ascended the largest, and was amused when I 
 found a friend who put a United States flag in my hand 
 as I stood on the summit of the Pyramid, took a snap-shot 
 with his camera, and presented me with my picture. So, 
 though an ex- Confederate, I held, and held cheerfully, the 
 United States flag, and waved it over this monument of 
 the ages. The ascent of the Pyramids is tiresome ; there 
 are very long steps, from stone to stone, but by the push- 
 ing and pulling of the guides, who demand Bakshish at 
 every other step, one gets there at last. When I came 
 down, T went into the Pyramids — a very senseless under- 
 taking. You go down a narrow passage, and then stoop- 
 ing very low, you are pulled and pushed by a set of fella- 
 heens, chanting the Koran, and each with a lighted tallow 
 candle in his hand. At length you reach a large square 
 room as dark as pitch, only lighted by these candles, and 
 full of smoke and smells. There before you stands a large 
 empty porphyry sarcophagus, with the lid laid back, and 
 the mummy of the King who built it gone. They tried to 
 
4o6 Led On! 
 
 induce me to go up into the Queen's chamber, but I was 
 nearly smothered, and demanded to get out of the place in 
 double-quick time. I have been in the Pyramids, but I 
 think I was an idiot for going there. The Sphinx inter- 
 ested me as much as anything I saw there. That patient, 
 waiting, expectant look upon the face, I can never forget — 
 looking, as it were, for someone coming. I think it is the 
 best type of the Jews looking for the coming Messiah that 
 I can think of. The mummy of Rameses II., said to 
 be the father of the princess who rescued Moses, is in the 
 Boulak Museum. It is of intense interest, for the ex- 
 pression of the face gives you an idea of the character of 
 the man, and one can well imagine that such a man would 
 have been the persecutor of the Jews. 
 
 Finding that the Bishop with his two daughters and a 
 lady friend who had joined the party in England were 
 going to stay some time in Cairo, and I wished to make 
 a trip to Jerusalem, and finding that it would not cost 
 much, and could be done in twelve days, with the Bishop's 
 ready consent, I left the party, and went by rail over the 
 land of Goshen, to Ismalia, on the Suez Canal, and through 
 the Canal to Port Said. There I took steamer to Joppa, 
 and after a night's trip, was in this ancient city of Joppa. 
 I had really gone to the Holy lyand. It seemed a dream, 
 for it had never entered my mind that I would have had 
 such a privilege. 
 
CHAPTER XlylV 
 
 MODKRN jKRUSAIvKM IN HOI^Y WK^K 
 
 / visit the Far East — Palestine, Egypt, Damascus, all pass 
 before me — My emotions at Jerusalem in Holy Week — I 
 return safe home. 
 
 MY good friend, Mr. Jolin Cook, from wliom I pur- 
 chased my tourist ticket, and from whom I received 
 many acts of kindness during my sojourn in Egypt, has 
 secured for me a dragoman who was a Coptic Christian, a 
 native of Palestine. He took charge of me as soon as 1 
 landed, and made all arrangements for me. It is not my 
 purpose to lengthen out this book with very many details; 
 so many books are written purposely to describe the Holy 
 I^and, that I shall confine myself to merely stating where 
 I went, and my general impressions. Of course, we visited 
 the few places of Biblical interest in this ancient city of 
 Joppa, the traditional site of the house of Simon the tan- 
 ner, and the location where it is said Dorcas, whom St. 
 Peter restored to life, lived. A small mosque stands there 
 now. Of course I thought of the prophet Jonah, and his 
 flight from hence. Somehow, notwithstanding the learned 
 critics of the latter part of the nineteenth century, I find 
 I cannot help believing that our lyord knew what He was 
 talking about when He referred to Jonah as a type of 
 
 407 
 
4o8 Led On / 
 
 His Resurrection, and that the prophet did have the un- 
 usual experience of being swallowed by a big fish. When 
 passing through its narrow streets, I realized I was on the 
 spot, if not surrounded by the same houses, where the call- 
 ing of the Gentiles was revealed to St. Peter. Roman 
 history and the time of the Crusades, and the diabolical 
 massacre of its garrison by Napoleon, gave interest to a 
 place in its present condition absolutely uninteresting. 
 
 My dragoman having secured a seat for me in a most 
 uncomfortable wagon, we started for Jerusalem. Some 
 Englishmen have extensive vineyards and orchards of 
 limes, lemons, and oranges on the outskirts, through 
 which we passed into the Vale of Sharon. The soil, in 
 general appearance, reminded me of the sea island cotton- 
 fields on Kdisto Island, near my home in South Carolina; 
 but as there was little vegetation save an abundance of 
 red poppies, I wondered if these were the Rose of Sharon. 
 We stopped some twenty miles from Joppa, and passed the 
 night at Ramleh on our left ; some five miles off from 
 Ramleh we saw Lydda. The next day we left Ramleh 
 and were soon in the hill country of Judea. There is a 
 magnificent macadamized road winding through these 
 hills, and as you enter and look up, it appears like an 
 unbroken mass of rock, the very personification of desola- 
 tion ; but as you travel along, you see these hills are all 
 detached, and stand separate in mounds, and as you 
 ascend, and look down from the second tier of hills, you 
 see that those circular hills seem to be terraced from bot- 
 tom to top with a low natural wall, having a yard or two 
 of earth betw^een the front wall and the one next above, 
 and so on to the top ; and this seemed to be the nature of 
 each. In these terraces a few fig and olive trees were 
 growing. When I again went over the same ground in 
 the spring, wheat or rye or barley was growing there, and 
 the desolation had passed away. After riding some 
 
Modern yerusalem in Holy Week. 409 
 
 twenty miles we came in sight of Jerusalem. A long line 
 of modern houses outside the walls obstructs the view of 
 the city, and I found it difi&cult to persuade myself that 
 it was a fact that I was looking at that place around which 
 so much history, sacred and profane, centres. We passed 
 through the Jaffa Gate, with camels, and donkeys, and a 
 motley throng apparently of many nations. Jerusalem 
 having been destroyed some eighteen times, of course the 
 surface is not the same as was trod by the feet of our 
 blessed Lord; but the locality is the same, and notwith- 
 standing the dirty, narrow streets, the mixed population, 
 the trading and traffic of the everyday life of its present 
 inhabitants, I felt all the week I was there a constant 
 sense of awe and reverence, as we went from place to 
 place, traditional scenes in our blessed Lord's life. The 
 site of the Temple, now occupied by the Mosque of Omar, 
 Mt. Sion, and the tomb of David, the Church of the Holy 
 Sepulchre, the pools of Bethesda and Siloam made very 
 real the Bible record. I strongly felt the hill outside the 
 Damascus Gate, first pointed out by Chinese Gordon, the 
 English martyr, was most probably the hill of the Cruci- 
 fixion, but the learned Bishop of Jerusalem told me, that 
 after careful study of the whole subject, he felt satisfied 
 the Church was the true location. He must be a very 
 poor Christian who is not moved by such surroundings. 
 
 Jerusalem as it is, is a disappointing place, for the filth 
 and odors make one willing to shorten one's stay. This 
 was in 1890. Since then, a railroad has been built from 
 Joppa. I am glad I went before it was built, for it seems 
 to me almost profane to ride into Jerusalem in a Pullman 
 car, to stop at a station, and hear: " All out for Bmmaus." 
 I think it would send a shudder through me, but we soon 
 get used to everything. I went to all the traditional 
 places in Jerusalem, but there is the Mount of Olives, and 
 there is the same stony path over the mountain to Bethany 
 
4IO Led On I 
 
 which our I^ord must often have trod. There is Geth- 
 semane and the Brook Kidron. The valley of Jehosaphat 
 and of Hinnom no change of time has effaced, and he 
 must be slow of heart whose emotions are not deeply 
 stirred when he is in the midst of such surroundings. 
 
 I went down the same path that our Lord must have 
 travelled over when He went down to Jericho, a descent 
 of over two thousand feet in twenty miles. We had a 
 guard, an Arab, marvellously gotten up, and a perfect 
 arsenal of arms which he had not the slightest occasion to 
 use. 
 
 My dragoman and I lunched at an inn, and soon after 
 entered a tortuous ravine. In the middle of it the drago- 
 man made the cheerful remark that this had been the most 
 dangerous spot in Palestine, as robbery and murder had 
 frequently taken place in it. Being a Christian, he asked 
 me if I remembered the parable of the Good Samaritan, for 
 this was the only road between Jerusalem and Jericho, 
 and this spot must have suggested it to our Lord. It was 
 very wild ; I am glad I saw it. The next time I went 
 over that road, in the spring, a wide straight road had 
 been cut through that ravine, and a macadamized road 
 runs there now ; it is possible to drive over this mag- 
 nificent road from Jerusalem to Jericho in two hours, 
 such is the march of modern improvement, but at the 
 sacrifice of sentiment, and of landmarks. I stopped at 
 New Jericho, and visited the old site of Jericho, built on 
 one of these mound-like hills. The foundations of the 
 wall are still there, and a valley surrounds the site, so that 
 the march of the Israelites around was perfectly practic- 
 able. Klisha's fountain is at the base, and the water flow- 
 ing from it, makes fertile all its banks as it meanders 
 through the plain. There stand bananas, figs, grapes, 
 oranges, oleanders in profusion, while all else is sterile; 
 but where the water is, it is fertility itself. If the Jordan 
 
Modern JerusaleTn in Holy Week. 4 1 1 
 
 were dammed up, as it might be, and the valley irrigated 
 through canals, an immense population could be supported 
 on the products of that valley. I saw one grapevine whose 
 stem three men could scarcely encompass. 
 
 On our way down we passed along the brook Cherith, 
 and the cave of Elijah, where he was miraculously fed. 
 We rode down over the six-mile- wide plain to the Jordan 
 and the Dead Sea, and I went to the spot where the Jordan 
 enters the sea. In my left hand I took water from the 
 Jordan, with my right from the Dead Sea. The one was 
 fresh, the other was so intensely salt I was glad to get rid 
 of it. 
 
 Marvellous, that even when this fresh water has passed 
 in for so many ages, it does not afifect the salt sea one foot 
 from the point of entrance. From the conformation of the 
 land, the children of Israel must have crossed over from the 
 land of Moab, very near the mouth of the Jordan. The 
 place where twenty-four thousand perished for their sin is 
 just beyond, and the mountains of Moab rise nearby four 
 thousand feet over against you. In going down to the 
 Jordan, we passed several flocks of goats and sheep with 
 their shepherds. Palestine is the only part of the world 
 I ever saw sheep and goats flock together. 
 
 On our return, I noticed one of these shepherds carry- 
 ing a new-born lamb very tenderly in his arms. A little 
 while after I observed another shepherd dragging two 
 new-born lambs by their hind legs in a very cruel manner, 
 and I remarked on it to the dragoman, who very inno- 
 cently said : '' Oh ! the first owned that flock; this last 
 was an hireling." It was all very suggestive. On my 
 return to Jerusalem, I visited Bethlehem, and the re- 
 puted cave where the Saviour was born. It is fitted up 
 as a chapel, and many handsome silver lamps hang from 
 the ceiling, the gifts of kings, and emperors, and rich 
 men ; and there is an altar on the reputed spot of the 
 
412 Led On! 
 
 Nativity, and a silver star, with the legend in I^atin : 
 " Here the Saviour was born." {Hie de Virgine Maria 
 Jesus Christus natus est. ) It might have been superstition, 
 but the impulse was irresistible to kneel down and kiss 
 the spot. 
 
 I went to Hebron, some fifteen miles ofi" from Jerusalem ; 
 by the roadside passed Rachel's tomb as I went to visit 
 the cave of Machpelah, where we know Abraham, Isaac, 
 and Jacob, and Sarah and I^eah were buried. A great 
 mosque now covers the area. I went all round it; of 
 course could not get in, not being as fortunate as the 
 Prince of Wales and Dean Stanley, and not having one 
 thousand soldiers to guard me against the inhabitants of 
 Hebron, the most fanatical people in Judea. 
 
 I visited the site of Gibeon and Mizpah, where Samuel 
 lived and was buried. But I find I am entering too much 
 into detail, which I promised not to do, though the temp- 
 tation is very great. I returned from the various trips 
 around Jerusalem, and after twelve days returned by the 
 Suez Canal and went back to Cairo. I found on my re- 
 turn that Canon Scott Holland, of St. Paul's, London, was 
 to join the party. The Holy Land is no place for a 
 tourist to visit who is not thoroughly acquainted with its 
 history, and with his Bible, as it offers nothing to the 
 sight-seer but desolate limestone hills. 
 
 I met two men from Chicago who seemed to be dread- 
 fully bored and pronounced it all a fraud. I tried to in- 
 terest them, but found I was casting pearls before swine, 
 and suggested that the fraud was not in Palestine but it 
 was in such men visiting it. We remained in Cairo 
 until the 14th of December, when the whole party, con- 
 jSisting of Bishop Wilkinson, his two daughters, a lady 
 jfrom London, Canon Holland, and myself entered a 
 dahabiyeh, which is a long, flat-bottom boat, with a 
 cabin at the stern, one huge mast and trisail. To have 
 
Modern Jerusalem in Holy Week, 413 
 
 this costs a little fortune per month, and it is the most 
 wearisome mode of locomotion, though charming to people 
 who have plenty of money to throw away, and any quan- 
 tity of time that they do not know how to make use of. 
 In our trip we once made twenty miles in five days. The 
 monotony was intense. A trip by rail, or better still by 
 the great Cook steamer Rameses II. , gives you more com- 
 fort, and more opportunity for observation by far. This 
 is not the right thing to say, but I would not take the 
 trip up the Nile in a dahabiyeh again with my expenses 
 paid three times over. 
 
 We did not reach the first cataract until somewhere in 
 March. Of course there was much to interest, but I will 
 not allow myself to go over what has been so often said, 
 and better than I can say it. At Luxor, I met with Mr. 
 Clarence Wadsworth, a young man from New York, 
 travelling in a dahabiyeh with a tutor, Rev. Mr. Craig, 
 of New York. Mr. Wadsworth told me he was going to 
 Mt. Sinai, and through the Holy lyand to Damascus, 
 Palmyra, and across to Antioch, and kindly invited me to 
 be his guest. On my return from the first cataract to 
 lyuxor, I bade my friends of the Bishop's party good-bye, 
 as he was in the good hands of Canon Holland. In going 
 up the Nile I had not been very long on the boat before 
 I had complete control over the seventeen black hands 
 from lyibya. I did not understand them, but when at a 
 loss, the dragoman interpreted for me. They had a few 
 words of English, and I picked up a few of their words, 
 and by degrees I could communicate with them, and they 
 soon dubbed me Pasha. I could make them do anything 
 I wished. The Bishop and Canon Holland were quite 
 amused at the relationship so soon established, and asked 
 how I had managed to get control of them so soon, as they 
 themselves absolutely had nothing to do with them. 
 " Oh ! " I said, " I was born among the black race, and 
 
414 Led On! 
 
 had them under me from my boyhood. I understand 
 them pretty well, and these people soon discovered 
 that I was not a stranger to their race." One of them 
 seemed quite sick one day, and I went up to him, and put 
 my hand on his head, and by signs found out he had a 
 bad headache. I made up some mustard plasters and put 
 them on his temples, telling the dragoman to warn him 
 not to keep them on too long. He, however, tied them 
 on, and went down into the hole of the boat, and closed 
 the hatch after him. He did not come out till morning, 
 when the headache was gone, but so, too, the skin on his 
 temples, for he had kept the plasters on all night, and two 
 large, raw, white patches were on each side of his head. 
 As he was cured, I gained quite a reputation, and had to 
 prescribe for every ailment of all the crew the rest of the 
 trip. It was noised abroad, and when I returned to 
 Cairo and went out again to the Pyramids, I could not 
 get off from going to a village to see a man with paralysis. 
 I prescribed very earnestly, but did not cure that man. 
 
 From Luxor, I took the steamer to Assyout, from there 
 by rail to Cairo, returning in two days from a trip which 
 had taken three months, when I met Mr. Wadsworth and 
 Mr. Craig, and became their guest. In a week we went 
 over to Suez, and took a boat a few miles down the Red 
 Sea, where we met our camels and started on our journey, 
 following the track of the Children of Israel, through the 
 wilderness of Sin, and then through the different wadys 
 or valle3's of Mt. Sinai. The fountain of Moses, the well 
 of Marah, the wells of Klim, and the place where manna 
 was first given, and the quails were sent, were the points 
 of interest, before we turned off from the sea to make 
 towards Mt. Sinai. The sandy plain through which we 
 travelled on the camels is about three miles wide, with 
 the Red Sea on the right, and a range of sand-covered 
 hills on the left. These hills are almost entirely of ala- 
 
Modern Jerusalem in Holy Week. 4 1 5 
 
 baster, large and handsome pieces of which He scattered 
 over the plain. I wonder some syndicate does not get the 
 privilege of mining these hills, in which there is a fortune 
 for somebody. 
 
 As we turned to the left, at right angles from the sea, 
 the ground gradually ascends to a few hundred yards from 
 the mouth of the valley. I looked back and do not re- 
 member to have seen a more magnificent sight: The 
 marvellous blueness of the sea, the Libyan Mountains in 
 the background, and the walls of the mountains on either 
 side of the valley of bare, solid rock, and of divers colors, 
 make it a gorgeous gateway. I never saw such rocks or 
 mountains before ; they were separate ; one was white, 
 one black, one red, one purple, one variegated, and then 
 some of them gray and disintegrating with age ; and this 
 continues for some miles. I believe we were in the very 
 track of the children of Israel, but, instead of a dreary 
 desert, it was a magnificent highway leading up to Mt. 
 Sinai. By the third day on the camels I wished I had no 
 back, and did as much walking as I could. As the ascent 
 to the foot of Mt. Sinai is very gradual, we had to use our 
 instruments each night to find out how many miles we 
 had ascended, but the slope of the winding valleys is so 
 gradual, we scarcely noticed it. 
 
 Of course, there was much of interest in the ten days' 
 journey, for we did not travel long each day, and laid over 
 Sunday at the Wady Feiran, which is well watered and fer- 
 tile. We camped outside the wall of the Convent of St. 
 Catherine, on Mt. Sinai. The group of peaks forming Mt. 
 Sinai, as you approach, gives the impression of an immense 
 cathedral, with four high and pointed towers, one of which 
 is the mountain of the I^aw. From its top, and winding 
 somewhat in the rear, there is a stream of water which, 
 flowing down and winding near to the base, loses itself in 
 the sand. This is the stream into which Moses threw the 
 
4i6 Led On I 
 
 particles of the brazen calf which the people had made. 
 All is there now, as it must have been then. I could not 
 help thinking, ' ' This is the water that with others rises 
 to the surface at Feiran and at the wells of Klim," and 
 thought if Moses had known anything about artesian 
 wells he need not have been troubled about watering his 
 host. This group of peaks seems to be the culminating 
 point of this peninsula which lies between the Red Sea 
 and the gulf of Akabah. Entirely encircling the group 
 is a wide valley. The Mount of the lyaw rises with a 
 straight wall from the plain which stretches some two 
 miles away and a mile wide. Here the Israelites were 
 encamped for two years. The floor of the plain rises from 
 the base of Sinai, back like the floor of a theatre, so that 
 those who were encamped on the further outskirt could 
 see the mount, from its base to its summit. My two 
 friends started to ascend the peak, and I went with them ; 
 but they had youth on their side, and I gave out at the 
 Chapel of Klijah, the traditional spot where God, in the 
 still, small voice, spoke to the prophet. The others went 
 some miles farther on, but returned without reaching the 
 summit. We paid many visits to the Convent, and I could 
 fill many pages with descriptions, but so much is written 
 on the subject that I hurry on. 
 
 We stayed a week here and experienced a great variety 
 of weather. We had thunder-storms, hail and snow, and 
 warm, clear days. Returning by a shorter waj^ we reached 
 Suez in some four days, where we bade not an affectionate 
 farewell to our camels. The next day we went to Port Said, 
 via the Suez Canal, and from there to Joppa, and arrived at 
 the Mount of Olives on the 29th of March, 1890. The 30th 
 was Palm Sunday, and we camped on the Mount of Olives, 
 walked over to Jerusalem, and attended service at the 
 English Chapel. We spent Holy Week in Jerusalem, and 
 Maundy Thursday night I was at the celebration at the 
 
Modern Jerusalem in Holy Week. 417 
 
 chapel, a night never to be forgotten. After service, I 
 mounted my horse, and rode around the walls of Jerusa- 
 lem, across the brook Kidron, and by the Garden of 
 Gethsemane. The moon was very bright, and as I 
 reached the wall I heard the old familiar tune, Hebron, 
 which was being sung by a large congregation in the 
 Garden. It seems it was the custom for the congregation 
 to go in a body from the church, after the celebration, to 
 Gethsemane, and there to sing and pray. I did not know 
 it, or would have been with them ; but I rode near to the 
 wall, and leaned against it, and my emotional nature 
 gave vent in tears of gratitude to Him who there had 
 sweated great drops of blood for me. 
 
 It was quite cold, and when I reached the tent I found 
 the dragoman had a nice fire of coals, where I warmed my 
 hands and thought of poor Peter, and prayed I might 
 never deny my Lord. We went to the Church of the 
 Holy Sepulchre on Easter Sunday, and there, in a chapel 
 loaned to the English priest, we partook of the Holy 
 Eucharist. On Monday we left for the Jordan. We took 
 a more circuitous route, going by the Vale of Ajalon, and 
 by Beth Horon, and so crossed, by a bridge, beyond Jordan, 
 into the land of Moab, when we crossed the Jordan and 
 ascended the steep side of what seemed to be a mountain. 
 We reached the top, and found ourselves upon a wide-ex- 
 tended, undulating plain, and as far as the eye could see 
 it was one vast green field, and here and there camps of 
 Arabs, who locate for a time and plant and then go on to 
 other fields until they cover a large area, and in harvest 
 time repeat their nomadic life. I did not wonder that 
 Reuben and Gad wished to stay there, after their weary 
 journey in the wilderness, for there was abundant pastur- 
 age for their cattle, and the barren hills over the Jordan 
 were less inviting. Our first objective point was Hesh- 
 bon, of which we read in the second chapter of Deuteron- 
 
 87 
 
4i8 Led On! 
 
 omy. This was the city of Sihon, King of the Amorites, 
 who refused to let Moses pass through, and God gave him 
 and his cities into the hands of MOvSes. It is all a ruin 
 now, but there must have been very large buildings there 
 once. Mt. Nebo, or Pisgah, is not far off, and thither we 
 prepared to go, as we were under the protection of the 
 sheik of that district, to whom quite a sum had been paid. 
 As we were riding on very quietly, suddenly our sheik 
 stopped and said his jurisdiction there ended, and an Arab 
 took hold of the bridle of our dragoman, and refused to 
 allow us to proceed. Mt. Nebo was not a half-mile dis- 
 tant, and we insisted on going on. The Bedouin became 
 furious, and our dragoman lost his temper and drew his 
 pistol. I was riding beside him, and as he threw it over 
 to take aim at the man I looked down the barrel, caught 
 his arm, and threw it up, and told him very peremptorily 
 not to shoot. Should he kill that man, our lives would 
 not be worth a penny. The man tore himself off, and 
 rushed down the side of the mountain, towards the Dead 
 Sea. We rode on, and soon stood on the top of Pisgah, 
 where Moses stood. We had not been there long when 
 we saw a great crowd of dark figures coming up out of the 
 valley, headed by the man who had tried to stop us. 
 They were coming up very fast, and in great numbers, 
 so we concluded we had better return to the protection of 
 our sheik, which we did in a hurry. Mt. Nebo is only a 
 rocky mound, rising some two or three hundred feet from 
 the plain, on the edge of the precipice overlooking the 
 Dead Sea. The view must have been more attractive in 
 Moses' day than it was to us, for as far as we could see the 
 whole country had a most desolate appearance. We could 
 see the tower of Ascension, on Mt. Olivet, some twenty 
 miles away, but up the Jordan Valley, and over the 
 hill country of Judea, we saw only barren limestone 
 rocks. 
 
Modern Jerusalem in Holy Week. 419 
 
 Our next journey was to Rabbah-Ammon, a few miles 
 off. Here Og, the King of Basan, with his iron bedstead, 
 nine cubits the length and four cubits the breadth, of 
 course came to our minds. It was here the events re- 
 corded in the second chapter of Second Samuel took place, 
 the scene of David's awful sin in the murder of Uriah the 
 Hittite. From thence we went to Ramoth Gilead, now 
 called Salt, then over the brook Jabbok, where Jacob 
 wrestled with the Angel, and on to Jerash. The founda- 
 tions of the gates where David heard of the death of Absa- 
 lom are still there. We then crossed back over the 
 Jordan, and made our way to Shechem, now called Nab- 
 lous, a somewhat populous town, a place that recalls 
 Abraham and Jacob. Here is the grave of Joseph, and 
 the well of Jacob, where our lyord met the woman of 
 Samaria and revealed to her His Divine nature. The 
 grave is there and the well is there, and Mount Bbal is 
 on one side of the valley and Mount Gerizim on the 
 other. Those who are familiar with the Bible will re- 
 member how much history is connected with this locality. 
 We passed on to Samaria, a few miles distant, where 
 Naaman the leper and the Prophet Blisha of course 
 came to our minds, with all the rest of the interesting his- 
 tory connected with the place. 
 
 We passed through Dothan, and saw many of the pits 
 which are there, into one of which Joseph was cast by his 
 jealous brothers. We left Mount Carmel a few miles to 
 the left, and descended to the valley of Esdraelon ; skirt- 
 ing along the river Kishon, we went to Gilboa, where 
 Saul and Jonathan were slain, and to Jezreel, where Jeze- 
 bel was thrown to the dogs, and to Shunem, and Endor, 
 and Nain. There, the widow's dead son and our I^ord 
 came vividly to memory. In this small area, a vast deal 
 of history has been enacted. This is the scene which re- 
 veals Jabin and Sisera and Jael, and where in later times 
 
420 Led On / 
 
 great battles have been fought. The river Kishon, which 
 rises through the valley, may be at times a stream of some 
 dimensions ; when we saw it, in the month of May, it was 
 a very small creek, with very little water in it. We 
 crossed over, and ascended the hills of Galilee, and went 
 to Nazareth, the home of the blessed Virgin, the scene of 
 the boyhood and early manhood of Him who rules our 
 hearts, and from whom the joy of earth and the hope of 
 heaven are derived. I could have lingered longer there 
 than we did, but time was beginning to press, and we 
 went on down to the Sea of Galilee, where we stayed some 
 days. It escaped my memory when writing of Jerash that, 
 as we made our way through the woods of Gilead, I felt 
 very homesick ; we seemed to be so far from home, so out 
 of the world. I was riding alone, some little distance 
 from my friends, when I happened to look up, and there, 
 hanging in the air, was a telegraph wire. On inquiry, I 
 found that at Jerash I could have sent a message to the 
 dear ones at home. At once the feeling of isolation left 
 me. Thanks to the science of this wonderful age, away 
 off, on the other side of the Jordan, surrounded by wild 
 Bedouins, I could in a few moments have told them at 
 home where I was. 
 
 We camped beside the sea of Galilee, near a very 
 hot spring, where there is a bath-house ; visited Ti- 
 berias, and Magdala, and Bethsaida, Capernaum, and 
 Chorazin, or rather the sites, for all else is ruin and 
 desolation. There are some very fine broken columns at 
 Capernaum, with the tracery of a vine, and with a plate 
 with something, thought to represent manna, carved on 
 the lintel, and the ruin is held to be that of the synagogue 
 built by the pious centurion. We crossed the sea in one 
 of those little ships, or boats, exactly similar to those in 
 which our Lord crossed the lake. We went to the reputed 
 scene of the herd of swine, and the field where there is 
 
Modern J erusalem in Holy Week. 42 1 
 
 much grass, and where the five thousand were fed. It 
 was on one of the small hills just back of the site of 
 Capernaum that our Lord delivered His great Sermon 
 on the Mount. It was very calm, and very hot, when we 
 rowed over in the morning, but we had a stiff breeze against 
 us, and it was somewhat rough on our return. Leaving 
 the sea, we followed the course of the Jordan, by the waters 
 of Merom, and reached Dan, now called Banias, the site 
 of Caesarea Philippi, the farthest point north that our Lord 
 went, near which He was transfigured on one of the spurs 
 of Mount Hermon. Though Mount Tabor is the tradi- 
 tional place, it could not have been there ; it does not topo- 
 graphically fit in with the history. From here our Lord 
 took His way back to Jerusalem, to be crucified. From 
 under the mountain at Dan a considerable stream gushes 
 out, and this is one of the sources of the Jordan. 
 
 We crossed over a part of Mount Hermon, and the little 
 stream of Pharpar, and entered the plain, somewhere in 
 which Saul of Tarsus was travelling on his way to Damas- 
 cus. It was intensely hot, and the water had disagreed 
 with me, and I was pretty well used up by the time 
 we reached Damascus. This is the most unchanged 
 Oriental city I had visited. As I looked into the clear 
 waters of the Abana, which flows through the city, I did 
 not wonder that Naaman looked contemptuously on the 
 muddy waters of Jordan, and rather resented that he was 
 to go and wash in it. There is a hospital for lepers on 
 the reputed site of his house. There I saw a horrible 
 sight and cut my visit to the hospital very short. The 
 street which is called Straight, w4th the other points of 
 interest, we visited. My friends were going on to Palmyra, 
 but this meant six days more each way, through a desert, 
 and I had been on horseback every day, save Sunday, since 
 the 27th of March, and was two weeks before on a camel. 
 This was now the last of May, and I was tired out ; so I 
 
422 Led On! 
 
 thanked them for their kindness and turned my face 
 homeward. 
 
 I took passage in a very comfortable wagon, and went 
 over to Baalbeck ; saw seven wonderful columns, and the 
 ruins of the great Temple of Baal ; was charmed with that 
 trip, but next day took stage, over the splendid macad- 
 amized road, and before dark was at Beyrout. I could 
 very easily have written a volume of descriptions and im- 
 pressions, but I must bring this biography to a close, and 
 refer my readers to the books of those whose writings 
 would be more interesting. Beyrout is a charming sea- 
 port town on the Mediterranean Sea, and I stayed there 
 a few days waiting for a ship ; then sailed to Smyrna, and 
 Kphesus by rail some sixty-four miles from Smyrna. The 
 foundations of the great Temple of Diana are still there, 
 and there are some most magnificent columns prostrate and 
 broken. I thought the carvings superior to anything I 
 saw in Greece. St. Paul and the Beloved Disciple were 
 in the mind all the while ; Ignatius and Polycarp, the 
 second chapter of the Revelation of St. John I was reading 
 while in those places. I was amazed at the beauty, and 
 extent of the present Smyrna, and the handsome build- 
 ings and grand harbor. I saw more ocean steamers in the 
 three days I was there than I see in a winter in my own 
 home in Charleston. The effete East quite vanished from 
 my mind ; for signs of life, enterprise, and progress were 
 all around. I sailed next for Athens, passed the isle of 
 Patmos, and stopped at Cyprus ; enjoyed my visit and 
 stay of three days at Athens immensely ; then sailed for 
 Brindisi, thence to Naples, Rome, Paris, London, where 
 my dear friend, Mr. Fred. A. White, and his family, re- 
 jCeived me with loving hospitality. I spent a week in 
 /London, bade them good-bye, I fear forever; went on to 
 Liverpool, thence to New York, where my sons Theodore 
 and Charles met me, and then for home, Charleston, 
 
Modern J erusalem in Holy Week. 423 
 
 where I arrived on the 17th of June, 1890, having been 
 gone just one year and one day. 
 
 This extended tour, which I believe has prolonged my 
 life, cost neither myself nor my school one penny. It 
 was enjoyed through the generosity of Mrs. Daniel Le 
 Roy, Mrs. Edward King, the Misses Mason, Mr. Fred. A. 
 White, Bishop Wilkinson, and Mr. Clarence Wadsworth. 
 I was thus enabled to visit countries which I never 
 dreamed I should see. My benefactors, each and all, 
 have my profoundest gratitude. I found my son Theo- 
 dore had successfully carried the parish and the school 
 through the year; but he was so broken down by the 
 strain that I made arrangements for him and sent him 
 abroad to spend three or four months. 
 
CHAPTER XI,V 
 
 KND OF A BEJAUTIFUI, I.IFE; 
 
 / suffer a sad bereavement in the death of my wife — Her 
 great power in helping and guiding m,y life' s work — 
 Summary of some years' toil. 
 
 DURING my absence in Europe, the Diocesan 
 Council held its annual session at the Church of 
 the Holy Communion, and from many sources I learned 
 that the service held at the opening of the Council was 
 very fine. My son, who is my assistant, received many 
 congratulations for his successful effort, and it afforded to 
 very many the first opportunity of knowing the capabili- 
 ties of the liturgy of the Church. It removed many mis- 
 apprehensions and prejudices, and has enabled many 
 clergymen to introduce a more elaborate and reverential 
 service, without arousing antagonisms and unfavorable 
 comment. Our surpliced choir, with our most excellent 
 organist, Mr. Huguelet, accompanied by a full orchestra, 
 enabled my son to render such a service as was never be- 
 fore held in South Carolina. 
 
 I omitted in the record of 1888 to mention the death of 
 my aged mother, who entered into rest on the 30th of 
 January, in her eighty-sixth year, having been a great in- 
 valid for some seven years. She was buried on the sixti- 
 
 424 
 
End of a Beautiful Life. 425 
 
 eth anniversary of my birth, and had lived to see her 
 children's children to the third generation. She was 
 buried by the side of her husband, to whose memory she 
 had been so faithful. 
 
 After the close of the school, the last of June, I took my 
 wife to Asheville, where in her suffering life she had en- 
 joyed most comfort during the past few summers. She 
 had borne up cheerfully under our long separation, but 
 when I returned home the tension was removed, and she 
 declined rapidly. We returned to Charleston in the fall, 
 the school opened as usual, and there is nothing of par- 
 ticular interest to relate. 
 
 In February, my wife was attacked with that disease 
 which has afflicted the country for many years, the 
 grippe, and she continued very feeble all the winter and 
 spring. Then my son Charles was to be married in 
 Opelika, Alabama, to Miss Nellie Driver, on the 12th 
 of May. My wife was not able to go, but my son Theo- 
 dore and his wife and I had to go, of course. We left 
 n\.Y wife apparently no worse than she had been for 
 months, but on our return on the 13th we found her in 
 bed and very sick. Gradually she grew worse, and on 
 the 19th of June, 1891, her pure and saintly spirit entered 
 into the paradise of God, and her poor suffering body was 
 at rest. We had been married thirty-nine years, and 
 thirty of those years she had been a patient sufferer, unable 
 to engage in any of the activities of the parish life ; but 
 such was the strength of her spotless character, that she 
 wielded an influence through all my parish. Often have 
 ladies gone into her sick-room with sad countenance and 
 heavy heart, and after telling to her their trouble, and 
 listening to her wise and gentle counsel, and often being 
 convinced by her that their sorrows were self-made, I 
 have seen them leave that room of pain with bright 
 smiles, saying it was a privilege to have a few moments 
 
426 Led On I 
 
 with her. In all my acquaintance with men and women, 
 I have never known a person of such wonderful judgment 
 and discretion. She never took sides, but always weighed 
 every grievance, and invariably acted as peacemaker. In 
 all our married life, I never did a thing that was contrary 
 to her advice or opinion without having reason to regret 
 it. Impulsive myself by nature, she was ever my cor- 
 rective. I have been alone now for eight years, and I have 
 mourned her, and miss her now, more than I can express. 
 In the weary years of my incessant struggle to maintain 
 this work, she was always hopeful and encouraging. 
 How often have I gone to her sick-bed feeling I had to 
 give up, for there was nothing in the treasury, and months 
 to get to the end of the term, and again and again she 
 would say: " Husband, did God give you that work to 
 do ? Have you done your best ? Has He not signally 
 blessed it ? Is it right to doubt His providential care ? 
 Help will come. Do your duty and trust." And help 
 always did come, sometimes most unexpectedly and un- 
 sought. 
 
 Her life was a benediction to all around her, and though 
 seldom free from pain, her calm and cheerful temper 
 made it a privilege to minister to her. A conversation 
 held with her during her illness illustrates her life. I 
 thought she must die, and sitting by her I said : " My 
 wife, what will I do without you ? I dread the loneli- 
 ness. * * 
 
 Turning her eyes, beaming with love and faith, upon 
 me, she said: " Alone ; oh, no, my dear, not alone. You 
 by faith will be with Jesus, I, by sight, will be with Him, 
 and in and through Him we will still be together. ' ' 
 
 I recollect that on one occasion since her death I was 
 much perplexed as to what I ought to do about opening 
 the school again in view of the financial tempest, the wild 
 silver craze, the depression everywhere : I was asleep, 
 
End of a Beautiful Life. 42 7 
 
 and I thought my wife stood at the head of my bed. I 
 felt her hand on my forehead and stroking my hair. I 
 did not seem to be asleep, nor was she at all spiritual in 
 appearance ; she had her old-time sweet, natural look, 
 and she said, ** My dear, your life is guided by a Provi- 
 dence you know not of. " I turned and told her, * ' Yes, 
 my wife, I believe it, ' ' and as I looked at her, she van- 
 ished. Was it a dream or was it a visitation ? I believe 
 the latter. 
 
 I live now on those words of cheer and comfort. She 
 has not forgotten, and in the presence of our blessed I^ord 
 I have no doubt that through her intercession, the help 
 has come that has enabled me to go on. But for her this 
 work had never been done. It was she who cheerfully 
 gave up the rent of the house which was our only income 
 in 1867. It was she who said: '' If God has given you a 
 work to do go and do it ; we will not starve. Weak as I 
 am, we will take boarders to enable you to give up our 
 rented house for an Orphanage." And never did she 
 once repent of it, nor ever once suggest that I had done 
 enough, but rather urged me to go on. She was a model 
 daughter, a wife and mother as perfect as it is possible 
 for poor humanity to be, and I wait the time when we 
 shall be reunited in the life where there is no more 
 parting. 
 
 I closed the school two weeks after my wife's death, for 
 the summer holidays, and began again in October. There 
 is now nothing of importance to relate ; the usual hard 
 struggle to get through, but somehow in the Providence 
 of God we closed the school the last of June and went to 
 Asheville. Barly in September our coast was visited by the 
 most terrific cyclone ever experienced here, accompanied 
 by a tidal wave, which swept over our sea islands and 
 drowned over one thousand persons, principally negro 
 laborers. Here was a dilemma for me. Not a single 
 
428 Led On / 
 
 person in all that section applied for the admission of a 
 boy into the school, and I was greatly perplexed. What 
 was I to do ? I had been praying very earnestly for light 
 and guidance, one evening, when the thought came to 
 me, If your treasury is full, where is your faith ? If 
 you go on with your work, with nothing in view, but 
 only trust in God, that is faith. I took it as an answer 
 to my prayers, and rose from my knees, and wrote a 
 circular to the desolate parents of my boys, and told 
 them to send their sons, pay if they could, if not, God 
 would help me in some way. I took ninety-eight boys, 
 without the promise of a cent. I wrote an appeal in 
 the Churchman and received a few dollars in reply, but, 
 later in the fall. Miss KHen and Miss Ida Mason sent me 
 their annual large donation, and somehow or other I 
 pulled through ; and so we have gone on, and now I am 
 at the close of my thirtieth year, in the year 1897, having 
 been sustained through all these years by the merciful 
 providence of God, and the generosity of friends at the 
 North, and in England. 
 
 And what are the results of this varied life ? I am 
 now in the forty-fourth year of my rectorship of the 
 Church of the Holy Communion, having built the church 
 from the foundation. I have married 267 couples ; bap- 
 tized 1 1 13 persons ; there have been confirmed under 
 my ministry, 887 ; and I have buried 651 persons. I 
 have seen my congregation scattered to the winds by a 
 four years' war. I have been a rector of a church in 
 which there was much wealth, but have lived to see that 
 wealth take wings and fly away. I have a congregation 
 of earnest, loving people, all poor, and we find the greatest 
 difficulty to sustain ourselves on the most economical 
 basis. Through this congregation, in forty years I have 
 been instrumental in raising and distributing for church 
 purposes four hundred thousand dollars. I served St. 
 
End of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 429 
 
 Mark's Church, a colored congregation, for ten years, and 
 finished their church. I have been permitted to carry on 
 this great school for thirty years, have given a more or 
 less finished education to over three thousand boys, fully 
 twenty-five hundred of these gratuitously or for a mere 
 pittance, have sent over two hundred boys to college, and 
 have educated one hundred and fifty sons of clergymen 
 gratuitously ; have furnished twenty-two men to the 
 ministry, with several candidates for Holy Orders at this 
 moment preparing for the ministry; have acquired a 
 whole block of property from, the United States Govern- 
 ment; have erected seven houses on the grounds, and 
 have rented them out, as the investment of a small per- 
 manent endowment fund ; have raised and expended in 
 Christian education nearly one million of dollars ; have 
 labored and suffered, had disappointments and sorrows, 
 met with ingratitude, and with the warmest love and 
 gratitude of others, and close up after thirty years with a 
 deficiency of five thousand dollars staring me in the face. 
 But, blessed be God, though perplexed, yet not in despair, 
 for I believe there are loving hearts beating in some 
 breasts which shall be moved to help me through. 
 
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 CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 THK LATK DR. CHARI^BS FRKDKRICK HOFFMAN 
 
 The inauguration of McKinley — / meet an old frie^id at 
 Washington —Death of my dear friend and benefactor, the 
 Rev. Charles Frederick Hoffman — His life and character, 
 and an account of his obsequies. 
 
 LIEUT. JOHN McQueen wrote me on the 8tli of 
 February, 1897, that he was to meet Gen, O. O. 
 Howard in Washington, at the inauguration of President 
 McKinley, and, as we were all growing old, it was not 
 likely that we three would ever meet again, as he lived 
 in Elgin, Illinois, General Howard in Burlington, Ver- 
 mont, and I in Charleston. The events following the 
 burning of Columbia had intertwined the current of our 
 lives, he said, and he asked me to meet him in Washing- 
 ton. Accordingly I went, and it was a joyful meeting 
 between the three. It is now thirty-two years since the 
 events of 1865, recorded in these pages. McQueen was 
 then twenty-seven. General Howard thirty-three, I was 
 thirty-seven ; we are now three gray-haired old men of 
 fifty-nine, sixty-five, and sixty-nine, but neither of us 
 has forgotten those days. McQueen is writing the story 
 from his standpoint ; I wish I could insert it here. Many 
 details I was unacquainted with, and it will not be 
 
 430 
 
The Late Dr. Charles Frederick Hoffman. 43 1 
 
 unintersting to read the record, of the same event, by 
 the two men engaged in it. McQueen told me he 
 felt that his work was done, but it had come over him 
 that he might still be of use, and he intended to devote 
 much time to try to interest persons in this work, and 
 thus show his gratitude to the man who had saved his 
 life, by striving to ease the burden which is now pressing 
 so heavily on me. General Howard told McQueen how, 
 in 1893, he had started out with me, in New York, to try 
 to raise a large sum of money, as he wanted to be instru- 
 mental in endowing the work of the man for whom he 
 had such regard. He related how we went to three rich 
 men, and one of them was so rude to him that he had 
 shed tears, and I had said : * ' General, we must stop this. 
 I see distinctly these men are frightened ; we are at the 
 beginning of a financial panic; this is no time for our 
 work. ' ' 
 
 And it was true. The panic of 1893 ^^^ begun, and 
 the effects we feel in 1897. ** But," added General 
 Howard, * * I have not given up my wish and purpose. I 
 mean yet to help in that work. Now," he said, " you 
 wish to do the same, McQueen ? Give me your hand. ' ' 
 
 '* Where two of you agree in any matter, ask, and it 
 shall be done unto you. ' ' I trust in God it may be given 
 to these two friends to further that which is so on my 
 heart — the endowment of this institute. 
 
 The whole story of McQueen and myself seems like a 
 romance. He is a Northern man, I am a Southerner ; he 
 was a Federal officer, I a Confederate ; he is a Republican, 
 I a Democrat, although not of the Bryan stripe ; he is a 
 Western farmer, I a clergyman ; he is a Presbyterian, I 
 an Episcopalian; and yet, while differing at every point, 
 there are no two men whose lives have been more 
 blended together by no design, or purpose, or volition. 
 Strange are the ways of Providence. 
 
432 Led On I 
 
 The Inauguration ceremonies were all over. It was an 
 ideal day, and a very magnificent pageant, and I was 
 preparing to return to Charleston, by the night's train, 
 when I received a telegram from my dear friend, Mr. 
 Charles Frederick Hoffman, Jr., from Jekyl Island, 
 Georgia, informing me of the sudden death, on the 4th of 
 March, of his revered father, the Rev. Charles Frederick 
 Hoffman, D.D., LIv.D., D.C.I^. In speaking of the late 
 Dr. Hoffman, I must go back to the year 1892, when I 
 was in New York, and had met with much to discourage 
 me, so that I had actually come to a standstill. In that 
 great city, so full of wealth, with so many members of my 
 own Church, yet I did not know to whom I could go, to 
 ask for aid. So I went up to my room at the Everett 
 House, and prayed very earnestly for direction, and after 
 a while, I went down to the sitting-room, and while there 
 it had occurred to me that I must go and call on the Rev. 
 Charles Frederick Hoffman, D.D., of whom I had often 
 heard, but to whom I had never been introduced. I 
 knew his brother, the Dean, well, but I had never had 
 the opportunity of meeting his brother, the rector. I had 
 no letter of introduction, and I hesitated a long while, for 
 it is not my habit to call on anyone without an introduc- 
 tion. Still I thought perhaps he might have heard of me, 
 and I would venture to call. I did not know where he 
 lived, and so had to look up his residence in the Directory. 
 Finding it was 31 West 72d Street, New York, I boarded 
 a Columbus Avenue car, and went with anxious heart. 
 
 Reaching his house, I sent in my card, and was invited 
 into his handsome study. He asked me to be seated, and 
 finished with a couple of men, who seemed to be engaged 
 in some kind of work for him. Having dismissed them, 
 he took his seat, and the first thing he said was, * * I know 
 what you have come for." 
 
 " Yes," I replied ; '* Dr. Hoffman, I suppose you are 
 
The Late Dr. Charles Frederick Hoffman. 433 
 
 so frequently intruded upon that you can readily imagine 
 the object of my visit." 
 
 I found out afterwards that the Doctor, when interested, 
 often sat with his elbow on the table, and his cheek in 
 the palm of his hand. He was in that position, and said : 
 
 " Before you go on, I will say to you, in my judgment, 
 considering your surroundings, you have done the largest 
 and most important single-handed work which has been 
 done by any man in the Church since the war. You wish 
 me to help you ; of course I will, as every man in the 
 Church ought to do. ' ' 
 
 This, of course, relieved me of anxiety and embarrass- 
 ment, as he evidently meant it should. I thanked him 
 for his good opinion, but did not flatter myself that he 
 knew what my work had been, but he told me he knew 
 all about it, and asked me to tell him what I wanted. 
 We then went very fully into the work, and he asked me 
 if I had a library building. I told him no ; I had some 
 books, but only in a room. '' Such an institution," he 
 said, ' ' ought to have a library building. ' ' 
 
 I told him that the struggle for bread and for teachers' 
 salaries had been so great that while I hoped some time a 
 library would come, my hope was far in the distant future. 
 
 "No," he said; ''go to Messrs. J. B. Snooks & Co., 
 12 Chambers Street, and tell them what you wish, and 
 direct them to furnish plans, and I will pay for it. ' ' 
 
 My joy may be imagined. The architects furnished 
 
 plans, but they did not meet with the Doctor's approval. 
 
 He asked if I had any idea of the kind of building I 
 
 needed. I told him I could draw a ground plan, but not 
 
 the elevations. He handed me a pencil and some paper. 
 
 I drew the plan. He smiled when he looked at it, and 
 
 taking a paper from his drawer which he had sketched, 
 
 he said, ' * Which is yours and which is mine ? ' ' We had 
 
 made the same design wdthout constiltation ; the only 
 28 
 
434 Led On ! 
 
 difference was, that I had placed the four reading-rooms 
 on the four sides, and he had put them on the angles of 
 the octagon. I liked his best. He accordingly gave 
 general directions to the architects as to the elevations, 
 and they prepared the design, which he accepted, and 
 authorized me to advertise for bids for its erection. On 
 the 19th of October, 1893, the corner-stone was laid, with 
 appropriate ceremonies, and on the 26th of June, 1894, it 
 was formally opened. At the laying of the corner-stone, 
 Mr. J. P. Kennedy Bryan, a distinguished member of the 
 Charleston bar, delivered a chaste, thoughtful, and elo- 
 quent address. The Citadel Cadets, escorted by the 
 Porter Military Academy Cadets, were in the chapel. 
 Mr, Bryan's address was partly written and partly ex 
 tempore, and his tribute to the broad-minded and noble 
 generosity of Rev. Dr. Hoffman was worthy of preserva- 
 tion ; it was at the time a source of regret that it could 
 not be reproduced. Now I would give a great deal if I 
 had it on permanent record. 
 
 At the opening exercises. Rev. Dr. Pinckney, Hon. 
 John F. Ficken, the Mayor of Charleston, the Hon. W. A. 
 Courtenay, ex-Mayor, who is also one of the trustees of 
 the Academy, with Hon. Augustine F. Smythe, State 
 Senator, made addresses ; and each offered a warm trib- 
 ute to the generous donor. This building cost $7500, 
 and Doctor Hoffman gave me his check for it. It has 
 been much used by the cadets, and has been a great bene- 
 faction to this Academy. In the winter of 1895, the 
 Doctor and Mrs. Hoffman, and their daughter, Mrs. 
 Rhodewald, and her husband, paid us a visit. Doctor 
 Hoffman expressed great pleasure at all he saw here, and 
 kindly gave me one thousand dollars to help in cur- 
 rent expenses. During the winter of 1896, Doctor Hoff- 
 man invited me to visit him at the Jekyl Island Club, and 
 introduced me to many persons of wealth, some few of 
 
The Late Dr. Charles Frederick Hoffman. 435 
 
 whom were kind enough to take an interest in the school. 
 Mrs. Wm. Rockefeller gave me $500, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Frederick Baker $225, Mrs. I^arz Anderson $100, Mr. 
 Scrymser $100, Miss Lake $50. Doctor Hoffman had also 
 in the summer of 1895, invited me to visit him at Klberon, 
 where the Rev. Dr. Bodine, rector, invited me to tell my 
 story, and $660 was the result. 
 
 In August, 1896, Doctor Hoffman was to preach the 
 Commencement sermon at the University of the South, at 
 Sewanee, and he kindly invited me to go with his party 
 in his private car. It was a fearfully hot spell, and I 
 fear he never fully recovered from the fatigue of that 
 journey. It was at his suggestion that this biography is 
 written, and he saw all the sheets to the year 1882, and 
 it met with his approval. He took my manuscript with 
 him to Jekyl Island, where it was found in his trunk. 
 Thus, from the day of my acquaintance with him until 
 his death he was my friend, helping me himself, and try- 
 ing to put me in the way of making friends. The tele- 
 gram announcing his death gave me a great shock. Of 
 course I went on to New York to be with my dear 
 friends in their sorrow, and on my return, wrote the fol- 
 lowing article, which was published in the Charleston 
 News and Courier, on the i6th of March, 1897 : 
 
 •' The Rev. Charles Frederick Hoffman, D.D., LL.D., 
 D.C.L., rector of All Angels Church, New York, died 
 suddenly at Jekyl Island, Georgia, on the 4th of March, 
 and the funeral services were held at All Angels Church, 
 on the 8th. It has been my good fortune to witness many 
 high ecclesiastical functions at Rome, in Cologne, in 
 Paris, and in I^ondon, but I have never been so impressed 
 by a service as I was on this occasion. Forty-eight 
 clergymen, including a Bishop, with all the professors of 
 the General Theological Seminary, proceeded from the 
 vestry, the choir singing a hymn, down the north aisle to 
 
43^ Led On! 
 
 the front door, where the casket was met, borne on the 
 shoulders of eight men, preceded by the full vestry, and 
 followed by the family and friends. The choir passed on 
 to their stalls, while Dr. K. N. Potter read the introduc- 
 tory sentences. The casket was placed in the choir be- 
 tween the stalls, the head to the altar. There was a large 
 cross presented by the vestry, of most expensive white 
 rosebuds, placed at the head of the casket. The Kaster 
 hangings were in place, and the whole chancel was a 
 magnificent display of costly flowers, all the special offer- 
 ings of friends. The service then began. It seemed a 
 great Baster festival. It was more like a marriage-feast 
 than a funeral. I read the lesson, and this was followed 
 by the office of the Holy Communion, Bishop Doane being 
 the celebrant, and the thought that the spirit of the de- 
 parted must be there I found was common to many. A 
 gentleman remarked afterwards : ' Is that what you 
 Bpiscopalians call sadness ? Why, it is triumphant. I 
 was taken nearer Heaven than I ever was before.' I 
 mention this to show the teaching power of a ritual, in- 
 telligently and effectively rendered. From first to last it 
 proclaimed that Christians believe what they profess, and 
 that they do not sorrow as those without hope. The 
 students of the Theological Seminary attended in a body. 
 Some forty clergy were in the body of the church, and the 
 very large and splendid building was filled to its utmost 
 capacity. No bishop, prince, or potentate was ever buried 
 with more evidence of respect and regard, and with a 
 more general manifestation of intense feeling, than was the 
 revered rector of All Angels Church. There was noth- 
 ing perfunctory about it, but all a heart service. The 
 tenor, Mr. Williams, who sings in opera (and such a 
 voice as he has ! ) voluntarily cancelled engagements in 
 Pittsburg to come and sing at the funeral of one who had 
 been a friend and benefactor. I know nothing of Doctor 
 
TJie Late Dr. Charles Frederick Hoffman, 437 
 
 Hoffman's fortune; he was accounted a man of very great 
 wealth, but it was for the man, not his money, that this 
 tribute was given. He possessed a singularly sensitive 
 nature, with warm and tender sympathies, and though his 
 public benefactions were large, it was in the daily and 
 private ministrations to the poor and suffering that he 
 won and kept many warm hearts near him. While a man 
 of extraordinary business capacity, his heart was in the 
 welfare of the Church. Keenly alive to the necessity of 
 education, his larger gifts, outside of building All Angels 
 Church, were connected with colleges and schools. He 
 had a natural gift and great fondness for architecture, and 
 had much to do with the designs of all the buildings he 
 erected. 
 
 ' ' The reason why I ask the publication of this tribute 
 to a clergyman of New York in your paper, is this. His 
 politics were not in accord with the South, but his religion 
 extended over the whole land. Broad and catholic in his 
 feelings, his generosity was not confined to the institutions 
 at the North, and in this city there stands, in the grounds 
 of the Porter Military Academy, a unique library building 
 as a perpetual monument to his generosity. The erection 
 of that building was a voluntary act ; it was not suggested 
 or asked for by me. In talking about the work here, with 
 which he was familiar, he remarked: ' Such an institution 
 ought to have a library building, and if you wish one, I 
 will pay for it.' Nor was this all. The papers have pub- 
 lished, and it has not been contradicted, that just previous 
 to his death, he gave to the University of the South, at 
 Sewanee, forty thousand dollars, for the erection of a large 
 dormitory. But Doctor Hoffman's largeness of heart did 
 not stop there ; he fully realized that the South had to 
 deal with a difficult, and as yet unsolved, problem ; and 
 that the great mass of negroes within the borders of the 
 Southern land, unless fitted for citizenship by a Christian 
 
43 S Led On / 
 
 education, are a perpetual menace ; and to do his share 
 towards elevating them in the scale of being, he built at 
 Nashville, Tennessee, a hall for colored theological stu- 
 dents, and at I/exington, Virginia, a large schoolhouse 
 and home for colored children. Thus he has shown his 
 interest in and regard for whites and blacks, for the North 
 and for the South. He was an omnivorous reader, and 
 one of the most laborious workers I ever met with. For 
 many years, conscious of a weakness of his heart, he did 
 not spare himself by night nor by day. When those who 
 are the stewards of wealth use it so wisely and well, it is a 
 blessing to the w^orld that some have riches. The sweetest 
 memory treasured by those he has left behind, is the un- 
 failing benevolence and generosity of his unselfish life. 
 The record of such a life is an incentive to all to do what 
 they can while they live for their Saviour's honor, and 
 the welfare of those for whom He died. 
 
 " A. TOOMKR PORTKR." 
 
 It is all over now, and only memory is left. We shall 
 meet again on the other shore, and I know that the joys 
 of Paradise are intensified by the memory of the good use 
 we made of time and its opportunities. I trust my deaf 
 friend has not found that his interest in me and my work 
 was misplaced. On my return from New York, I found 
 a kind note from Mr. Frederick Baker inviting me to 
 preach at Jekyl Island. I went, and he and his wife and 
 Miss Lake again assisted me ; Mr. Anderson, Mr. Scrymser, 
 and Mr. Charles F. Stickney, to the amount, in all, of six 
 hundred dollars. The Very Rev. K. A. Hofiman, the 
 Dean of the Seminary, sent me from New York one thou- 
 sand dollars, and all of this has been an immense help in 
 a time of desperate extremity. 
 
CHAPTER XIvVII 
 
 TESTIMONIES TO MY I^IFE'S WORK 
 
 This chapter contains letters from ex-Governor Chamber- 
 lain and Mr. Charles Cowley^ testifying to the value of 
 m,y life's work — I receive also a kind note containing an 
 invitation from McQueen — I hear also from his daughter. 
 
 1AM sometimes afraid that the readers of this book will 
 feel some hesitancy in accepting many of its incidents, 
 for they are very marvellous, even to myself. The acci- 
 dental finding of my diary, kept from 1862 to 1875, which 
 confirmed all that I had written from memory ; and from 
 manuscripts, has within a few days had added to its testi- 
 mony the following letters. I have now been rector of the 
 Church of the Holy Communion for forty-three years, and 
 on the 8th of January, 1897, preached an anniversary 
 sermon which was published in the Charleston News and 
 Courier, was seen by Governor Chamberlain, and was sent 
 to Mr. Charles Cowley by someone in this city. Kx- 
 Governor Chamberlain is himself a distinguished his- 
 torical character. I always admired his undoubted ability. 
 I was one of those who gave him everj^ credit for honesty 
 of purpose during the trying da5^s in which he figured in 
 the history of South Carolina. I always treated him with 
 courtesy, but our intercourse was only casual. All of 
 
 439* 
 
440 Led On I 
 
 which makes his letter the more gratifying, while I do 
 not feel in anywise worthy of the high encomium. 
 
 " Law Office of Daniei, H. Chamberi^ain, 
 " 40 AND 42 WaIvIv St., New York, January 11, 1897. 
 
 " Dkar Dr. Portejr : 
 
 * * I have read — I could not find time to do it sooner — 
 your address on the coming of the forty-third anniversary 
 of your work in Charleston. Will you permit an absen- 
 tee, and mere looker-on, by his recognition of your great 
 work, to help make up for the short-comings of some of 
 those whom you describe as so unsympathetic, in Charles- 
 ton ? I heard an eminent Charlestonian, known to good 
 fame far outside of Charleston, say in 1885, and I will give 
 his remarks verbatim : * Toomer Porter is a statesman, 
 yes, sir, a statesman, as well as a clergyman, and if the 
 care of all South Carolina could have been given to him 
 in 1867, her political, educational, industrial, and racial 
 interests would have been advanced three hundred per 
 cent, above what they are now.' I venture to use a slang 
 phrase to one of your cloth, and say, * Put that in your 
 pipe, and smoke it ! ' Seriously, my dear Doctor, when 
 despondency overtakes you, or ingratitude and indifference 
 afflict you, comfort yourself with the knowledge that this 
 man said, what very many others have thought, and now 
 think. I must not preach to a preacher, but if I could, I 
 would say : Be sure no good work you have done in 
 Charleston will perish without bearing good fruit. The 
 moral world is so constituted, that goodness is blessed, 
 like charity in Shakespeare, ' twice blessed,' blessing him 
 that does and him that receives. I have profound respect 
 for your achievements, and I sincerely hope this word will 
 be pleasant to you to read. 
 
 ** Sincerely yours, 
 
 *' D. H. Chamberlain." 
 
Testini07iies to My Lifes Work. 441 
 
 Ten days after this I received the following letter : 
 
 *Lowe;i,i:„ Mass., January 22, 1897. 
 "Dear Sir : 
 
 ** Thirty- two years ago, while in Charleston, attached 
 to the staff of Rear- Admiral Dahlgren, I read with much 
 satisfaction the Charleston Courier' s report of your sermon, 
 on your return to Charleston. It was a genuine sursum 
 corda. I am sorry I saved no copy of that report. In 1881, 
 midway between that especial sermon and now, I had the 
 pleasure to meet you at the arsenal, and I cherish the 
 recollection of that visit very much. Is the Institute 
 still at the arsenal ? Recently, while recovering from la 
 grippe^ I found among the newspapers which a friend 
 brought in to me, the copies of the News and Courier con- 
 taining your appeal in behalf of the Porter Military Acad- 
 emy, and your forty-third anniversary sermon, and I read 
 them both with very great interest. You have indeed 
 fought a good fight, and I hope you will continue until 
 you are fourscore. I am very sorry that 3^ou should have 
 cause for discouragement ; you cannot fail to be recognized 
 as one of the benefactors of the Africans, and of your 
 country. I wish I had the means to aid in endowing 
 your Institute. Please send me a copy of your forty- third 
 anniversary sermon ; if you send me a half-dozen copies 
 of that sermon, I will place them well. I am still at work 
 on the Siege of Charleston. 
 
 ** Sincerely yours, 
 
 *' Charleys Cowi^ey." 
 
 Of course I sent the sermons. Perhaps, in God's provi- 
 dence, they may bring some fruit, like Miss Waterman's 
 pamphlet. I have no recollection of Mr. Cowley's visit, 
 nor can I trace any acquaintance with him. The sermon 
 he refers to of thirty-two years ago was the one I preached 
 
442 Led On I 
 
 on the 4th June, 1865: *'Set your house in order.*' In 
 reply to my letter to him I received the following : 
 
 "LowKivi/, Mass., February 4, 1897. 
 ' ' My dkar Sir : 
 
 '' Yours of the 25th ulto. was duly received. I am glad 
 you are writing your autobiography ; it will be valuable 
 now, and still more valuable half a century hence. What 
 a host of memories it will preserve ; what a multitude of 
 topics will sweep within your ken ! I^et your readers know 
 how, in the case of the Federal officers imprisoned within 
 range of the Federal artillery, you remembered who said, 
 ' I was in prison, and you came to Me.' I^et them know, 
 too, how, instead of wasting your life in vain regrets for 
 the lost cause, you returned to Charleston, took the oath 
 of allegiance, and set your house in order, and urged 
 others to do likewise. I recall the joy with which I read 
 the Courier' s report of that sermon. I said at once, though 
 I had never heard of you before : ' Here is a Southern 
 man, a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, capable of 
 rising above his party and above sectional prejudice, and 
 of seeing, and saying, there is a great future before the 
 South. Men who would not come to Fort Sumter to hear 
 Beecher, will hear him, and adjust themselves to the new 
 situation.' The first Sunday in June, 1865, was the 4th 
 day of the month, a day never to be forgotten in any his- 
 tory of Charleston. May you live to see many returns of 
 that day ; although you have lost that sermon, you have 
 not lost the great message which it contained. It was in 
 advance of the times, and might have been unheeded, if 
 it had not come from a Southern man. Your autobiog- 
 raphy will afford you a fine opportunity to relate the story 
 of the earthquake, and of the cyclone, and of the generous 
 aid supplied from the North. Sincerely yours, 
 
 ** Chari.e;s Cowi^ky." 
 
Testimonies to My Lifes Work. 443 
 
 With this evidence will anyone think I have exagger- 
 ated ? This letter is from one who was on the staff of Rear- 
 Admiral Dahlgren in 1865. The following was a cheering 
 incident of the day loth February, 1897 : I had written 
 to my dear friend, Charles Frederick Hoffman, Jr., how 
 worried I was, and received a telegram to-day from him, 
 telling me to draw on him for one hundred dollars. God 
 bless him ! There are some striking instances right now, 
 which encourage me to hope that the good and gracious 
 Father is working some agencies to help me in my de- 
 clining days. I finished the above last night, February 
 ID, 1897, at eleven o'clock, and to-day, the nth, the mail 
 brought me a kind letter from Mr. Robert Treat Paine, of 
 Boston, with a check for one hundred dollars, which 
 amount he has been sending, unreminded, every February 
 for many years; and by same mail also a letter from I^ieut. 
 John A. McQueen, from Elgin, Kane County, Illinois. I 
 have not heard of him, or from him, in ten years. I 
 feared he was dead. Here is the letter : 
 
 " Ei^GlN, February 8, 1897. 
 ** My dear Friknd : 
 
 ** Can you come to Washington, D. C, about March 2 
 to 4? General Howard will be there. I would be de- 
 lighted to see you. My address will be, to the care of D. 
 P. McCormack, First Auditor's OflSce, Treasury Depart- 
 ment, Washington, D. C. 
 
 ** Yours faithfully, 
 
 " John A. McQueen." 
 
 But stranger still, the same mail brought me a postal 
 card from his daughter, whom I had never seen since she 
 was a little girl, when I went to Elgin to see her father, 
 sometime in the early seventies. The card is as follows : 
 
444 L^^ O^ ' 
 
 " Be;i,oit, Wisconsin, February 8, 1897. 
 " My vejry dkar Dr. Portkr : 
 
 ' * Some people in Beloit have been reading your book, 
 A Work of Faith and Love (which I have loaned them) 
 and have been asking me regarding your institution. I 
 was ashamed to confess that I did not know what your 
 school was doing now, so I would be much pleased if you 
 would send me a copy of your catalogue (or several if you 
 will), in order that I may bring the story up to date. My 
 father, I^ieut. J. A. McQueen, would send his kindest re- 
 gards if he were here, as he often speaks lovingly of you. 
 
 ** Very sincerely, 
 
 *' AwcK F. McQuKBN, 
 ** 918 Bushnell Street." 
 
 I^et anyone put these four letters, Governor Chamber- 
 lain's, Mr. Cowley's, I^ieutenant McQueen's, and his 
 daughter's, from New York ; I^owell, Massachusetts ; 
 Elgin, Illinois ; Beloit, Wisconsin ; neither of which 
 writers knew each other, save the father and daughter, 
 neither of whom have I communicated with, — and can- 
 didly say, Is it all coincidence or chance, or is it not sent 
 to animate my faith, and cheer my heart ? Will anyone 
 say, ** But you need money, and there is no money in any 
 of these " ? That is so, but who knows how God is work- 
 ing ? I wait, and watch, and pray. 
 
CHAPTER XI.VIII 
 
 THE academy's thirty- first year 
 
 Twenty-five of our cadets graduated — / am stricken with 
 sickness— A parish rectorship of forty-four years is closed 
 — This book intended to magnify the grace of God — 
 Farewell. 
 
 THE thirtieth term of the Porter Military Academy 
 closed on the 24th of June, 1897, and twenty-five 
 cadets were graduated. Five of them, through the gener- 
 osity of the Rev. Dr. Jones of Hobart College, were re- 
 ceived in September, and are now there with three who 
 are not far from graduation. One was admitted on a 
 scholarship at Union College, Schenectady, and one of 
 my boys is at St. Stephen's, through the generosity of the 
 late Dr. Hoffman ; one went to Sewanee and two to the 
 South Carolina College. I have sent to West Point, 
 to Annapolis, and to various colleges, two hundred 
 and eighty young men, during these years, principally to 
 colleges at the North, where scholarships have been gener- 
 ously given me. I think it an advantage that our South- 
 ern youths shall come in contact with broader views, than 
 they would if they live, and are educated in the surround- 
 ings of their birthplace. I wish that Northern youths 
 would change about, and some of them come South : each 
 would find that all virtue, and all wisdom, was not confined 
 
 445 
 
44^ Led On / 
 
 to either section. The summer of 1897 passed with 
 the usual large application to me to admit many bene- 
 ficiaries, while as usual, the pay-roll was comparatively 
 small. I consented to take as many as I thought it pru- 
 dent, but refused the applications of over one hundred. 
 With all this work done, with this great plant in posses- 
 sion, and no certain income, I only owe for all the past 
 six hundred dollars. I was in Asheville, North Carolina, 
 and every preparation made to return to Charleston on the 
 28th of September, when, on the 27th, without one indica- 
 tion, or a moment's warning, I was suddenly seized with 
 a severe hemorrhage. An attack precisely similar to the 
 one I had twenty-two years ago, and the doctors said, just 
 as Dr. Sir Andrew Clark had done, it was from imper- 
 fect action of the heart. I was brought to Charleston on 
 the 6th of October and was for a month extremely sick. 
 The school was opened on the first of October and in full 
 operation ; my son. Rev. Theodore A. Porter, with able 
 assistants, doing the duties of the school, and he carried on 
 the services of the church. For a long while my physi- 
 cians have been telling me I was overworked, and over- 
 strained, so now they emphatically said, if I desired to live 
 and still to work, I must give up some of my duties, either 
 the church, or the school, and after consultation with the 
 Bishop, and much prayer, I determined that of the two, 
 the parish could spare me best. I therefore sent my letter 
 of resignation to the vestry, to take effect on the 8th of 
 January, 1898, and on Sunday the 9th, preached my fare- 
 well sermon, after a rectorship of forty-four years, during 
 which I built the church and enlarged it three times, 
 finished St. Mark's Church for colored people, and St. 
 Timothy's Chapel on the grounds of the Academy. 
 
 So my autobiography ends with the closing of that 
 chapter of my life. God in gracious mercy has raised me 
 up again, and has restored my strength, so that I am now 
 
The Academy's Thirty-First Year. 447 
 
 enabled to give my time and thoughts to this g^eat edu- 
 cational work. In writing this book, and presuming to 
 tell to the public the story of my life, listening to the sug- 
 gestions, and complying with the wish of that good friend 
 Dr. C. F. Hoffman, the motive has been to magnify the 
 grace of God ; to show *' His strength to this generation, 
 and His power to them that are yet to come." I will 
 attain to seventy years, 31st January, 1898. 
 
 Of course I do not know what the future has in store, 
 or what use God may still have for me, what I will be 
 permitted to do. That which is now upon me is, as it 
 has been for thirty years, one of faith, and struggle, and 
 anxiety. I earnestl}^ pray that it may commend itself to 
 the generous hearts of many : that it may be sustained by 
 willing contributions, and that it may please God to put 
 in the hearts of some of His people to so endow it, that its 
 future may be secured. 
 
 And now I say farewell to my readers, praying that 
 each may know the comfort, and peace, that come from a 
 loving trust in God, and a firm faith in His providential 
 care. 
 
APPENDIX A 
 
 To the Editor of the ' ' News and Courier ' ' .• 
 
 On the morning of the 7th of November, i860, I was 
 informed by Corporal Finley of my squad, that I was de- 
 tailed as one of twenty picked men to capture the Charles- 
 ton Arsenal. Not feeling particularly warlike at that 
 time, and fully believing what our leaders told us, that 
 there would be no war because it was unconstitutional, 
 and that it would be merely a peaceable secession, I sug- 
 gested that it might be taken as an overt act, and might 
 lead to unpleasant consequences ; besides, I had an en- 
 gagement to walk with a young lady that afternoon, and 
 it would be awkward for me to get off, and begged to get 
 the Captain to pick over. But my appeals were in vain. 
 " Duty," said the Corporal, " calls you to do or die," and 
 I did. Rushing to my friends I informed them of the 
 compliment paid to my desperate courage, and my sol- 
 dierly qualities. I borrowed from them everything they 
 had in the way of weapons, and a pocket-flask. I was 
 presented with a beautiful scarf as a tribute from ' ' virtue 
 to valor" by the " girl I left behind me," and by my 
 mother with an umbrella, in case of rain — for the night 
 looked threatening. Then bidding farewell to my sisters, 
 and my cousins, and my aunts, who were not as much dis- 
 tressed as I thought they should be under the circum- 
 stances, I buckled on my armor, composed of three large 
 and one small revolver. State rifle, bowie-knife, and 
 
 449 
 
450 Led On! 
 
 bayonet, over the majestic uniform of the Washington 
 lyight Infantry. I thought of the Leopard and Chesa- 
 peake; the winter at Valley Forge. I repeated "The 
 Soldier's Grave," *' 'Tis sweet to die for one's country " 
 (as those who have never tried it say), " Freedom's 
 battle once begun" (was there use in beginning it?), 
 ' * What perils do environ " ; I felt the force of every line 
 and they weighed upon my spirits as heavily as my arma- 
 ment on my spine. 
 
 Thus dressed to kill I repaired to the rendezvous, Mr. 
 Porter's church, Ashley Street, stopping on the way two 
 or three times to bid good-bye, and realize that drinking 
 is the *' soldier's pleasure." There we met under the 
 pale light of the moon a little before the last bell rang. 
 Never shall I forget the solemnity of the scene ; the awful 
 stillness so unlike a Fourth of July parade ; the church — 
 the place for a graveyard, perhaps for tis — no music, no 
 toasts, no health-drinking, nothing but the suppressed 
 breathing of the twenty picked men as they sat upon Mr. 
 Porter's church doorsteps, waiting for the order, "Fall in." 
 Soon this was given, " according to height." Now this 
 amendment put me uncomfortably near the front line, so 
 I moved that we go " left in front, " if I could not be left 
 behind. This motion, with a few very appropriate re- 
 marks by the tallest man of the picked twenty, was feel- 
 ingly put by the Lieutenant in command of the squad. 
 The short ones were too many for us, and I stood as " I 
 was," thinking of home and the vacant chair, and of 
 Her; and so I was wondering if she was thinking of me, 
 and if she would like to be a man, and, if she were a man, 
 if she would exchange places with me ; and so I was think- 
 ing, when the Lieutenant said, ' ' Soldiers ! in obedience to 
 the call of our country, our duty, and our Captain, we 
 meet, ready, I see by your countenances, to rush through 
 the imminent breach, or mount the tottering wall. Re- 
 
Appendix A, 451 
 
 member Leonidas and his Spartan few. Remember to 
 preserv^e — i. Silence in ranks ! " he abruptly said, to stop 
 one of the picked, who was telling the squad how his 
 grandfather had told him how soldiers had been shot 
 crossing the streets in Mexico, which was having a de- 
 moralizing effect. " Reinforcements," the Lieutenant 
 continued, ' ' if required, will be sent to us. They are, or 
 are supposed to be, holding themselves in readiness at the 
 Military Hall." 
 
 One of us asked, how many men were there at the 
 arsenal ? * * Twenty, ' ' he replied ; ' ' counting the women. ' ' 
 I could no longer keep quiet, and falling back on the re- 
 served right of every citizen of this great and glorious 
 country, viz., the right of speech, I asked if our country 
 and our Captain thought it a fair fight, and if our duty 
 compelled us, in our present state of training, to meet the 
 forces of the United States. Why not bring up the rein- 
 forcements and make victory certain ? why not let me go 
 for the Fourth Brigade ? I was willing to volunteer to go 
 on that volunteer hope. Here the fellow who told what 
 his grandfather had told him about shooting soldiers in 
 the streets of Mexico said, his grandfather told him that 
 when he was in the Florida war, they always sent two 
 men or more to carry despatches, in the case one got 
 killed, and he volunteered to go with me, and so did all of 
 them. As this would have broken up the storming party, 
 the Lieutenant determined not to send for reinforcements. 
 Another fellow proposed that we send to the arsenal to 
 see if they were at home before we called, but the Lieu- 
 tenant said that was not military ; and off to the arsenal 
 gate we marched, and there we halted, pinked, ordered 
 arms, and rested; and there the Lieutenant congratulated 
 us on our steadiness in marching, and the quickness of the 
 march. ' * For, ' ' said he, ' * we reached here before the gate 
 was shut for the night, otherwise we would have been 
 
452 Led On I 
 
 forced to escalade the fence, ' ' which is very dangerous over 
 sharp-pointed fences, and he did not know whether there 
 was a dog inside or not. Then, for the first time, we 
 marched in through the gateway, with heads erect ; up to 
 this time the picked had been hanging their heads down, 
 to reduce their height, and dodge shot if necessary, and 
 with no foeman's steel to bar our way, I felt now ' ' Dulce et 
 decorum est pro patria mori.''^ Marching up the pathway 
 a brother soldier said to me, '' You see anything your 
 side ? ' ' lyooking ahead, I saw a field-piece with three 
 men near it. " One on my right saw two," he said, 
 * * pointing right at us. ' ' Dulce et decorum left me. * ' Have 
 they arms ? " ' ' Two of them have, ' ' I replied ; * ' but 
 the third has but one. ' ' I have since heard he lost an 
 arm in Mexico. 
 
 He whispered to me, " It is an ambush ' ' ; and while ex- 
 plaining to me — he was an ex-ofl&cer of the Beat — what an 
 ambush was, we marched past the guns and the men up 
 into the very centre of the arsenal, and stacked our guns 
 in the barracks of the arsenal, in the building once used 
 as a church by our chaplain, the Rev. Dr. Porter. We 
 heard afterwards that this good man had asked the ofiicer 
 in charge to take good care of us. How much pleasanter 
 it would have been if we had known this when we were 
 attacking! For the truth of history, I must mention 
 casualties. My breeches, either from the weight of my 
 armament or from my taking too long a breath, broke 
 down behind. I stuck my bayonet through the upper 
 portion of the seat and held them up. What might have 
 been had I no bayonet I would not like to tell. The 
 other was the repulse of a sentinel by a United States 
 cow, which the garrison drove off, crying, " Remember 
 Cowpens," and re-established the Post. 
 
 And thus on the yth of November, i860, was the Charles- 
 ton Arsenal captured. Onk who was theire. 
 
Appe7idix B. 453 
 
 APPENDIX B 
 
 RKPORT 
 
 Resolved, That a Board of Missions to the colored people 
 and freedmen of the Diocese, to consist of three clergymen 
 and three laymen, the Bishop being ex-officio Chairman, 
 be elected annually. To whom the whole subject of their 
 instruction shall be intrusted. 
 
 2. Resolved, That this Board be requested to take early 
 action to revive and sustain such missions to colored 
 people exclusively as existed before their emancipation. 
 
 3. Resolved, That this Board do consider the expediency 
 of organizing churches and congregations, consisting in 
 whole, or part, of colored people, under such regulations 
 as to them may seem advisable and consistent with the 
 Constitution and Canons of the Church in this diocese. 
 
 4. Resolved, That this Board be urged to take early 
 action to establish and maintain parochial schools for the 
 secular and religious instruction of the colored people in 
 our cities, towns, and parishes, to be conducted by teachers, 
 male and female, of our own communion, and under the 
 supervision of the clergy within whose cures they may 
 be established. The industrial features being engrafted 
 thereon, whenever practicable. 
 
 5. Resolved, That this Board be authorized, and re- 
 quested, to search out and take by the hand any of their 
 class who may be desirous of preparing for the sacred 
 ministry of our Church, to whose capacity and moral fit- 
 ness their pastor may testify, and to provide for their 
 education and training at school or seminary, and with 
 the sanction and approval of their Bishop. 
 
 6. Resolved, That whenever churches or parsonages, 
 
 glebes, or other Church property, in the several parishes, 
 
 are no longer occupied, or needed by the white members 
 29 
 
454 ^^^ ^^ ' 
 
 of our Church, and can be made available for any of the 
 aforesaid objects, the duty and expediency of so applying 
 the same be respectfully urged upon the legal representa- 
 tives of such churches or property. 
 
 7. Resolved, That this Board be, and are, hereby con- 
 stituted trustees, to receive and disburse any funds con- 
 tributed for the objects herein recommended from within 
 or beyond the limits of the diocese. 
 
 8. Resolved, That the expediency be submitted to the 
 Board, of appointing forthwith a missionary agent to visit 
 the several parishes and other precincts of the diocese 
 where the colored people may be congregated, to ascertain 
 their general condition, wants and wishes, to collect all 
 information pertaining to the work, to report from time 
 to time to the Board or through some Church periodical, 
 and to solicit pecuniary aid within, and if found necessary 
 beyond the diocese. 
 
 (Signed) 
 
 J. Stuart Hanckel, 
 P. F. Stevens, 
 A. G1.ENNIE, 
 G. A. TrenhoIvM, 
 Wm. C. Bee, 
 Thos. W. Porcher, 
 
 Committee. 
 
 On motion of Rev. C. P. Gadsden the Resolutions 
 were taken up seriatim, and severally agreed to. The 
 question recurring on the adoption of the whole, the Re- 
 port was unanimously adopted. 
 
 APPENDIX C 
 
 DR. porter's APPEAI. 
 
 The Rev. A. Toomer Porter, rector of the Holy Com- 
 munion Church, whom all Charleston knows, has made 
 
Appendix D. 455 
 
 an appeal to the people of our city in behalf of his life- 
 work, the Porter Academy. As Doctor Porter has labored 
 among many of our colored people, and as they love and 
 esteem him therefor, and as many white citizens read 
 our paper, and as Doctor Porter's paper should reach both 
 races, the Messenger takes plensure in reproducing the 
 Doctor's article from the News and Courier^ with the hope 
 that our readers will give it every consideration and con- 
 tribute largely to the support of this good man in his most 
 noble undertaking. The Doctor's institution is a worthy 
 one, and he has labored hard to keep it alive and up to its 
 established standard of excellence. Doctor Porter is a 
 man who entertains ver}^ broad and liberal views on the 
 subject of Christian education and Christian charity. It 
 was through his influence that the building now used for 
 the Jenkins' Orphanage Institute was tendered the Rev. 
 D. J. Jenkins, which has been the means of furthering the 
 work of caring for orphans and destitute children of this 
 city. We hope, therefore, that our citizens will sustain 
 their reputation for advancing their educational interests 
 by responding unstintedl}^ to Doctor Porter's appeal. 
 
 APPENDIX D 
 
 I hereby place on record the names of those benefactors 
 since 1888, Hving and dead, who for many years have 
 assisted me. Supplementing what has been paid by the 
 pupils of the school, their aid has enabled me to do this 
 w^ork. I here place on record my grateful thanks, while 
 I pray that God, who loves a cheerful giver, may restore to 
 the living fourfold for all they have done for the education 
 of this host of boys. I feel sure that the joys of Paradise 
 have been intensified to those who are dead by the recol- 
 lection of every good and faithful work they did while 
 still in the flesh. 
 
456 Led On! 
 
 The following are the names. Those marked with a 
 star are dead ; those previous to the year 1888 have 
 already been recorded : 
 
 *Coi,ONEi, AuCHMUTY New York 
 
 Mrs. Auchmuty New York 
 
 Mrs. Wilwam Appi^kton Boston 
 
 Mrs. Jui<ia W. AndkrSON Cincinnati 
 
 Mr. W. Bayard Brown New York 
 
 Mrs. W. E. Baywes New York 
 
 *Re;v. J. BuFORD New York 
 
 *Mrs. Dr. Bucki^er Baltimore 
 
 Mr. N. G. Bourne New York 
 
 *Mr. Alex. Brown Philadelphia 
 
 Mrs. Jane D. Barnum Boston 
 
 *Mr. J. M. Brown New York 
 
 Mrs. N. a. Baldwin New Haven 
 
 *Mr. H. p. Baldwin . . . . . Detroit, Mich. 
 
 Mrs. H. p. Baldwin Detroit, Mich. 
 
 Mr. W. H. Baldwin Baltimore 
 
 Mrs. Emily A. Beebe Boston 
 
 Mr. J. PiERSON Beebe • Boston 
 
 Mr. J. Arthur Beebe . Boston 
 
 Mr. Samuel D. Babcock Boston 
 
 Dr. Blake Boston 
 
 Mr. Edmund H. Bennett .... Taunton, Mass. 
 
 Miss Anna Blanchard Philadelphia 
 
 Mrs. Alex. Brown Philadelphia 
 
 Mrs. Francis Baker ...... New York 
 
 Mr. Frederick Baker New York 
 
 Mr. E. F. Burke Orange, N. J. 
 
 Mr. R. Fulton Cutting ...... New York 
 
 Mrs. V. Clark New York 
 
 Mr. William Bayard Cutting .... New York 
 
 Mr. William P. Clyde New York 
 
 Mr. C. H. ConToiT New York 
 
 Mr. J. M. COMSTOCK New York 
 
 Mr. George F. Crocker New York 
 
 *Dr. J. J. Crane New Haven 
 
 Mrs. E. a. Coxe . Philadelphia 
 
Appendix D. 457 
 
 Miss Rebecca Coxe Philadelphia 
 
 Mr. J. W. Coats Pawtucket 
 
 Mrs. H. F. Cunningha:m Boston 
 
 Mr. Wii,i*iam C. Comstock Chicago 
 
 Mr. David Clarkson New York 
 
 Mrs. W. F. Cockran New York 
 
 Mr. Wili^iam E. Dodge New York 
 
 *Mr. Chari.es D. Dickey New York 
 
 Mrs. a. F. Damon New York 
 
 Mr. William B. Douglas .... Rochester, N. Y. 
 
 Mr. W. S. Eaton Boston 
 
 Mr. William Endicott, Jr Boston 
 
 Mrs. M. M. Ellison Boston 
 
 *Mrs. EgglESTOn Baltimore 
 
 Mrs. Edgar New York 
 
 Mrs. M. EdgerTon New York 
 
 *Mr. Jos. S. Fay . . Boston 
 
 Mrs. Charles Fay Boston 
 
 Mrs. George S. Fiske Boston 
 
 Mrs. Charlotte M. Fiske Boston 
 
 Mr. J. C. Fargo New York 
 
 Mr. H. C. FahnesTock New York 
 
 Mr. F. Morton Fox Philadelphia 
 
 Miss Elizabeth S. Fiske Boston 
 
 Mrs. K. F. Grey New York 
 
 Rev. Mr. Grosvenor New York 
 
 Mr. James Goodwin New York 
 
 Mrs. E. a. Gammell Providence, R. I. 
 
 *Mr. Fred. Hubbard New York 
 
 *Mr. W. H. HusTED New York 
 
 Very Rev. E. A. Hoffman, D.D New York 
 
 *Rev. Charles F. Hoffman, D.D. . . . New York 
 
 Mr. C. F. Hoffman, Jr New York 
 
 Mr. F. W. Hunnewell Boston 
 
 Rev. W, R. Huntington, D.D New York 
 
 Mrs. H. p. Hemmenway Boston 
 
 Mr. Charles Hebard Philadelphia 
 
 Mr. John Hogg Boston 
 
 Mrs. Hannah M. Hebard Chestnut Hill 
 
 ■*Mr. R. J. INGERSOLL New York 
 
 Mr. Morris K. Jesup New York 
 
458 
 
 Led On ! 
 
 Mrs. Fi,ORE;Nc:e M. Jamison New York 
 
 *Mr. John D. Jonks New York 
 
 Mr. George Gordon King New York 
 
 Mr. John A. King New York 
 
 Mrs. Edward King New York 
 
 *MrS. M. KETEI.I.AS . , . . . . New York 
 
 Miss Ai,ice KeTEi.i.as New York 
 
 •^Mr. LeRoy King Newport 
 
 Mrs. Mary A. King Newport 
 
 Miss M. I/ERoy King Newport 
 
 Miss Kdith E. King . Newport 
 
 *Mrs. Susan LeRoy . . . . . . . Newport 
 
 *Mr. a. a. Low, Sr New York 
 
 Mr. a. a. Low, Jr New York 
 
 Hon. SETh Low, LL.D New York 
 
 Mr. W. G. Low New York 
 
 *Mr. Robert J. Livingston New York 
 
 Mr. Lounder ........ New York 
 
 *Mr. W. B. Leonard New York 
 
 Mr. Chari^es Laneau ... . . . . New York 
 
 Mrs. Sarah K. Lawrence Newport 
 
 RT. Rev. Wii^wam Lawrence, D.D . . . . Boston 
 
 Mr. Amory a. Lawrence Boston 
 
 Mrs. W. R. Lawrence Boston 
 
 Miss Susan Lovering Boston 
 
 Miss I^rances E. Lake New York 
 
 Miss Ida M. Mason Newport 
 
 Miss E)I/I/En F. Mason Newport 
 
 Mr. J. PierponT Morgan New York 
 
 *Mr. j. S. Morgan London, Bng. 
 
 Mrs. John D. Martin New York 
 
 C APT. Henry Metcai,EE • . . . . . New York 
 
 Mrs. Edith Edgar McCags Newport 
 
 Mrs. Jui<ia MERRETT Rochester, N. Y. 
 
 Mr. E. D. Morgan Newport 
 
 Mr. Gordon Norris New York 
 
 Mr. Chari^es a. Peabody New York 
 
 Mr. Robert Treat Paine Boston 
 
 *Mrs. W. H. Powers ...... Philadelphia 
 
 Mr. H. E. PEI.I.EW Washington 
 
 Rev. Dr. Quinn ........ Iowa 
 
Appendix D. 459 
 
 Mr. John C. Ropes Boston 
 
 Mr. F. W. RHINEI.ANDER New York 
 
 Dr. Wii,i,iam C. Rieves New York 
 
 Mr. WiIvWam RocKEFEivivER ..... New York 
 
 Miss Hannah F. Randoi^ph Philadelphia 
 
 Mrs. Shephard Providence, R. I. 
 
 Mrs. W. D. Si^OANE = . New York 
 
 Through Rev. Dr. Shipman . . . ^ . New York 
 
 Mr. Chari^es F. Stickney New York 
 
 Mr. a. Scrymser New York 
 
 *Mr. W. K. Shei^don New York 
 
 *Mrs. Robert L.. Stuart New York 
 
 Mr. W. C. Schermerhorn New York 
 
 Mr. T. a. Schermerhorn New York 
 
 *Mr. J. H. ShoenbERGER New York 
 
 *Dr. George C. ShatTuck ...... Boston 
 
 Mr. a. F. Stuyvesant New York 
 
 Mrs. Bmii,y G. Stui^E Connecticut 
 
 Messrs. Smith, Hogg, and Gardner .... Boston 
 
 Rev. Ai,ex. Mackay Smith Washington 
 
 Mr. George S. St. Arnaud Paris 
 
 Mr. John J. Thompson New York 
 
 Mrs. S. F. Thompson New York 
 
 Coi.. WiIvWam Iv. TrenhoIvM New York 
 
 Miss A. G. Thayer Boston 
 
 Mrs. C. M. Titus Hartford 
 
 Mr. Cornei^ius Vanderbii^T New York 
 
 *Mrs. Wii^liam H. Vanderbilt .... New York 
 Mrs. M. L. Vanderbii^T . . . . . . New York 
 
 Rev. M. Van Renssei^aer New York 
 
 Mrs. Mary J. Winthrop New York 
 
 *Mrs. R. C. Winthrop Boston 
 
 Mr. Chari^es B. WitherEIvL Boston 
 
 Mr. a. G. Weeks Boston 
 
 Mr. Henry White New York 
 
 *Miss H. A. Wood Philadelphia 
 
 Mr. C. a. Wii^IvIAMs .... New London, Conn. 
 Mr Fred. A. White London, Bng. 
 
46o Led On I 
 
 APPENDIX E 
 
 Phii,adei.phia, December 15, 1879. 
 Such unjust public criticisms having been elicited by 
 the passage by the United States Senate of a Resolution 
 to lease the Charleston arsenal to the Holy Communion 
 Church Institute, it gives us pleasure as Northern men, 
 differing in political opinion from the rector of that Insti- 
 tute, but personally acquainted with him, and with his 
 noble work, carried on by him in Charleston, to testify in 
 his behalf. A more unselfish, devoted, and tolerant 
 clergyman than the Rev. A. Toomer Porter it has never 
 been our lot to meet. He has devoted all of his private 
 means, and the whole of his life and matchless energy to 
 bring in and board and educate the poverty-stricken sons 
 of South Carolina without charge ; he is training for useful 
 positions in life boys who would otherwise grow up in igno- 
 rance. It can hardly be a reproach that many of these 
 boys are of Revolutionary lineage. The assertion that his 
 school is a " rebel school ' ' is amply met by the fact that 
 when his more advanced scholars have needed collegiate 
 education they have been sent to Schenectady, New York, 
 and Hartford, Connecticut. One of his largest contributors 
 was a colored man in Charleston. If to be an Episcopal 
 Institute is sectarian, it is of that kind which instructs and 
 feeds the poor, clothes the naked, and builds hospitals and 
 infirmaries. The more of such sectarianism the better. 
 No American can read the roll of the Holy Communion 
 Church Institute without feeling pride and thankfulness 
 that the young Francis Marions and Isaac Hajaies of to- 
 day are receiving from the United States Government 
 even so small a boon as the use of a dilapidated United 
 States arsenal. 
 
 John Wbi.ch, James W. Robins, Nelson Mc Vicar, 
 
 Thomas Robins, Thomas Clyde, Edw. T. Buckley, 
 
 I^EMUEL Coffin, M. E-ussel Thayer, Geo. N. Conarroe, 
 
 J. Andrews Harris, Alex. Brown, Geo. H. Kirkham. 
 
Appendix G. 461 
 
 APPENDIX F 
 
 So many of those friends of thirt}^, yes, of twenty, 3^ears 
 ago are dead. While they were living I often told them of 
 my gratitude, and now in Paradise, I trust they are reap- 
 ing a rich reward. Near the close of the second year of 
 the Institution, I received a letter from the Rev. Mr. 
 Huntington, then Professor of Greek in Trinit}^ College, 
 Hartford, offering tuition, room-rent, and one hundred 
 dollars towards expenses of any boy I would send there. 
 I had never looked so far as that. I only hoped to fit 
 boys with some education to go out into life, but here was 
 expansion. It was unsought, and I felt that God was 
 leading me on. Of course it gave great impetus to the 
 school. I sent one boy, Josiah B. Perry, on in September, 
 Mr. W. P. Clyde giving me a free pass for him. And 
 here I will state that all my boys who have since gone to 
 Trinity, to Union, and to Hobart Colleges — and they 
 number more than two hundred — Mr. Clyde passed free 
 on his steamers until within the past two years, and now 
 he still passes them at reduced rates. I made a calcula- 
 tion some time since and found in the item of transporta- 
 tion alone, he had given me in furtherance of this work 
 nearly seven thousand dollars. 
 
 APPENDIX G 
 
 I find, in my mission in 1866, I preached in its interest 
 at Holy Trinity, Grace, Brooklyn ; at New^ton, Long 
 Island ; at St. Bartholomew, Transfiguration, St. Luke's, 
 Grace, Ascension, Christ Churches, New York; Emman- 
 uel Advent, St. Paul's, Boston ; St. Peter's and St. 
 Mary's, Brooklyn ; Christ Church, New Rochelle ; St. 
 John's, Hartford ; Christ Church, Hartford ; Christ 
 Church, Rye; St. John's, Grace Church, Buffalo. Strange 
 
462 Led On ! 
 
 how many of these facts have passed out of my mind, 
 but the record made at the time has brought back many 
 recollections. When it is remembered that when I 
 landed in New York, on April 6, 1866, I was a total 
 stranger, and all this was done by the last of August, it 
 shows with what a generous welcome I was met, and I 
 think it was the groundwork for my attachment for the 
 North. 
 
 APPENDIX H 
 
 THE ENGI.ISH COMMITTEE 
 
 The Bari, of Aberdeen, Chairman. 
 
 Fred a. White, Esq., Secretary, 170 Queens Gate, London 
 
 A. H. Brown, M. P Liverpool 
 
 Rev. Canon FlEmming, Vicar of St. Michael's, Chester Square 
 Rev. Canon Wii^kinson, Vicar of St. Peter's . Baton Square 
 
 The Hon. and Rev. B. Carr Gi^yn, Vicar of St. Mary's, 
 
 Kensington 
 Rev. C. Green . . . .St. Paul's near Beckenham 
 
 Rev. T. TeignmouTh Shore, Chaplain to the Queen. 
 REV. Dr. TrEmi^ETT, Vicar of St. Peter's . . Belsize Park 
 
 Howard G11.1.IAT, Esq 4 Crosby Square 
 
 LEiDHAM White, Esq. 
 
 Thos. Kingscote, Esq., Treasurer. 
 
 THE END. 
 

 
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