LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
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MEMORIES 
 
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MEMORIES OF THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 CALVIN SEARS HARRINGTON, D.D. 
 
 LATE PROFESSOR OF LATIN IN WESLEY AN UNIVERSITY. 
 
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 BY HIS WIFE 
 
 
 r APR 231887 J/ 1 
 
 MIDDLETOWN, CONN. 
 PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 1887 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 OF CONGRESS 
 
 rASMIWGTOM 
 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT, l88 7 . 
 
 0^ 
 
 FRAJ.KUN press: 
 BOSTON- 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 DURING the last few months of Mr. Harrington's life, 
 the assurance that he was rapidly hastening away 
 gave all his words an especial value to me, and led to the 
 habit, unnoticed by him, of committing them to bits of 
 paper for future perusal. After he went home, I collected 
 and copied these writings, and shared the pleasure they 
 gave me with a few friends. Influenced by the interest 
 they awakened, and by advice given me, I finally de- 
 termined to precede them with a brief outline of my 
 husband's history, and thus give them to the public, hop- 
 ing they might assist others, fighting the same fight of 
 
 faith, in winning the same final victory. 
 
 E. C. H\ 
 
 Middletown, Conn., Jan. 31, 1887. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Parentage. — Childhood. — Natural Disposition. — Early 
 
 Home. — School-Life. — Desire for Education ... 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Beginning to Teach. — Conversion. — Journal. — Reli- 
 gious Experience 15 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Seminary Life. — Student at Wesleyan. — Vacations. — 
 " On the Bridge."^— Ambitions. — Fears. — Fore- 
 bodings. — Farewells 20 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Marriage. — Teaching at Sanbornton Bridge. — Vaca- 
 tion.— New Year's Song. — Return to Sanbornton 
 Bridge. — Variety of Duties. — Religious Work. — 
 Sickness 30 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Resignation. — Life Question. — Great Falls. — Call to 
 Wesleyan. — College Work. — Latin Translations.— 
 Church Work. — "Our Colleges" 36 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Pastoral Work. — Diary. — Prayer. — Extract from Ser- 
 mon. — General Conference 47 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 European Tour. — Letters, and Extracts from Diaries, 62 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 California. — Methodist Hymnal. — "Adventus Secundus." 
 
 — Hymnal -with Tunes. — Extracts from Sermons . 86 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Karl. — Birthday Poem. — Letters. — Diaries. — Class- 
 Meetings. — Sickness. — Vacation. — Letters. — New- 
 Hampshire Conference 103 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Centennial of Middletown. — Poem. — Vacation. — Diary. 
 
 — Letter. — Partial College Work. — "To Nellie on 
 her Wedding-Da y."— Battle with Disease. — What is 
 your Life? — Old Church 117 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Alumni Meeting at Tilton. — Extracts from Poem . . 127 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Examinations and Commencement. — Professor Emeritus. 
 
 — Increasing Weakness. — "The Lord's Leading." — 
 Music 137 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Failing Physical and Increasing Spiritual Strength. 
 
 — " Border-Land." — Visits. — Letters. — Kindness of 
 Friends. — Preaching. — Heart-Searchings.— Bishop 
 
 — Foss. — Day of Prayer. — Night-Experiences . . . 145 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Hemorrhage. — Prayer. — Daily Routine. — Letters. — 
 Hymns. — Calls. — Approach of Death. — Directions. 
 
 — Messages. — Last Prayer-Meeting. — Last Sleep. — 
 "Into those Mansions." — Kindness of Friends. — 
 Memorial of Faculty 160 
 
MEMORIES OF THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 CALVIN SEARS HARRINGTON, D.D 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PARENTAGE. — CHILDHOOD. — NATURAL DISPOSITION. —EARLY 
 HOME. — SCHOOL-LIFE. — DESIRE FOR EDUCATION. 
 
 IN the little village of East St. Johnsbury, Vt, close by 
 where the noisy Moose River runs over a mill-dam, 
 stood the brown cottage that on May 17, 1826, became 
 the birthplace of Calvin Sears Harrington. 
 
 His mother was an invalid, of whom his only memo- 
 ries were of her crossing her room with feeble steps to 
 minister to his childish wants, and sitting by her knee 
 while she taught him with her musical voice the songs 
 of the Church. When he was six years old, she went 
 away to the home of the blessed. 
 
 His father was a stern, conscientious, upright man, 
 whose love for his children was manifested in a care for 
 their best welfare, rather than in a weak yielding to their 
 own desires. When Calvin was four years old, his father 
 took him to St. Johnsbury Plain, four miles from home, 
 to a kindergarten that had been opened there. While the 
 little fellow was busy with blocks and pictures, the parent 
 left, and no cries availed to call him back. Calvin was 
 
io MEMORIES. 
 
 boarded in a house close by, where, too small to sit with 
 the family at table, he took his daily meals on a little tin 
 plate at the fireside. Thus he spent his first term at 
 boarding-school. 
 
 When a little older, his father, with great care, made 
 him a fine cart, designed to content him in sport about 
 home. For a while the new treasure was highly appre- 
 ciated j but one day a playmate displayed the treasures 
 of his pockets. " Boston crackers " were a greater rarity 
 then than now, and a pocket-full of these, a nice ball of 
 string, and some other valuable boyish traps, proved too 
 strong a temptation ; and the cart was traded off for the 
 crackers and string. When, a few hours later, the boy 
 offered to trade back, Calvin's father said, " No I Didn't 
 you make a fair trade? Haven't you eaten up the crack- 
 ers ? You cannot have your cart again : it belongs to 
 Ellery now, and I shall not make you another." The 
 large-hearted "Ellery" — now the Hon. E. L. Hibbard 
 of Laconia, N.H. — urged the return ; but the inflexible 
 parent would by no means allow his boy to lose this 
 opportunity to learn that a promise once made was bind- 
 ing, and no reason was sufficient to induce one to break 
 his word. 
 
 Calvin had an older brother and sister. When he was 
 seven years of age, a new mother came to his home, 
 bringing with her three daughters and a son. The son 
 being about the age of the older brother, they soon 
 began to affiliate, and the bevy of four girls found plenty 
 in common to unite them ; so the little boy of seven was 
 left quite by himself. These circumstances developed in 
 him a tendency to melancholy and moroseness, which so 
 manifested itself upon his face, and perhaps in his words 
 
MEMORIES. II 
 
 and acts, that a little girl, visiting in the family one day, 
 declared innocently to the crowd, " That boy has got the 
 ugly" It may well be imagined that the merriment 
 occasioned thus at his expense did not tend to sweeten 
 his temper. And in later years, when he was sometimes 
 told that his disposition was naturally amiable, and he 
 did not have to strive so hard as many others to over- 
 come evil tempers, he would declare that naturally no 
 one had " the ugly " more surely than himself, and none 
 but himself knew how constant and severe was the battle 
 with the Tempter, or how wonderful the grace of God 
 that enabled him to triumph. Constitutionally he was a 
 man of anxious care, and one must watch him through 
 years of experience to discern that it was the indwelling 
 Christ that kept his life calm and peaceful. He often 
 said, "The Christian course is a warfare, and must 
 always be, however great the grace given to aid in the 
 fight against evil." 
 
 The same thought is frequently expressed in his diary, 
 as : " The conflict of the world and the flesh and the 
 Devil against God and the soul is a terrible one. If man 
 were any thing less than he is, he would be torn piece- 
 meal, and the object of contention would perish in the 
 strife. But oh, how sin takes him into the ranks of evil 
 when he consents ! — and God becomes his bulwark when 
 he flies there for refuge." 
 
 Another date has : " Battle ! Battle ! Christ is our 
 Leader. Foes are within and around me. Through him 
 I can be more than conqueror. Oh for a humble trust in 
 my Saviour, for a meek and lowly mind, for a patient and 
 quiet spirit ! O Lord, sanctify thy servant. Give me a 
 holy heart. 
 
12 MEMORIES. 
 
 " Fight, fight, fight ! I am tired of it. It is of no use to 
 quarrel with the decrees of law, wherever they originate. 
 Submit is the word. Man is a living interrogation-point, 
 and very crooked he is." 
 
 Father Harrington's cottage-home stood at the base of 
 one of the greenest of Vermont hills ; and his farm stretch- 
 ing back behind it showed on the lowlands well-culti- 
 vated gardens and fields, where digging and sowing and 
 raking and hoeing furnished plenty of opportunity to 
 teach a boy that labor was both necessary and honorable. 
 Wide pastures farther up the ascent gave room for berry- 
 picking and cattle-driving, and the heavy woodland at 
 the top furnished chopping and sledding for winter's 
 occupation. The beautiful grove of maples, called "First 
 Woods/' half-way up the hill, was attractive for its ice- 
 cold spring, that furnished the house below with water, 
 and was the rallying-place for the whole herd of cattle as 
 they came each night in procession down the well-beaten 
 path. In the season for farm -work this Vermont boy was 
 never unoccupied, except when on some rare occasion, 
 having persuaded his father to give him a " stint," he 
 had with youthful zeal accomplished two hours work in 
 one, and so saved the afternoon for fishing, gaming, or 
 other of the myriad boy-sports from which labor had by 
 no means taken his relish. 
 
 But there would sometimes come an end to the rush of 
 farm-work. Father Harrington had provided for all such 
 emergencies. Beside the stream in front of the house 
 stood a tannery and a small shoe-manufactory ; and over 
 the dashing current an old bark-mill hung, where hours 
 otherwise unoccupied were spent in grinding bark. This 
 was a work Calvin especially hated, as the dust filled his 
 
MEMORIES. 13 
 
 nose and throat, while the din of the machinery, as the old 
 mill creaked and groaned at its labor, was any thing but 
 pleasing. Still hour after hour, keeping the hopper filled 
 to its utmost, he contented himself by leaning from the 
 window over the falling water, and raising his voice to its 
 highest pitch, vying with the sounds about him, as he 
 sang all the songs of his boy-programme, including many 
 of the hymns of the hymn-book. 
 
 The evenings were mainly spent in reading, the facili- 
 ties for which he used every means to gain. The old 
 family library was culled over and over, and all the variety 
 from Arabian tales, and Robinson Crusoe, to Rollings 
 Ancient History, and John Bunyan's dream, were eagerly 
 devoured. By some boy-trade he became possessed of 
 his first appreciable sum of money. Richer than Roth- 
 schild in feeling, he walked the next leisure afternoon four 
 miles to the nearest book-store, and invested this fortune 
 in three volumes of the British poets, — Pollok's " Course 
 of Time," Milton's " Paradise Lost," and Young's "Night 
 Thoughts," which furnished the following winter evenings' 
 delightful occupation, and, carefully treasured, became the 
 nucleus of his future library. 
 
 A few weeks of district school each summer, and a long 
 term in winter, he enjoyed with ever-increasing zest. At 
 the age of thirteen, he spent his first term at old New- 
 bury Seminary. Two of the girls of his home " boarded 
 themselves " there, and a boy was a convenient member 
 of such a family. Frequently in autumn he attended a 
 term of select school in his native village. So, little by 
 little, he was laying a foundation for an education that 
 from his early childhood he had earnestly coveted. But 
 he began to grow impatient at the long delay, as the 
 
14 MEMORIES, 
 
 years of farming and tanning went on, and he became 
 aware that he was reaching up to manhood, and his 
 progress toward the goal of his ambition was scarcely 
 perceptible. 
 
 In the winter of 1844 and 1845 ne taught his first 
 school in Bath, N.H., and the following spring spent his 
 well-earned money in a term of study in St. Johnsbury 
 Academy, then in charge of Professor Colby. 
 
 The following summer, coming in one day from farm- 
 work, discouraged with the kind of life he was leading, 
 and quite out of sorts with the world in general, he called 
 out to his father, who sat quietly reading, " Father, I wish 
 you would buy me a watch." — " Well, I shall not," re- 
 plied the wise parent. "Then I wish you would send 
 me to school," Calvin continued. After a few minutes of 
 silence, his father answered, " If you will work well this 
 summer, you may go to school this fall ; then, if you can 
 teach in the winter, you may go to school as long as you 
 can pay your own way." This was the " proclamation of 
 emancipation " to the petitioner. He mowed and raked, 
 and tumbled and pitched off, during the remaining hay- 
 ing and harvest season, with a courage and will he had 
 never shown before. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 BEGINNING TO TEACH. — CONVERSION. — JOURNAL. — RELI- 
 GIOUS EXPERIENCE. 
 
 AFTER enjoying the fall term at the academy at 
 St. Johnsbury Plain, he engaged a school for the 
 winter in "Ross District/' Lower Waterford, Vt, and 
 then really began the work of teaching that only ended 
 with his life. During this winter, boarding at some dis- 
 tance from his work, he spent the hour of intermission 
 in his schoolroom. Soon after the term commenced, he 
 began to look around for something to occupy this com- 
 paratively quiet and leisure hour. Finding at hand only 
 the Bible, aside from ordinary text-books, he bethought 
 him that though he had always read and heard the Bible 
 read daily, had studied it also from his childhood in 
 Sunday school, still he had never given it a really thought- 
 ful perusal. After turning over the leaves a little, he 
 decided that he would spend this leisure midday hour in 
 reading carefully and thoughtfully the Psalms of David. 
 Putting this resolution in practice, he found his attention 
 absorbed and his interest fastened more and more on 
 those wonderful truths and poetical utterances. The 
 words of inspiration did not fail to reveal their power, 
 and to stamp their impress on the young inquirer's heart. 
 One evening, after his duties for the day were ended, 
 as he sat alone in the little chamber at his boarding-place, 
 he thought of his Christian home, of the house of God 
 
16 MEMORIES. 
 
 where he had year after year sung songs of worship, of 
 the sabbath school and its instructions, of the many lives 
 that he knew as having a Christian faith and experience 
 that he had not ; and he asked himself, " Why am not I a 
 Christian ?" He could give no answer. His conscience 
 told him that it was not only the most reasonable thing 
 to serve God, but that the Author of his being and the 
 Source of all his blessings had- a rightful claim upon his 
 service, that heretofore he had utterly disregarded. He 
 saw the unjust position he had been holding, and de- 
 liberately decided he would no longer be inconsistent 
 with himself. Since he believed he owed his life to his 
 Maker, he would henceforth pay his honest dues to Him 
 who held this infinite claim. Having deliberately made 
 up his mind thus, he kneeled, and formally gave himself 
 to God ; then retired to rest with a heart calm, unmoved, 
 but satisfied in having done the present duty. 
 
 The week ended, and he went home, as usual, to spend 
 the sabbath. He found the little village of East St. 
 Johnsbury all awake to the interests of the Christian reli- 
 gion. Daily meetings were being held, and on Saturday 
 evening he made his way to the chapel where the villagers 
 were assembled. The earnest prayers and songs of praise 
 to the great Father, and the simple testimonies to a faith 
 in Christ Jesus that brought peace to troubled hearts, all 
 had their convincing effect on one already decided to 
 do the bidding of the Divine Master ; so that, when an 
 opportunity was given, he scarcely needed the earnest 
 glance of a dear brother to induce him to bow at the 
 altar where public consecration was made to God. After 
 the prayers, his voice calmly told the purpose of his life 
 henceforth. And on Monday morning he went back to 
 
MEMORIES, 17 
 
 his school, full of a new zeal and readiness to be all for 
 Christ ; saying to his brother, on the way, " I don't know 
 but I shall some time find it is my duty to become a 
 preacher of the gospel." 
 
 Six months later, June 28, 1846, this entry was made 
 in his journal : — 
 
 " For the first time in my life, I have to-day partaken 
 of the holy sacrament. I can scarcely describe my feel- 
 ings when kneeling at the table of my Lord. They were 
 of a mingled character. I felt that I was unworthy to 
 take even the crumbs that fall from his table. I felt 
 humble and solemn and penitent. At the altar my prayer 
 was for pardon through Jesus' death and sufferings, and a 
 perfect cleansing from all sin through the efficacy of his 
 blood. Upon my seat afterward, my inward prayer was, 
 6 Hereafter, O Lord, enable me to do all thy righteous 
 will.' I do desire to be more holy. I am far from being 
 satisfied with my present situation. I am not filled with 
 all the fulness of Christ, not devoted enough to his cause, 
 not trusting enough in his merits, not enough dead unto 
 sin and alive unto God. Oh that from this time no power 
 of temptation may cause me to fall, no artifice of the 
 Devil may lead me astray from the path of duty and 
 the way of peace ! " 
 
 There was so little emotion, so little of the frequently 
 attendant joy, at the time of his conversion, that some- 
 times, in the few years following, he wondered if he could 
 be professing a faith which had no experimental reality. 
 This fear at times was painful to him, when he compared 
 his own experience with the more emotional one of some 
 of his associates. In the fall of 1847 ne attended a 
 
1 8 MEMORIES. 
 
 • 
 
 camp-meeting at which the power of the Holy Spirit was 
 especially manifest. There he sought a satisfactory evi- 
 dence that the real work of God was wrought in his own 
 heart. One evening, as he was praying for this in the 
 midst of a little circle in one of the tents, his prayer was 
 suddenly changed to praise. The quiet tones that so 
 uniformly told his desires to God were replaced by halle- 
 lujahs and shouts of " Glory!" For some minutes the 
 place was indeed "shaken where we were assembled," as 
 in the olden time, while the presence and power of the 
 Holy Ghost was manifest to all. 
 
 In describing afterward his feelings at that time, Calvin 
 said, " I cannot tell how it came : I only know that while 
 I prayed it seemed to fall on me as a shower, and to 
 cover me from head to foot/' That experience he always 
 loved to recall as a time when God gave him an especial 
 token and proof of his sonship in revealing to him a little 
 of the power and glory of his grace. It was the only 
 time in all his experience when the manifestation of his 
 emotion could have been called noisy. Though often in 
 later years he was filled with the conscious presence of 
 Christ, he expressed it quietly, — sometimes in tears of joy, 
 sometimes in glad songs of praise. 
 
 The following New Year's Day, Jan. i, 1848, his diary 
 has this entry : — 
 
 " Believing, as I do, that ' to fear God and keep his 
 commandments is the whole duty of man/ I have thought 
 it best to form some rules for my own government, and to 
 prescribe for myself some duties which it shall be my 
 endeavor to perform. 
 
 " 1 . I will endeavor to be a Christian, — to love God 
 
MEMORIES. 19 
 
 supremely, to perform every Christian duty made known 
 to me, and to 'grow in grace from day to day? 
 
 " 2. I will for this end set apart at least two seasons 
 every day for secret prayer, self-examination, and reading 
 the Scriptures. 
 
 "3. I will never parley with the adversary, but en- 
 deavor to shun the very appearance of evil." 
 
 This short but comprehensive code of rules, so con- 
 scientiously adopted, was never afterward renounced. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. — STUDENT AT WESLEYAN. — VACATIONS. — 
 " ON THE BRIDGE." — AMBITIONS. — FEARS. — FOREBODINGS. 
 — FAREWELLS. 
 
 IN the spring of 1846, Calvin entered the college pre- 
 paratory course in old Newbury Seminary. Here he 
 worked with most indefatigable zeal in his studies ; keep- 
 ing his health good meanwhile by vigorous engagement in 
 baseball, football, snowball, climbing " old Pulaski," and 
 taking long and rapid walks through all that mountain 
 region. 
 
 From the time of his conversion, though he prized as 
 highly as one could all intellectual opportunities, and set 
 himself conscientiously to improve all that came within 
 his reach, yet above these he set the culture of his spirit- 
 ual life. The weekly prayer and class meetings he never 
 neglected. The plea of "no time" was never thought 
 of ; because, from the outset, he planned time for them, 
 just as he planned time for his daily meals and recita- 
 tions. This rule of life, that never allowed religious du- 
 ties to. yield place to any thing else, early well established, 
 in later years made duty a delight. 
 
 He always found time also to seek out and try to help 
 those who were forgetting these higher interests, and in 
 those years his success in this work was marked. Here, 
 as everywhere, his love for music was rendered useful. 
 Often an otherwise weary hour of summer midday was 
 
MEMORIES. 21 
 
 made cheery in that old boarding-house, as, surrounded 
 by a crowd of fellow-students, he led their voices in 
 chorus, or sang song after song, accompanied by the 
 little old-fashioned melodeon which he held upon his 
 knees. 
 
 In August, 1848, having completed his course of prep- 
 aration for college, he started in the old-time stage- 
 coach on his journey to Middletown, Conn. 
 
 Arriving a stranger in the city late in the afternoon, he 
 was set down, by the hackman, at the fence-gate on 
 High Street, opposite the two old stone piles that then 
 constituted the nucleus of the present elegant line of 
 university buildings. He went cautiously up the long 
 walk, and reverentially looking in at the open door be- 
 held the janitor, acting president for the vacation not yet 
 ended. He called for a room, and was shown one in 
 which the pile of furniture of all sorts, set as if ready for 
 the auctioneer's block, reached the ceiling. But in the 
 midst of it was one bed dressed for use. He was allowed 
 to occupy that for the night. It is doubtful whether his 
 waking or sleeping dreams were most tantalizing. The 
 ideas he had cherished of Wesleyan University, as the 
 centre of all that was attractive and elevating, seemed to 
 be some nightmare of the past ; and the memory of 
 home, with its cosy chambers, well-furnished tables, and 
 loving hearts, was very bright beside this damp-walled, 
 unlighted room. 
 
 But " tired nature must have her dues:" so, despite 
 the racings of rats and mice and some lesser animals, he 
 spent a few hours in sleep, rising early to make prepara- 
 ration for the opening term. Dr. Olin, as president of 
 the university, answered all his previous ideas of a college 
 
22 MEMORIES. 
 
 president. Other members of the faculty he soon came 
 to regard with the highest deference. And though the 
 general surroundings, and the intellectual character of 
 many of the students, greatly disappointed him, yet he 
 prosecuted the four-years' course with constantly increas- 
 ing appreciation not only of the opportunity afforded 
 him to gain the book-knowledge he had so long cov- 
 eted, but to gain also many other things from the privi- 
 leges of college life. Thenceforth his alma mater was 
 cherished by him with all the enthusiasm of a child who 
 knows the value of real parental care. His eye would 
 kindle with excitement, and his voice grow eloquent, 
 whenever, in after-years, he used his influence to send 
 pupils to old Wesleyan. The beauty of the city, the 
 charming walks and delightTul views of the surrounding 
 country, the culture of the social world there, and the de- 
 lights of college companionship, all were added to the 
 strong testimonials of merit he gave to the faculty of the 
 university, and the various advantages and privileges con- 
 nected with the institution. He was an ardent lover of 
 his college society. He often said, " To no one thing in 
 all my course do I owe more than to the help I received 
 from the Psi Upsilon Fraternity." He loved it as long as 
 he lived ; and one of the last messages from his lips was 
 sent to " our boys," — as he loved to call them, — urging 
 them to a constant course of right-doing and patient 
 working. 
 
 As everywhere and always, he made college a work- 
 shop. " College life has more truth than poetry in it," 
 he used to say. " It is drijl, drill, from Monday morning 
 till Saturday night ; and then it is, with me, sing, sing, on 
 the sabbath ; so I am about as tired on Monday morning 
 
MEMORIES. 23 
 
 as on Saturday night." In those days, chapel devotions 
 occurred at six, and recitations commenced at a quarter 
 past six. This steady plodding from day to day he 
 relieved, as often as vacation came round, by visits to his 
 childhood home, where he was always gladly welcomed. 
 Arriving unexpectedly at one time, after the family had 
 retired for the night, he climbed to his own chamber- 
 window, and entering enjoyed a fine sleep. When the 
 large family circle, to which two younger sisters and a 
 brother had been added some years before, were all 
 seated at breakfast, he walked quietly into the dining- 
 room, and claimed his place among them. The joyful 
 breakfast over, word went to the eldest brother, — who had 
 married, and lived next door, — that his help was wanted 
 to get a strange animal out of the woodshed. Arming him- 
 self with a long pole, he at once obeyed the summons, 
 and, putting his eye to a crack in the out-house door, 
 beheld the young collegian demurely seated on the wood- 
 pile. The racings and wrestlings, the laughter and chatter 
 that followed, went far towards conquering all dyspeptic 
 tendency, and preparing for another year of vigorous study. 
 
 Calvin found here also various means of combining 
 good-doing with health-gettting. In the summer of 
 1849, a new church was being built in the little village ; 
 and, adapting himself to the occasion, he became first 
 carpenter by trade, and worked with hammer, square, and 
 plane ; then painter, and put on the two coats of white 
 that finished and beautified the new house of worship. 
 
 Standing one day on the bridge that spanned the noisy 
 stream just below the old bark- mill, calling back the days 
 of yore, he composed one of his earliest poems, which he 
 entitled, — 
 
24 MEMORIES. 
 
 ON THE BRIDGE. 
 
 Through a village in the mountains 
 
 Where my boyhood days were passed, 
 Rushing down from far-off fountains 
 
 Runs a river clear and fast. 
 O'er a chasm deep and narrow, 
 
 Just below the whitened fall, 
 Where the torrent like an arrow 
 
 Shoots along the spray-wet wall, 
 There a rustic bridge is hanging 
 
 With its airy swaying floor, 
 High above the waters, spanning 
 
 All the gulf from shore to shore. 
 
 Bending there low o'er the railing, 
 
 In my boyhood days of dream, 
 I have spent the hours in sailing, 
 
 Sailing up the hurrying stream ; 
 For to wayward fancy's seeming, 
 
 Gazing on the flood below, 
 Through the air I flew in dreaming, 
 
 While the waters ceased to flow ; 
 Yet forever when I landed 
 
 From my voyage up the flood, 
 There my phantom ship lay stranded 
 
 Where the bridge had always stood. 
 
 Such is life : across time's river 
 
 Thus for each a bridge is thrown ; 
 Bending o'er the railing ever, 
 
 Each, enraptured, gazes down, 
 And with 'wildered sense believing 
 
 That we fly past vale and hill, 
 In our dreams ourselves deceiving ; 
 
 In our places stand we still. 
 Thus " the thing that hath been shall be ; " 
 
 Only man grows old and gray, 
 And when death shall close our dreaming, 
 
 Only he shall pass away. 
 
MEMORIES, 25 
 
 The four years in college were in many respects years 
 of enjoyment and satisfaction, and yet of much anxious 
 care. Several things conspired during the time to foster 
 Calvin's natural tendency to melancholy. Exceedingly 
 sensitive, his dread of censure was a continual torment. 
 He longed for the approval of his friends, and, indeed, of 
 all. To feel that any human being had any other than 
 kindly feeling toward him, made him wretched. During 
 his first year he wrote : " It is natural for me to look 
 upon the dark page of life's book. What troubles me 
 would not trouble another. Molehills to some are moun- 
 tains to me. ' Trifles light as air ' are often magnified to 
 things of great importance. It was always so. A word, 
 a look, a little act, an imagined neglect, or a seeming 
 attention, will cause a world of joy or grief, as the case 
 may be." 
 
 His ambition amounted almost to a passion, and was a 
 demon he fought through all his life ; and college rival- 
 ries did not tend to lessen its strength. To stand second 
 in a class of twenty-four, was a fear that often tormented 
 him, and a fact, at last, that seemed to him an almost 
 unendurable disgrace. The drama "Cromwell," for the 
 junior exhibition, he prepared with encouraged ambition ; 
 but of the Latin salutatory for graduation he wrote : " I 
 have written my Latin jargon short and sweet. I hate it. 
 Well, never mind ; it may be all for the best, I presume 
 it is. Oh, I have been, and am, I fear, very proud and 
 ambitious. When I look at my own heart, I see a thou- 
 sand manifestations of vanity and ambitious desire that I 
 fear are wrong. How much may I be ambitious ? I want 
 to do just right." 
 
 His naturally doubting mind received little help from 
 
26 MEMORIES. 
 
 the influences about him. Another letter says, " Help me 
 by your prayers. You know I am of a doubting nature. 
 Strong faith I am almost an entire stranger to. I some- 
 times think it is harder for me to be a Christian than for 
 any other human being." Again he says, " I was sad last 
 evening from a hundred rushing thoughts, and yet scarcely 
 one was distinct and definite. I had just returned from 
 class- meeting, and I always feel sad after communing with 
 my own heart an hour. Oh, how much wickedness is 
 there ! how much coldness, and ingratitude, and pride, 
 and passion ! I felt sad that I was not rid of the doubt 
 and darkness of scepticism, which so greatly hinders me 
 from that religious enjoyment I so much long for, — that 
 I was so weak and useless a professor of religion. How 
 overwhelming is the sense of my utter nothingness, and 
 destitution of mental or spiritual endowments and acqui- 
 sitions, especially spiritual, as it sometimes comes upon 
 me!" 
 
 The great question of his life-work was continually 
 recurring to him; and a fear that he should be unable 
 in any position to meet life's stern demands and God's 
 righteous dues, made him often despondent. 
 
 Once he wrote : " You cannot tell how I shrink, at 
 times, from the future, — how I fear to enter upon its 
 trials and responsibilities. I always did dread the post of 
 responsibility. I fear I may not meet the expectations 
 of those who are gazing upon me and criticising. I shrink 
 greatly from the voice of censure, and the frowns of a 
 cold, heartless multitude." Again, " Oh, the future ! It 
 is well, no doubt, I cannot fathom it. No doubt it is wise 
 that the Infinite has thrown around it the curtain of thick 
 darkness. Yet who does not often long to read the doom 
 
MEMORIES, 27 
 
 of destiny ? . . . Well, let us console our hearts with the 
 recollection that ' He doeth all things well. 7 If we can- 
 not live by sight, let us live by faith. I am thankful, that, 
 although the destiny of this life is shrouded in impene- 
 trable gloom, yet far behind the dark cloud-banks we can 
 catch glimpses of the streaming light of the future life. 
 Oh for strength to weather every storm on life's ocean, 
 that we may at last emerge into the sunlight of God's 
 everlasting presence I " 
 
 His financial condition troubled him. At the end of 
 the first year he found his small resources exhausted. He 
 found also that it was impracticable to spend, as he had 
 planned, each winter term out of college. He tried to 
 utilize vacations in various ways. Once he attempted 
 to canvass for periodicals, but those who knew him would 
 be likely to smile at the thought. Unwilling, as he always 
 was, to ask a favor, he felt, in this position, like a street 
 beggar ; and, never voluble with his tongue, the flippancy 
 of a successful canvasser was an acquirement he could not 
 gain. 
 
 He taught singing-schools with success during the winter 
 vacations, and once made an arrangement to give a course 
 of concerts with a friend. After the first evening's experi- 
 ment, which proved quite satisfactory, the man, for some 
 reason, was unable to meet further engagements ; there- 
 fore the vacation tour was an embarrassment instead of a 
 help. This led him to abandon all further efforts to pay 
 by the way \ but, obtaining a life-insurance policy for the 
 safety of his creditors, he thereafter borrowed money, and 
 gave his whole care to study. 
 
 About the beginning of the last term he wrote : " I have 
 just been making a rough calculation as to the amount of 
 
28 MEMORIES. 
 
 cash I must have to meet the term's expenses. I presume 
 I can borrow it, as I have heretofore. It will leave me, 
 when I graduate, six hundred dollars in debt ; but I am 
 determined not to be blue about it. I have many things 
 to encourage me. My friends will sympathize with me, 
 if they cannot help me. I shall be through college with 
 health, and hands, and a disposition to work. My Father's 
 eye is upon me, and his care about me, and he will do 
 with me as seemeth best to the eye of Infinite Wisdom. 
 ... I don't know what is in the future, but I do know 
 that God will do as he has always hitherto done, — deal 
 with me far more mercifully than I deserve." 
 
 So as the years sped away his hope brightened, and his 
 Christian trust grew more firm. Still undecided in refer- 
 ence to his final course, he received near the close of his 
 last term a local preacher's license, due, he said, to the 
 entreaties of a dear college friend, Rev. J. H. Knowles, 
 and to the encouragement of his pastor, Rev. J. M. Reid. 
 
 When the four years drew to a close, there came the 
 saddest thing of all, the parting. June 28, a letter says, — 
 
 " Professor Lindsey has come home with his new wife. 
 We serenaded the bride the other night, and received a 
 nice lot of wedding-cake for our pains. I have a fine 
 quartet here in college, and we make the streets vocal 
 these moony nights. Oh I am sad enough to cry, some- 
 times, when I think that I am soon to leave, and hear no 
 more these dear voices of my classmates and my choir. 
 I shall never enjoy the like again, I am sure. I wonder 
 sometimes if they think half as much of me as I do of 
 them. It is hard for me to break the strong ties which 
 are so closely and so thickly woven around my heart. 
 
MEMORIES. 29 
 
 But so goes the world. It is our lot to be torn away 
 from a thousand dear things, just as we learn to love 
 them. I can't express half I feel, and it would do no 
 good if I could. " 
 
 Aug. 2, he wrote again : " I have sung for the last time 
 with my choir. I can't keep the tears back when I think 
 of it. These years of such associations are no small ties 
 to bind my heart. Oh, what a world of partings this is ! 
 It is hard 
 
 * to rend the heart 
 With the sad thought that we must part, 
 And like some low and mournful spell 
 To whisper but one word, — Farewell.' 
 
 " Middletown never looked so lovely as now, when I am 
 about to leave it." 
 
 Whether his almost constant singing, with his choir, 
 and his quartet u on moony nights," had any effect upon 
 his future physical condition, he sometimes questioned. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MARRIAGE. — TEACHING AT SANBORNTON BRIDGE. — VACA- 
 TION. — NEW - YEAR'S SONG. — RETURN TO SANBORNTON 
 BRIDGE.— VARIETY OF DUTIES. — RELIGIOUS WORK.— SICK- 
 NESS. 
 
 CALVIN graduated in the class of 1852, and married, 
 on Aug. 10 of the same year, Eliza C. Chase of 
 Lempster, N. H., then preceptress of New-Hampshire 
 Conference Seminary located at Sanbornton Bridge, now 
 Tilton. 
 
 On the 24th of that month he began teaching in the 
 same school, under the presidency of the late lamented 
 Dr. J. E. Latimer of Boston University. Two years he 
 taught in that position ; when Professor Latimer left, and 
 Professor Harrington took his place, and remained thus 
 until July, i860. 
 
 In the year 1856 the old seminary building was demol- 
 ished, and replaced by a new one. 
 
 During the erection of the new building, the places 
 used as temporary recitation-rooms proving unsuitable 
 for winter weather, there was an interposition of one 
 term's vacation, which was spent in the quiet home 
 among the Lempster hills. It was scarcely a time of 
 rest ; for, ready to welcome any call for help, Professor 
 Harrington found opportunity to preach every Sunday 
 for one month in Brattleborough, Vt., another month in 
 Springfield, Mass., and other sabbaths in various pulpits 
 in New Hampshire. 
 
MEMORIES, 31 
 
 He made himself useful also by a thousand services 
 done to cheer the hearts of aged parents ; he assisted the 
 pastor in revival efforts, and entered into various projects 
 for the benefit of the little community where he was wait- 
 ing. Money was needed to defray church expenses ; and 
 knowing it to be no easy matter for a company of less 
 than one hundred, whose only income was what could be 
 saved by farming on the backbone of the Old Granite 
 State, to raise five hundred dollars a year, he became one 
 of the workers in "getting up " a New Year's festival, 
 and spent days and evenings in committee-meetings, re- 
 hearsals, and musical drills with the young people, for the 
 accomplishment of their laudable purposes. Among other 
 things he wrote for the occasion a New Year's song, and 
 after setting it to music drilled an octet of youthful voices, 
 whose final success in rendering it greatly delighted him. 
 
 NEW YEAR'S SONG. 
 
 Hark ! the voice of midnight bells 
 
 Waking echoes far and near ; 
 Louder still their music swells, 
 
 Ringing in the glad New Year. 
 Tower and spire take up the strain, 
 
 Ice-bound hills send forth reply, 
 Watching stars shout back again 
 
 From the chambers of the sky. 
 
 Welcome now ! welcome here ! 
 
 All our voices gayly sing, 
 Glad New Year ! Happy New Year ! 
 
 Joy and gladness bring. 
 
 Bursting forth in rival shout, 
 
 Voice of children sweet and clear, 
 From the doorways peeping out, 
 
 Hail with us their " Happy New Year ! " 
 
32 MEMORIES. 
 
 Thus with joy and fond embrace 
 
 Morning dawns to greet the earth ; 
 Thus the year with smiling face 
 
 Heralds in his glorious birth. 
 
 Welcome now, etc. 
 
 Hark ! the merry sleigh-bells play 
 
 On the moon-lit evening air; 
 Laughing voices join to say, 
 
 Banish sorrow ! Banish care ! 
 Gathered in the festive throng, 
 
 Speak we words of social cheer, 
 Join we in the general song, 
 
 Welcome to the glad New Year. 
 
 Welcome now, etc. 
 
 Returning to Sanbornton Bridge in the spring of 1857, 
 with Rev. Lewis Howard as steward of the boarding 
 department, they assumed together the financial respon- 
 sibility of the institution, and charge of the new buildings. 
 
 During the following three years, Professor Harrington 
 greatly enjoyed the prosperity of the seminary, the church, 
 and the village. The number of different students during 
 the last year was 360; the last fall term having 170 
 in attendance. These were years of great care and 
 varied labor. The buildings were ample, the number of 
 students was increasing, and every thing was calculated 
 to awaken ambition and enthusiastic labor. The whole 
 financial strength of the trustees had been expended in 
 raising funds to complete the new edifice, and the school 
 must now be run on the tuition of the students. This 
 afforded full opportunity for exercise of ingenuity and 
 financial ability. The ancient languages claimed the 
 president's first attention ; but he entered also whatever 
 
MEMORIES. 33 
 
 other gap was widest. " Necessity is the mother of in- 
 vention," was an adage well illustrated in the labora- 
 tory of the new building, which afforded many amusing 
 proofs of the effort he made to adapt all sorts of traps 
 to the furnishing of necessary apparatus for mathematical, 
 philosophical, and chemical purposes. These ready, the 
 nights were taken, often until late hours, to rehearse 
 the experiments for the coming day, lest by any means 
 the students might discover that the success of each one 
 was as novel and delightful to the professor as to them- 
 selves ; for when he was in college there was not, as now, 
 a department either of practical chemistry or physics. 
 
 The mineralogical cabinet was unusually respectable 
 for a conference seminary ; but in his daily walks during 
 the term, and longer rambles in vacation, he went armed 
 with hammer and chisel, and many a specimen from the 
 various rich veins in New Hampshire, Vermont, Massa- 
 chusetts, New York, and Canada, he added to its store. 
 Evening lectures on all departments of science, as well as 
 on music, reading, general culture, etc., were added to 
 the daily routine ; and class and prayer meetings claimed 
 always one evening each per week. 
 
 His interest for his pupils reached beyond their mental 
 needs. He longed for their spiritual good. During the 
 last years of his stay in the seminary, he had the habit, 
 after the school was fairly launched on a new term, of tak- 
 ing his roll-book, and by a private mark designating those 
 who were not Christians ; and afterwards they were, one 
 by one, made especial subjects of his prayers and labors. 
 He caused to be formed, among the working Christians, 
 bands of about a dozen each, one of which he led him- 
 self. These met for a half-hour daily, and prayed for the 
 
34 MEMORIES, 
 
 conversion of their fellow-students. And term after term 
 was marked by the answers to these prayers, and the 
 adding of these especial subjects to the same bands, 
 until they were filled to overflowing. From time to time, 
 he baptized such converts. Near the close of one term, 
 there were eighteen whom he thus consecrated on one 
 sabbath to the service of the Master. 
 
 In the winter of 1858-59, during a course of lectures 
 he was giving to the school and village community, he 
 contracted a severe cold, which resulted in a fearful 
 attack of pleuro-pneumonia. He was recovering slowly, 
 when advised by his physician to go away from the 
 seminary, that, securing rest both of mind and body, he 
 might the more speedily regain complete health. He 
 accordingly went to his father's at East St. Johnsbury, 
 where, the day after his arrival, he was seized with violent 
 relapse of the disease, so that his life was despaired of. 
 Being told that his wife would come on the evening stage, 
 he insisted on leaving his bed, and dressing for the occa- 
 sion ; and when she entered the house he stood in dress- 
 coat and boots in the door of his room, leaning on a 
 support, looking more like a spirit departed than a living 
 body. It required few words to lead him back to his 
 bed, which he did not leave again for many days. All 
 the symptoms were so alarming, that most discouraging 
 words went back to the seminary. On the evening of the 
 weekly prayer-meeting, " prayer was made without ceas- 
 ing, of the church, unto God for him." Rev. W. D. Cass, 
 then a strong man in the New-Hampshire Conference, 
 and a trustee of the seminary, prayed with such fervor 
 and manifest faith, that those present felt that the throne 
 of God was reached. When he arose from his knees, he 
 
MEMORIES. 35 
 
 said, " I have got the victory. Brother Harrington will 
 be restored to us." The next morning — though, of 
 course, we knew nothing of all this — we saw a decided 
 change for the better; and from that time he steadily 
 improved, and very rapidly. In less than a month, he 
 was back in his place doing all his work as before. 
 
 Those eight years of labor in New Hampshire enabled 
 him to pay off his college debt, and gave him the privi- 
 lege of contributing several hundred dollars to the new 
 school edifice, and nearly as much to the new Methodist- 
 Episcopal Church in the village. They gave him also a 
 home in the hearts of hundreds of young people who 
 came under his influence, a wealth of friends, who from 
 that time onward were continually meeting and cheering 
 him wherever he went. They furnished him means to 
 support his family during nine months of rest, and, after a 
 pastorate of three months, to bring him to his next field 
 of labor with much well-earned experience, and some- 
 thing less than one hundred dollars as his whole earthly 
 store. They gave him a wealth of memories, which were 
 always sacredly cherished, and often mentioned as causes 
 of gratitude. The families in which we boarded there, he 
 used to call " our homes," and their members he regarded 
 as kindred. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 RESIGNATION. — LIFE-QUESTION. — GREAT FALLS. — CALL TO 
 WESLEYAN. — COLLEGE-WORK. — LATIN TRANSLATIONS. — 
 CHURCH-WORK. — « OUR COLLEGES." 
 
 IN June, i860, he resigned his position in New- Hamp- 
 shire Conference Seminary, and spent the following 
 nine months in visiting, travelling, and general recruiting. 
 He was a member of New- Hampshire Conference ; had 
 received the ordination of deacon in 1857 at the hands 
 of Bishop Morris, and of elder in 1859, from Bishop 
 Ames. He had never, however, fully settled the question 
 whether he ought to remain a teacher, or to take work as 
 a travelling preacher. He was not satisfied that he had a 
 certain call to the active ministry, and feared his talents 
 not adapted to public speaking. During these nine 
 months of comparative leisure, he made the subject one 
 of constant prayer and thought. And yet, when the 
 time of Conference approached, he had no settled con- 
 victions on the matter. He said, " I will put myself in 
 the hands of the Church, and wait further the indications 
 of Providence." 
 
 He was appointed to High-street Church, Great Falls/ 
 N.H. He entered upon his duties with real zest, and 
 for three months greatly enjoyed the position of pastor, 
 and, receiving cordial support from his people, was getting 
 quite at home in the pulpit ; when an unexpected elec- 
 tion to the chair of the Greek professorship in Wesleyan 
 
MEMORIES. 37 
 
 University made him again consider the all-important 
 question of his life-work. It was not long before it was 
 finally settled ; and, feeling now sure that this was the 
 call of God, after amicably adjusting the matter with his 
 people at Great Falls, he accepted the position, and re- 
 moved to Middletown, Conn., in August, 1861. 
 
 Great Falls he remembered always with much pleasure 
 as being the locality of the first home in his own hired 
 house, the birthplace of his boy, the short pastorate 
 where he had enjoyed for a very brief time the wealth of 
 Christian communion and sympathy that is felt between 
 pastor and people in one of the best of the New-England 
 Methodist churches, and the place where a kind Provi- 
 dence finally wrought out for him the settlement of the 
 great question of his life-work. 
 
 In August, 1 86 1, he entered upon his duties as professor 
 of Greek in Wesleyan University. 
 
 At the end of two years, after having become increas- 
 ingly in love with the Greek tongue, by some process of 
 evolution another professorship was vacated, and he was 
 transferred from the Greek to the department of Latin, 
 which had formerly been his favorite study. From this 
 time he bent all his energies to perfecting his knowledge 
 of that language \ and though repeatedly compelled to 
 add classes outside of this regular work, — as history, po- 
 litical economy, or Constitution, — he always did it under 
 a mental protest, feeling that every thing of that sort was 
 defrauding him of his opportunity to accomplish the most 
 possible for his own department. His devotion to his 
 college work was a religious one. No weariness of body, 
 call of company, or any outside attraction, could induce 
 him to leave a recitation. When told sometimes that he 
 
38 MEMORIES. 
 
 might be more popular with the boys if he would " give 
 them a cut" occasionally, he would say, "I don't know 
 how I am to keep a good conscience when I neglect any 
 regular duty for a trivial cause." And this work was not 
 irksome. Every year he loved it better ; and even after 
 disease had seriously depleted his strength, he went still 
 with great pleasure to his college " sanctum," very often 
 thanking God that he was still able to pursue his chosen 
 calling. 
 
 Of the Latin he never tired, but from year to year his 
 fondness for the old tongue increased. He frequently 
 amused himself by translating from Latin to English verse. 
 The "Methodist Quarterly Review" for October, 1870, 
 has an article on "The Ethics of Latin Comedy," in 
 which some score of extracts are thus rendered. Several 
 old Latin hymns, anglicised in verse, are found among his 
 papers. The following hymn of Peter the Venerable is 
 a good example of the effort he enjoyed to preserve in 
 English rhyme the poetic measure of the Latin : — 
 
 DE RESURRECTIONE DOMINI. 
 
 Pone hictum, Magdalena, 
 Et serena lacrymas. 
 
 Cease thy sorrow, Magdalena, 
 
 Tearless lift thy beaming brow ; 
 Tis no more the feast of Simon, 
 
 Causeless is thy weeping now. 
 Thousand reasons challenge gladness, 
 Exultation now for sadness. 
 
 Halleluia ! 
 
 Summon laughter, Magdalena, 
 
 Let thy kindling face grow bright ; 
 All thy suffering has departed, 
 
 Gleams again the glowing light. 
 
MEMORIES. 39 
 
 Lo ! the world unchained through Jesus, 
 Triumphing, from death he frees us. 
 
 Halleluia ! 
 
 Shout for joy, O Magdalena ! 
 
 Christ has left the gloomy grave ; 
 Finished is the sad transaction, 
 
 Death destroyed, He comes to save. 
 Whom with grief thou sawest dying, 
 Greet with smiles, the tomb defying. 
 
 Halleluia ! 
 
 Lift thine eyes, O Magdalena ! 
 
 Lo ! thy Lord before thee stands ; 
 See ! how fair the thorn-crowned forehead ; 
 
 Mark his feet, his side, his hands. 
 Glow his wounds with pearly whiteness, 
 Hallowing life with heavenly brightness. 
 
 Halleluia ! 
 
 Wake and live, O Magdalena ! 
 
 Now thy night is changed to day ; 
 Let thy heart swell with rejoicing, 
 
 Death's strong arm is dashed away. 
 Grief and lamentation spurning, 
 Hail thy loving joys returning. 
 
 Halleluia ! 
 
 He often used his moments of vacation recreation in 
 reading rare old Latin authors, as his most pleasant pas- 
 time. It was interesting to him to see how they verified 
 the words of Solomon, " There is no new thing under the 
 sun." He would often break out with a laugh, saying, 
 " Here it is again ! such or such a modern theory is 
 only a rehash of what this old Latin fellow wrote centuries 
 ago." His article on Lucretius, in the "Quarterly" for 
 January, 1876, claims that the philosophy of this ancient 
 poet, " in its essential features, in its merits which have 
 
40 MEMORIES. 
 
 stood the test of centuries, and in its failures which are 
 common to all who have followed him, is the prototype of 
 all subsequent materialistic philosophy/ ' 
 
 In his college life, as well as elsewhere, he made his 
 duties to the Church of God of paramount importance. 
 So far from finding these to require any neglect of col- 
 lege work, he used to say that the one aided the other. 
 As the mental and spiritual nature complemented each 
 other, so the labors of each mutually increased their 
 capacity. He thought that college life, instead of tend- 
 ing, as he saw it often did, to lowering the standard of 
 morality and religion, ought to be always an incentive to 
 greater and more manifest spiritual power. He believed 
 the design of college founders was only thus accom- 
 plished. The intensity of his feeling on this subject 
 found expression in an article published in " The Meth- 
 odist Quarterly" of October, 1879, entitled "Our Col- 
 eges," from which are the following extracts : — 
 
 " There can be no question that the original purpose 
 of the college was mainly as an auxiliary to religion. 
 Whatever may have been its design as a means of mental 
 culture, the dominant one was to promote the cause of 
 Christ. The founders of these institutions in our early 
 history were eminently pious men. Their chief thought 
 in their noble work was to inaugurate a powerful agency 
 of an aggressive Christianity. No doubt they believed, 
 what is true, that the college as a means of liberal cul- 
 ture, as a centre of intellectual power whose utterances 
 should exercise an authoritative control upon the popular 
 mind, and as a discoverer and disseminator of useful 
 knowledge, would be such an agency in a very high 
 
MEMORIES. 41 
 
 sense. But that culture, intellect, and knowledge, with- 
 out the vitalizing forces of religion, would realize their 
 intent in the founding of a college, never entered their 
 minds. Academic culture was rather the instrument of 
 religion \ a blade of cold steel, that must be tempered 
 in the blood of Christ if it would do any real service to 
 humanity. Education was not regarded as a Christian- 
 izing force, except in the hands of religion. Every effort 
 to promote the one, from the common school to the col- 
 lege, was made on the belief that it was the outgrowth 
 and auxiliary of the other. A large part of the funds 
 given to found William and Mary College were given as 
 a missionary donation, and conditioned on such an appli- 
 cation of them. The seal of Harvard bears the motto, 
 1 Christo et Ecclesice' The seal of Yale has the words, 
 1 Lux et Veritas ; ' and what other light and truth than 
 that of the Holy Scriptures were in the thought of the 
 ten clergymen who laid the foundation of that beacon 
 on our shores ? Dartmouth College began as an Indian 
 mission. The announced purpose of the Synod of New 
 York in founding Princeton College was, ' to supply the 
 Church with learned and able preachers of the Word.' 
 President Witherspoon well embodied its spirit in the 
 words : ' Cursed be all that learning that is contrary to 
 the cross of Christ; cursed be all that learning that is 
 not coincident with the cross of Christ ; cursed be all 
 that learning that is not subservient to the cross of 
 Christ.' There is not a New-England college but is the 
 result of the religious enthusiasm of its founders as a 
 means primarily of defending and propagating the gos- 
 pel. A large number of Western colleges are missionary 
 enterprises, designed to furnish a supply of pious and 
 
42 MEMORIES. 
 
 learned ministers in those new and growing regions. And 
 the history of the very few institutions that have been 
 founded in irreligion shows them a failure until they 
 have passed under the controlling influence of religion. 
 The founders of Methodist institutions were men of 
 whom it would be sacrilege to suppose that they did not 
 intend them to be directly, as well as indirectly, a power 
 for Christ. They are the children of the Church, born 
 and baptized with the hope and purpose that they should 
 become the giants of her advancing armies, and the 
 invincible bulwarks of her defence. . . . 
 
 " An unchristian man, or a man of doubtful religious 
 character, much more a man of well-known sceptical 
 opinions or an irreligious life, should have no place in 
 a board of college instruction. Without doubt, such an 
 opinion will be met with the charge of bigotry and illib- 
 erality. These are days in which men are exceedingly 
 sensitive to such a charge. The glamour of liberalism 
 charms like a Circe, and petrifies like a Gorgon. To be 
 called narrow, is to be reckoned in conflict with the ad- 
 vancing tread of the ages ; and to be called an adherent 
 of the old-time faith, and pious after the Puritan fashion, 
 is to be called narrow. Broadness is deified. Strip off 
 the angelic garb from our Satan, and his name is Liberal- 
 ism ; and it becomes Christianity to do what it can to 
 disrobe him. . . . 
 
 " We are no advocate of a dogmatic Christianity, nor 
 of religious asceticism. The college is not a monastery. 
 Its chief function is the culture of the intellect, through 
 the channels of art, science, and language. But these 
 channels will inevitably carry a moral current too. It is 
 the solemn duty of a Christian college to see to it that its 
 
MEMORIES. 43 
 
 moral teaching be pure. It needs no parade of religious 
 profession, no offensive boasts of its religious character. 
 It should be as unostentatious as true religion always is ; 
 but it should be as firm as the hills in its principles, and 
 well known by its fruits. . . . 
 
 " There is no goal like a Christian goal, no purpose like 
 a Christian purpose. There is no antidote for instability, 
 discouragement, and defeat, like Christian principle. If 
 the atmosphere of a college is helpful for this, its students 
 stand on the highest vantage-ground. In proportion as 
 a college possesses this positive and leading element, will 
 the standard of its culture rise, and the results of its 
 mission be accomplished. . . . 
 
 " It is one of the most serious errors of the day, that the 
 educational system of our country ought to be divested of 
 the religious element ; that this element of itself, and by 
 itself, and in its own specific channels, is sufficient for the 
 religious welfare of the young. Nothing is more strange 
 than such an idea in a Christian country. Nothing but 
 the hypocrisy of Romanism, seconded by the demagogism 
 of politics, could have given it such currency. The very 
 heathen have a better theory. The Constitution of Ly- 
 curgus made the morals of the Spartan child, after their 
 standard of morality, the principal thing in their educa- 
 tion. Philip of Macedon thanked the gods, upon the 
 birth of Alexander, not so much that they had given him 
 a son, as that Aristotle might be his instructor ; and none 
 like Aristotle comprehended the immortal nature of man, 
 and strove to mould his pupils by that lofty conception. 
 The Chinese blend religious with secular instruction, and 
 the Persians teach their children virtue as the best of all 
 knowledge. The Christianity of history has never dared 
 
44 MEMORIES. 
 
 separate religion and education. From Jesuit to Puritan, 
 the theory and practice of education have regarded reli- 
 gion as the most positive and direct of its forces. It is 
 reserved for the last half of the nineteenth century, and 
 the most Christian of all lands, to maintain, that, in the 
 most critical of character-forming processes and periods, 
 it is safe to withdraw the power of a positive religious 
 influence. As though any event of life should go on 
 without it ! And so men who would be conscience-smit- 
 ten not to ask the blessing of God upon every meal, think 
 it unimportant that the word of God and prayer should 
 introduce the daily transactions of a school or college. 
 It is dangerous business to make the prayers of Sunday 
 last for the week ; it is equally dangerous to offset an extra 
 amount of religion in the family and Sunday school, against 
 a minus quantity in the halls of secular education. . , . 
 In the direction in which we are urging the sphere of the 
 college, is there that active sympathy in the Church which 
 the case demands? The college expects, and, no doubt, 
 receives, the prayers of those Christian fathers and mothers 
 whose sons are enjoying its privileges. Other ties than 
 those that link the Church and the college secure them. 
 But is the mind of the Church at all awake to the impor- 
 tance of the relationship ? Does it half realize the power 
 of the college for good or evil, its conservative and ag- 
 gressive influence for Christ, its grasp on the Christian 
 pulpit, its plastic power on educated mind, and, through 
 this, on the less-thinking masses ? Is not the most exclu- 
 sive idea about them, in the popular mind, that they are 
 simply intellectual gymnasia, — that if they have a good 
 moral tone, it is well ; if not, it is a necessary evil ? Do 
 they know that their highest need is a stream of prayer 
 
MEMORIES. 45 
 
 from the whole Church, whose constant, mighty flow shall 
 flood them with a divine light and life ? That such a need 
 is partially felt, is seen in the establishment and observ- 
 ance of the day of prayer for colleges. That such a day 
 should have been thought desirable, is high proof of their 
 importance in many minds. But how many of the churches 
 observe this day by any suitable exercise of worship ? How 
 many family altars and secret closets burn with sacrifice on 
 that day ? Possibly it is more widely observed than we 
 know, but it is to be feared there is a sad neglect and a 
 general indifference to the whole subject. If so, nothing 
 can be more fatal to the highest interests of the Christian 
 religion. The Church should have a jealous care for the 
 sources of its power. . . . 
 
 " True liberalism is that which includes Christianity in 
 all the length and breadth of Bible doctrine, and of a 
 supernatural religious experience. The creed of modern 
 liberalism either excludes Christianity altogether, or strips 
 it of all supernatural authority. That creed adopted 
 leaves the body of human learning a corpse, and nothing 
 more. The heart and lungs of the world's thought and 
 knowledge are revelation, and the faith it has inspired in 
 humanity. The human mind is caged in every depart- 
 ment of science and learning until the religion of Jesus 
 lift the bars. Breadth of vision comes only from the 
 heights of God. The horizon of law is infinitely broader 
 from the summit of Sinai than from the Forum of the 
 seven-hilled city. Political science runs mad, and leads 
 the nations into anarchy, as soon as it leaves the council- 
 chamber of God. Philosophy rings its dull changes 
 through all the centuries in the narrow circles of Epicu- 
 reanism, Stoicism, and Fate, until it hears the voice of 
 
46 MEMORIES. 
 
 the Great Teacher. Science digs in the earth like the 
 mole, or hoots from its perch like an owl in the sunlight, 
 until the Master opens its blind eyes. History is a laby- 
 rinth inextricable, without the golden clew of the Divine 
 Word. And every branch of human knowledge has its 
 only key, its richest sanction, and its proper culmination, 
 in the religion of Christ. There is no breadth or pro- 
 fundity of culture without it. College education must be 
 inspired by it, or else be soulless and dead. The college 
 life, like the individual life, should be hid with Christ in 
 God." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PASTORAL WORK. — EXTRACTS FROM DIARIES. — PRAYER. — 
 EXTRACT FROM SERMON. — GENERAL CONFERENCE. 
 
 DURING the year 1867, in order to secure a preacher 
 by transfer from a Western conference, there was a 
 space of six months during which the clerical professors 
 in college supplied the pulpit of the Methodist Episcopal 
 Church in Middletown, the pastoral care meanwhile de- 
 volving upon Professor Harrington. Conducting social 
 meetings, caring for converts, visiting the sick and sor- 
 rowing, and doing other duties incident to the position, 
 gave him a love for this people that subsequent years 
 served only to perpetuate and strengthen. He formed 
 church classes to include all the members, and inaugu- 
 rated a children's class which still continues. Besides 
 the meeting of students, which he always led weekly in 
 his own recitation-room, he had, during the greater part 
 of the time since that year, led also one of these church 
 classes, which combined to deepen his interest and anx- 
 iety for the welfare of this church, until it became an 
 absorbing part of his being. Oh, how, in his later years, 
 he deplored her coldness, and prayed for her complete 
 sanctification ! Certainly, " morning, evening, and at 
 noon," he cried unto God for the salvation of His 
 people. 
 
 In no way can his own inner life, for a succession of 
 
48 MEMORIES. 
 
 years, be better shown than by occasional extracts from 
 his daily writings : — 
 
 April 14, 1867. — Commenced my temporary pastor- 
 ate. If it may save one soul, or make any more sure my 
 own salvation, to bear this responsibility, I ought to be 
 willing, yea glad, to have it. Oh that the revelations of 
 eternity may show that it has secured these things, and 
 abundantly more ! 
 
 April 21. — I judge from the details of the experiences 
 of others, that there is an experience in the Christian life 
 which is much more desirable than any I have yet at- 
 tained. Why is it? Have I idols? Have I wrong 
 ideas? Do I fail even yet to apprehend Christ? Oh the 
 mystery and deception of the heart ! Am I stumbling 
 over the simplicity of faith? 
 
 May 10. — To use the grace of God, is the great skill 
 of the Christian. It is freely furnished on the simple 
 conditions of faith and obedience, and the amount is 
 proportioned to our willing use of it. We cannot expect 
 to have great spiritual power unless we use the grace 
 given, and apply it to an intenser Christian life. 
 
 May 14. — In God's economy, weak things confound 
 the mighty. Consecration may then be the measure of 
 our strength. If we lay down our own strength, we take 
 hold on Divine strength. In proportion as we truly say, 
 " Not unto us," does God condescend to use our powers 
 for his glory. But how to be still, and yet active, is the 
 great spiritual problem. 
 
 May 26. — Rainy and disagreeable, and I must preach 
 under disappointment. But God reigns, and orders all 
 
MEMORIES. 49 
 
 things ; and something good somewhere will result, if not 
 to me and here. The great question is, " How shall I, 
 just now, do most for God and my own soul?" Teach 
 me, O Lord, and guide me, and help me by thy power. 
 
 Sept. 7. — My mind is on the stretch for " all the ful- 
 ness of God." Yesterday my heart was burdened with 
 a leaden weight. This morning it does not seem so 
 heavy. But I long for something that I have not, for the 
 expulsion of unrest from my heart, for the clear light and 
 the undoubted assurance. 
 
 Sept. 11. — It is all of faith, through Jesus. God will 
 lead the earnest, striving soul into the ability to say, " I 
 am crucified with Christ ; nevertheless I live ; yet not I, 
 but Christ liveth in me." And in the studies of faith he 
 will every day intensify the emphasis with which the in- 
 most soul shall indorse it. O Jesus, at thy feet I lie. 
 
 Sept. 14. — God gives me a clearer view of the great 
 truth that salvation in all its extent is by Jesus Christ. 
 It is by his one offering that God has perfected them that 
 are sanctified. Christ's holiness and righteousness and 
 perfection belong to his believing children. In faith 
 these are to be appropriated, and the soul cleansed. 
 
 Oct. 1. — The first frost of the season last night. It 
 was to me a wakeful night, and in my wakeful musings 
 it was a time of wonderful nearness to God. Oh that I 
 might ever realize, as I did then, the reality of gospel 
 truth ! If I could, I could live better, preach better, and 
 do much more for God. Oh, how small is my faith ! 
 
 Oct. 3. — At thy feet, O Lord, my Saviour, I take my 
 place. I am ignorant, weak, and poor ; yea, I am noth- 
 
50 MEMORIES. 
 
 ing. O Lord, I am a little child ; lead me and help me. 
 In the abyss of humility I cry unto thee. Save, or I 
 perish. And thou wilt save. They who put their trust 
 in thee shall never be confounded. O Rock of Ages, 
 " let me hide myself in thee." 
 
 Oct. 8. — Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not 
 all his benefits. It seems to me that he is increasing 
 my faith and confidence in him. Still I cry for more, 
 wrestling with God for the gift of power, for a life that 
 is hid with Christ in God, for prevailing power with God, 
 for the showers of grace and the revival of his work. 
 
 Jan. 28, 1868. — Behold God, O my soul, as a Father 
 in all thy history. Let his hand lead thy every step. 
 Behold him as thy Saviour and Redeemer, who hath 
 loved thee with an everlasting love. Behold him as thy 
 unfailing Friend, more interested in thy welfare and suc- 
 cess than thou art thyself. Behold him as all purity and 
 holiness ; and strive, oh, strive to be holy too. 
 
 March 12. — "Looking unto Jesus." To keep him 
 ever in mind, must be the secret of all success. To ap- 
 preciate his power and willingness to help us, to feel the 
 truth that all our sufficiency is in him, is truly blessed. 
 When we go on in forgetfulness of him, beclouded and 
 stumbling in barrenness and coldness, we are making no 
 progress. O Jesus, reveal thyself unto me in loving care 
 and mercy, to make me humble and holy. 
 
 May ig. — The key to the control of the heart for God. 
 Satan has false keys in abundance. He seems to have 
 power to pick the most cunning lock. He has a way of 
 getting in when we least expect or desire him. The best 
 
MEMORIES. 51 
 
 way is, perhaps, to set one of God's good angels to keep 
 guard before the door, — to keep him there by careful 
 kindness and good pay, to watch against the coming of 
 the adversary. 
 
 June 9. — To live near to Christ, is the best way to 
 secure immediate help when in danger through tempta- 
 tion. There is a peculiar power in such nearness, to 
 strengthen us against sin. How can we stumble in the 
 light? How can we be deceived with the light of all 
 truth revealing the hidden snare ? The sense of spiritual 
 danger is keener, the warning is louder and quicker, when 
 we are near to Christ. 
 
 July 2. — Communion with God is sweet and priceless. 
 For it, it is better to sacrifice all other enjoyment, if need 
 be. To know the favor of God resting upon us, to enjoy 
 the exalted and glorious privilege of communion with the 
 highest royalty in the universe, is worthy of every effort 
 to obtain. Yet only through faith and obedience can it 
 come to us, without money or price. Thank God for 
 any of it ! 
 
 Nov. 6. — Can the imagination more than cover the 
 facts concerning the presence of Christ? If we strive 
 with the spiritual senses to see, hear, feel him, and in the 
 effort are inclined to attribute all to the imagination, and 
 disbelieve his presence, are we not throwing away our 
 privilege in our fear of yielding to mere imagination? 
 Is not the truth beyond any power of conception ? 
 
 Nov. ig. — When simple faith is so strong that Jesus is 
 a delight and a joy superior to all others, the Christian 
 life is a glorious thing. We feel as if it ought to be so 
 
52 MEMORIES. 
 
 oftener than it is so. Thus the perpetual struggle goes 
 on. But " this is the victory that overcometh the world, 
 even our faith. ,, A strange thing is faith, yet we do not 
 need inspiration to prove to us how mighty it is. 
 
 Dec. 27. — "In hope of the glory of God," I reach 
 this last Sunday of the year. Full of all unworthiness, 
 yet trusting in the merit, the infinite and glorious merit, 
 of Christ, I still strive to do his will, and make my way to 
 heaven. How much I find to lament in the year, and 
 in my life, none but God knoweth. For all, I would and 
 do repent and forsake, that I may find mercy. Have 
 mercy, O Saviour ! 
 
 May 23, 1870. — There is a place in the life of the 
 Christian when the testimony of the Holy Spirit with 
 the human spirit assures and satisfies the understanding 
 of the soul's acceptance with God. This evidence is the 
 peculiar possession of each one. It is the new name in 
 the white stone. It is spiritually discerned. 
 
 Jan. 5, 1869. — Term begins. Oh that I may more 
 than ever rely on God for his support and direction in 
 the secular duties as well as the spiritual affairs of every 
 day ! Paul may plant, and Apollos water, but it is God 
 who giveth the increase. The sanctions of Divine ap- 
 proval are necessary to all success, and " nothing is loo 
 hard for God." 
 
 Feb. 7. — " Have faith in God." May / do this ? It is 
 often a mountain barrier to faith to remember, and even 
 faintly realize, the sinfulness and demerit in ourselves. 
 Unworthy, unworthy, is the deep feeling, the overshadow- 
 ing feeling within us, hiding all the encouragements to 
 
MEMORIES. 53 
 
 believe. But He who cried on the cross, " Father, forgive 
 them," can surely in his place as our Advocate pity and 
 forgive, and move the Father to pardon the vilest. Oh, 
 to be a bold asker at the mercy-seat ! 
 
 Feb. 24. — Repentance is the "tear in the eye of Faith." 
 Contrition of heart is the proper attitude of all towards 
 God. Immersed in this atmosphere of penitence, the 
 soul sees beauty in Jesus, and in all the dealings of God 
 toward us. As the natural atmosphere is needful to dis- 
 tribute and apply the rays of the sun to beautify and 
 fructify the earth, so the atmosphere of a broken and a 
 contrite heart is needful to a saving knowledge of the 
 Sun of righteousness. 
 
 March 14. — It must be a day of struggle. The vague 
 yet uncomfortable and discouraging shadows of doubt 
 are flitting around. The dark questionings, the spiritual 
 discontent, the self-distrust and condemnation, that result 
 from failures and shortcomings, — these are the hosts that 
 fight me to-day. Yet in the name of Jesus Christ I will 
 not give up. There is hope nowhere else. There is sal- 
 vation in no other. Oh for more faith and hope and 
 love ! 
 
 May 8. — Oh for more, more, more! So says the soul 
 as the thought of the possibilities of the gospel comes in, 
 and the vanities of this world become more apparent. 
 And so the struggle goes on. Time flies. The end has- 
 tens. The garments of salvation should be as surely ours 
 as the shroud of death will be ere long. How much the 
 heart needs the steadying influence of grace, the ballast 
 of divine thought, amid the storms and eddying currents 
 that are driving us this way and that ! Oh for grace ! 
 
54 MEMORIES. 
 
 May 17. — My forty-third birthday. Thanks be to God 
 for the hope of spending an eternity of birthdays with my 
 Lord, the blessed Jesus. Thanks be to him for the un- 
 deserved mercies of these mortal years. The long-suffer- 
 ing of God, how great it is ! How should my soul 
 magnify the Lord ! What time he lets me live in the 
 remnant of this earthly pilgrimage shall, by his grace, be 
 spent in a more earnest effort to glorify him in my body 
 and spirit. O Jesus ! help me. 
 
 May 19. — These last few days have been marked by 
 an especial nearness of access to God, especial sweetness 
 in the communications of his grace. It is easier to real- 
 ize the weakness and sinfulness of our hearts, when thus 
 softened and enlightened by the Holy Spirit. Pride goes 
 with darkness, and unbelief begets rebellion of spirit. 
 The tenderness of heart that bows before the Lord will 
 open the soul to see its entire dependence on Christ, 
 and its inherent depravity. 
 
 July 25. — At Bridgeport ; and the burden of preaching 
 to a strange congregation, in a strange pulpit, is upon me. 
 O Saviour ! help me to bear this burden, or rather bear it 
 for me. It is thy gospel. It is thy name and thy salva- 
 tion. Oh, let it be precious to me, and glorious. Let 
 my own soul be filled with fatness. Let the revelations 
 of eternity tell of great good done in thy name. O Holy 
 Spirit, come and inspire the unworthiest of thy mortals to 
 speak and think for thee. So shall God be glorified, and 
 sinners be converted unto thee. 
 
 Sept. 11. — Faith is the spiritual sense. It seems to be 
 a combination of the natural senses in one. It brings to 
 our spiritual apprehension the things that are unseen and 
 
MEMORIES. 55 
 
 eternal. It is all eye, all ear, all touch, as the spiritual 
 sense concentrates itself. But it must be exercised in 
 the clear light of the understanding in order to be pleas- 
 ing to God. An enlightened faith is the mighty power 
 that God gives his people. It is a glorious thing to be 
 able to say, " I am my Lord's, and he is mine." 
 
 Oct. 23. — Another week gone. May the whirling 
 wheels of time bring me nearer heaven as they do nearer 
 the grave. Noiselessly the chariot of time moves on. 
 No neighing steeds, no rushing steam, no rattling parade ; 
 but drawn by the unseen forces of God, and guided by 
 his hand, earth bears on her millions of passengers to the 
 eternal world. No accidents, no halting for repairs, no 
 slackening of speed, until the parted clouds shall reveal 
 the coming Christ. 
 
 Mr. Harrington's life was pre-eminently a life of prayer. 
 That resolution recorded so early in his Christian experi- 
 ence was sacredly kept. He never left his room in the 
 morning, no matter how cold the air, no matter how late 
 the hour, no matter what cares were awaiting, without 
 first falling on his knees, and spending many minutes in 
 secret communion with his God. This was followed reg- 
 ularly by taking his Bible, as soon as he reached the 
 parlor, and studying carefully a portion of the sacred 
 book. Immediately after breakfast was our season at the 
 family altar, when he armed himself anew for the day's 
 warfare. We can never forget the pathos and unction 
 with which he sang those morning songs of Zion, or the 
 fervency of his prayers as he daily committed us all to 
 the especial care of our Heavenly Father, or the look of 
 trust on his face as he hurried away to morning prayers 
 
56 MEMORIES. 
 
 at college chapel, a service he never lost without feeling 
 really afflicted thereby. Neither were all his prayers in 
 the morning; nor did the evening altar or the night 
 vespers comprise them : but he understood what it meant 
 to "pray without ceasing," to "pray everywhere." In a 
 description of a pedestrian tour from Rome to Albano, 
 he wrote : " Strolled round the lake by the upper gallery. 
 Beautiful. Multo bello. It was a good place to pray 
 under an evergreen oak." 
 
 He had great confidence in the prayers of others. In 
 a letter to his sister he wrote : " There is nothing more 
 comforting than to know that we are resting on the 
 prayers and sympathies of friends, and I believe they 
 have a prevailing efficacy above." From one of his ser- 
 mons we have this extract : " We may never know, this 
 side of eternity, how far we are indebted to the efforts of 
 others for our present gracious condition, whatever it be ; 
 but, without doubt, the debt is immense. The word of 
 God recognizes such efforts as an important element in 
 Christian culture, both for the Church and the individual. 
 'Pray for the peace of Jerusalem,' wrote the inspired 
 Psalmist, centuries ago. That exhortation, heeded by 
 the Church, has many a time rebuilt her ruined walls, or 
 strengthened her tottering towers. The fulfilment of the 
 apostle's command, ' Pray one for another,' has doubtless 
 wrought, a thousand times, the establishment of the wa- 
 vering, or the recovery of the erring. How touching the 
 prayer of Moses for Israel, ' If thou wilt forgive their sin — 
 and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book ; ' and 
 who can tell its influence in averting destruction ? Was it 
 not the prayer of Abraham that delivered righteous Lot 
 from the fiery overthrow of Sodom ? Did not the servant 
 
MEMORIES. 57 
 
 of the centurion live because of his friendly intercession ? 
 and was not the ruler's daughter raised to life in answer 
 to the ruler's request? These Bible illustrations are but 
 the specimens of myriad instances of the results of human 
 efforts in behalf of others. Eternity will make many strange 
 revelations. It will be found then that national deliver- 
 ance, social revolutions, and the life-career of individuals, 
 have hinged upon the superhuman help which God has 
 furnished just when needed, in answer to the exertions 
 of others. Thousands will have to say, in the fruition of 
 glory, ' By the grace of God, through a mother's prayers, 
 I am what I am.' Thousands are in the midst of gracious 
 surroundings, that mould their lives, all unconscious that 
 they are the living stream of generations, whose silent flow 
 begins far back in the springs of some pious struggle for 
 the welfare of posterity. This man's missionary life-work, 
 that man's career of usefulness, another's narrow escape 
 from the drunkard's doom, the rescue from especial sinful 
 tendencies, the opportunities for culture, the barrier that 
 has changed the course of life, the ray of hope that has 
 saved from despair, the cloud of adversity that has tem- 
 pered the too blinding radiance of prosperity, the stroke 
 of sorrow which, by the divine surgery, arrests the prog- 
 ress of fatal disease, — these things, and thousands more 
 that have made us what we are, we shall thankfully say 
 hereafter, are the gracious fruit of superhuman help given 
 through special pleas in our behalf. Everywhere the 
 finger of man touches us; and, in the lifting of the cur- 
 tain of divine mystery, we shall see that it is the finger of 
 God." 
 
58 MEMORIES. 
 
 As the years passed on, labors increased. From a 
 letter written to his brother in January, 1872, is the fol- 
 lowing : — 
 
 "The work of life sometimes seems burdensome. 
 Every hour is crowded with duties, until I hardly know 
 which way to turn. It is a lesson which I find hard to 
 learn, to let cares and responsibilities sit easy on my heart 
 and mind, and so avoid the wear and tear in some degree. 
 But when I can rise to the height of trying to do all 
 things ' heartily as unto the Lord, and not as unto men,' 
 it is easier and happier. But how hard it is, sometimes, 
 to put away worldly motives and ambitions, to discard 
 selfishness, and work for God and humanity ! How good 
 is the Lord to bear with our infirmities and failures, and 
 let us try again ! But I thank God I see a little progress, 
 and find a little comfort, in the struggle to overcome the 
 world, the flesh, and the Devil. 
 
 " I am glad you enjoyed your visit with us. I feel, as 
 you do, more and more enjoyment in the meeting of 
 friends as I grow older, and their love is more and more 
 precious to me. Life would be a dreary thing, were it 
 not for some few to love us and appreciate us. The cir- 
 cle must be narrow in this world, but I go for making the 
 most of it. It is a little while we stay here, but we can 
 use the blessings of life better as we learn their value 
 more. I think we can keep each other a little nearer the 
 throne of mercy than ever, when we put up our morning 
 and evening and our closet prayers. It will soon be over : 
 let us be faithful. " 
 
 In the spring of 1872 Mr. Harrington was elected a 
 delegate to the Methodist General Conference held in 
 
MEMORIES. 59 
 
 Brooklyn. Some of the incidents and thoughts the ses- 
 sion occasioned are found in his diary : — 
 
 April jo. — To-day I start for Brooklyn. I leave my 
 dear ones in the care of God. I commit my ways unto 
 the Lord, and pray for wisdom and grace. In the untried 
 experiences of the next few weeks I shall need to walk 
 with God. May my soul come out of the trial pure ! 
 
 May I. — The day, with its interests and responsibili- 
 ties, has come. Once more I pray for grace and wisdom 
 from on high. Once more I record my gratitude to God 
 for mercies past. Let all my added life be the Lord's. 
 Bless the dear ones at home. 
 
 May 2. — Amid all the advantages of this contact with 
 men, may I have the infinitely better one of communion 
 with God. To make the most of the first, I shall need the 
 second. Oh for clear and uninterrupted intercourse with 
 him ! 
 
 May ii. — The end of the week is at hand, — a week 
 of interest and profit, I trust. Things do not go alto- 
 gether as I desire ; but the Lord is Governor, and will 
 overrule all things to his honor and glory. Oh for the 
 spirit of the Master ! 
 
 May 21. — To-day is set for the election of bishops. 
 It will be very hard for all to say, " In honor preferring 
 one another.'' May the Lord help me to feel so, and, 
 with an eye single to his glory, to cast my vote for the men 
 who are approved of God. 
 
 The scramble of partisans is offensive. Can God over- 
 rule and mercifully bring good out of evil? These elec- 
 tions are probably necessary, but I do wish the worldliness 
 
60 MEMORIES. 
 
 of the thing could be eliminated. Lord, help me to seek 
 honor of thee. 
 
 June 4. — The last day of General Conference. The 
 instruction, the privileges, the relief from routine duties 
 which it has given me, will be a grateful memory with me 
 for a long time, I think. The end of all things comes. 
 May I be ready for the end ! 
 
 June 5. — Home again, thank God ! And he has blessed 
 my going out and my coming in. Praise to his holy name. 
 So, in resuming the labors and duties of my calling, I 
 expect the rich blessing of God still. Let me trust and 
 love him with all my heart. 
 
 One morning during the session of the Conference, as 
 some question of vital importance to the Church was 
 being discussed, to which Mr. Harrington was listening 
 with intense interest, careful not to lose one word that 
 might be of advantage in forming a just opinion, a messen- 
 ger called him to the lobby. There he found awaiting him 
 one of the younger members of his own Conference, who 
 unceremoniously commenced parading arguments upon 
 the topic then under discussion, and finally said, "You 
 know, brother Harrington, the views of our Conference 
 in this matter, and I suppose you understand that in 
 voting you are expected to carry out the wishes of your 
 constituents. " Those who remember brother Harrington's 
 utter contempt of every thing like political wire-working 
 may easily imagine his lips growing a little thinner, his 
 eye a little brighter, and his face a little paler, as he re- 
 plied in measured tones, " I understand no such thing : 
 I understand that I am to use my own best judgment, 
 and to be governed by my own conscience ; " and turn- 
 
MEMORIES. 61 
 
 ing on his heel, he hastened back to his seat on the Con- 
 ference floor. 
 
 At this conference he was made one of the Committee 
 on Church Extension. He received the appointment with 
 gratitude that he was permitted thus to work with the 
 Church, to promote its greater power. His interest in 
 that cause intensified during those four years of service, 
 and continued ever afterward ; leading him, the last time 
 he attended his conference at Manchester, N.H., in 1884, 
 to answer one of Chaplain McCabe's irresistible appeals 
 with two hundred and fifty dollars to build one of his 
 " two-a-day" churches. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 EUROPEAN TOUR. — LETTERS, AND EXTRACTS FROM DIARIES. 
 
 HE was naturally fond of travel. He had an almost 
 morbid love for sight-seeing. Added to these, a 
 desire to gain all facilities for advantage in the work of 
 his department gave him an increasing anxiety to spend 
 some time in Europe, especially among old Roman scenes. 
 In the spring of 1873 h e determined to devote the sum- 
 mer vacation to that purpose. This necessitated separat- 
 ing from his family, as the purse was too short to provide 
 for three, and to leave the boy of twelve without parental 
 restraint and care was a thing not to be thought of. The 
 struggle this caused was repeated three days before the 
 time for sailing, when the trustees kindly proposed to 
 allow him one term of absence, making the "good-bys" 
 to be said for six months instead of three. The offer was 
 gratefully accepted ; and in company with his pastor Rev. 
 J. E. Breckenridge, Prof. R. G. Hibbard of the university, 
 and Rev. A. Hill of the New- York East Conference, he 
 sailed from New York on June 28. The following letter 
 from the home of his brother-in-law in New York shows 
 his thoughts at the time : — 
 
 "Saturday Morning, June 28, 
 In Lucius's back parlor. 
 
 " That date up there has a fruitful meaning. It compre- 
 hends more than I have time or power to express. It is 
 the realization of hope and the dawn of fear ; a fulfilment 
 
MEMORIES. 63 
 
 and a promise ; a joy outward to which I hold my hands 
 in welcome, and a grief inward from which I shrink \ a 
 line of separation that cuts me in two, — or three, — and 
 leaves my better parts behind ; a threshold of departure 
 for scenes and experiences in themselves desired, but 
 covered, as every thing earthly is, with regrets. But how 
 good God is ! I don't know that I ever felt safer for you 
 and myself than now. I have just read the chapter in 
 John that you will read this morning, and a chapter in 
 sister Loveland's book about the blessed brotherhood of 
 Christ ; and I know that if we abide in him, he will abide 
 in us." 
 
 " I had a dull, sleepy ride to this city of noise and bustle. 
 My head was hung on a pivot, and wabbled round 
 strangely under the blind hand of Somnus. He twisted 
 and turned it as he would, for all I could do. But in due 
 time I arrived at this house, to find the people at tea, and 
 down I went to sit at my place among them. ... I have 
 not yet thought of any thing omitted in regard to matters 
 at home. Act your discretion about any thing that needs 
 doing about the premises that has been overlooked. Shut 
 the cellar-windows when you go away. Put the padlock 
 on the barn-door. Have the large gate shut and barred, 
 etc., etc., etc. . . . 
 
 "On the ' Adriatic,' in our room. Well. Lucius by 
 my side. Now, good-by, and God bless you." 
 
 July 2, he wrote from the steamship " Adriatic : " — 
 
 " We are on the Banks. We are in a bank of fog. 
 This is the fifth day out, and yet to-day, at noon, we had 
 run eight hundred and ninety-two miles. All day yester- 
 
64 MEMORIES. 
 
 day and all night the fog-whistle has sounded its deafen- 
 ing yells every two minutes. The fog is so dense, that 
 the forward watch cannot see much more than the ship's 
 length. But there he stands, all day and all night, peer- 
 ing out into the mist and darkness ; and ever and anon in 
 the night, as the bell tolls the hour, his ' All's well ' gives 
 a very cheering sense of security. The boatswain's pip- 
 ing whistle calling the hands to man the ropes, the chorus 
 of their voices as they sing the refrain, and pull the huge 
 tackling of boom and sail, the officers pacing their beat 
 on the bridge, the helmsman forever at the wheel, the 
 steady rumbling of the engine that never stops to breathe 
 or rest, the precision and order with which every move- 
 ment goes on, — all tell of safety, and assure us that 
 with the Father's good blessing we shall soon reach our 
 haven. . . . 
 
 " All day Monday, the steamer * Rhine,' that left about 
 two hours before us, kept off our starboard bow in plain 
 sight, neither gaining nor losing much. Since then the 
 fog has hidden her. On the same day, the ' Cuba,' of 
 the Cunard Line, passed us in fine style, within hailing 
 distance. A sailing ship appears now and then. On this 
 desert deep, it is an event to see an occasional fellow- 
 traveller. The solemn voice of the ocean teaches broth- 
 erhood and fellowship, and makes friends of strangers. 
 It makes all who rest upon its broad catholic bosom 
 forget for the time their individuality, and consent to be 
 children of one household. . . . We are hardly beyond 
 the influence of the land we have left yet ; and as for 
 the beloved ones who tread it, we feel their influence 
 some, too. We are paying out a strong cable every inch 
 we make, and have no fear that storm or accident or any 
 
MEMORIES. 65 
 
 thing else can interrupt the daily communication along 
 the wires of the heart. . . . 
 
 " It is getting a little monotonous. Sailing, sailing all 
 the day. We promenade the long deck, gaze off into 
 the fog, gather in knots and talk, go down to breakfast, 
 to lunch, to dinner, read books, plan routes, try to be 
 jolly, wonder who such a one is, or such a one, play 
 chess now and then. Karl comes up before the mind 
 with some distinctness. And thus in various ways the 
 time goes on, and we wish ourselves at Cork. Shall I be 
 a Paddy then, an' sure? ... It was hot enough the day 
 we left port. A very dark, heavy thunder-cloud came up 
 in the north, and appeared in full majesty sweeping down 
 the Hudson, just as we fired our parting gun. The light- 
 nings were very vivid, and the thunder rolled heavily be- 
 hind us. On came the storm, as we steamed away from 
 it ; down the bay and along the shores of green, past the 
 harbor forts, and the forests of masts. The rain did not 
 catch us, but the whole sweep of the black clouds, and the 
 falling rain, and the threads of lightning, were in full view 
 behind. Half a mile or more away from the Battery, with 
 its little patch of green forest, flanked by an acre of bare 
 masts, I saw the whole of that little area on the edge of 
 the city blaze at once into sunlight. There it lay, a spot 
 of brightness, that the sun through a cloud-rift had kissed 
 into glory. The black thunder-head towered behind it, 
 and the waves were its fringe before it. Thus the smile 
 of my Father seemed to bless my going forth from native 
 land, and all my heart holds dear on earth. Under that 
 smile I hope to keep, and I take it as a pledge that in 
 his good time I shall come again to enjoy the blessings 
 of the past." 
 
66 MEMORIES. 
 
 His journal during the whole of his absence was kept 
 without a day's interruption, giving quite .a full account 
 of all the sights and scenes, incidents and accidents, that 
 filled up the days and months of absence, spiced occa- 
 sionally with bits of humor, of moralizings, and heart- 
 yearnings. A few extracts may give a general idea of his 
 life during the time : — 
 
 July y. — From the port window of my berth, this 
 morning, my eyes opened upon the land. It was a bold, 
 rocky coast, and so continues. Fastness Light lay on 
 the right of our course, and Cape Clear on our left, just 
 visible in the distance, as I went on deck. The wind 
 was blowing a stiff breeze, and the weather was thick and 
 unpleasant. But a little bright patch of sunshine glis- 
 tened on the waters, as if to welcome us with a smile to 
 a foreign land. I don't wonder that Columbus fell pros- 
 trate upon the earth, and kissed it, when he landed after 
 his perilous voyage of discovery. Any land seems good 
 enough to kiss after eight days' confinement on ship- 
 board. The Lord be praised ! Thanks to him who has 
 saved us from the perils of the deep ! 
 
 Aug. J. — It is a new experience to be exiled from 
 home, country, and friends. I realize something of what 
 it must be to be expatriated. To a warm heart, pro- 
 foundly affected with the influences of domestic life, and 
 depending largely upon the sympathy of loved ones for 
 daily happiness, the punishment must be severe. Yet if 
 country only is lost, the inscription that the regicide 
 Ludlow chose and placed upon his house at Vevay, 
 " Omne solum forti patria" may cheerfully and proudly 
 be assumed; for with a clear conscience, and a few 
 
MEMORIES, 67 
 
 hearts that love us, we can live and die contented any- 
 where. The thought that exile from God and the good, 
 from friends and kindred, is to be the fate of the finally 
 impenitent, impresses me more than ever before. To be 
 banished from the presence of God and the glory of his 
 power, must be sufficiently terrible. To long for the 
 loving presence and sympathy of the pure and holy, will 
 be enough without the forced association of the bad. 
 
 Father ! save me from such a doom. Help me to 
 hate sin with a perfect hatred. . . . How thankful ought 
 
 1 to be for the goodness and mercy of God to unworthy 
 me ! How real is the comfort wherewith I am com- 
 forted in Christ Jesus ! I will strive to dwell in the 
 "secret place of the^Most High," that I may " abide 
 under the shadow of the Almighty." 
 
 Aug, 8, — Here, on the wooden step of a Swiss barn, at 
 Inden, I write, while the horses eat their "sagina" bread. 
 We have eaten our bread and milk and honey, and a 
 good meal it was. ... It has been a climb all the way 
 by the zigzag steep up from the valley of the Rhone. 
 We arrived at Leuker-bad about half-past two p.m. 
 Thence to Schwarenbach over the Gemmi Pass. It was 
 a jaunt. But the scenery is sublime. As we at last 
 emerged from the rocky depths to find " Alps on Alps 
 arise " about us, and touched the path which, though 
 7,553 feet above the sea, is still flanked by lofty moun- 
 tains and precipices on either hand ; as we looked upon 
 the mountain, lake, and glacier, and snow, — my soul went 
 out in praise to Him who reared the mountains, and mag- 
 nified in song the love of the glorious Redeemer. " Oh, 
 for this love let rocks and hills," etc. 
 
68 MEMORIES. 
 
 Aug. 10. — The twentieth anniversary of our wedding- 
 day. How I would love to sit among my dear ones 
 to-day in Lempster ! How has God blessed me in all 
 these years of wedded life ! . . . What shall I render 
 unto him for all his benefits ? " Unto thee do I commit 
 my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me, Lord God of 
 truth." . . . 
 
 The Jungfrau lighted up her silver horn to-night. A 
 cloud wrapped her feet, and golden sunlight played about 
 her head. I thought of the Mount of God, and of the 
 throne of glory on which the Judge shall sit at his sec- 
 ond coming. The cloud cut it off from the earth, and 
 it hung in the horizon as a huge mountain of light rest- 
 ing on the unseen hand of God. 
 
 Aug. ij. — At Lucerne, where we arrived in season 
 for the last boat to Righi. Met on the wharf Rev. J. P. 
 Taylor and wife. How pleasant to meet friends so ! Is 
 it a type of what it will be to greet friends on the other 
 shore ? 
 
 Aug. 16. — We have left Switzerland. The beautiful 
 waters of Lake Maggiore received us after a two-hours' 
 ride from Bellinzona. A poor dingy boat, in ill keeping 
 with the green waters and the verdant shores, became 
 our conveyance to Verona. The hills and mountains 
 softened and rounded their outline, and towered in a 
 benign grandeur, as if a soothing hand had been laid 
 upon them. Alpine ruggedness, the sharp, cold fingers 
 of her needle-peaks, the glitter of her snowy horns, her 
 slumbering glaciers that pillow their heads in the clouds 
 and uncover their feet in the green valleys, the thunder 
 of the avalanche, the roar and rush of the mountain 
 
MEMORIES. 69 
 
 torrent, are all gone ; and dreamy, sunny, soft, luxuriant, 
 delicate Italia is here. The ripple of green waters that 
 change again to blue, the vine, the olive, the fig, that dip 
 their shadows in the lake, the mountains bending their 
 green brows above, the islands that float like gardens of 
 Paradise, — who can help thanking Him who made the 
 soul of man to be delighted with beauty, and made such 
 a world of beauty to satisfy and bless the eye ? 
 
 Aug. 17. — [In Milan.] Our morning church-going 
 has been to the cathedral. No doubt curiosity was a 
 large element in our motive. How far it is sinful, I do 
 not know. But I try to worship among these who, many 
 of them, do so sincerely. It was high mass, so they 
 said. There was a procession of women, men, and boys, 
 with long candles, and a canopy, and a banner, and gilded 
 crosses, chanting and responding; boys swinging cen- 
 sers that filled the aisles with smoke. There were bow- 
 ings and genuflections, and singing and reading and 
 preaching ; all alike hollow and unmeaning to me, save 
 as my soul caught a little of the inspiration of praise in 
 the waves of music from voice and organ, as they swelled 
 among the arches and aisles and pillars of the massive 
 edifice, and a little of the ardor of the preacher in his 
 earnest manner, and a little of the general spirit of devo- 
 tion that always pervades a worshipping assembly. 
 
 The rich and the poor, citizen and soldier, silks and 
 rags, all are here with equal rights in the most magnificent 
 church edifice in the world, in common worship. Let 
 Protestants learn a lesson. 
 
 A little boy, too small to reach or even climb to the 
 vessel that contained the holy water and the box for the 
 
70 MEMORIES. 
 
 poor, attracted attention by his persistent endeavors to 
 do both. He at last succeeded, through the kindness of 
 a by-stander. All alone the little fellow struggled. How 
 thoroughly the child-mind is permeated by the lessons it 
 learns with eye and ear ! 
 
 Aug. jo. — Early this morning I had my first expe- 
 rience in sickness on my journey. The attack was 
 severe, so much so that I was glad to send for a physi- 
 cian, and had some fear that the cholera had seized me. 
 To-day has been a hard day bodily, and the regret that 
 my sickness interrupts brother Breckenridge's most cher- 
 ished plan of seeing Rome is very great. He is very kind 
 and self-sacrificing. May the Lord reward him ! 
 
 Aug. 31. — This is one of the trial days of my journey. 
 Providence seems to hedge up the way of our going to 
 Rome together. The time hastens when I must pursue 
 my journey entirely alone, when my company and my 
 enjoyment must be confined to the novelty and interest 
 of new scenes and travels. I expect hours of loneliness, 
 and must, with all the joy of realizing my hopes of see- 
 ing Italy and Rome, take the bitter with the sweet. I 
 am under the little cloud of bodily suffering, yet strong 
 is the confidence that " he that dwelleth in the secret 
 place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of 
 the Almighty." I shall yet praise Him who is the health 
 of my countenance. 
 
 Sept. 1. — So the hot months of July and August have 
 passed away. In perils by land and sea, God has been 
 with me to protect and save. Through the threatened 
 illness of the last two days he has brought me, so that, in 
 
MEMORIES. 71 
 
 good hope of full recovery, I set out for Milan. Thanks 
 be to God and our ever-blessed Redeemer. 
 
 Sept. 7. — Sunday in Florence. An attempt to attend 
 church at the American Chapel this morning failed, there 
 being no service. So the stimulus of social worship, and 
 of the living voice in the utterance of religious truth, is 
 wanting. Yet my heart has rejoiced in God, and felt the 
 kindlings of his love. I long to know better the mean- 
 ing of that saying of Christ, " If any man love me he will 
 keep my words, and my Father will love him, and we 
 will come and take up our abode with him." That poor, 
 unworthy man should thus be the abode of God, — how 
 can it be ? But, Lord, I claim the promise. O heavenly 
 Guest, come in ! Thou shalt have all this tenement. 
 Thou shalt command all my feeble service. The temple 
 shall be purified for thee, and sanctified by thee. In 
 God will I trust, and he shall be "my help and my 
 shield." 
 
 Sept. 10. — The Uffizi Gallery occupied me till two 
 o'clock. I cannot pronounce upon it yet. Then the 
 battistero with its brazen doors. An episode was a Cath- 
 olic child-baptism by pouring. All the infants of the city 
 are baptized here. Then I climbed to the cross on the 
 brazen doors of the Cathedral. What a thrill came over 
 me as I threw my arm about it, and thought, " I am at 
 the foot of the cross " ! Lord, let me abide there. 
 
 Sept. 11. — The Uffizi has a long throat from the Pitti 
 entrance ; and its sweetness kept me a good two hours 
 to-day, before I fell into the purer sweets of the " Tri- 
 bunal I struggled out of this, however, and made my 
 way to the Academy. How tame the modern pictures 
 
72 MEMORIES. 
 
 there seem ! yet some of them are good. But the large 
 room of the old masters there has gold and gems. Then 
 the beautiful mazes of the Boboli Gardens swallowed 
 me up, until I sighed for the clew to escape from the 
 enchantment. 
 
 Sept. 12. — . . . The Laurenziana Biblioteca interest- 
 ed me much with its old manuscript copies of Virgil and 
 Homer, and other ancient books of the ninth and twelfth 
 centuries. How I would love to spend months in that 
 library ! 
 
 Sept. 13. — I have been half drowned, also, to-day in 
 the Strozzi, Uffizi, and Pitti galleries. The creations of 
 the masters in painting begin to move me. It seemed to 
 me to-day, as I stood before the portraits of the painters, 
 that in them I could see what their peculiar characteris- 
 tics as artists would be. The delicacy and tenderness of 
 Raphael's face, the intellectuality, energy, and soul in 
 Leonardo de Vinci, the free, easy dignity of Rubens, are 
 qualities which, I fancy, are transferred to their pictures. 
 Do not a man's soul and character appear in his face ? 
 So ends a most enjoyable week. And yet the treasures 
 of Florentine art are only glanced at. Thanks to my 
 heavenly Father for all the week has brought of mercy and 
 blessing. 
 
 Sept. 14. — I have walked and revelled to-day in the 
 galleries of God. The chambers of the soul are spacious, 
 and God has hung there many a portrait and many a 
 glorious picture. They reveal all the phases of the soul's 
 history, all the reality of its present condition, all the 
 possibilities and hopes and glories of its redeemed state. 
 We do not like to visit these halls. We close the shutters 
 
MEMORIES. 73 
 
 and let fall the curtains, lest our eyes should fall upon 
 some of these paintings. For we ourselves have been 
 the artists, and the portraits and the scenes are too faith- 
 ful transcripts of ourselves and of our history. We trem- 
 ble lest in some spiritual parallel to Titian's Medusa with 
 its writhing serpents, to Guido's Peter in tears over his 
 denial of Christ, to Leonardo's Judas with his dark brow 
 of treachery, to the cruel beauty of Herodias' daughter 
 with the bloody head of John, to the lustful nakedness 
 of Pontormo's Venus, we should see our own features of 
 passion and corruption and alienation from God. 
 
 But it need not be so. We may find ourselves min- 
 gling joyously with the shepherds that have hastened to 
 the manger, or with the Magi that bring precious gifts 
 to the infant Christ. We may find ourselves bending in 
 as rapt joy and adoration over the Babe as Correggio's 
 Madonna. We may clasp the cross on which the Saviour 
 hangs, with as much sorrow and devotion as Guido's or 
 Perugino's Magdalen. We may gaze with as much holy 
 confidence into the face of the Saviour on the judgment 
 throne, as those in Raphael's painting who have just 
 heard the words, " Come, ye blessed of my Father." 
 And everywhere as we walk through these wonderful halls 
 of the spirit, we may feel that our Companion is by our 
 side ; and while we gaze with tears upon all the sinful 
 transcripts of ourselves, and the pictures of our follies, he 
 turns us gently to the babe of Bethlehem, the cross of 
 Calvary, and the glories of Paradise. O wonderful Christ ! 
 I will love thee more. Oh, let all the pictures that shall 
 still be hung in the chambers of the soul breathe the 
 inspiration of thy touch in every line. 
 
74 MEMORIES. 
 
 Sept. 17. — (At Rome.) Here I am. A pleasant ride 
 has brought me here unmarred by accident. I have 
 already walked on the Corso, and listened to the band 
 in the Piazza Colonna. Let me be duly thankful for all 
 the mercies and favors of God. And may my stay here 
 be blessed, of him in every sense. 
 
 Sept. 20. — ... I have looked also upon the Capito- 
 line Hill, and the Forum with its ruins. The first glance 
 gives me the impression that it is a very small place for 
 so much history, and yet that it was the focus for the 
 magnificence and splendor of antiquity. What a sorrow- 
 ful sight ! What a wreck the grandeur of imperial Rome 
 has become ! Like the cinders and -ashes in the Etrus- 
 can urns, the relics of the Eternal City are uncovered in 
 all their nothingness to the gaze of the living generations, 
 that go slowly past with a sigh and an exclamation, and 
 think of them no more. A few trinkets and some jewels 
 are found in those ancient rooms ; but they are buried in 
 the ashes, or lie among the shapeless ruins. So a few 
 ornaments and a few shapeless bones are all that this 
 grave of the world's great mistress shows, to enable the 
 looker-on to tell how noble and beautiful she was. Yet 
 the mammoth scale of the relics is significant. I must 
 contemplate it more. 
 
 The Mamertine Prison I have seen too. Would that 
 my eyes were keen enough to read the history on its 
 walls ! What a palimpsest of stone, if all the sighs it has 
 heard had registered themselves, if its tears had written 
 their language, if its groans had translated themselves on 
 its dark walls ! Was Paul here, and Peter? Did I look 
 upon the same walls, and upon the stony pillar where 
 
MEMORIES. 75 
 
 they were chained? Was I among the shades of the 
 Catilinian conspirators, who suffered death here for their 
 crimes? Did I hear the happy shouts of the jailers of 
 the apostles, as they were baptized into the faith of the 
 blessed Christ ? Did I touch the same walls that apos- 
 tolic hands have touched, and, in the narrow limits of so 
 sacred a prison, feel the spirit breath of those who stood 
 there so long? It did not require great fancy to live for 
 a few moments with the Gentile apostle. 
 
 Sept 23. — From the campanile of the Capitol a most 
 splendid view rewarded the ascent. Oh, if one could 
 summon the shades of the past to move around him, and 
 the crumbling structures of the centuries gone, to start 
 into the splendor of their former magnificence ! But the 
 Rome of to-day is a mosaic of life and death, of sepul- 
 chres and monuments and ruins blending with rising 
 palaces and the varied forms of busy life ; a dark picture 
 of sorrow. 
 
 Sept 28. — One misses home and the dear ones there 
 more on Sunday than any other day. That is the day 
 when not only the ordinary benefits and joys of home-life 
 are better appreciated, but the hallowing influences of 
 religion are added. A pause in the whirl and movement 
 of the week makes real the difference between rest and 
 motion. The tension of the domestic chords that have 
 been benumbed by the excitement of business is felt 
 when all is still. And then the touches of Christian faith 
 and hope and love kindle new fires, and forge new 
 bonds that blend with and strengthen the ties of nature. 
 
 Rome has little of religious attraction for me. Rich as 
 it is in other treasures, the treasures of art and antiquity, 
 
76 MEMORIES. 
 
 it is barren enough in practical and vital religion. Foun- 
 tain-head, as it claims to be, of the world's Christianity, 
 and boasting of its wealth of saintly bones and holy 
 relics and martyr-blood, it is a dry-spring of pure faith, 
 and poor as poverty in living bone and sinew and blood. 
 It is clinging to the corpse of a dead past, hovering over 
 sepulchres and catacombs, climbing holy staircases, dip- 
 ping holy water, kissing holy footprints and brazen toes, 
 following the shadowy ghost of tradition, and ever mum- 
 bling something that neither it nor the nations under- 
 stand. 
 
 Oct. 7. — The mausoleum of Hadrian. What changes 
 has the dismantled old pile seen ? A tomb for the dead, 
 a prison for the living, a refuge for the Popes, a fortress 
 for the terror of his subjects, and now the king's. 
 
 Oct. ij. — At Naples. In company with Dr. G. M. 
 Steele, I left Rome. The route hither is along the dreary 
 summits of the Apennines, and through a poor and poorly 
 cultivated country, over ground full of classic and historic 
 interest. Vesuvius showed itself with veiled head, as we 
 approached the city, and its furrowed sides looked as 
 we might expect they would after the fiery ploughshare 
 has been so often driven through them. 
 
 Oct. 14. — I have just returned from Vesuvius. At 
 7.30 this morning Dr. Steele and I took a fiacre for 
 Resina, the place where the ascent is commenced from 
 the Naples side. The horse was largely bones, the driver 
 antiquated, the cab rickety. The scenery along the street 
 was an astonishing, amusing, and picturesque combination 
 of ragged people ; dingy boxes and baskets ; walking 
 caryatides supporting huge vessels of water or baskets of 
 
MEMORIES. 77 
 
 vegetables on their heads ; sorry donkeys, the motive- 
 power for big panniers that covered all but ears and tail ; 
 piles of tempting grapes, pomegranates, figs, and oranges, 
 big kettles of boiled walnuts, fish, johnny-cake ; go-carts 
 covered with from twelve to twenty human beings, and 
 drawn by one poor animal ; and a hurly-burly of craftsmen 
 and tradesmen, all intent upon the business of the day. 
 
 Dr. Steele's gray led the way, and my humble black 
 followed meekly on from the station at Resina. After a 
 little we came upon the lava-fields, the most noticeable 
 being those of 1858, 1861, and 1872. The shapes of the 
 black masses are of every fantastic variety. It was as a 
 battle-field, as the folded leaves of a book, as the paws 
 of lions, the backs of alligators or tortoises, as the twisted 
 gnarled roots of trees, and a hundred other things. Ar- 
 rived at the cone, we were beset by offers of help. But 
 we meant to help ourselves. Dr. Steele, contrary to his 
 usual disposition, as all his friends know, was inclined to 
 be facetious at their expense ; at which I nearly lost my 
 balance with laughter, and almost fell backwards down 
 the steep. They finally saw the but of an American joke, 
 and ceased to pester us. 
 
 At the crater we smelt a great deal of sulphur, gathered 
 specimens, thrust our sticks into the glowing lava until 
 they took fire, rolled stones into the maw of the crater, 
 walked round the rim, speculated upon the probabilities 
 of descending inside, ate roasted eggs hot from Tartarus, 
 and reflected much on the scientific questions that the 
 situation suggested. The doctor was curious to know the 
 effect of turning the Mississippi River into the mouth of 
 the crater. The smoke, heavily charged with sulphurous 
 fumes, varied, and gave us varying views. 
 
78 MEMORIES. 
 
 The descent was easy, fully establishing the accuracy of 
 VirgiPs statement. What it took us an hour to do in as- 
 cending, the doctor accomplished in seven minutes, and 
 I in a little more. Judging by the vast leaps we made, 
 and admitting Darwinianism, our ancestors must have 
 been kangaroos. 
 
 The views of the wonderful Bay of Naples, and the sur- 
 rounding country, are most lovely. The cities sleeping 
 on the beach and in the country, the bay, Sorrento, Capri, 
 Proscini, — all make the view from Vesuvius one of un- 
 paralleled beauty and interest. 
 
 Oct i8. — The Blue Grotto, on the island of Capri, is 
 entirely unique. We had to get below the sides of the 
 boat to enter the low aperture with safety. A strong gust 
 of wind blew outward from the cave, and the waves some- 
 times almost closed the entrance. Once in, every thing 
 was bathed in a peculiar bluish, silvery light. It had a 
 kind of phosphorescent play on the ceiling and sides of 
 the cave, and gave the water a most beautiful appearance. 
 The oars seemed to dip in transparent silver, and the 
 body of a swimmer took the same color. The refraction 
 of the light colored and permeated every thing. 
 
 It might illustrate spiritual truth. The waters of the 
 bay are just as blue outside of the grotto as within, but 
 they give no color to the boats or men they bear upon 
 their bosom. It is only when, through the low, narrow 
 entrance, they enter into the rock, that they are covered 
 and transformed by the waves that bear them, and the 
 light that surrounds them. It is the same light, and they 
 are the same waves ; but the general effect is not visible 
 when out on the open sea, under the sky. So of Chris- 
 
MEMORIES. 79 
 
 tian truth. It has no transforming power when men only 
 come under its general influence. It is only when, bow- 
 ing low in humble contrition, they suffer themselves to be 
 carried through the narrow door into the living Rock, 
 that they are bathed and permeated with the heavenly 
 light. It is only while they dwell there, that they abide 
 under the shadow of the Almighty. Even the shadow of 
 the Almighty is light unapproachable. 
 
 Oct. ig. — Sunday has been without the interest of 
 those external helps that native land and tongue give to 
 promote its legitimate enjoyment. The value of social 
 worship and Christian sympathy, like all other blessings, 
 is realized when we are deprived of them. ... I am 
 alone with my thoughts and with my God. But the cease- 
 less roar of passing vehicles, the clatter of hoofs on the 
 pavements, and the general bedlam of the street, do not 
 favor quiet meditation. . . . How wise the command that 
 neither man nor beast should work, that the day be kept 
 holy, that our thoughts should not be our own, but God's ! 
 For all these are essential to man's highest welfare on the 
 Lord's Day. Those who make it a day of recreation and 
 pleasure, under the pretext that it is only a day of rest 
 from labor, know nothing of its ultimate design to bring 
 man nearer to God. To make no effort to hallow the 
 sabbath, is to rob it of the marrow of its sweetness, and 
 to ignore one of the wisest provisions of God to fit man 
 for a holy eternity. 
 
 The squalid, dirty poor hunt their scanty food, in their 
 week-day rags or nakedness; the working classes don 
 their best, and seek some form of pleasure, or lounge in 
 the public square ; the wealthy expect as much of their 
 
80 MEMORIES. 
 
 domestics and servants as on any other day, sleep away 
 their mornings, dress in their finery for the drawing-room, 
 and ride in their splendid equipages in the cool of the 
 day ; tradesmen open or close their shops, as they prefer 
 profit or pleasure. The Romish clergy have no higher 
 idea of a holy sabbath than the formal observance of es- 
 tablished ceremonials, and never rebuke the violation of 
 it ; and so Naples has no real sabbath day, more than if 
 the commandment had never been given. And the same 
 is true of Christian Continental Europe. What a sad 
 comment on the power of a catholic Christianity in the 
 eighteen centuries of its history, or rather, on its false 
 teaching and corrupt practices, its devitalized formality 
 and soulless shell ! How sad will be the day when laxity 
 of principle, and insidious excuses, and the influence of 
 foreign example, shall introduce such a sabbath into 
 America ! 
 
 Oct. 26. — I wish I could conceive and realize better 
 the scenes and facts of history. There must be some 
 power of abstraction, — some way of transforming one's 
 self into the past, — such that the words of the men who 
 have spoken with wisdom and authority shall be living 
 words. If I could catch the inspiration of Paul ! If 
 the ages would melt away, the present vanish, the past 
 emerge from the darkness and desolation and death that 
 shroud it ! How I would love to stand by Paul's side, 
 and look over his shoulder as he writes some of those 
 words that the world calls inspired, and fathom the depths 
 of his heart under the touch of the divine breath, as, mys- 
 teriously impelled, he pens the immortal words ! Oh, 
 how I would love to stand under the cross where Jesus 
 
MEMORIES. 81 
 
 died, and catch that look, and hear those words ! How 
 I wish I could stand under that cloud on the heights of 
 Bethany, and see the ascending Lord ! Oh for a quick- 
 ening of the eye and ear and touch of faith, since faith is 
 the substance now, and has been made the evidence of 
 things not seen ! 
 
 Nov. I. — I have been taking farewell looks at the most 
 interesting things in Rome. There is a sense of sadness 
 in the thought, " I shall see them no more." As one 
 goes to say last adieus and shake hands on parting with 
 old friends, so I have done with the ruins and monuments 
 of this ancient city. My route has been to S. Maria 
 Maggiore, which is always new ; S. Prasseda, with its pillar 
 to which Christ was fastened to be scourged, its slab for 
 a couch to S. Prasseda, its blood of the martyrs, and its 
 relics ; the ruins of aqueducts and water-towers, utilized 
 for the most varied purposes ; the fine old ruin of Mi- 
 nerva Medica, well-preserved and impressive ; S. Croce, 
 with its traditional true cross of S. Helena ; S. Giovanni, 
 the Pope's own ; the baptismal font of Constantine ; the 
 Scala Santa, and its climbing devotees ; the Coliseum, 
 grander and more impressive than any other Roman ruin ; 
 the Via Appia, thence to the Forum, with all its wealth of 
 memories ; the Forum, too comprehensive to be appre- 
 ciated ; the Mamertine Prison, with its wonderful walls ; 
 and all the atmosphere of the Capitoline, which is heavy 
 with history. And now, Saturday night, I go to rest for 
 the holy day. 
 
 Nov. 16. — This morning, I went before breakfast to 
 St. Michael's Church to hear the music. It was classical 
 and good, as music, but as worship I did not feel in- 
 
82 MEMORIES, 
 
 spired by it. There is a tendency in the concord of 
 sweet sounds to inspire a spirit of worship in souls that 
 love music. But mere music is hollow. One must catch 
 the soul of the composer if his music have soul, and that 
 must be full of worship ; or else the listener must supply 
 for himself the lack, by uniting it with poetry or sentiment 
 that helps to body it, so to speak, into definite spiritual 
 form. I could not do that this morning, and came 
 home unfed. 
 
 I have visited the cemetery at Munich, — the old and 
 the new. I noticed the graves of Frauenhofer, Gaertner, 
 Schwanthaler, and some others whose names I recognized 
 as eminent in the world. They lie as low as the poor 
 and the unknown, and Death has passed his levelling 
 hand on all alike. . . . 
 
 There is a wreath of green and flowers on almost every 
 tomb. It seems to be a German custom, thus to deck 
 the graves of the dead. It is well to remember those 
 that are gone, by honoring the place where they sleep : 
 yet there is a higher honor and a sweeter communion 
 through the channels of the memory. It requires another 
 kind of effort to reach the spirits of those we have loved 
 on earth ; but why should we materialize all our thoughts 
 of them in marbles, or wreaths of evergreen, or scattered 
 flowers, often strewn upon the dust? Why not rather 
 shut ourselves in with them in the solemn stillness of the 
 soul, and visit a remembered life, instead of the ashes of 
 the sepulchre? 
 
 Dec, i. — This has been a bright day of sunshine. 
 The shops displayed their tempting contents as I passed, 
 but I could not buy. The Tower of St. Jacques did not 
 
MEMORIES. 83 
 
 pay for the ascent. The smoke had gathered, and set- 
 tled over the city. A walk along the quays was aggra- 
 vating, because I could not buy the books that looked 
 at me so longingly. I had to put the dear beggars off, 
 — hard as it was. Napoleon's tomb was the next point. 
 It is probably the most exquisite and beautiful in the 
 world. The hero lies no more " on a lone barren isle." 
 But he lies in dust, and there is only a name left, and his 
 record has gone before him to judgment. 
 
 Dec. 16. — Blessed be God, who has brought me in 
 safety to this city of Liverpool ! The day began with a 
 most enjoyable breakfast with the Rev. Mr. Christopher, 
 who made a fine impression on me, as a kind and godly 
 man. After breakfast and a blessed season of family 
 worship, he went with me an hour and a half to see Ox- 
 ford. Then I took the cars for Stratford-on-Avon, did 
 the house of Shakspeare, and at 4.30 p.m. took cars for 
 this place, where I arrived at 9.45 p.m. Oh for grace to 
 be thankful and trustful ! 
 
 Dec. 25. — Christmas on the ocean ! How strange it 
 seems ! Kindred and friends are gathered in their homes, 
 and the merry voices of the loving and loved are heard 
 in their mutual greeting, but I am alone on the black, 
 billowy sea. Yet not alone. The Christ-child is here, 
 as well as there ; and, in the Divine One, I am linked to 
 many a Christian heart, and sit down at the thanksgiving 
 feast that " unto us a Child is born." 
 
 Dec. 28. — The last Sunday of the year, — and on the 
 sea. How like the years of the past is this restless, 
 storm-swept sea ! It heaves and swells, it rises into 
 heights, and sinks into depths ; it flashes into foam, and 
 
?4 MEMORIES. 
 
 lifts its solid columns ; it flings its spray aloft, and be- 
 comes the chamber of the rainbow; it is a vast expanse 
 of watery peaks with white summits ; it is plastic in the 
 mighty hand of some unseen power to take any shape, 
 and do any bidding. Such is human life ; changeful, — 
 now rearing the heights of hope, now scooping out the 
 valleys of despondency, passionate, calm, a waste, a 
 beauty, a magnificent something in the hands of a 
 mighty Power that shapes it at will. Yet oh, how good 
 has that Power been in the history of my poor life ! How 
 will I praise Him who has spared the unworthiest, and 
 made my pathway so like the course of this noble ship, 
 that right on through storm and tempest, in the darkness 
 and in the light, amid all commotion and tumult, has 
 obeyed the steady, silent finger that pointed to the de- 
 sired haven. Oh that henceforth my life may be more 
 than ever resigned to the control of Almighty wisdom and 
 power ! 
 
 Dec. ji. — What a day of rest and comfort ! What a 
 complete fulfilment of desire, and answer to prayer, is 
 here ! This last day of the old year is the happiest of 
 them all. Home ! that word includes more than I can 
 spread out on paper, or express in words. The relief 
 from care and anxiety, in the forms they have taken for 
 the last few months, the rest from the tossings of the land 
 and sea, the embrace of human sympathy from those 
 that are inexpressibly dear and precious, the wonderful 
 goodness of God in sparing my own life and health and 
 those of my household, the privileges of the year in their 
 passing enjoyment, and in their memory now, the glad 
 hopes, the heavenward desires, the boundless mercies of 
 
MEMORIES. 85 
 
 my Father in countless ways, — all these are about me 
 to-day, to pour peace and happiness into my heart. 
 What shall I render unto God for his unspeakable gifts? 
 Alas ! how poorly do I realize these things, compared with 
 their value ! How weak and inadequate are my thoughts 
 and feelings, as compared with the sum of my mercies ! 
 Lord, I am thine, save me. To thee, all. 
 
 The following letter was sent by the steamer " Calabria," 
 on the same day on which he sailed on the " Baltic : " — 
 
 " Liverpool, Dec. 18, 1873. 
 
 "This is my home while in the city. I am off for a far 
 dearer home at 4 p.m., by the White Star steamer t Baltic.' 
 That earthly home I may never reach, and the beloved 
 embraces of those dearer to me than life I may never 
 realize. But our heavenly Father doeth all things well ; 
 and if the joys of an unbroken household be denied us 
 in the wise decrees of his will in our earthly home, the 
 better, heavenly, I trust, is sure. May the last trying hour 
 for each of us. whenever it comes, find us ready to depart 
 and be with Christ, which, however obscure in the dim 
 vision of mortal eyes, and however much the heart may 
 rebel, is far better. And may the peaceful home of the 
 heavenly shore where no storms arise, no ocean rolls, be 
 our blissful portion forever ! " 
 
 This letter is a good illustration of his never-failing care 
 to foresee, and do all in his power to provide for, every 
 possible emergency or calamity. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CALIFORNIA. — METHODIST HYMNAL. — " ADVENTUS SECUN- 
 DUS." — HYMNAL WITH TUNES. — EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. 
 
 IN the summer of 1875, through the kindness of his 
 old-time friend Dr. L. T. Townsend of Boston Uni- 
 versity, Mr. Harrington was invited with his wife to join 
 an editorial party for an excursion to the Pacific. The 
 two months thus spent were rich in varied enjoyment. 
 Among these was the continual encounter of old school 
 friends. They were among the first whom we recog- 
 nized in the party on leaving New York. At Chicago we 
 met the preceptress of Mount Vernon College, Iowa, 
 and found in her one of the graduates at Sanbornton 
 Bridge. On the platform at Omaha, Neb., the county 
 judge claimed acquaintance, and proved himself an old 
 Newbury student. At Oakland, Cal., the projector of the 
 Pacific Railroad introduced himself, and we recognized 
 another pupil from Sanbornton Bridge. And once in 
 San Francisco we had in our hotel a real alumni-meet- 
 ing of students of Wesleyan. 
 
 In the three- weeks' journey across the continent, many 
 expedients were devised to prevent all tediousness of 
 travel. Our cars were transformed into free reading- 
 rooms, social drawing-rooms, literary-club rooms, and 
 Free-Mason lodge-rooms, by turns. After-dinner toasts 
 and jokes were abundant, and fund of conversation of 
 all kinds never wanting. 
 
MEMORIES. 87 
 
 Botanical, geological, mi nera logical, and mining excur- 
 sions were taken in at all points. Big cities were explored 
 in Christendom, Mormondom. and heathendom * and it 
 was a question whether most alarming tendencies were 
 discovered in Christian cities, in Brigham Young's do- 
 mains, or in the quarters of the heathen Chinee. 
 
 Mr. Harrington entered with enthusiasm into all the 
 opportunities for seeing and learning. He measured the 
 biggest trees, and drank from the waters of the wildest 
 cataracts. He went into the deepest mines, and scaled 
 the highest mountains. He visited the opium-dens, and 
 preached Christ in the Chinese missions. The cream 
 of the whole enjoyment was the visit to Yosemite. Four 
 days were spent in that wonderful temple of Divinity; 
 and in the parlors of a hotel under the overhanging cliffs 
 of mountains eleven thousand feet high, he told the old, 
 old story of the cross, preaching man's redemption by 
 the great God of the universe. 
 
 In June, 1876, Professor Harrington received notice 
 that he was one of the fifteen men whom the Board of 
 Bishops, in accordance with a vote of the General Confer- 
 ence, had appointed to revise the Methodist Hymn Book. 
 
 He received the appointment as the greatest honor the 
 Church ever had conferred upon him. 
 
 Not until after days of prayer, and questioning of his 
 fitness, did he enter tremblingly, but joyfully, upon the 
 important work. As the days went on, and the labors 
 increased, his enthusiasm grew intense, and absorbed 
 every hour that could be spared from his regular college 
 duties. The wealth of sacred song he discovered in the 
 various books the committee were led to examine was 
 an inheritance to his mind and soul, that blessed all his 
 
88 MEMORIES. 
 
 after-life. And when the compilation was completed, it 
 seemed to him that the Church had a new treasure in her 
 hands, that she was very slow to appreciate. Oh, how he 
 loved that Hymnal ! It was a store-house of religious 
 joy to him. He wondered and grieved at the modern 
 fashion of merely naming the hymn for the sabbath ser- 
 vice ; he thought so much effect wa^ produced by the 
 careful and thoughtful reading of those words of doctrine, 
 of worship, of praise, and of holy devotion. It was to 
 him a means of grace that he wished all to enjoy. Many 
 an hour of sleepless night was cheered by the repetition 
 of these songs of the Church. 
 
 When the work was nearly completed, it was found a 
 few more hymns were desirable to make just the com- 
 plement of pages appropriated. Feeling that one sub- 
 ject, which he deemed important, had not been fully 
 represented, he wrote, from a heart full of fervor, the 
 following : — 
 
 ADVENTUS SECUNDUS. 
 
 When wilt thou come, O Saviour? 
 
 My Lord, when wilt thou come ? 
 My heart is weary waiting, 
 
 And homesick for my home. 
 Each day mine eyes turn upward, 
 
 And sweep the heavenly plain; 
 For thine own angels tell me, — 
 
 " He so shall come again." 
 
 I tremble at thy thunders, 
 
 That strike my startled sense, — 
 The amazing conflagration, 
 
 The melting elements. 
 Yet, bold amid thy terrors, 
 
 My joy my fears shall drown : 
 I love my Lord's appearing, 
 
 And calmly wait my crown. 
 
MEMORIES. 89 
 
 Mine eyes o'erflow with weeping, 
 
 At sight of human woe ; 
 My hands hang down with fighting 
 
 The strong and bitter foe. 
 I'm waiting for the Victor, 
 
 Whose reign is endless day; 
 I'm waiting the Redeemer, 
 
 Who wipes all tears away. 
 
 Perhaps for me thy coming 
 
 Will be through death's dark gate; 
 I may not see thee yonder 
 
 In clouds and royal state. 
 E'en as thou wilt, Lord Jesus ! 
 
 Thy promise is not slack ; 
 From ages of death's slumber 
 
 Thy voice shall call me back. 
 
 Yet come, O blessed Saviour, 
 
 Come quickly, still I pray ! 
 I'm looking for and hasting 
 
 Unto that joyful day ; 
 New heavens and earth in beauty 
 
 Shall spring at thy command ; 
 And I shall see thy glory, 
 
 And with the ransomed stand. 
 
 After the Hymnal was completed, and it was decided 
 that the hymns should be set to music, although already 
 weary with the overwork of months, he earnestly coveted 
 the privilege of aiding in this much more laborious task. 
 The committee was smaller ; and it was practically left to 
 himself and Dr. F. D. Hemenway of precious memory, 
 to perform the immense amount of drudgery necessary, 
 not merely to select and fit tunes to the hymns, but to fit 
 them to the hymns in their already fixed order in the 
 Hymnal, and under that yoke to arrange metre, style, 
 
90 MEMORIES. 
 
 and melody. The time for this arduous task was limited ; 
 for not only were the churches calling for the new Hymn 
 Book, but the committee felt the importance of having the 
 work ready for the supervision of the advisory committee, 
 Professors Tourjee and Holbrook, for whose convenience 
 an especial month had been appointed. This was Au- 
 gust, 1877. On the 10th of that month occurred his 
 " silver- wedding " day ; and, disappointed at being away 
 on that anticipated anniversary, he sent home these words 
 of cheer : — 
 
 " Hail to the silver- wedding day ! The voyage of life 
 has brought us to the shore of the silver sea. It has 
 been a pathway of brightness and joy. We touch the 
 waters of the golden sea, and launch to-day on the sec- 
 ond quarter-century. How our good Father has blessed 
 us ! We have little of silver and gold, but we have what 
 they cannot buy. Let us love and praise the Giver of our 
 joys and mercies more and more. We shall not be likely 
 to see the other shore of the golden sea on earth. We 
 shall celebrate our golden wedding in the city of golden 
 streets, probably. Let us double our diligence to ' make 
 our calling and election sure.' Great love to Karl, the 
 golden bough on our life-tree. May he prove pure 
 gold ! " 
 
 But no amount of sacrifice or of labor cooled at all his 
 ardor in the accomplishment of that one great desire of 
 his heart, — to have ready for all our churches a book, in 
 which the best sacred songs of the ages should be so 
 united to music, as to promote the highest spiritual life 
 and vigor. He believed music was one of God's best 
 gifts to man, designed to be the agent to lift up his sin- 
 degraded soul into the light and love of divine purity. 
 
MEMORIES. 91 
 
 And to give music the power designed for it, he believed 
 congregational singing in the churches one of the best 
 methods. That the worship of God by the Church, in 
 the holy songs of Zion, should affect to be accomplished 
 by a paid quartet of perhaps unconsecrated voices, seemed 
 to him both vain and sacrilegious. Singing and music, 
 he said, could and should be as real and effective a part 
 of the worship of God on every Lord's Day, as the sermon 
 and prayers from the pulpit. It was that in which every 
 member of the congregation should feel he had a respon- 
 sibility and a share. The hope expressed in the last 
 sentence of the Preface to the " Hymnal with Tunes," — 
 " that the work may stimulate all the people to sing in all 
 the services of the sanctuary, and may contribute some- 
 what to the spirituality of divine worship through the 
 power of sacred song upon the heart," — was not merely 
 a written hope : it was an intense longing, and an earnest 
 prayer, the answer to which he never ceased to crave 
 while he lived. For the accomplishment of this desire, 
 he had devoted his whole strength in utter forgetfulness 
 of self, feeling it was a work to which God and the Church 
 had called him \ and though the beginning of his down- 
 ward course in health dated back to that over-strain of 
 his energies, he never regretted that he had given to the 
 work his best powers. 
 
 The more recently issued and scholarly " Hymn Stud- 
 ies," by Rev. Charles S. Nutter of the New-Hampshire 
 Conference, he highly appreciated, and greatly enjoyed 
 perusing, wondering if the Church generally were aware 
 of its value. 
 
 As the years of his Christian experience increased, his 
 devotion increased for the cross of Christ. Faith in the 
 
92 MEMORIES. 
 
 atonement was the zenith of his creed. He often won- 
 dered that that central doctrine was not oftener made 
 the theme of pulpit-teaching. During his last sickness, 
 he always listened with great interest to any one who 
 would report to him a sermon they had heard ; and often 
 afterward would say, " Yes, that is all good ; but I long 
 to hear more about Jesus and the cross, Jesus and the 
 resurrection. Oh, how I wish I could preach ! " he fre- 
 quently exclaimed. " It seems to me I could make the 
 people see, as I never could before, that it is Jesus* 
 blood that saves from sin." 
 
 In one of his sermons he wrote : " In the death of 
 Christ for the sins of mankind, we have the grand culmi- 
 nation of the original decree, the realization of all types 
 and shadows, the literal sacrifice of the Lamb slain from 
 the foundation of the world. 
 
 "The decree of God is unmistakable. Whatever be 
 the cavils and objections, the difficulties and mysteries, 
 the word is plain and sure : ' Without shedding of blood 
 is no remission. ' Christ's words to his disciples are : 
 ' This is my blood of the New Testament, which is shed 
 for many.' i In whom we have redemption through his 
 blood,' says Paul to the Ephesians, ' the forgiveness of 
 sins, according to the riches of his grace.' And again, 
 to the Colossians, ' Having made peace through the blood 
 of his cross, it pleased the Father by him to reconcile 
 all things unto himself.' John's testimony is, ' If we walk 
 in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one 
 with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son 
 cleanseth us from all sin.' 
 
 " All complaint against this decree is forestalled and for- 
 ever silenced by the provision of God, made and executed 
 
MEMORIES. 93 
 
 for its fulfilment. He who established the necessity has 
 himself met it. What matters it how hard the conditions 
 of his justice, if they are balanced by his mercy? How 
 could we censure a judge for the severity of his sentence 
 if he at once voluntarily assumed the criminal's place, and 
 suffered in his stead ? How could we find fault with a 
 sovereign for making any law whose penalty he suffers 
 himself that his offending subjects may not suffer? If 
 man had been remedilessly left to bear the penalty of his 
 own sins with his own blood, wonder at such a merciless 
 severity might have begotten desperation and sullen defi- 
 ance. If heartless and implacable Fate had driven its iron 
 chariot-wheels over bleeding humanity, humanity might 
 well have cursed the gory monster with its dying breath. 
 If godless law, as some, in these days of advanced thought, 
 will have it, has developed the human race for self-butch- 
 ery during its earthly career, and painful extinction at 
 last, the race might be pardoned for vainly raging at such 
 a shedding of blood without remission. The mystery 
 and terror that cover mere law and blind fate are a thou- 
 sand-fold greater than attach to the sovereignty of an 
 all-wise God. 
 
 " Let the earth rejoice in the reign of a just God. Let 
 the earth doubly rejoice in the reign of a God of mercy. 
 If blood must atone, the blood of atonement is at hand. 
 
 " By such a provision, moreover, the wisdom and right- 
 eousness of God are vindicated. The decree that ordains 
 the remission of sin by the shedding of blood, was made 
 in full view of the Divine method and purpose to fulfil 
 it. It could not have been any thing short of necessity, 
 governed by infinite wisdom and righteousness, that 
 issued a decree which must cost the blood of the Son of 
 
94 MEMORIES. 
 
 God. It was no slight demand that could coolly ordain 
 the suffering of the Creator in the creature's stead. In 
 the clear light of the incarnation, with all it involved of 
 humility and shame, beholding the bloody sweat of Geth- 
 semane and the wounds of Calvary, realizing the agony 
 of the hiding of the Father's face, and the darkness of 
 the sepulchre, He who was to endure it all pronounced 
 the word, ' without the shedding of blood is no remis- 
 sion.' If a milder penalty for sin could have been de- 
 vised, if less than death were possible for crime that 
 would rob God of his throne, would he have ordained it ? 
 Would he have made it mean more than needful to be 
 ' despised and rejected of men,' to be ' a man of sorrows 
 and acquainted with grief? Was it a needless work, that 
 he was ' wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for 
 our iniquities ' ? Did he submit to torture without a 
 cause ? 
 
 "Without his sacrifice, the world might have paused 
 and questioned. Isaac's wondering query on Mount 
 Moriah, 6 Where is the lamb for the burnt offering?' 
 would have been the unanswered cry of the ages, as gen- 
 eration after generation paid its own penalty of blood. 
 Abraham's unwavering reply, ' God will provide himself 
 a lamb,' was faith's all-satisfying answer, prophetic then, 
 but now forevermore accomplished. The Old-Testament 
 text, ' Thou shalt surely die,' finds its ample explanation 
 in the Revelator's comment, 'the Lamb slain from the 
 foundation of the world.' 
 
 " The mystery of sin and death is solved by the greater 
 mystery of redemption. As two hard, dark substances 
 sometimes flash into flame when brought into contact, 
 so, from spiritual affinities, two eternal mysteries, brought 
 
MEMORIES. 95 
 
 into contact with each other, evolve the glorious light 
 that floods the world with mercy, salvation, and love." 
 
 It was not in his sermons alone that the wonderful 
 plan of redemption was mentioned. It was an ever- 
 present thought with him, interwoven in his every-day 
 life. In one of his familiar letters to a sister, he says, 
 " How in the world I succeed in keeping up my end of 
 the yoke in the matter of letter-writing to your family, is 
 a marvel to me. Why, there are six of you against one ! 
 Wonder how many I owe now ? Well, never mind : if 
 I get hopelessly in debt, I expect you will forgive the 
 debt. That is the only way I can get square in many 
 of my failures in this world. And I am more and more 
 thankful that our good Father can do the same for all 
 the follies of life. I do not understand the great mystery 
 of pardon through a Saviour ; but it is that or nothing for 
 my poor soul, and there I hang my hope. That hope 
 ought to grow brighter and sweeter every day, for the 
 days are flying. But so stupendous a mercy, and so infi- 
 nite a work wrought for only dust and ashes, defiled at 
 that, sometimes staggers me. I mean, however, that 
 death shall find me under the light of the cross, behold- 
 ing the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the 
 world." 
 
 In an address delivered on the death of President 
 Garfield, he says, " The life of our redeeming Lord was 
 the sum of all perfection, and his example worthy the 
 imitation of the race. But his sufferings and death were 
 their salvation. It is the cross of Christ in which all his 
 disciples glory. It was ordained that even the Son of 
 man should be made perfect through suffering. Men 
 
96 MEMORIES. 
 
 admire and honor his stainless character, his self-denying 
 poverty, his ever-active benevolence, and the divine wis- 
 dom of his words ; but it is at the foot of the cross that 
 they sit in wondering love, and reverent, tearful worship. 
 And in the worship of heaven, according to the record 
 of Revelation, the song is, ( Worthy is the Lamb that was 
 slain, to receive power and riches and wisdom and 
 strength and honor and glory and blessing.' " 
 
 In all his later sermons, it was his constant, earnest, 
 longing effort to show clearly the simple faith of Jesus ; 
 to teach what is meant by evangelical conversion ; and 
 to convince all, if possible, that this old gospel truth is 
 still the truth of God. From a sermon on i Cor. ii. 14, 
 is taken the following extract : — 
 
 " When through the study of the divine history, which 
 is the simple revelation of God's love to man in the gift 
 of his Son for the sin of the world, and which, stripped of 
 all abstraction and imagination, is the essence of the gos- 
 pel, — when, through the study of this, God's Spirit be- 
 gets a gospel-faith in the heart, then the one knowledge 
 which science can never give by gradual processes enters 
 the soul. It is the knowledge of Christ as a personal 
 Redeemer : as real and tangible as any other truth. 
 That there is such a knowledge, a distinct and separate 
 fact, as real and cognizable as any other fact, is the foun- 
 dation rock on which the whole fabric of salvation is 
 built. It is the first item of the things of the Spirit of 
 God, which the faith-faculty reveals, and is the key to all 
 the rest. He who denies that conversion is a real change, 
 having definite characteristics and appreciable evidences 
 — that regeneration is not a shadowy dream, nor a fig- 
 
MEMORIES. 97 
 
 ment of the imagination, but a matter of personal con- 
 sciousness and knowledge, denies the accumulated testi- 
 mony of unnumbered multitudes all along the line of 
 Christian history, and the express declaration of the 
 Divine Word, which is the authority for the whole plan 
 of salvation. With this doctrine Christianity stands or 
 falls. When this is surrendered, the citadel is surren- 
 dered. It is the sole distinction between Christianity 
 and heathenism. It is the belief of the soundest divines, 
 that the whole Christian Church in the first centuries 
 enjoyed it, and that all the reformed churches in Europe 
 once believed it. Luther, Calvin, Melanchthon, Armin- 
 ius, Wesley, insisted upon it. Says Sherlock, 'I desire 
 those who think they have no need to trouble their heads 
 about conversion by faith in Jesus Christ, to consider the 
 character of Cornelius. He was devout, and feared God 
 with all his house ; gave much alms to the people, 
 prayed to God always : and yet there needed to be a 
 vision to Cornelius, another to Peter, preaching by Peter, 
 the descent of the Holy Ghost, and baptism, to make 
 Cornelius a Christian.' Inspiration says, ' Hereby we 
 know that he abideth in us, by the Spirit which he hath 
 given us.' When, by receiving Christ, power is given to 
 become the sons of God, when peace is given for turmoil 
 and unrest, when a heart of flesh replaces a stony heart, 
 when, in a new creation, old things pass away, and all 
 things become new, — certainly, changes are wrought as 
 definite and real as the transition from sickness to health, 
 or from dungeon darkness to the broadest sunlight. If 
 there is any direct or explicit language in the Scriptures, 
 it is that which describes this change." Farther on, he 
 says, " Conversion is a simple, round fact, uncombined, 
 
98 MEMORIES. 
 
 uncompounded, unamalgamated, of which men have 
 knowledge by faith." 
 
 From the last sermon he wrote, on Phil. iii. 9, are 
 taken the following extracts : — - 
 
 "What is the faith that makes men righteous? 
 
 " Negatively, it is the faith that cuts loose from every 
 object save Jesus Christ. It has no collateral reliance. 
 It does not prop itself up by braces that reach away to 
 various foundations. It does not fortify itself by Quaker 
 guns, nor kindle false fires of strategy. It has no tempo- 
 rary defences, where it may hide and skirmish, away from 
 its stronghold and impregnable last resort. It does not 
 scout curiously or wantonly into the regions of imagina- 
 tion or reason, to toy and dally with uncertainties and 
 possibilities, and the dangerous snares of its enemies. It 
 borrows no support from material nature, or the nature of 
 man, or the nature of God. It does not strengthen itself 
 by appealing, as grounds for consideration, to the eternal 
 harmonies, to hereditary fatalistic bias, to circumstantial 
 hinderances, to the mysteries of human history and 
 human destiny, or to the attributes of the Divine charac- 
 ter. It does not allege a moral life, a hard lot, an unbe- 
 lieving tendency, an amiable or benevolent disposition, 
 as virtual objects of faith, in that they partially or entirely 
 excuse the imperfection or absence of faith in the only 
 proper object of it. It does not substitute the life of 
 Christ, his spotless character, or his marvellous teachings, 
 for the cross of Christ, the essential, central object of 
 faith. 
 
 "It is a faith that utterly renounces all dependence 
 upon ourselves. It recognizes without qualification our 
 
MEMORIES. 99 
 
 lost, undone, helpless condition. For, otherwise, we 
 should claim to be partners with God in the redemp- 
 tion of the soul. Christ would not be the Saviour of 
 men, but only an assistant in their moral improvement. 
 He could not be the giver of life, unless men were dead. 
 Salvation is a misnomer for the gospel scheme, unless 
 sinners are hopeless. 
 
 " It is a faith that recognizes the depravity of our 
 nature, our actual guilt, and the justice of God in his 
 judgment of sin. It confesses squarely and honestly our 
 ill-desert, and the righteousness of God in the execution 
 of the penalties he has denounced against the sinner. 
 To do less than this, would be to charge God with over- 
 estimating our guilt, and making a superfluous or unne- 
 cessary provision against an unreal danger, and demand- 
 ing more than our need warrants. 
 
 " The faith that makes men righteous is the faith that 
 fastens simply and trustingly on the Lord Jesus Christ as 
 the only, all-sufficient, atoning Saviour. To that faith it 
 is Jesus that blots our transgressions, makes our record 
 clear. It is Jesus that gives spiritual life. It is he that 
 continues it. This faith merges the believer's life in the 
 life of Christ. It dares not, it wishes not, a moment's 
 separation. It knows no historic past; it deals only in 
 present tenses. It echoes Paul's prayer, ' Let me be 
 found in him? It sees that to be found there is to be 
 a partaker of the divine nature. As a polluted drop of 
 water loses its filth in the ocean, so it sees the soul's un- 
 righteousness disappear in the infinite righteousness of 
 Christ ; and, as the drop is kept pure in the bosom of the 
 sea, so is the soul kept pure in the embrace of infinite 
 purity. It is in Jesus that the soul finds holy living, con- 
 
IOO MEMORIES. 
 
 stant victory over self and sin, the world, the flesh, and 
 the Devil. . . . 
 
 " The wondering question, { How can these things be ? ' 
 begins with Nicodemus, and ends with Thomas, in the 
 gospel history. Neither the master in Israel with all his 
 learning, nor the disciple of Jesus under the living voice 
 of the great Teacher, has explained it to the understand- 
 ing. Apostolic wisdom has only set forth the facts and 
 results of a spiritual experience, and left its philosophy 
 unrevealed. 
 
 " It is the riddle of the ages. Millions have fallen upon 
 this stone, and been broken \ on millions it has fallen, and 
 ground them to powder. No answer has ever been heard 
 but the answer of the believing heart. It has contained 
 no explanation of processes. It has only been a living 
 witness of the fact. Somehow, in all generations, when 
 the ringer of faith has touched the Saviour's garment, and 
 the voice of faith has said, ' My Lord and my God/ the 
 marvellous change has been wrought, and the sinner, in 
 the filthy rags of his own righteousness, has become 
 clothed in the royal robes of Christ's righteousness. He 
 may not be wise enough to explain the philosophy or the 
 method ; but he is a witness to the great work, and his 
 whole soul adopts Jude's inspired language, ' Now unto 
 Him that is able to present me faultless before the pres- 
 ence of his glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God 
 our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, 
 both now and ever.' 
 
 " It would seem strange, to one utterly unacquainted 
 with the conditions behind it, that the poorest man on 
 earth, by presenting a bit of paper at the counter of a 
 banking-house, indorsed by the single name of one of 
 
MEMORIES. IOI 
 
 our countrymen, might instantly become possessed of mil- 
 lions, not by any thing that he had done, or could do, but 
 solely by the virtue of that name. But it only dimly shad- 
 ows forth the power of that Name by which the poorest 
 sinner of us all may be made, in a moment, richer than all 
 earth's riches. It is gloriously true, and we can have some 
 conception of it, that the humblest citizen can wrap him- 
 self in the stars and stripes, and traverse the globe, stand 
 in the presence of kings and emperors, face all the power 
 of arms and laws, and everywhere command respect, and 
 everywhere defy harm or injustice. It is not in him, but 
 the flag of his country robes him in the strength of a 
 mighty nation. But it faintly illustrates how the humblest 
 saint, clothed in the robe of Christ's righteousness, may 
 stand fearless before principalities and powers, and the 
 rulers of the darkness of this world, and even the arch- 
 enemy of souls, and defy his power to harm or do him 
 wrong. He wears the royal garment of Him who can be 
 just, and the justifier of him who believeth in Jesus. 
 
 " I cannot tell the process. I cannot explain the power 
 by which the black coal is transformed into the gleaming 
 diamond : how much less can I tell how, by the mystery 
 of the new birth, the lost, dead soul lives by the merit of 
 Jesus ! I cannot tell how the living tree gets its flower 
 and fruit from the dead substance in which it is rooted, 
 and on which it feeds : how much less can I tell how the 
 wounds, the blood, the death of Christ, give life to 
 the soul dead in trespasses and sins, and clothe it with 
 the fruitage of holiness ! Or how can I tell the end of 
 this divine work, when the Giver of spiritual life shall crown 
 it with life eternal ; when dust and ashes — this body — 
 shall spring from its sepulchre, and appear in the glori- 
 
102 MEMORIES, 
 
 fied body of the resurrection? But it shall be done, ac- 
 cording to the working of the power whereby he is able 
 to subdue all things unto himself. Enough for me that 
 this is God's way, and the work is worthy of God. The 
 righteousness may be mine by the faith of Jesus Christ. 
 ' Not by works of righteousness that we have done, but 
 according to his mercy, he saved us by the washing of 
 regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost.' 
 Faithful is he that hath promised, who also will do it." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 KARL. — BIRTHDAY POEM. — LETTERS. —DIARIES. — CLASS-MEET- 
 INGS. — SICKNESS. — VACATION. — LETTERS. — NEW-HAMP- 
 SHIRE CONFERENCE. 
 
 IN the year 1882 occurred his only boy's graduation 
 from college. He had watched the four years' course 
 with the intensity of interest that only a Christian parent 
 can know. He understood so well the snares, the pitfalls, 
 the lions in the way. His constant prayer was that his 
 boy might pass through this test period with body unim- 
 paired, with mind well stored and disciplined, and with 
 soul unscathed. He had consecrated him to God at his 
 birth. April 4, 1869, his diary reads, "To-day our dear 
 boy wishes and intends to go forward in the sacrament 
 of baptism. He is a child, and has the light-heartedness 
 and impulsiveness of a child ; but I think he has also a 
 childlike faith in Jesus as his Saviour. Doubtless he has 
 not the deep and clear comprehension of the meaning of 
 the rite, that adult years will bring \ but that is no reason 
 why he should wait for the years to come before he de- 
 votes his young heart to Jesus. Oh that God may receive 
 him and bless him ! " A year later, on the day of his 
 joining the Methodist Episcopal Church, in full member- 
 ship, a note of the fact is closed with, " Oh that in the 
 Church militant he may war a good warfare, and win a 
 glorious crown ! " June 13, of 1882, completed Karl's 
 
104 MEMORIES. 
 
 twenty-first year; and his father's birthday gift was ac- 
 companied with an expression of his thoughts at that 
 time : — 
 
 " O childhood, boyhood, youth, thy years, — 
 
 Prelude and pledge of manhood's prime, — 
 With all their joys and hopes and fears, 
 
 Are garnered with the sheaves of Time. 
 With hurrying footsteps, one by one, 
 
 Ye trooped behind the restless Now, 
 That double veil of night and sun, 
 
 Which flings its gloom o'er the cold brow 
 Of lifeless years ; but flames its beams 
 
 Of buoyant hope on Time's last-born, 
 As if that would not swell the stream 
 
 Gone by, or night not follow morn. 
 And darker through the fourscore sum 
 
 On life's first stage the pall shall rest, 
 As echoes faint and fainter come, 
 
 Repeated from each mountain breast. 
 Yet, O young years, a score and one, 
 
 An immortality is yours ! 
 Essential life, now just begun, 
 
 Unending while the soul endures. 
 Only the gross and mortal clay 
 
 Is sepulchred behind the veil ; 
 The soul of Time must ever stay 
 
 To set its seal, and tell its tale. 
 As diamonds gleaned from worthless sand, 
 
 Or golden grains in torrent-bed, 
 So may these years, with liberal hand, 
 
 Leave only blessings on thy head. 
 And if God give thee length of days, 
 
 And fill them with a gracious store, 
 Be all thy years his psalm of praise 
 
 Thy benediction evermore." 
 
 June 29 the diary says, " It is the commencement day 
 of life with us, in that Karl is to graduate. How inde- 
 
MEMORIES. 105 
 
 scribable are the emotions that run along the nerve-track, 
 and thrill the hearts of fathers and mothers to-day ! " 
 
 Jwie 30. — The show is over. With thanksgiving to 
 God, be it recorded that mercy and goodness have been 
 abundantly shown to us and ours in all the anxieties and 
 labors of these days. The Lord is good. 
 
 Aug. 4, he wrote to his sister : — 
 
 " Lizzie invites me to increase the bulk of her letter 
 to the extent of half a sheet. Probably she has told you 
 all the news about the condition of the household, both. 
 as to the pleasure of the past and the contrast of the 
 present. The pleasure of the past has been heightened 
 not a little by the presence of Mary. And now that she 
 and Karl have disappeared, the desolation is quite con- 
 siderable. So we are solacing ourselves as well as we 
 can by keeping busy, and writing letters to our friends 
 for an episode in our regular work. Sometimes I wish I 
 had more friends, so that I might enjoy the pleasure of 
 more visits ; and sometimes I wish that I had none, so 
 that I might be spared the pain of parting from them. 
 But the mixture of pain and pleasure, good and evil, in 
 all things earthly, is God's law, ordained, no doubt, in 
 wisdom for the welfare of his creatures. The 'what 
 for ' is none of our business, if the fact be so. The 
 sooner we can come to the point of accepting the situa- 
 tion, of eating from this table of the Divine spreading, 
 'asking no questions for conscience' sake,' or any 
 other sake, the better it will be for our peace. It is 
 always ' hard to kick against the pricks.' The lesson is 
 plain ; but, oh, what slow learners we are ! 
 
 " My time, these days, is variously divided between 
 
106 MEMORIES. 
 
 house, dooryard, and college, with suitable episodes down- 
 town and to the religious services ; all of which divisions 
 are, doubtless, of no importance to you. Sometimes life 
 seems bright, and sometimes dark, which is a common 
 experience, and no news. Yet all these little insignifi- 
 cances have their meaning and bearing on others 7 lives, 
 else I should not be writing this little nothing to you. 
 How strange that each other's littles make up so large a 
 part of each other's whole ! Every thing is strange in 
 this world. Nothing is strange in this world. Isn't this 
 a moralizing, paradoxical letter? " 
 
 Aug. 1 8, he wrote the following to a niece : — 
 
 " We are Block-Islanders, you see. No connection 
 with the Wook.-head family. It is only a temporary expe- 
 dient to escape the heat of home for a few days, and try 
 what effect the change of air may have on our heads and 
 nerves. If it makes our heads wiser, and our nerves 
 stronger, it will pay. . . . We had a fine sail hither, and 
 it is as cool and beautiful this afternoon as one could 
 wish. 
 
 I've just been down by the sounding sea, 
 
 And watched the waves come in ; 
 And they murmured their sea-song tenderly, 
 
 As if they'd a soul within ; 
 And the rocks on the shore stood white and bare 
 
 Save their tresses of seaweed green, 
 And the ripples toyed with their tresses fair 
 
 As the tide rose and sunk again ; 
 And the heaving waves caught my thoughts away 
 
 From the pebbly sea-washed strand, 
 And wafted them over the watery spray 
 
 To the friends of a far-off land. 
 
MEMORIES, 107 
 
 " That is all the rhyming I can afford to do to-night 
 But I wish you could enjoy the sea view from our Spring 
 House veranda, as it stretches away, and spreads to the 
 right and left, and loses our gaze at last in the far east, 
 where the clear sun-line cuts the sky. It is beautiful, 
 and the air is cool ; and there is blue above, and blue 
 beneath. The young moon is in the west, and the stars 
 crop out one by one, — the thoughtful, faith-inspiring 
 stars of God. Nature is full of good suggestions, but the 
 buzz of conversation around us is little in harmony with 
 it. I wonder if Nature and human society are often in 
 harmony. Things seem sadly out of joint sometimes, 
 but I guess it is due to the perversity of poor human 
 nature chiefly. . . . 
 
 " I do hope the purpose you formed that Sunday even- 
 ing will prove a point of departure for a decided up- 
 grade, and a richer experience. Strike out into deeper 
 water, and trust the Lord to help you swim, and perhaps 
 even to walk on the water, by his mighty help. Forget 
 self, and go out after somebody who shall be a star in 
 the crown of your rejoicing." 
 
 On the morning of April 13, of this year, he had been 
 seized with a sudden and very severe chill, that was fol- 
 lowed by a fever, which kept him from his work for three 
 weeks. And though he seemed to recover fully from it, 
 and during the year to be as vigorous as usual, yet he 
 said himself afterward, " I think my health was breaking 
 in the summer of 1882. I am sure I was not myself 
 then, either physically or mentally. In no other way can 
 I account for certain experiences at that time." 
 
108 MEMORIES. 
 
 Jan. i, 1883, his diary says: " The transition to the 
 new year makes no jostle of earthly conditions. The 
 swing of the planet is peaceful and steady. Hope is still 
 the star in the east. Purpose still clings to the word of 
 God, and to the Saviour of men." 
 
 Jan. 28. — My day in college chapel. I go to the 
 duty with some different feelings from those I had at one 
 time. I would use the opportunity to deliver God's mes- 
 sage to man in a way that shall please him. The ranks 
 of Satan's army are full, and their vast numbers make 
 their very inertia immense in power. There is no hope 
 save in God, who can make " one to chase a thousand, 
 and two put ten thousand to flight." 
 
 Feb. 10. — We had a good meeting last night. Its 
 feature was the evident presence of the Holy Spirit in 
 unusual power. Thank God ! Oh that he would stir this 
 wicked place to its foundations ! Lord, awaken sinners. 
 
 This refers to one of the meetings of his church-class, 
 held on Friday night. That class was his Bethel. He 
 went to it weekly with the anticipation of a child to his 
 home ; and he left it with the refreshing of soul that 
 came from having met his Lord. He often wondered 
 how any one who knew what communion of saints meant, 
 or who had any sense of being lifted up by the power of 
 united faith into the presence of Jesus, could deny him- 
 self the privilege of attending a weekly religious class- 
 meeting. " I cannot understand it," he would say. " I 
 don't believe they are aware of the wonderful power of 
 Christian communion." How often he urged upon young 
 Christians the importance of improving this means of 
 grace in our church ! And to students, who sometimes 
 
MEMORIES. 109 
 
 pleaded want of time, he frequently quoted the example 
 of an associate professor, who had evidently lost no power 
 as a scholar, though during the four years of his college 
 course he was scarcely once missed from this weekly 
 meeting. 
 
 During the spring vacation, a cold and fever kept him 
 in bed for five days. On the day of opening the term, 
 he wrote : " My strength is not up to the normal, but I 
 guess I am strong enough to begin. Give me, O Lord, 
 a thankful heart for all I have, and grace to do all thy 
 will in future. Especially keep me from besetting sin." 
 
 June 1. — The beauty of the day is a promise for the 
 month. It will be one of trial and hard work. It will 
 need patience and self-control. I pray for help. With 
 all the conviction that to die is to live, it is hard work to 
 do it. 
 
 But the "trial and hard work " were of a different na- 
 ture from what he expected. That night he came home 
 severely chilled, and before morning was in a burning 
 fever, that kept him in bed during the whole month, and 
 in extreme suffering. Every effort to conquer the disease 
 seemed unavailing. Day by day suffering increased and 
 strength decreased, and night after night hope grew less ; 
 until, one midnight hour, he thought his work was done, 
 and he must make ready to go. Having expressed his 
 wishes as far as possible, with trembling voice he sang, — 
 
 " Abide with me ! fast falls the eventide, 
 The darkness deepens : Lord, with me abide. 
 When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
 Help of the helpless ! oh, abide with me." 
 
HO MEMORIES. 
 
 The Helper came, and disease yielded slowly to medi- 
 cal treatment. During the month of July he began to 
 move about his room, and finally gained strength to join 
 the family circle. One morning, after a bath, he sud- 
 denly discovered that there was no apparent action in his 
 right lung. His physician was called to examine it, who 
 at once acknowledged the fact, and gave little hope that 
 the organ would ever regain its use ; though, he said, 
 many years of life and labor might continue without it. 
 This was a terrible trial. "To make up one's mind," 
 he said, "that life henceforth is to be the life of an 
 invalid, a life of endurance, of crippled powers, unfit to 
 battle in the conflicts of strong men, is exceedingly 
 humiliating, and requires great store of grace." 
 
 July 2 7 he wrote the following, in a letter to a niece : 
 " I find, in looking over my unanswered letters, that your 
 last one is among the number. It was dated two days 
 before I was taken sick. . . . 
 
 " Since then I have been nearer than ever before, so 
 far as I know, to the great divide that separates the con- 
 tinents of life and death. One looks both ways in such a 
 case, and while the eye lingers on the familiar scenes and 
 faces of the sense-world, it also throws many glances at 
 the world unseen. The nearer view intensifies the inter- 
 est in the unexplored unknown, and begets heart-search- 
 ing in the depths where the soul's secrets and its real 
 condition have never been so fully realized before. So I 
 hope the discipline of sickness will make me a better man, 
 and more fit for heaven by and by." 
 
 The first week in August, with his family, he took the 
 little voyage from New York to Portland. He loved the 
 
MEMORIES. ill 
 
 sea, and all the effect of the voyage acted like a charm 
 upon his strength. Encouraged by this, we went to Old 
 Orchard, and spent two weeks looking for a continuance 
 of improvement. He hoped much from sea-bathing, in 
 which he had formerly revelled. Once, for a moment, he 
 tried its effect here, but only to be convinced he could 
 not endure it. The heat was oppressive, and he lost the 
 good gained on the voyage. 
 
 Thence we went to the summit of Mount Pleasant, 
 in Bridgeton, Me., and spent about ten days. These were 
 days of great encouragement. The air was health and 
 strength. The place was quiet and delightful. The guests 
 were intelligent and social. We strolled over the moun- 
 tain wilds, sat on the rocks and read in the sunlight, and 
 never tired of gazing at the grand array of White Moun- 
 tains that stretched all along the horizon, on the one 
 hand, or the varied summer scenery that lay, a bright 
 parorama, on the other. Oar time there was all too short ; 
 but the end of summer vacation drew near, and no argu- 
 ments could induce him to be away from his classes at 
 the beginning of the college year. He returned to his 
 post of duty, and persistently, throughout the year, prose- 
 cuted his usual work, though contending constantly with 
 physical weakness, and more or less pain. Changes in 
 the weather were keenly felt ; and other annoyances, that 
 formerly he met with cheerful courage, were heavy bur- 
 dens. This physical suffering affected his spiritual life, 
 so that the year was one of conflict, without the usual 
 victories. 
 
 Jan. 28, 1884, he wrote : — • 
 
 " ' Fight on, my soul, till death, 
 Nor lay thine armor down.' 
 
112 MEMORIES. 
 
 "Since that is God's will, it is best not to murmur, I 
 suppose, but try to keep step to the battle-march." 
 
 Jan. jo. — " ' These all died in faith.' The best men 
 of whom we have any record have gone down with no 
 other light. Let us not, then, complain, but accept the 
 doctrine as cheerfully as possible." 
 
 The following letter to his sister was written on Feb. 
 6: — 
 
 "It rains outside, and so I am cheated out of my 
 prayer-meeting. I'll have a quiet chat with you, then, 
 instead, and pay my debt. . . . 
 
 "I am glad the world has some good people in it. 
 Sometimes I think they are very few, — only just enough 
 to save it from another rain of fire and brimstone. This 
 is in my pessimistic moments, when the rascality of rum- 
 sellers, the greed of politicians, or the lying tricks of 
 all sorts of selfish people, absorb my thoughts. At other 
 times, I am ready to admit that there are a great many 
 people who are a great deal better than they seem to be, 
 and perhaps thousands on thousands who are the Lord's 
 freemen, though they seem to be Satan's slaves. This 
 is when my charity is in full bloom, and my estimate of 
 myself is far below zero. Which is the better view to 
 take, the nearest correct in point of fact, and the most 
 beneficial to us? Don't you ever catch yourself saying 
 to yourself, ' Well, if I can be saved, then nobody need 
 despair;' ' If so poor a Christian as I can be counted 
 one of God's children, then anybody can ' ? Maybe you 
 don't ; but I have occasional musings of that sort, and 
 don't feel like judging the meanest creature on earth. 
 Do you ever wonder how, in even the infinite power and 
 
MEMORIES. 113 
 
 mercy of God, he can make our vile human nature fit 
 for a holy heaven and the holy fellowship of Christ and 
 his saints ? It seems to me one of the greatest mysteries 
 of the plan of salvation. But then, of what use to dwell 
 on the mysteries of our faith ? The only way to get even 
 a crumb of comfort out of the plan of salvation is to 
 make faith the single, central, sole personal fact with our- 
 selves. Naked faith is the only reliance. We must per- 
 suade ourselves that it has ample foundation, and exercise 
 it. Let every thing else go. Shut eyes and ears and all 
 the senses to all the clamors of world, flesh, and Devil, 
 and be everlastingly content to be called fools, for Christ's 
 sake. I don't see that any harm can come of it. We 
 shall be as well off as those other fools who call us so. 
 They tread round in their little half-bushel of reason and 
 doubt and speculation, and never know any thing after 
 all. And the grave will soon end all, and test all. ' Let 
 me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end 
 be like his.' " 
 
 The diary of March 14 has : "What can be more de- 
 sirable for a human being, fully aware of the conditions 
 of that being, than to have a clear, unwavering faith in 
 the great doctrines of God, heaven, and immortality? 
 ' Lord, increase my faith.' The unbelief of our hearts is 
 amazing. The key to our indifference, our worldliness, 
 and our sinfulness, in many ways, is a practical unbelief 
 in what we profess to believe. We need to cultivate our 
 faith greatly." 
 
 March 5 he wrote again : — 
 
 " Probably the chief interest you will take in this letter 
 will be the consciousness that somebody, away off in the 
 
114 MEMORIES. 
 
 State of Connecticut, has remembered a debt, and pro- 
 ceeds to pay it. As to the matter of it, my brain is in 
 that comatose state when ideas are scarce or dormant. 
 But then, I console myself with the generous reflection 
 that ideas are scarce with most people at times ; and in 
 a good many cases, — though I should not dare to say it 
 of Plymouth people, — ideas are troublesome, and require 
 too much hard work to manage them. It is especially 
 hard to get up an original idea in this age of the world. 
 Pretty much all we have have filtered down through the 
 ages, and are either worn so smooth as to have no dis- 
 tinguishable stamp on them, or discolored by various 
 combinations, or are now and then purified and made 
 more usable. They go jingling along through the brains 
 of people, and sometimes get a new impetus, and strike 
 us more forcibly for having been re-minted and made 
 bright. It is probably fortunate that each generation 
 thinks itself wiser than the last, though it may be self- 
 flattery. It is not well to let hope die out of the genera- 
 tions, nor of the individuals who compose them. But 
 who can look at the contradictions and differences in 
 human opinion, at the theories advanced and abandoned, 
 at the guess-work of so-called philosophers, and the 
 quarrels of scientists, and be greatly encouraged at the 
 progress of absolute knowledge or the certainties of 
 human attainment? When we look at the condition of 
 human nature, we find that the story of sin and depravity 
 is ' the. old, old story' as truly as is the story of 'Jesus 
 and his love.' Verily, Solomon was right in saying, 
 ' There is nothing new under the sun.' Well, then, what 
 have we to do but make the best of the old ? Nothing, 
 of course. But it isn't always easy to know how to do 
 
MEMORIES. 115 
 
 it, that is the bother. We are continually making mis- 
 takes, even when we mean to do the best, to say nothing 
 of those errors that spring from perversity or selfishness. 
 What in the world should we do if we had no faith in 
 the compassion of Him who remembers that we are 
 dust? If we can only, amid all the perplexities and 
 discouragements about us, believe that our Father is 
 guiding us through all the mazes of our mystery, and 
 pardoning and pitying us in our ignorance and helpless- 
 ness, it is a consolation full of peace and rest. But, alas ! 
 the vast majority of us do not really believe it. We 
 think we do, but we do not. Such a faith must bring a 
 perfect willingness to let the world wag as it will, and 
 a perfect superiority to all the ups and downs, hithers 
 and thithers, of this storm-tossed life. Don't you think 
 so? Look the ground over, and see if faith is not the 
 immense lack of our earthly life." 
 
 April 4, he wrote in his diary : " In New York, at the 
 St. Denis. The usual feeling of loneliness in a great city 
 is upon me. Nobody knows, nobody cares for the 
 stranger. The world is nothing without love." 
 
 April 5. — Home again. It is always a joy to be wel- 
 comed after an absence, and home is a sweeter word 
 than ever, the nearer we get to the eternal home on high. 
 Lord, help me to live for that ! 
 
 April 6. — The burden of the morning communion- 
 service falls on me this conference Sunday. Thank God 
 for strength enough to bear it ! And, oh that wisdom 
 and grace may be given from God to make the service a 
 blessing to the people. 
 
Ii6 MEMORIES. 
 
 April 7. — He hears and answers prayer. Thanks be 
 to God for so much faith as I have. Oh that it were 
 vastly greater ! We start to-day for Conference. It is a 
 little perilous, but I hope for the defence and blessing of 
 God upon all. 
 
 This refers to the New- Hampshire Conference, which 
 opened its session at Manchester on April 9. He seemed 
 fully confident that it would be his last opportunity to 
 meet his own Conference, and he was very anxious to do 
 so "once more." All through the different exercises of 
 the week, there was recurring the same thought, — "It 
 will be the last time." He enjoyed it as a kind of con- 
 tinual leave-taking, growing every day more weary. April 
 15, he wrote : " At home. It seems very good to be in 
 the old haunts and paths. A little while, and the roaming 
 will cease forever. There will be a going-out without 
 return. Let me keep that day suitably in mind." 
 
 June 77. — The first sign of blood from throat, lungs, 
 or somewhere about my breathing apparatus, appeared 
 this morning. I am not sure but it is the beginning of 
 the end. There is no better way than to look every state 
 and every event calmly in the face. There are inevitable 
 things that cannot be turned aside, and some things that 
 can be averted by wisdom. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 CENTENNIAL OF MIDDLETOWN. — POEM.— VACATION. — DIARY. 
 — LETTER. — PARTIAL COLLEGE WORK. — " TO NELLIE ON 
 HER WEDDING-DAY." — BATTLE WITH DISEASE. —"WHAT IS 
 YOUR LIFE?" — OLD CHURCH. 
 
 ON July 14, 1884, the city of Middletown celebrated 
 its first centennial. No child in all the streets, 
 probably, anticipated the event more than did the invalid 
 professor. 
 
 Always fond of good music of any kind, he was espe- 
 cially charmed with martial music ; and combined with 
 this, the perfect order, steady tread, and uniform dress of 
 militia had a strange fascination that often quite over- 
 came him. Seated in an easy-chair so far down the 
 lawn in front of his door, as that he might be undisturbed 
 by the merry chatter of the group collected on the ve- 
 randa, he remained motionless as company after company 
 of the long pageant trooped by, until, fearing he might 
 become exhausted, I ventured to steal beside him. The 
 tears were rolling down his cheeks ; and when I said, 
 " Are you having a good time?" with childish satisfac- 
 tion he replied, " Oh, yes ; don't interrupt me," and con- 
 tinued in that rapt state during the whole hour in which 
 the procession was passing. Afterward he said, " Maybe 
 you think it weak ; but I cannot explain the strange 
 power military music and display has over me." He 
 longed to contribute something to the success of the 
 
Il8 MEMORIES. 
 
 interesting day ; and after composing a hymn, which was 
 sung on the occasion, he wrote the following little poem, 
 which he said was of no use except to gratify his own 
 interest : — 
 
 On this green slope of beauty rare, 
 
 Laved by the river's happy flow, 
 Sprung to its birth a city fair, 
 
 This day a hundred years ago. 
 
 Not massive wall, nor moat, nor tower, 
 
 Were its foundation and defence; 
 But men of heart, and men of power, 
 
 Girded with God's omnipotence. 
 
 For civic weal in Christian lands, 
 And arts of peace with laws benign, 
 
 No bulwarks need, or mail-clad bands, 
 But virtue's arm and truth divine. 
 
 A hundred years through sire and son, 
 Of honest toil with hand and brain, 
 
 Of wealth increased and honors won, 
 Of life and death, of woe and pain. 
 
 A hundred years of honored share 
 Among her peers in war and peace ; 
 
 In war her country's flag to bear, 
 In council wise when wars should cease. 
 
 Let but her classic shades abide, 
 
 Let busy arts find here a home, 
 Religion be her people's guide, 
 
 In generations yet to come ; 
 
 Then not a hundred years alone 
 Shall celebrate her honored name ; 
 
 Not ancient Troy, nor haughty Rome, 
 Shall equal her enduring fame. 
 
 
MEMORIES. Iig 
 
 Two days later, he started with his family on a long 
 vacation trip which he had planned, to include visits to 
 several of his kindred \ saying, " If I can endure it, it will 
 be a great satisfaction to me, as well as to them, to look 
 in on their homes once more." Setting his will at defi- 
 ance to pain and fatigue, he entered into all the sources 
 of enjoyment with cheerfulness, determined to make this 
 — our last pleasure-trip — the happiest of them all. He 
 revelled in the novelties of the new home of his only 
 brother in Bradford, Penn., studying with interest the 
 wonders of that strange oil-region, watching the perilous 
 process of " shooting " an oil-well, examining with par- 
 ticular minuteness the noted Kinzua bridge, three hun- 
 dred and one feet in height, — said to be the highest in 
 the world, — joined with delight in the family concerts, 
 and the rehearsals of old-time experiences. On July 28, 
 for the first time in many months, and the last time in his 
 life, he preached a sermon, from Luke xviii. 8. Thence 
 we went to the homes of his step-mother and his two sis- 
 ters in Syracuse, N.Y., where all that loving hearts could 
 devise rendered the days happy. A visit to the salt- 
 works, a picnic on the lake-shore, rides about the delight- 
 ful city, all added to the pleasure of kindred communion. 
 The journey continued then by way of Thousand Island 
 Park, St. Lawrence and its wonderful rapids, and Mont- 
 real, to St. Johnsbury, Vt., " the home of his boyhood." 
 Here resting for a day, he called on all who remembered 
 the " Calvin " of earlier years. The warm greetings and 
 pleasant rehearsal of memories, the visit to the house 
 where he was born, the familiar sound of the rushing mill- 
 dam, a stroll over the old farm, and especially a ramble 
 in First Woods, where, seated by the cool spring, he re- 
 
120 MEMORIES. 
 
 called the scenes of his childhood and youth, — all 
 these rendered the time sacredly delightful. Then a few 
 pleasant days in the home of a sister-in-law in New 
 Hampshire, and a few more of sympathy with a sadly 
 bereaved brother-in-law, and we reached our home, Aug. 
 25, finding that the journey had not apparently depleted 
 his strength. 
 
 Sept. 11, the diary says : "Term begins. By the grace 
 and mercy of God, I am able to begin my college work. 
 May the same grace and mercy continue and help me 
 to do all I do ' heartily, as unto the Lord, and not as 
 unto men.' Oh for Divine help all the time ! " 
 
 Sept. 15. — Fighting the cold weather with poor con- 
 dition of body, and no provision for the severe begin- 
 nings of cold weather at college. It is a little hard to 
 stand the strain. I'll do my best, with God's help. 
 
 Sept. 16. — But here I am at home sick, disabled, 
 and my work goes by the board. Well, I must make the 
 best of it, and still trust in the Lord, and wait. 
 
 Sept. 24, in a letter to his brother, he says, — 
 
 " I am not feeling very mighty to-day, so you may not 
 get a very eloquent letter. I got a mysterious pull-back 
 just before that hot spell came on, and all through that 
 I was pretty flat. But, three or four days before the term 
 began, I began to pick up, and felt pretty well. I com- 
 menced my work in college with a good deal of courage 
 and hope. But alas ! that cold snap ! It took me down 
 worse than the ' killing frost ' in Dick Farnham's decla- 
 mation. So, since last Monday, I've been an unwilling 
 prisoner at home. I hardly know what ails me. The 
 
MEMORIES. 121 
 
 last cold, I think, is about conquered ; but the dregs of 
 a fever seem to be hanging about me, which I would a 
 good deal rather see hanging in some other place. The 
 thing doesn't budge, and I'm in for an enforced absence 
 from my classes, whereat the scowl of impatience and 
 the smile of submission are, I fear, ludicrously mingled. 
 Such is the situation with this child." 
 
 When about to resume his classes, his associate profess- 
 ors most kindly arranged to relieve him from one class 
 during the term, leaving him only two, that recited on 
 alternate days. This amount of work, then, he assumed 
 on Oct. 9, and prosecuted it during the remainder of the 
 college year. 
 
 During the whole month of December, there was an 
 apparent improvement in his health, which so encour- 
 aged him, that he wrote on Dec. 25 : — 
 
 "Merry Christmas. In good health as a household, 
 in peace and plenty, in love and fellowship with all, in 
 good hope of everlasting life through Christ, whom we 
 adore to-day, I find abundant reason for sacred gratitude 
 and innocent mirth." 
 
 Early in January, however, the persistent hand of dis- 
 ease grasped tighter, and every day was one of weariness 
 and struggle. On Jan. 27, in a letter to his sister, after 
 speaking of others in the household, he says, — 
 
 " As for me, the third and most important member of 
 this large and noted household, I have eaten and drunken, 
 lounged and slept, done considerable coughing, read 
 Latin, heard one recitation at college, written two letters, 
 read the papers, and received calls. Probably this de- 
 
122 MEMORIES. 
 
 scribes to you the state of my health as well as if I should 
 go into a technical diagnosis, with the proper thumpings 
 of breast, back, and bowels, and report to you item by 
 item. I am battling for life and health, just as all the 
 rest of the world are, and grim Death at last gets the 
 seeming victory. 
 
 " By death I shall escape from death, 
 And life eternal gain." 
 
 Feb. 3, his journal has this entry : — 
 
 " Nellie Prentice Merrill died yesterday morning, and 
 is to be buried to-day. The long struggle is over, and 
 she is at home. 'I shall see you when I get home/ 
 were her last words to me. Does she see? " 
 
 Nellie was one of his favorites. The great sorrow that 
 came into her child-life, the beauty of soul it developed, 
 her early-wasting health, her resolute braving of disease, 
 her happy marriage only about a month before she went 
 home, — all these he had watched with loving interest. 
 On the morning of her marriage he sent her the follow- 
 ing little poem : — 
 
 TO NELLIE, ON HER WEDDING-DAY. 
 
 Yes, it's only a holy linking 
 
 Of hearts long since one in love, 
 Just a seal divine, I'm thinking, 
 
 In the register up above. 
 
 But it pledges an arm strong and tender, 
 
 A resting-place on a stout heart, 
 In sickness or health a defender ; 
 
 A soul-joy naught else can impart. 
 
MEMORIES. 123 
 
 So the Christmas-tide blessing be on you, 
 And the new year bring with it new life ; 
 
 And the perils that threaten the maiden 
 Flee away, now the maid is a wife. 
 
 And when the good Father shall sever 
 
 The bond that he hallows to day, 
 His bridal shall bless you forever 
 
 With pleasures that pass not away. 
 
 His diary, at this time, has frequent reference to his 
 own health : — 
 
 March 14. — The ailments of the body become in 
 time like the fetters of the slave, — almost a part of our- 
 selves. We shall never know complete freedom until the 
 clay-clods are shaken off. 
 
 March 21. — The desire to live, and the dread of 
 death are so strong in human nature, that the most terri- 
 ble pains and distress are endured rather than death. A 
 thousand deaths are suffered rather than one. If God be 
 for us, who can be against us ? If we try our best to 
 secure his favor and mercy, why not be at peace ? To 
 be on the anxious stretch is wearing and discouraging. 
 Keep a good conscience, and trust him for all. 
 
 April 10. — Went to prayers yesterday morning for the 
 first time since last September middle. Great praise to 
 the kind and preserving Father, who has given me health 
 and strength enough for it. 
 
 April 20. — The body feels the pressure of daily toil, 
 and the vigor of early life is wanting. It is a drag on 
 the physical man, in all these days, to accomplish the 
 work of life. But it is best to work. 
 
124 MEMORIES. 
 
 May j. — Lib's birthday, — threescore. Thank God 
 that she is in so good health, and has such good prospect 
 of added years. She will outlive me, probably, by a good 
 many years, but heaven re-unites. 
 
 On this day he accompanied a beautiful gift with the 
 following poem : — 
 
 " For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appear eth for a little 
 time, and then vanisheth away'* — Jas. iv. 14. 
 
 Sixty years of so-called vapor 
 Gone from life's mysterious mist; 
 
 Six decades of that strange fog-bank — 
 One more such completes the list. 
 
 Suddenly, on life's horizon, 
 
 Hung a cloud unseen before ; 
 Suddenly, on death's horizon, 
 
 Comes a cloud soon seen no more. 
 
 Sometimes like the cloud on Sinai, 
 With its tempest, fire, and smoke ; 
 
 Sometimes like the veil of darkness, 
 That on wondrous Calvary broke ; 
 
 Always like the desert pillar, 
 
 Israel's guide by day or night, 
 Hallowed by the living Presence, 
 
 Shedding forth his inner light ; 
 
 Sometimes like Elijah's cloudlet, 
 
 Token of the blessed rain, 
 That should fill the empty fountains, 
 
 And refresh the thirsty plain ; 
 
 Sometimes, in the revelations 
 Of the soul's diviner mood, 
 Like the cloud of glory covering 
 The transfigured Son of God. 
 
MEMORIES. 125 
 
 When thy cloud-life nears dissolving, 
 
 Sailing, sailing towards the west, 
 May it melt, 'mid evening splendors, 
 
 Into heaven's eternal rest. 
 
 May 77. — My birthday. Thanks be to God for fifty- 
 nine years of his ceaseless love, and unvaried forbearance, 
 and abundant temporal and spiritual gifts ; for home, and 
 friends, and friendships ! Lord, make the remainder rich 
 with love to thee. * 
 
 On the seventh day of June we enjoyed the commun- 
 ion service in our old Methodist Episcopal Church, — 
 that church hallowed by the ministrations of Fisk and 
 Olin, and where hundreds of faithful ones, since taken 
 home, had bowed to "drink the wine and break the 
 bread." I shall never forget the thought that crowded 
 into my mind, as we knelt side by side at the altar : 
 " You will no more together celebrate your Lord's death 
 1 till He come: " 
 
 The following Saturday morning has this note in his 
 diary : " Karl's birthday, and he is home to enjoy it with 
 us. Thanks be to God, who has spared him and us till 
 now. It is marked by the burning of the Methodist 
 Church, which burned this morning. Now for a new 
 one." 
 
 His sorrow at the fire was less marked than might have 
 been expected, for he had long felt that the cause of God 
 and of Methodism was suffering from this unattractive 
 place of worship. He said, a little time before, when 
 money was being expended to rejuvenate it somewhat, 
 " We ought to build a new one, but we never shall unless 
 the Lord burns this old one down." Evidently he had a 
 
126 MEMORIES. 
 
 half belief, at least, that in this way God had indeed come 
 to rescue his own cause. At once he was full of zeal, in 
 his prayers and plans, for rebuilding the walls of Zion, 
 and of regrets that he had not strength to devote to 
 earnest work for it. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 ALUMNI MEETING AT TILTON. — EXTRACTS FROM POEM. 
 
 EARLY in this year he had been solicited to write a 
 poem to deliver at the forty-first alumni gathering 
 at the old seminary where he spent the first eight years 
 after graduation. He had consented conditionally, and 
 during the spring months, little by little, as his strength 
 would allow, he had written it. As the time approached, 
 his friends felt assured that it was too perilous an under- 
 taking. But his friendships were the dearest things in 
 life, and he longed to meet the old students and profes- 
 sors once again. He wanted to go to that first home 
 where he began domestic life, and the life of teaching 
 that he had continued for thirty-three years, and give it a 
 final blessing and farewell. He pleaded that, instead of 
 injuring, he thought the journey, carefully taken, would 
 be such a break in the fatigues of examination and com- 
 mencement, that it would prove favorable. Accordingly, 
 with the utmost care, the journey was made. The old first 
 home was open to receive us. Though our Father had 
 taken thence to himself the honored one, who, in former 
 days, was our kind and genial host, yet the warmest wel- 
 come and tenderest ministrations were given to the re- 
 turning invalid. Carefully carried to the Seminary Hall, 
 he took his place on the platform, and, with the determi- 
 nation almost of desperation, he stood an hour before his 
 
128 MEMORIES. 
 
 audience, making the last public literary effort of his life. 
 Below are a few extracts from the poem, which was 
 entitled — 
 
 THE SCHOOL OF LIFE. 
 Some teachers never die. Kearsarge, 
 That yonder keeps its solemn charge, 
 Lifts its bald head and furrowed brow, 
 Looks calmly on the valleys now 
 As when the centuries had their birth, 
 And God from chaos spoke the earth. 
 Over the vales and streams below, 
 Where generations come and go, 
 It stretches forth its hand benign, 
 Utters its lessons all divine, 
 Echoes God's voice, tells men to be 
 Strong as the hills, as breezes free ; 
 O'er low-born grovelling to rise, 
 Like mountain heights to meet the skies. 
 
 And Winnipiseogee's healthful stream, 
 Born in broad waters, where the gleam 
 Of mountain sunsets gilds the wave 
 That ripples low, or leaps to lave 
 The island's green and grassy shore — 
 How, rushing seaward evermore, 
 It tells us of the stream of time, 
 The eternal sea, in rippling rhyme; 
 Of constancy and quiet power, 
 And cheerful labor every hour ! 
 
 Nor mount and stream alone : the sky 
 That arches earth, the fiery eye 
 Of day, the tender orb of night, 
 The twinkling worlds of starry light, — 
 Each from its magisterial seat 
 Speaks its own language, clear, replete 
 With wisdom for the du!le>t soul 
 That humbly aims for wisdom's goal. 
 
 So, when the years their work have wrought, — 
 Buried the teacher and the taught, 
 
MEMORIES. 129 
 
 Reared watching tombstones o'er the grave 
 Where sighing pines and cypress wave, 
 Wrinkled fair brows, silvered the head, 
 Given nimble feet a tottering tread, 
 Set on the noblest mould of clay 
 The seal of time, death, and decay, — 
 Standing where once, in other years, 
 Life knew its cares and hopes and fears ; 
 'Mid scenes the same, yet not the same, 
 Old and yet new, except in name ; 
 'Tis sweet, when memory wakes the past, 
 Revives the dreams that could not last, 
 When voiceless shadows fill the place 
 That living forms were wont to grace, 
 To find some things that ne'er grow old, 
 That tell the tales they've always told. 
 That far-off mount and stream near by 
 Tell us " some teachers never die." 
 
 Alas that the Christian home in its ideal 
 Should be so far distant from home in the real ! 
 Let man make the home what his Maker designed it, 
 And for making the man it leaves all schools behind it. 
 The house may be palace or hovel, no matter ; 
 The table-ware, silver or worn wooden platter; 
 The walls, grimed with smoke, of rude logs put together, 
 Or solid of marble, and proof against weather; 
 The windows of holes, and the latch-string of leather, 
 The lawn but a sand-heap, the stable a tether ; 
 Or windows and doors of glass heavily plated, 
 And lawn just a paradise newly created : 
 Not these make the home, neither place nor surrounding, 
 But warm and true hearts, in affection abounding. 
 Yet outward adornment will match with the inner, 
 Just as virtue inside is not outside a sinner; 
 And beauty without will give instant impression 
 What kind of a home sits in inward possession. 
 
130 MEMORIES. 
 
 The dooryard, well kept with its violets and roses, 
 The spirit and temper within well discloses. 
 There love is enthroned, with authority blended, 
 By firmness and patience and such like attended. 
 The child renders ready and willing obedience 
 "When the wish of the parent requires his allegiance ; 
 And varied amusement, good music, good reading, 
 With thousand amenities, mutual love breeding, 
 Make home of all places the sweetest in pleasure, 
 With dividends richer than mines of hid treasure, 
 While a spirit divine as the true breath of heaven 
 Takes God and his Word as the household's pure leaven. 
 
 Let this darksome picture pass, and give brighter scenes a chance. 
 
 On the panoramic field let the common school advance. 
 
 From the turmoil of the town, with its atmosphere of death, 
 
 Let us drink the draughts of life in the country's wholesome breath. 
 
 Take a glance at the foundation of a free and happy state, — 
 
 The humble rustic schoolhouse, insignificant yet great. 
 
 On the slope beyond the village, or, if village there be none, 
 
 On the grass-plat at the cross-roads, or by mossy ledge of stone, 
 
 At the bottom of the hillside where the brook comes tumbling down, 
 
 And the raspberry-canes with blushing fruit the pasture hillocks 
 
 crown, 
 By the pond where leaps the trout, and the dripping swallow flies, 
 And among the smooth green pads the cradled lily lies, — 
 On the hill and in the vale, everywhere through all the land, 
 These humble, mighty schoolrooms with their hidden forces stand. 
 Take a glance within the room, with its walls of wood or brick, 
 Where some honest man or maiden wields the sceptre and the 
 
 stick ; 
 Where cheerful childhood faces greet the teacher's kindly look, 
 As they tell the lessons over they have gathered from the book. 
 Here the country's future freemen learn what freemen ought to 
 
 know, 
 And reveal the lines of promise which the coming years will show. 
 Yonder bench supports a statesman, now on ardent study bent; 
 This, a judge, who'll wear the ermine ; that, a future president; 
 
MEMORIES. 131 
 
 Or, since all can't be presidents, nor wear a judge's wig, 
 They will at least be qualified, though really not so big. 
 And if the farm, the forge, the mill, shall be their after sphere, 
 They'll tell the tale with pride, no doubt, that they were tutored 
 here. 
 
 Turn we now another leaf 
 Of these picture-pages brief. 
 'Twill occasion no surprise 
 If the college meet your eyes. 
 Goal of many a boyish dream, 
 Goal of many a thought the theme ; 
 To imagination's eye 
 Clothed with awful majesty, 
 Like to Delos' sacred shrine 
 With its oracle divine. 
 Here grave doctors sit in state, 
 Dropping wisdom in debate ; 
 Learned professors stuffed with lore, 
 All the ancients knew, and more ; 
 Libraries, whose ivied walls 
 Gather in their ample halls 
 Alcoves piled with ponderous tome, 
 Shrining ancient Greece and Rome ; 
 Or in far less dusty page 
 Wise words from the modern sage. 
 Thus to Fancy's distant view 
 Men and things wear golden hue, 
 And to young Ambition's dream 
 Common things superior seem. 
 But college walls are only walls, 
 College halls like other halls. 
 Men who tread on college ground, 
 When you know them, will be found 
 Just like men of common mould, — 
 Some of putty, some of gold. 
 Think not that the college mill 
 Grinds out wise men, will or nill, 
 
132 MEMORIES. 
 
 Nor that every grist contains 
 Quite the maximum of brains. 
 What the hopper first receives, 
 That the whirling mill-stone gives ; 
 'Tisn't in the college plan 
 That mere grinding makes the man. 
 Let the lazy dude go in, — 
 Hat and cane and bosom-pin; 
 If he stand the wear and tear 
 Of the grinding process there, 
 He'll come out as he went in, — 
 Hat and cane and bosom-pin. 
 
 Christian faith and Christian prayer, 
 Christian sacrifice and care, 
 Holy fire the anointing chrism, 
 Holy tears the rich baptism, 
 Founded colleges and schools, 
 Made them freedom's sacred tools, 
 Laid their corner-stones in truth, 
 Fills them with our noble youth, 
 Sends these, trained in heart and mind, 
 Forth, a blessing to mankind, 
 Trained in heart with pious care 
 By the frequent voice of prayer 
 Daily heard at common shrine, 
 Daily honoring Power Divine. 
 Thus, if the good the bad outweighs, 
 Give the whole due meed of praise. 
 Shall a few wrecks on the shore 
 Furl all sails forevermore ? 
 Shall some drones with lazy feet 
 Poison all the honey sweet ? 
 If bad men good things abuse, 
 Shall good men have none to use ? 
 Schools of learning are the stream 
 Which the desert wastes redeem; 
 
 
MEMORIES, 133 
 
 Or the dew and grateful rain, 
 Fertilizing all the plain. 
 Lo ! their fruitage everywhere 
 Touching us like balmy air; 
 Light diffused in myriad homes, 
 Light condensed in myriad tomes ; 
 Sweetening leaven of Church and State, 
 Comforter of small and great ; 
 Rills of life from heavenly sources, 
 Blessing all in all their courses. 
 Palsied be the recreant arm — 
 Let all good men take the alarm — 
 That would break the holy tie 
 Linking them to God on high, 
 From their walls the Bible tear, 
 Hush therein the voice of prayer ! 
 But, religion's handmaid mild, 
 As they are religion's child, 
 Let the child and mother, too, 
 Fight the peaceful battle through, 
 Till the King of peace shall reign 
 Over land and stream and main. 
 
 Somewhere in life's curriculum, 
 Ordained by Him who knows us best, 
 Sorrow, dark-browed, unbars her room, 
 And bids us follow her behest. 
 We dread to cross that threshold drear, 
 Our feet reluctant tread her halls, 
 Hung with the drapery of fear, 
 Where every sight and sound appals. 
 The furniture adds more dismay, 
 The shroud, the casket, and the pall, 
 The hearse with raven plumes that play 
 And nod their grim adieus to all. 
 Groans are the music echoing down 
 From brazen roof and walls of art ; 
 
134 MEMORIES. 
 
 Tears are the tide of sorrow's moan, — 
 
 The blood-drops of a broken heart. 
 
 Patience is oft the lesson set, 
 
 And Pain the teacher strong and stern ; 
 
 While Woe bids Pride its pride forget, 
 
 And Grief bids Joy her tasks to learn. 
 
 What form is that, grim, gaunt, and pale, 
 
 We gaze upon with bated breath, 
 
 Whose shadow wakes a smothered wail ? 
 
 It is the dreaded teacher, Death. 
 
 Hush ! he has hurled his fatal dart : 
 
 What words can agony employ ? 
 
 What still the mother's bursting heart ? 
 
 O God ! it was my only boy. 
 
 Hush ! still that form relentless speeds, 
 
 Nor heeds the look that pleads though mute ; 
 
 That stroke puts on a widow's weeds, 
 
 And orphaned children are its fruit. 
 
 Hush ! still glides on that stealthy tread, 
 
 While pallor blanches every cheek; 
 
 Beauty and strength are with the dead ; 
 
 Eyes look the grief they cannot speak. 
 
 In yonder churchyard, 'mid its graves, 
 
 Sad Meditation turns her feet, 
 
 Where willows weep and cypress waves,. 
 
 And Sorrow rears her chosen seat. 
 
 Hard problems, and hard lessons too, 
 
 Beyond the skill of human ken, 
 
 Affliction sets for me and you, 
 
 And all the living sons of men. 
 
 Leave them unsolved. No mortal can 
 
 Explain the things with mystery rife ; 
 
 Wait for the Master's voice, " I am 
 
 The resurrection and the life." 
 
 Some teachers never die. Kearsarge, 
 That yonder keeps his silent charge, 
 
MEMORIES. 135 
 
 And Winnipiseogee's cheerful roar 
 
 Adown its slant and rocky floor, 
 
 Like yonder starry heavens do tell 
 
 His glory and his work full well. 
 
 Day unto day hath voice for man, 
 
 Night unto night reveals his plan; 
 
 Their line encircles all the earth, 
 
 Their voice wherever man has birth ; 
 
 His works in earth or heaven make known 
 
 What the eternal God hath done, 
 
 Nor cease until this goodly frame 
 
 Shall vanish in the final flame. 
 
 Are breathless things more deathless than 
 
 The living soul — immortal man? 
 
 More true, 'some teachers never die,' 
 
 Of mount and stream and starry sky, 
 
 Than him whose life is God's own breath, 
 
 Made to be victor over death ? 
 
 Is Barrows dead ? Nay, rather, shrined 
 
 In countless throbbing hearts, that bind 
 
 The laurel wreath upon his head ; 
 
 Pilgrims that oft in memory tread 
 
 Where sighing pines their watches keep 
 
 Above his bodys dreamless sleep. 
 
 As pulses of the viewless light, 
 
 That ceaseless chase the flying night, 
 
 His words of eloquence sublime 
 
 Shall live and work till latest time. 
 
 And when the voice on sea and shore 
 
 Proclaims that time shall be no more, 
 
 The guerdon of his work-shall be 
 
 A twofold immortality. 
 
 And Latimer, the noble-souled, 
 With learning's princes high enrolled, 
 Strong in his gentleness, and great 
 In gifts to bless or Church or State, — 
 Has that fine soul forever fled 
 To Auburn, citv of the dead ? 
 
136 MEMORIES. 
 
 Lives he not yet, lives he not long, 
 In human hearts, on human tongue ? 
 Will not his words from wisdom's seat, 
 The future generations greet, 
 Caught up like echoes far away, 
 To linger till the eternal day ? 
 
 Life's varied schools and discipline 
 Are all ordained by Power Divine. 
 He built the earth, and spread the sea, 
 And hung the starry canopy ; 
 A schoolroom for the human race, 
 Where each should take his proper place, 
 Learners in all of earthly lore 
 That fits us for an earthly shore. 
 
 Then the great Teacher came to show 
 What mortal knowledge could not know ; 
 To say to all men, ' Learn of me 
 The lore of immortality.' 
 And some day, on his cloudy throne, 
 He'll come to number up his own, 
 To place them in the school on high, 
 Where pupils also never die. 
 That all this company be there, 
 Shall be your humble poet's prayer." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 EXAMINATIONS AND COMMENCEMENT. — PROFESSOR EMERI- 
 TUS.— INCREASING WEAKNESS. —THE LORD'S LEADING.— 
 MUSIC. 
 
 HAVING thus accomplished his purpose, he returned 
 to Middletown the following day. June 19, he 
 wrote : " Home again ! How sweet the word ! The Lord 
 has given me strength thus far. Now for another hard 
 day. But 'as thy days, so shall thy strength be.' Lord^. 
 help me to take the promise. " 
 
 The three examinations he would have had on three 
 successive days, must be, from his absence, crowded 
 into this one. But though his kind colleagues begged 
 to relieve him of the work, he said, " No : I have fin- 
 ished my year thus far, I will not fail at the end." 
 
 He attended the three examinations in college, fin- 
 ished computing the standing of his classes, and passed 
 in his report, as was his custom at the close of every 
 term. He examined the proof of the " Obituary Record 
 of the Alumni of the University," which he had pre- 
 pared, — a work he had done annually since 1863; and 
 when all was accomplished, then he meant to rest. Sat- 
 urday morning, the 20th, he wrote : " Sustained to do the 
 necessary work of yesterday, and apparently no worse for 
 it. To-day I hope to rest. Oh, how good the word 
 seems ! It seems to me I never knew what it was to be 
 tired till now." Still he hoped that the vacation would so 
 
138 MEMORIES. 
 
 recruit him that he might be able to take at least as 
 much and perhaps more work the next year than he had 
 done in the last. But the record in his diary on the 24th 
 of the same month is as follows : — 
 
 " Who knoweth what a day may bring forth ? I am 
 suddenly made professor emeritus, without work, on half 
 pay. It is probably the wisest course, and the best for 
 me. So the Lord's will be done, and may I be the 
 better." 
 
 The evening before, as he returned exhausted from a 
 ride to the society receptions, he found awaiting him 
 two of the trustees of the college, who announced to 
 him the above fact. Though he received it with appar- 
 ent calmness, it was like an unexpected thunderbolt. 
 "Why," said he when they left, "what are we to do ? 
 I am without any warning thrown out of my work, and my 
 means of support half cut off." — I said, "We must live 
 on the half, then." — "We cannot do it," said he, "it is 
 impossible. We have never, since we kept house, lived 
 on so little as that, and with the great increase of expense 
 resulting from my sickness it is impossible. And what 
 does it all mean?" he continued. "It indicates very 
 plainly what others think of my case. Evidently, in their 
 opinion, my life-work is done." For a few days the 
 cloud was heavy upon him. Then he began to see the 
 silver lining, and to see God out of the thick darkness. 
 He said, " After all, it is all of the Lord. I do not want 
 to remain in my place in college to be a hinderance to 
 its prosperity. Others probably understand better than I 
 can, what is best in this matter. So, though I did want 
 to stand at my post as long as possible, probably it is 
 
MEMORIES. 139 
 
 better thus. The trustees are under no legal obligation 
 to give me any thing. A half loaf is far better than 
 none." And so his prayers were changed to praises, and 
 he repeatedly expressed afterward his belief that the 
 hand of the Lord was in it all. 
 
 He attended a part of the exercises of commencement 
 day, greeted with pleasure many old friends, and enjoyed 
 heartily the guests in his home, especially his old-time 
 friends Professor H. B. Lane and wife. It was the chair 
 of the genial and generous Professor Lane that he took 
 on first coming to his work in Wesleyan, and he ex- 
 pressed great gratification that he was able to entertain 
 them in his home once more. When all was over, and 
 the stimulus of the yearly festival gone, he began to 
 realize more fully his weakness. He and Professor 
 Westgate had a few weeks before engaged rooms for 
 themselves and families for a few weeks in a house 
 together at the Adirondacks. Both found the project 
 must be abandoned. The news of Professor Westgate's 
 death reached him on July 29, and was a great surprise 
 and shock. " I had no idea/' said he, " that he was so 
 far gone. He is at rest, and is to be envied for his calm 
 repose." Only a day later, Professor J. C. Burke was 
 also laid away to rest. Mr. Harrington was very desir- 
 ous to attend both these burial-services, but reluctantly 
 gave it up, as his strength was quite unequal to the strain 
 upon his emotions. So close together these two whom 
 he admired and loved were taken home ! He said, 
 " The fighting for life and health goes on, but it seems 
 sometimes a useless warfare. Death marches on. The 
 influential and wealthy do not escape. The young and 
 strong are seized." 
 
140 MEMORIES. 
 
 Time unoccupied began to be burdensome, and the 
 heat of summer was exceedingly oppressive to his weak- 
 ness. He said, " My work must be to endure, chiefly, 
 yet something useful and helpful may be done to some- 
 body." 
 
 A visit from his youngest sister greatly relieved the 
 tediousness of two or three weeks. The hours were filled 
 with delightful communion, and a union of faith and 
 prayer. " What would the world be," said he, " without 
 the loves and charities of men? It is one of God's 
 richest bestowments to give us kind friends." When she 
 left he noted it in his diary, adding, " It is not very likely 
 I shall ever see her again in this world. We have had a 
 pleasant visit, and I am thankful for having had her with 
 us for a while." 
 
 On the morning of Aug. 10, he wrote in his diary : 
 " Thirty-three years ago to-day 1 How different the 
 situation ! What a world of good things has been the 
 outcome of that day ! The years of the generation have 
 been full of blessing." 
 
 We talked that day of all the way God had led us ; 
 and he exclaimed, " If ever a man had cause for grati- 
 tude to God for thirty-three years of blessedness, I am 
 he." I answered, "We have had a great many good 
 times together." — "Oh," said he, "they have been all 
 good ; they have been constantly growing better, and 
 these last times are the very best of the whole." 
 
 His confidence in the special care and leading of 
 Divine Providence was unwavering, and during the last 
 years was constantly increasing. During these summer 
 and autumn months, he spent much time in his hammock 
 in the grove in the rear of his home, either in conversa- 
 
MEMORIES. 141 
 
 tion, reading, or listening to reading. One day he said, 
 " Bring out the old letter-box, and let us look over our 
 past a little." For several days thereafter, we found this 
 a pleasant pastime. Selecting here and there different 
 epochs in our history, we called up the circumstances, 
 and remembered the questionings and the motives that 
 had influenced our course, and the helplessness with 
 which we had asked God's guidance ; and here now, 
 standing on the elevation of experience, we could see 
 plainly the wonderful pillar of cloud by day, and of fire 
 by night, that in all the years had safely led us on. 
 Again and again he exclaimed, " I can account for it in 
 no other way. It was the hand of God." And this 
 was no cold theory to him. God's presence and God's 
 love and God's especial care were living realities. This 
 little poem written on the night of Dec. 31, 1880, was 
 the expression of his sincerest faith : — 
 
 THE LORD'S LEADING. 
 
 " And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee." 
 — Deut. viii. 2. 
 
 Sitting by the whitening embers 
 
 Of the shivering, dying year, 
 Ah ! how well my soul remembers 
 
 All the way he led me here. 
 
 Sheltered by the Rock of Ages, 
 
 By Siloa's healthful tide, 
 Where no stormy tempest rages, 
 
 He hath led me by his side. 
 
 In the mines where God's hid treasure 
 
 Gleams in galleries of gold, 
 'Mid the wealth of his good pleasure, 
 
 He hath made my path unfold. 
 
142 MEMORIES. 
 
 Battling in the billowy sweetness 
 
 Of his mercy's ocean store, 
 I had drowned, o'erwhelmed with riches ; 
 
 But he led me to the shore. 
 
 When the path grew dark with sorrow, 
 
 Still I held his loving hand ; 
 And he gave a brighter morrow, 
 
 Brought me to a pleasant land. 
 
 Every step my Lord hath led me, 
 
 Through the swiftly circling y6ar ; 
 All the way his bounty fed me, 
 
 Soothed my sadness, calmed my fear. 
 
 Thankful, him my soul remembers, 
 
 Sitting by the hearthstone here, 
 Where the slowly whitening embers 
 
 Maik the shivering, dying year. 
 
 One of these days he spoke of the probability that he 
 could not remain with me much longer. I said, " If I 
 could go with you, I would be satisfied to have it so." — 
 " Yes, we would love to go together," he answered ; 
 " but that would make it too sad for Karl. I should 
 like to live to see him happy in a home of his own. I 
 cannot expect it ; but I want you to live to encourage 
 and help him until he has his own family, and is well 
 established in life." His diary of Aug. 22 says, " Karl 
 left us this morning for Wilbraham. It seems hard to be 
 without him ; but the best thing for him is to go out 
 alone, and battle with the world. God bless him with 
 the indwelling Spirit ! " 
 
 The loneliness of the following week was relieved by 
 a visit from his only brother. Lying in his hammock 
 
MEMORIES. 143 
 
 while his brother sat by, they talked of their boyhood 
 and youth ; and many a time the old trees above them 
 echoed their hearty laughter as they recalled the sports 
 and freaks, adventures and escapes, of those early days. 
 Then they spun the thread on into manhood ; and their 
 voices grew solemn and tender, as they mingled their 
 words of Christian faith, and strengthened each other 
 with their firm, glad hope of an immortality together. 
 
 Aug. 2 7 he wrote in the diary : " Leonard left us last 
 night. The visit has been a very pleasant one. Is it 
 the last?" So it proved. 
 
 That day he seated himself at the organ, and ran over 
 the keys for some time, then scribbled a bit. Being 
 asked, "What are you doing ?" he laughed, and said, 
 " Listen, and I'll show you." Then he played and sang 
 to a tune he had just made the following words : — 
 
 " Lord, for to-morrow and its needs, 
 I do not pray ; 
 Keep me, my God, from stain of sin 
 Just for to-day. 
 
 " Let me both diligently work, 
 And duly pray ; 
 Let me be kind in word and deed, 
 Just for to-day. 
 
 " So for to-morrow and its needs, 
 I do not pray ; 
 But keep me, guide me, love me, Lord, 
 Just for to-day." 
 
 His brother-in-law had sent him the hymn to set to 
 music, a few weeks earlier ; and he had replied he was 
 too weak to attempt it. But now it relieved the sadness 
 
144 MEMORIES. 
 
 of the recent departure. Twice afterward, he went to 
 the organ, and sang and played the same thing. The 
 sentiment was a helpful one in his condition, and he 
 enjoyed it. Since his boyhood he had frequently prac- 
 tised the composition of music, and was in the habit of 
 cutting from papers bits of poetry that especially pleased 
 him, and adapting them to song. Dr. Warren's " Home- 
 ward Bound " was thus brought into use. He wrote the 
 music while teaching at Sanbornton Bridge, and sang it 
 often in social meetings. One of his pupils asked for a 
 copy of it, which he wrote for her. During vacation 
 she attended camp-meeting, and sang it. It was quickly 
 caught up by the musical brother Dadmun, and soon 
 came out in a volume of his, but with such change in 
 arrangement that the author never afterward enjoyed 
 singing it, except alone. 
 
 " The Lord will provide " was another written in the 
 same way; and in his last diary were left several little 
 stray poems, awaiting his leisure to put them to music. 
 Many songs he sang at funerals were in music that had 
 never been written, but lived only in his own soul of 
 melody. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FAILING PHYSICAL AND INCREASING SPIRITUAL STRENGTH.— 
 — "BORDER-LAND." — VISITS. — LETTERS. — KINDNESS OF 
 FRIENDS. — PREACHING. — HEART-SEARCHINGS. — BISHOP 
 FOSS. — DAY OF PRAYER. — NIGHT-EXPERIENCES. 
 
 ONE more entry in Mr. Harrington's diary, which 
 he had kept with scarcely an omission of a day, 
 except in sickness, for nearly a third of a century, and 
 the last he ever wrote, was made on Aug. 31 : " So ends 
 the month, and the summer. What a change it has 
 brought to many ! For me, the slow decline, and near- 
 ing steps of death. Yet the Lord is in it all. I will 
 praise him." During that week there had come a sud- 
 den failing of strength, that was very marked. He 
 thought the end was rapidly approaching, and with this 
 belief came a great uplifting of spirit. On Sunday, at the 
 hour for church service, I read to him, as was my cus- 
 tom, portions of Scripture, and other religious works of 
 his own selection. "Read me, to-day," said he, "the 
 fourteenth chapter of John." As I read, he continually 
 interrupted me with comments and praises, and tears of 
 joy. When I reached the twenty-seventh verse, he said, 
 " Oh, stop there ! I can't bear any more. That verse fills 
 me full, full. Glory to God ! " For an hour he contin- 
 ued in an ecstasy of joy ; and for days thereafter he was 
 full of joyous anticipations, thinking himself greatly favored 
 to be so near the beautiful home above. One morning 
 
146 MEMORIES. 
 
 he exclaimed, " I will praise the Lord at all times ; his 
 praise shall continually be in my mouth." Then added, 
 " I have no dread of death, but a calm rest in the Lord. 
 I do not think it is stupor, but it is what Dr. Ladd used 
 to call it, great peace ; a wonderful comfort. I have no 
 doubts, no fears, no dreads. I am in my Father's hands. 
 I have such a wonderful victory over the temptations 
 that all my life have been a curse to me. It seems to me 
 now, if I could go back, it would be so easy to put them 
 all under my feet." 
 
 Some one mentioned to him the little poem he had 
 written entitled "The Border- Land." He answered, 
 " The best thing about that is, it is all my own present 
 experience." 
 
 On the solemn border standing 
 
 Of the land unseen, unknown, 
 'Neath Death's shadow, hushed I listen 
 
 For the hymns around the throne. 
 Doubts and fears around me thronging 
 
 Swell the load of daily care : 
 Who shall satisfy my longing? 
 
 Who my burdens help to bear ? 
 
 Jesus comes ; his gentle finger 
 
 Lifts the load, and it is gone ; 
 Jesus comes ; where shadows linger, 
 
 Lo ! the purpling of the morn ; 
 And when trembling fear comes o'er me, 
 
 When 'mid doubts I scarce can pray, 
 If the Master stand before me, 
 
 Doubts and fears all melt away. 
 
 When my guilty soul sinks under 
 
 All the crushing weight of sin, 
 Jesus comes ; O joy and wonder ! 
 
 Strength and hope are back again. 
 
MEMORIES. 147 
 
 He gives victory in my conflict ; 
 
 He from sorrow sends release ; 
 When the gathering storm is darkest, 
 
 Jesus lifts the bow of peace. 
 
 One of the alumni came to call on his former teacher ; 
 and in reply to questions, Professor Harrington answered, 
 " My body is pretty weak, but it is well with my soul. 
 Cooper, I am just as happy as I can be." He was not 
 only happy in his religion now, but he was happy in every 
 thing, entering into all the topics of the day with pleasure. 
 
 During the months of September and October he 
 received visits from his eldest sister, his brother's wife, 
 and from a nephew who bore his name, and possessed 
 very nearly his own voice for singing. With great delight, 
 Mr. Harrington would lie on the lounge, selecting song 
 after song of his favorites, and listen to their rendering. 
 Kindred ties were especially sacred to him. In a letter 
 dictated to his sister, after her departure, he says, " May 
 the Lord bless your soul and body, and give you health 
 and peace ; and every member of your family be in- 
 cluded ! There is nothing I desire more for my kindred, 
 whom I love, than that they be kept in the love of God, 
 and have an abiding hope of eternal life. Next to that, 
 I wish them such worldly prosperity as will make them 
 comfortable in this life, and able to do good as they have 
 opportunity. My thoughts run to you and to your inter- 
 ests very often. I desire the health especially of the 
 household, and look in upon you in imagination, and fol- 
 low you in your daily life. I carry along in my thoughts, 
 and frequently recur with gratitude to, the loving atten- 
 tions and kindness that you have so often shown us, and 
 hope the Lord may reward you." 
 
148 MEMORIES. 
 
 In another letter, after speaking of the pleasure the 
 visits had given him, he said, "So all the blessings of 
 life show the exceeding mercies of God to make afflic- 
 tion light, and the burden of sickness less heavy to bear. 
 And mightier than all, for help and support, are the 
 everlasting arms that hold me constantly in their loving 
 embrace. God lets me have a clear light and a confident 
 trust. I cannot give you the details of my experience 
 beyond this. My health does not vary, that is, apparently, 
 from day to day. What the invisible progress of the dis- 
 ease is working, time only will tell ; and that I await with- 
 out fear or anxiety." 
 
 One Sunday he asked to hear Dr. Speaks article on 
 "The Heavenly Home," found in the "Independent" 
 of Oct. i, 1885. 
 
 After we had expressed our mutual adoption of its 
 sentiments, he said, " I am so glad that this is the faith 
 of us both, that we can rest in the Bible-promises, and 
 that they are so real to us. It is not God's plan to let 
 husband and wife go over the river of death together, 
 but we can go together to its edge ; and I can't help be- 
 lieving that there will be some little link that will hold 
 when we are in the two worlds. And the separation will 
 be short, — oh, so short/" Then, after a little, he added, 
 " I do hope I shall not get impatient. I hope I shall be 
 willing to wait all God's time. Whether it is only a 
 week, or I have to suffer on for months, it is all right, 
 all right. And I do hope I may be able to make God's 
 will my will, — to wait patiently." I said, "Would you 
 really rather go now, than to wait any longer? " — "If it 
 were God's will, — yes, oh, yes!" he answered. Then, 
 looking up, he said, " Only for the separations, I would 
 
MEMORIES, 149 
 
 be glad to go home now. It will be hard to leave you 
 and Karl, — I cannot think of that, — but that must come, 
 and it will make but little difference when. A short 
 separation, and then a whole eternity together." 
 I asked if he thought he was growing weaker. 
 "Sometimes I do," said he; "especially yesterday 
 and to-day. I am so tired!' 1 Once he said, " Oh, this 
 dreadful cough is so tiresome ! " then immediately 
 checked himself, and added, " But it is God's will, and 
 so it is my will." 
 
 During the following two or three weeks his strength 
 
 rallied again considerable. As I finished his toilet one 
 
 morning, he said, " How much longer will you have to 
 
 do all this for me ? — " How much longer shall I have 
 
 the privilege?" said I. "But if I should live on and 
 
 on for months? " he said. " For years I would be happy 
 
 in doing it, only for the grief of seeing you suffer," I 
 
 answered. He smiled, and said, "Well, I am thankful 
 
 that I do not have to suffer very seriously. If it were 
 
 not for this short breath, I could do considerable ; with 
 
 this, I can't do any thing ; but when I lie quiet I suffer 
 
 comparatively little, and no acute pain. I ought to be 
 
 so thankful ! " I spoke of the joy of having him here, 
 
 and said if I should allow my mind to dwell on his going 
 
 away, I could not care for him as he needed. " Oh, do 
 
 not do that : there is no need to anticipate sorrow," said 
 
 he. "Let us enjoy each other while we can. Let us 
 
 live in the present 'just for to-day.' " Then, referring to 
 
 his exultant joy a few weeks before, when he thought he 
 
 was going very soon, he said, " I do not need that now ; 
 
 but I have what I do need, — grace of patience to wait. 
 
 Just the grace needed will come just when and as we 
 
ISO MEMORIES. 
 
 need it." I said, " I am glad you do not wear an un- 
 happy or distressed face, as many sick ones do." He 
 replied, " I have too much confidence in God's constant 
 and minute care over me, to feel unhappy at any thing 
 he does." 
 
 He especially enjoyed the sacrament of the Lord's 
 Supper. I think he had the fulness of that experience 
 expressed by Dr. Cuyler in the words, "Sometimes at 
 the Lord's table, Jesus comes into the soul just as he did 
 into that upper chamber where the disciples were as- 
 sembled." On the first day of November, he said, " As 
 we cannot go to communion in the church to-day, we 
 must do the best we can to get the same blessings at 
 home. Read the fifty-first Psalm. That is such a full 
 confession of sin, and contrite humbling of soul, it seems 
 to me especially appropriate for us all at such a time." 
 His responses to it indicated his own contrition of spirit 
 before God. Then he asked for some of his favorite 
 hymns, — " There's a wideness in God's mercy." Oh, 
 with what pathos he repeated the lines, — 
 
 " And the heart of the Eternal 
 Is most wonderfully kind ! " 
 
 He greatly delighted in the reading of the Psalms. 
 " How full they are," said he, " of a settled, unwavering 
 confidence in God ! David seems not to have had a 
 shadow of a doubt of the reality and character of the 
 Creator. Read me Lucy's Psalm," — referring to the 
 121st, which a friend had quoted in a conversation with 
 him. After the reading, he said, "Now, see if I can 
 repeat it right." And having done so, he exclaimed, 
 "Oh, yes! my help cometh from the Lord." He called 
 
MEMORIES. 151 
 
 for several others, and finally said, " Now read me some 
 of the short ones, near the end of the book, that are all 
 full of praise." And his own praises were very fervently 
 added. He talked much of the " peace of God," and 
 tried to express what " the peace of God that passeth all 
 understanding " was to him. He finally summed it up 
 by : " ' It is Christ with us and Christ in us.' As I lay 
 coughing last night," he continued, "I thought, 'I know 
 now what the apostle meant by "joy unspeakable." ' I 
 used to wonder if I should ever understand it : now I 
 think I do. I know what it is. Praise the Lord ! " 
 
 He was exceedingly appreciative of any acts of kind- 
 ness received, and these acts were continually multiplied 
 by all about us. 
 
 When his strength so suddenly failed the last of August, 
 it became exceedingly difficult for him to go up-stairs, 
 and he could only do so by leaning very heavily with 
 both hands, and resting on each stair. Mr. Merrill, who 
 had taken his work in the Latin department, came often 
 to consult him, and cheer him with reports from his 
 classes. On the evening of Sept. 3, he proposed to help 
 him up-stairs, saying, " I can carry you up, professor, in 
 my arms." Mr. Harrington laughed at the idea as prepos- 
 terous ; but his friend persisted, and with much pleading 
 was finally allowed to try it. I shall never forget the look 
 of relief and delight as he was placed safely in the chair 
 in his chamber, and saw that the dreaded task was spared 
 him. Every night afterward, this great kindness was 
 shown him. Tutor White, the son of a dear college class- 
 mate, begged the privilege of sharing in this labor of love ; 
 and, soon afterward, he began to come also each morning 
 about eleven o'clock to take him down to the parlor. 
 
152 MEMORIES. 
 
 And so many weary months, that must otherwise have 
 been spent shut in a sick-chamber, were made far more 
 cheerful and happy in the family parlor, where he enjoyed 
 calls of neighbors and friends, and interested himself in 
 all the topics of the household and city. 
 
 On Sunday, Nov. 15, after Mr. White left him on the 
 lounge, he burst into tears ; and when asked the cause, 
 he said, " I was thinking of the goodness of God. Every 
 thing about me is so pleasant, so comforting; I have 
 been brought down-stairs so safely, so easily ; my swollen 
 limb is a little better, and every thing tells of God's won- 
 derful kindness. " I answered, " We have not half found 
 out his goodness yet." — " Half learned it ! Talk of half 
 finding out an unfathomable fact 1 '" he exclaimed. I 
 read the 103d Psalm. Said he, " I believe that, and the 
 23d, and 121st, and 27th, are the ones I like a little 
 the best." Then, with emphasis, he added the 91st, and 
 said, " I guess we shall find a good many more we shall 
 want to class with these." 
 
 On Monday he inquired about the services of the pre- 
 ceding day, then compared his Sundays now and for- 
 merly. He said, " I used to feel it a terrible cross to 
 preach in College Chapel. I did not have at all the 
 assurance that it was my duty to do so, for I always 
 questioned if it were not a disadvantage to the students. 
 It seemed to me to give them an indolent, irresponsible 
 church-life. Then I dreaded every effort I made there, 
 you cannot conceive how severely; partly because I 
 doubted the wisdom of the whole plan ; partly because 
 my audience came to hear me by compulsion ; especially 
 because I disliked to be pitted against some others who 
 had been pastors for years, and had a quantity of ser- 
 
MEMORIES, 153 
 
 mons ready, so they could preach with comparatively 
 little effort. But perhaps that was just the discipline the 
 Lord saw I needed. I know I did struggle hard against 
 that temptation, — as I presume now it was. I said to my- 
 self, ' It is none of your business ; you have no right to 
 make your personal success any motive in your Christian 
 work. All pride, and envy, and ambition, should be 
 entirely overcome in this matter/ I know I used to pray 
 a good deal over every sermon. Especially I remember 
 the sermon on prayer. I felt a great burden on that sub- 
 ject, and I begged God to help me speak the truth." 
 
 During the month of December he continually lost 
 flesh and strength, though his appetite and digestion were 
 both good. At some times he would talk quite hopefully 
 of being able to preach and sing again. On other days 
 he would talk of the better land, and rejoice in anticipa- 
 tion of it. He was constantly cheerful and often quite 
 merry, amusing himself in all the little occurrences of the 
 times. He dictated a letter on Dec. 5, commencing as 
 follows : "We have just finished, Lib and I, our dinner- 
 duet, consisting, by the programme, of common and 
 sweet potatoes, beefsteak, and celery for a relish. There 
 were two solo parts ; Lib's was bread and butter, and 
 mine onions. The second part of the programme was 
 pumpkin-pie and apples. The performance was very 
 successful, and no doubt we shall be called upon to 
 repeat the programme. 
 
 " Now I am stretched on the lounge — which I occupy 
 much of the time — digesting my dinner, coughing at 
 intervals, and dictating this epistle. It is a gloomy day 
 out of doors, but inside there is comfort ; not only in the 
 supply of our wants, and in the providential surroundings, 
 
154 MEMORIES. 
 
 but in the communion of two that have long been one, 
 and whom time and growing age, and the tests of these 
 later days, weld together in a more inseparable union. 
 And when you add to these the 'peace of God that 
 passeth all understanding,' what more could we ask to 
 sweeten our daily joys? And yet other things do en- 
 hance the enjoyments of our life. We have just proved it 
 in the vacation visit of Karl and Carrie, who brought the 
 light of young hearts to cheer and stir us up." — I queried 
 a bit here as to the correctness of his rhetoric, when 
 he said, " Oh, you wait ; I shall make that all right," and 
 immediately added, " as a lamp carried into an old closet 
 stirs up the old beetles, and bugs, and spiders, from their 
 lairs, and sets them to taking healthy exercise." 
 
 At this time he was unable to bear his own weight, and 
 only sat up two or three hours a day. As the month 
 progressed, he began to suffer more from short breath, 
 and many days his fever was very high. Still his energy 
 of spirit did not forsake him. Several times during the 
 month he rode for an hour in the bracing air, and returned 
 refreshed. On Saturday, the 29th, he went out for the 
 last time. He was driven to the new church building, 
 where he was interested in its progress and proportions. 
 The whole ride was pleasing, and gave him subject for 
 recreative thought some days. Several times afterward 
 he proposed riding, but failed to obtain his physician's 
 approval. His cough increased, and during the nights 
 was especially severe. Early in January, he called out 
 once, about midnight, " Who is it that shall ascend into 
 the hill of the Lord? Who shall stand in his holy 
 place?" I replied, "He that hath clean hands and a 
 pure heart." — " What else? " said he, " I want to apply 
 
MEMORIES. 155 
 
 the whole test to myself." I continued, "Who hath not 
 lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully." — 
 " Yes, ' sworn deceitfully] " said he : "are you sure I have 
 not done that?" — "Why, of all things, yes, I am sure 
 you never swore deceitfully." — " But," said he, " I want 
 to be very sure. You remember I have one share in the 
 stock company ; I did not put it into my tax- 
 list." — " Why should you? " said I. " It is not worth a 
 penny, has brought you no interest for years, and proba- 
 bly never will be of any value to you." — "Ah! that 
 makes no difference," he said ; " the question is, does 
 the law require me to report it ? I did not think of it 
 when I made out my list, and I do not suppose it should 
 be reckoned, because as a corporation it pays taxes in 
 another State. But I want you to write to Homer," — a 
 brother-in-law, — " and ask if by any law of Connecticut 
 or New York that ought to be put in my tax-list." When 
 the reply came assuring him there was none, he said, 
 " Well, that is settled ; I don't know of any thing else I 
 have not attended to correctly." He talked very fre- 
 quently, and with perfect freedom, of the changes that 
 were coming to us. He made all arrangements possible 
 for the future comfort of his family ; he gave advice on 
 many little matters that it seemed marvellous he should 
 remember in the midst of his suffering. He received 
 calls during all this month from all the friends who came. 
 It was a great pleasure to him to see them. And espe- 
 cially he enjoyed the visits of those who conversed freely 
 with him of mutual Christian experience ; and expressed 
 much surprise that the majority of Christians, and even 
 Christian ministers, did not talk more of their own reli- 
 gious experience. 
 
156 MEMORIES. 
 
 He said, one day, as I went into his room, " I have 
 some comfort in the promise you read me this morning, 
 ' He who hath begun a good work in you will perform it 
 until the day of the Lord Jesus.' I am sure / have begun 
 no good work, but I am sure a good work has been begun 
 in me, for I know that something has helped me to over- 
 come the carnal nature ; and I don't believe He who has 
 begun it will leave it unfinished." 
 
 "Read me some of the 119th Psalm," said he; "that 
 gets neglected because it is so long." After the reading 
 of that, he said, " Now read the hymn ' Abide with me.' " 
 When the hymn was ended, he repeated, with much em- 
 phasis and emotion, all of the last stanza, and added, 
 "He will. I am sure he will. 11 This hymn he asked 
 for very often, and often repeated, and more than once 
 sang it in the night, once when he was fast asleep. Also, 
 once during sleep he sang clearly, — 
 
 " Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone, 
 He whom I fix my hopes upon ; 
 His track I see, and I'll pursue 
 The narrow way till him I view." 
 
 Sunday, Jan. 24, he spent in his chamber, and most 
 of the day in bed. In the afternoon Bishop Foss, who 
 came to the city the preceding evening, called to see him. 
 The hour was one of the most delightful to him of all 
 his sickness. The bishop had been down to the gates 
 of death, and he knew just how to touch the chords of 
 heavenly comfort that would vibrate harmoniously in that 
 place. They compared their experiences, and neither 
 needed to explain. The fewest words were understood. 
 Heart answered heart, as they talked of the revelations 
 
MEMORIES. 157 
 
 from "the land that is not very far off; " and when they 
 again communed together with their Lord, he bent so low 
 to hear them, that it seemed to us who knelt by almost 
 the mount of transfiguration. All the next day, as he lay 
 on his lounge, he lived over that hour. Some one re- 
 marked that the bishop knew what topic would be accept- 
 able to him. He answered, with a humorous face, " Why, 
 if Bishop Foss had spent the hour in my room last night 
 in rehearsing his European plans, I should have thought 
 him insane." On Tuesday afternoon the kind bishop 
 came again, with Mrs. Foss, and again the theme was 
 " Jesus and the resurrection ; " and when he finally com- 
 mended his dying friend to God, to " our Elder Brother, 
 his Brother, my Brother," there came a sense of security 
 and blissful rest that never left him afterward. 
 
 The next day, — the day preceding the " day of prayer 
 for colleges," — he asked if I should think him wild if he 
 should say he was wondering if he could not be carried 
 to the college chapel to-morrow, so he might talk, "just 
 for a few minutes," in the prayer-meeting. He said, " I 
 do so long to talk to the students once more ! I want to 
 try to impress them with the importance of the Christian 
 life. I want them to see as I see it from my present 
 stand-point. It is strange to me that so much of my 
 work has been done from a sense of duty. Oh, if I could 
 work now, I should work from a real, warm love for the 
 Master and his cause. It seems to me I could convince 
 everybody of the reality and blessedness of the Christian 
 faith." When convinced he could not go, he wondered 
 if he could meet the students in the parlors at home. 
 For a few hours he indulged the pleasant thought ; then 
 he said, " I am afraid I could not endure it. My emo- 
 
158 
 
 MEMORIES. 
 
 tion would overcome me, and my strength would fail. 
 No, I can only speak to one and another separately, as 
 they call to see me." Nothing gave him more pleasure 
 than the occasional visits from his former pupils. 
 
 On Thursday, the 28th, he spent much time in prayer 
 for the blessing of God upon the day, and watched eagerly 
 for some one to tell him how the meetings at college were 
 resulting. 
 
 In the afternoon Dr. Hunt, who had preached in col- 
 lege chapel in the morning, called. His words of greet- 
 ing were, " I wanted to come and congratulate you upon 
 being so near the heavenly home." It was a welcome 
 keynote. Mr. Harrington readily took it up, and for a 
 half-hour he exulted in a conversation that led him almost 
 out of sight of bodily ills ; and the prayer that followed, 
 to "our Father, our Saviour, our Comforter," brought 
 answer of abiding joy. 
 
 The following night was one of great suffering, but, in 
 the midst of one of the severest paroxysms of coughing, 
 I noticed a particularly bright expression flit over his face. 
 It seemed like a light reflected on him. I said at once, 
 " Calvin, what is it ? " — " I'll tell you as soon as I can," 
 said he, smiling ; and, when he was able to talk, he said, 
 " My hard coughing made me know I could not stand 
 such racking much longer, and the thought came to me, 
 ' Soon people will be saying, " He is dead." ' I thought 
 how, in my old home, the word would go from one to 
 another, ' Calvin Harrington is dead.' Then the thought 
 came, ' But / shall be saying, No, not dead ; I am alive 
 forevermore? " Then he dwelt most exultantly upon the 
 "bliss of immortality," "life eternal." He said, " I fully 
 believe that I shall live forever / " and he praised God for 
 the glorious hope. 
 
MEMORIES. 159 
 
 Another night, between fearful spasms of coughing, he 
 said, " I have been thinking what a glorious offset this 
 doctrine of the resurrection is, to the difficulty we have of 
 comprehending God. I have been troubled, for a day or 
 two, with the thought of the eternity of God. How can 
 we conceive of a Being without beginning, without end, 
 without cause ? We cannot take it in, and I have been 
 struggling against the doubts it suggests. But just now 
 the resurrection of Jesus came to me, and that matches 
 it." 
 
CHAPTER XIV, 
 
 HEMORRHAGE. — PRAYER. — DAILY ROUTINE. — LETTERS. — 
 HYMNS.— CALLS. — APPROACH OF DEVTH. — DIRECTIONS. — 
 MESSA ^ES. — LAST PRAYER-MEE TING. — LAST SLEEP. — " INTO 
 THOSE MANSIONS."- KINDNESS OF FRIENDS. — MEMORIAL 
 OF FACULTY. 
 
 DURING the night of Saturday, Jan. 30, he had his 
 first hemorrhage. It was slight in the beginning, 
 but increased rapidly, and was apparently the breaking-up 
 of a deep-seated pulmonary ulcer. This drew heavily on 
 his little remaining strength, so we all saw he was going 
 down with increased rapidity. For two or three days he 
 conversed but little. On Sunday he said, " I will not try 
 
 to talk any until Mr. comes [a student who had 
 
 promised to call on that afternoon], so I may save all my 
 strength for a little time with him. I want, if possible, to 
 induce him to become an out-spoken Christian. " 
 
 From the night of Aug. 10, 1852, it had been our 
 invariable custom to unite our evening prayers at the 
 bedside. Monday evening, Feb. 1, lying in his bed, 
 paler and weaker than ever before, he prayed with un- 
 usual fervor, and for so many objects,- — the Church he 
 loved, the especial state of it here, the missionary of the 
 cross, the preachers of God's word everywhere, the col- 
 lege, the professors, the students, Bishop Foss and family 
 upon the deep, Dr. Hunt, and several others who had 
 especially asked his prayers, his own kindred, — all were 
 
MEMORIES. 161 
 
 remembered with such an earnestness ot desire, as if he 
 had just then an especial audience with the Deity, and 
 hastened to put in all his pleas, with the certain knowl- 
 edge that they would be regarded. Then, oh, how 
 tenderly ! he prayed for me and " the dear ones at Wil- 
 braham." 
 
 I said, when he ceased, " O Calvin, what can I do 
 when I can no longer have your prayers?" Heb. i. 14 
 coming to mind just at the moment, I quoted it. " Yes, 
 yes," said he, "you have that text, and you have this, 
 ' Thy Maker is thy husband ; ' and this, ' Let thy widows 
 trust in me ; ' and oh, so many more precious promises . r 
 We don't know whether I am to go soon, but I think 
 my failing strength these last few days squints that way. 
 I wish I could sing ! " and, with great eifort, he sang the 
 
 lines, — 
 
 " We shall see him as he is 
 By and by, when he comes ; 
 We shall see him as he is, 
 When he comes." 
 
 It was his last song before Jesus came to lead him into 
 that great company who sing around the throne. 
 
 The next day he wished to be brought down-stairs, 
 saying, " I don't like to give up entirely until I am com- 
 pelled to do so." He lay on the lounge in the parlor, and 
 looked again on all the familiar home scenes. With help, 
 he walked once more to the dining-room, and ate his 
 last dinner at the family table. But the day was a very 
 weary one, and the next morning he said calmly, he 
 thought " he would not try to leave his room any more." 
 
 Most of the remaining time was spent in bed. Towards 
 evening each day, he was helped to an easy-chair, where 
 
162 MEMORIES. 
 
 he sat about two hours, resting, eating his supper, and 
 attending family prayers. For a week he prayed each 
 time himself ; the effort becoming too great for him, he 
 called the last week on other members of the family. 
 During the first of these two weeks, he saw very little 
 company, but tried to rest, and conscientiously used 
 every means for health, as if he knew it might be avail- 
 able. After his morning toilet, his breakfast, and an 
 hour's rest, he listened daily to his own selections from 
 the Bible, and his favorite hymns. Then he conversed a 
 while on what had been read, and often his thoughts 
 seemed to reach out into the unseen, and he would lie 
 apparently rapt in a delightful communion with the 
 Comforter. After this he invariably called for the read- 
 ing of the daily paper, and listened with interest to all 
 the secular news, commenting upon it with the same 
 interest as if he were in active life. Then followed a 
 time of quiet, a sort of half-dozing, for some time before 
 dinner. One day at this hour I thought him asleep, and 
 was very quiet, so as not to disturb tils rest. At last 
 he opened his eyes full of humor, and said, " You need 
 not go tipping around any longer; I have not been 
 asleep." I said, " What have you been doing? " — " Get 
 your tablet, and I'll tell you," said he. When I was 
 ready, he dictated four stanzas of a little poem, the first 
 five of which he had written in a similar way a week 
 before. When I expressed approval, and said, " I'll send 
 it to the paper," he replied, " If you do, I'll whip you ; 
 I only made it to keep myself busy, and it is not worth 
 printing at all. Now, remember, don't let any of these 
 things that I have written in my weak condition ever see 
 the light. If you are foolish enough to enjoy them, you 
 can have them." 
 
MEMORIES. 163 
 
 He received many letters from friends, which were 
 sources of great comfort. He had frequently been called 
 upon to sing some selection at funeral services. This he 
 es:eemed a sacred privilege. One morning he rece: r 1 
 a letter from a neighbor, in which, after referring to two 
 such occasions, the writer said, " The hymns you sang 
 in the Spirit never left me. God was calling after me, 
 one of his children, but out in the world, — through you. 
 
 1 cannot remember any thing for a number of years that 
 took hold of my soul like those hymns. I desire to say 
 some word from God that will comfort or help you, as, 
 in times past, you were used in helping me. You are 
 near the entrance of that new life. Chns: says, 'Whoso- 
 ever believeth in me shall never die.' Hear Rev. i. 5. 6 ; 
 
 2 Pet. i. 16, 17, iS; 1 Pet. iv. 12. 15: 1 Per. i. 1-4; 
 Rom. viii. 37, 38, 39; John xiv. 26, 27." As these pas- 
 sages were read, Mr. Harrington said, u It seems to me, 
 
 brother N must have been inspired to quote these 
 
 special passages for me in just this order, they give me 
 such new light and strength.'' 
 
 The next day a letter came from one of the patients of 
 the insane-hospital, saying, " Your voice I have heard with 
 delight preaching the blessed gospel of God's dear Son." 
 This filled his heart with grateful joy, for though he had 
 taken his turn with clergymen of the city in supplying 
 the pulpit of the hospital very willingly, as a reasonable 
 duty, yet he often feared that those to whom the preach- 
 ing was especially directed were too much diseased to 
 derive any real good. He rejoiced that God had allowed 
 him to cheer at least one of those afflicted ones. There 
 were other letters, for which, more than all, he thanked 
 God with great joy. These were from former students 
 
1 64 MEMORIES. 
 
 of the university, one of whom he had often mourned 
 over, and prayed for with great longing, but with disap- 
 pointed hope. The assurance that his words, though 
 apparently unheeded, had not been in vain, gave him 
 great comfort. 
 
 On Thursday, the i ith, he lay very quiet for some time, 
 when I asked for his thoughts. " I was thinking," said 
 he, " of three hymns. Of that one by Ganse, — the 
 283d of the Hymnal, — especially of the last stanza : — 
 
 ' Tell me much of cleansing blood ; 
 Show me sin, but sin forgiven ; 
 Step by step where Christ has trod, 
 Help me home to heaven.' 
 
 "Then the 220th, by Charles Wesley : — 
 
 ' O Love Divine, what hast thou done ? 
 
 The incarnate God hath died for me ! 
 The Father's co-eternal Son 
 
 Bore all my sins upon the tree ! 
 The Son of God for me hath died. 
 My Lord, my Love, is crucified ! ' 
 
 "I have been trying," said he, "to find one on the 
 other side to match these, — a response of the human to 
 the divine love. The only one I can think of, as com- 
 ing anywhere near what I want, is this of Watts's, the 
 2 1 ith : — 
 
 * Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
 
 That were a present far too small ; 
 Love so amazing, so divine, 
 
 Demands my soul, my life, my all.' " 
 
MEMORIES. 165 
 
 A Christian friend called to inquire for him. When 
 
 told she was down-stairs, he said, " Give sister W my 
 
 love ; and tell her it is all bright here now, and when we 
 get over there it will be brighter." 
 
 He suffered every day more from difficulty of breath- 
 ing and from extreme restlessness. On Friday Professor 
 Van Vleck came in, and was, as always, most welcome. 
 Mr. Harrington was greatly cheered by the faithfulness 
 of his colleagues, and sometimes wondered that his long 
 sickness did not exhaust their sympathy. He told Pro- 
 fessor Van Vleck of his intense unrest. Then he added 
 cheerfully, "But though the exterior is so restless, the 
 interior is very restful. Professor, it is all rest within" 
 A little later Professor Rice came and talked with him 
 a while. Soon Mr. Harrington said, "Professor, I should 
 like to hear you pray once more. I may have several 
 opportunities, we can't tell, but I should like to hear you 
 now." And most comforting were the words of praise 
 and supplication offered to God. As Professor Rice rose, 
 he said, " Before you go, tell me about those Seney bonds. 
 A paragraph in the paper to-day looked as though they 
 had appreciated again." And the confirmation of this 
 good news for the college was just as pleasing as if he had 
 been, as of old, identified with all the work of the uni- 
 versity. The full conviction that he was near the end of 
 earthly life detracted nothing from his appreciation of the 
 importance of it. Life was to him the workshop where 
 the great Master-Builder had placed his workmen, and 
 there was nothing of the work given them to do that was 
 not worth earnest and careful attention until they were 
 called away to other service. 
 
 All these nights he alternated between severe fits of 
 
1 66 MEMORIES. 
 
 coughing, and moments of broken, heavy, tiresome sleep- 
 ing. He talked almost constantly in his sleep, often 
 fancying himself away on a journey, and piteously beg- 
 ging to go home. Once he called out so joyfully, " After 
 all, here we are home in the midst of friends. Praise the 
 Lord ! " Waking or sleeping, he repeated passage after 
 passage of Scripture, and many a favorite hymn, and 
 often prayed with great earnestness. His last audible 
 prayer in his sleep was on the night of Feb. 13, and was 
 very distinct and coherent, ending formally with, "And 
 now forgive us all our sins, and accept all our thanksgiv- 
 ings, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." The previous day, 
 — Saturday, — after listening to a chapter from the Gospel 
 
 of John, he said, " Now read me one of brother N 's 
 
 quotations, — the one from Peter." I began the one in 
 2d Peter. " No, no, not that, — the long one in the first 
 chapter of 1st Peter. Read sixteen verses." As I read, 
 he responded frequently with praises ; and when I ended, 
 he said, " How full that is of strong doctrines ! " calling 
 my attention to the fact that in those few verses the 
 doctrines of the atonement, the resurrection, salvation, 
 and eternal life in Jesus Christ, and his second advent, 
 were all set forth. 
 
 Karl came at noon, and much of the afternoon was 
 spent in company with him. On Sunday morning he 
 enjoyed listening to the sound of the organ in the room 
 below, as Karl played at family prayers ; and said, when 
 he went to him afterward, " Though I could not distin- 
 guish the words, I could easily follow the music, and 
 knew they were, ' Abide with me. 7 " 
 
 That day he repeated with emphasis the last two lines 
 of Philip Doddridge's hymn : — 
 
MEMORIES. 167 
 
 " And crowned with victory, at his feet 
 I'll lay my trophies down." 
 
 My sister, sitting by, said, " Lay your burdens down? " 
 
 "No, no; not burdens, but trophies" he replied. A 
 little after, he said, " I am resting on a firm foundation. 
 There is nothing in all this world so solid, so immovable, 
 so satisfactory, as the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 Why, I know I am safe in him. The Word of God says, 
 * Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.' 
 I have fulfilled the conditions, — I have come to him, and 
 he keeps his word. The everlasting arms are under me. 
 If there is a God, he is a God of truth. His word can- 
 not fail. And that there is a God / know. 
 
 " I have not the least fear or dread of death. Death 
 is only the step over from this life into the life eternal. 
 
 " I used to think the things about me, that I could see 
 and hear and feel by physical sense, were the real, tangi- 
 ble things ; but now I see spiritual things are the only 
 real ones." 
 
 When evening came we thought him unable to sit up ; 
 but he pleaded, " I shall sleep better if I am in my chair 
 for a while ; after a rest the night will be less tedious." 
 
 He had not led in family devotions for some days ; but 
 after taking his supper, he said, " Now, Karl, if you will 
 read a very short Psalm, I will try to pray." Karl read 
 the 121st, then his father prayed. Oh, how he prayed ! 
 It was evidently a great effort for his lungs, but his voice 
 was almost unnaturally loud as he for the last time per- 
 formed the priest's office at his own family altar. Such I 
 know he felt to be the case, as one by one he committed 
 us all to God, and consecrated himself, his family, all our 
 
1 68 , MEMORIES. 
 
 interests for time and eternity, to the great Father of us 
 all. We felt we were laid on the altar, and for Jesus* 
 sake God accepted the offering. 
 
 The prayer ended, he was helped to bed ; and then he 
 said, " Now, let me rest while you and Karl eat supper ; 
 then I want to talk a little." 
 
 He was waiting for us, when in a few minutes we re- 
 turned, and sat close by his bedside. 
 
 He began in trembling tones, and went back over his 
 own life, tracing the wonderful leading hand of God in it 
 all. He spoke of his early doubts in reference to a call 
 to the ministry, — the question that so long troubled him, 
 whether he ought to be in the active pastorate instead of 
 a professor's chair. He expressed his final settled con- 
 viction, that for him the latter position was one in which 
 there was even a greater opportunity for Christian influ- 
 ence and labor than anywhere else. He spoke of his 
 great satisfaction that he had lived to see his son estab- 
 lished in this calling, and should leave him knowing he 
 was where he had great opportunity to work for Christ. 
 That, he said, was the work of life. He was ambitious 
 that his boy should be fully equipped for his earthly work. 
 He wished him to use every facility to make and keep 
 himself thoroughly qualified for all the demands of this 
 growing age, and to use all his energy to make himself 
 successful in his department of teaching. " But remem- 
 ber always/' said he, " that there is a still higher goal to 
 aim at, a far more important work to be accomplished. 
 And wherever you are, let the spiritual welfare of those 
 about you lie deepest in your heart." 
 
 He spoke of his hopes for Karl's domestic happiness, 
 and his pleasure that the chosen one was a child of God, 
 
MEMORIES. 169 
 
 and worker for Jesus. He said, "I should have been 
 very glad to live until your wedding-day," but with a 
 smile added, " When it comes, Karl, I think I shall know 
 about it. I think I shall be there" 
 
 He dwelt then much on his own strong confidence in 
 God and in the Christian religion. He said, " I would 
 be a Christian, if it were only for the joy it gives in this 
 life ; " and talked much of his great delight in the pres- 
 ence of the Comforter now. 
 
 He said then, " I am perfectly at rest in reference to 
 my future. I know I am safe in Christ. We don't know 
 what the future joys will be, but I think 1 1 shall be satis- 
 fied when I awake with his likeness.' " 
 
 He rejoiced greatly that we all rested on the same 
 rock ; that he could leave his dear ones, knowing that the 
 same God who had so wonderfully led him all his life, 
 and blessed him fully, now it was closing, was the God 
 in whom they trusted. He said, " In him you are safe. 
 He will lead you, and I can leave you in his hands with 
 perfect confidence that at all times ' the Lord will pro- 
 vide.' " 
 
 After talking more minutely on family matters, he said, 
 " Well, I can't talk any longer ; and it is just as well, for 
 I believe I have said all I want to." He bade us good- 
 night, and tried to rest. For an hour or two he slept 
 somewhat quietly ; then his breathing became more diffi- 
 cult, the coughing more constant, and suffering more 
 evident. The last part of the night, his feet became cold. 
 He said, " Don't try to warm them, they do not feel cold 
 to me." He knew evidently that it was the chill that 
 could never be removed. When morning came, he said, 
 " Karl must go to his work this morning. He is needed 
 
170 MEMORIES. 
 
 at Wilbraham; and though I love to have him here, I 
 ought not to keep him from his duties, as there is nothing 
 he can do to relieve me." 
 
 So their last kisses were exchanged, and good-bys said, 
 while the death-angel waited. 
 
 Then he went through his usual morning programme, 
 not omitting the listening to the daily paper. About 
 eleven he sank rapidly, and for a few moments was unable 
 to speak, and we thought we had listened to his last 
 words. But restoratives were administered, and he came 
 back to us. His physicians, who were out of town at 
 that hour, returned about two in the afternoon. A glance 
 told them the truth, and with few words they left the 
 room. 
 
 As I went back to Mr. Harrington, after a few moments* 
 conversation with them, he asked, "What did they tell 
 you?" I said, " Do you remember saying to me a few 
 days ago, that you would like to go home then, if it were 
 God's will? " — " Yes." — " And do you feel just so still? 
 Do you want to go to-day? " — "If I could live a year 
 longer to preach and sing and pray, and work for souls, 
 I would love to live. But I had to give that up some 
 time ago ; and since I can only live to suffer, and cause 
 suffering and care for others, I would rather go. Yes, I 
 would like to go to-day." I told him his physicians 
 thought he could live but a few hours longer. He closed 
 his eyes, and for some moments was evidently prayerfully 
 taking in the momentous fact. Then he whispered, 
 "Praise the Lord /" 
 
 Soon he said, " You have been writing some letters to- 
 day. Will you read me a sample ? " I read one. It was 
 only a word to prepare his near relatives for the severe 
 
MEMORIES. 171 
 
 blow that must soon follow. "That is right/' said he, 
 and added, " You will have to send telegrams to-morrow. 
 You had better prepare a list of names now, lest you may 
 not be so well able to think of all later, and may neglect 
 somebody." I told him I had already made a partial list. 
 "Read me that," said he. I did so, and he added 
 several names that he wished to have remembered. Then 
 he spoke of other arrangements that should be made, 
 quite as calmly as he would have spoken if the journey 
 he was about to take were to London, instead of the 
 heavenly city. 
 
 My sister, who had been with us for two months, light- 
 ening all our burdens, came into the room ; and he called, 
 " Minerva, the doctors say I am going soon. I want to 
 say a few things to you that I shall not be able to say by 
 and by. Give my love to all the kith and kin, and tell 
 them I would be glad to answer all their letters separately, 
 but they will get no more letters from me through the 
 United States mail ; but — ' Are they not all ministering 
 spirits? ' " Then he added, "You must hurry your letter, 
 so to have it go out in the next mail." 
 
 Said he, " I did mean to write to G myself, but I 
 
 wish you would write for me. You know what I want 
 to tell him. Tell him all about what a comfort this 
 blessed religion is to me, and ask him to come to Jesus 
 for the comfort he needs so much." 
 
 Of a friend whom he highly esteemed, and for whom he 
 had often prayed, he said, " I want him to be a believer 
 in Jesus. What a power he would be for Christ ! I want 
 you to carry him this message from me. Carry it either by 
 word of mouth or by letter, as you choose. Tell him this 
 from me : ' Come to Jesus in his own way ; come humbly, 
 
172 MEMORIES. 
 
 and consecrate the rest of your life and service to him, 
 and let us enjoy the heavenly mansions together.' " 
 
 He heard familiar voices down-stairs. Said he, " The 
 neighbors are coming in to inquire for me. Give them 
 this message from me. Always say that I send Christian 
 love to my neighbors, with a hope that we may be very 
 close together in the heavenly world.' ' Just at night his 
 friend Professor Prentice came into his room. He had 
 been expecting him, and looked up so glad, saying, " I 
 want you to pray again with me." I said, "Wait a little. 
 I want him to do something else before he prays." Mr. 
 Harrington looked reprovingly, but I persisted : " You 
 have taken no nourishment since one o'clock ; and I 
 think, after a glass of milk, you would enjoy the prayer 
 better." — "I cannot; I cannot raise my head." — "But," 
 I said, "I think Professor can lift you up." — " He could- 
 n't do it," said he. " Why," said the kind friend, " I could 
 do any thing for you, Professor; " and, lifting him in his 
 arms, he held him firmly while he drank his last earthly 
 food. Then they talked of the " home over there," and 
 the dear ones awaiting ; and their prayers of faith once 
 more went up together to the God they trusted. Their 
 love had been cemented in sorrow, and death only fastened 
 it more firmly. 
 
 This was the beginning of Mr. Harrington's last prayer- 
 meeting ; for soon Professor Van Benschoten followed, and 
 tenderly committed the suffering one to the arms of the 
 loving Jesus. 
 
 His pastor, Rev. W. V. Kelly, whose welcome visits had 
 been very frequent during all his sickness, came in a little 
 later, and once more prayed the Father for divine aid for 
 his waiting servant. Words of comfort followed ; and, as 
 
MEMORIES. 173 
 
 he was about to leave, Mr. Harrington said, "Tell me 
 once more about the new church. I did hope I might 
 live to see it completed, but I shall have to give that up." 
 He had watched its progress daily, through the reports of 
 friends, since the first brick was laid ; and he did not forget 
 it even when stepping upon the portal of the "house not 
 built with hands." 
 
 Though consciously so near death, he lost no interest 
 in the things about him, and even retained his old fond- 
 ness for humor. Early in the night, when we tried to 
 give him a swallow of water, he said, " Now, let me tell 
 you just how I can take it. Put it away down by the side 
 of the bed, so, as my head lies off, I can just touch my 
 lips to the surface." And with a merry glance at a dear 
 nephew sitting by, he said, " I guess Bing. has drank 
 water out of a brook before now. He knows how we do 
 it." 
 
 Between the hours of eleven and one, he suffered 
 greatly. His position was continually changed, but he 
 could find rest nowhere. His breathing grew more and 
 more difficult, until I knew he feared, as I did, terrible 
 agony at the last. He commenced a remark implying 
 dread, but instantly checked it, and with earnestness re- 
 peated, " The Lord is my light and my salvation : whom 
 shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life : of 
 whom shall I be afraid? " He closed his eyes, evidently 
 in prayer ; and all my soul cried with him unto the Lord, 
 " Take him not away in extreme suffering. I will hold 
 him back no longer. Take him when thou wilt, only 
 grant us this, that he may go peacefully." His restless- 
 ness ceased. Pressing my hand with all the energy of 
 the death-grasp, he said, " Glory be to the Father, and 
 
174 MEMORIES. 
 
 to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost ; " and our voices 
 united for the last time in the words, " As it was in the 
 beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. 
 Amen." 
 
 Then he fell into a quiet sleep. There was no more 
 restlessness, no more expression or indication of suffer- 
 ing, no incoherent words ; but as a little child sleeps in 
 health, so he seemed to rest from the hour of two in the 
 morning until six. Then he suddenly turned his head 
 to one side, a few times gasped very lightly, and we saw 
 that " he was not, for God had taken him." His eyes 
 were closed as they had been during that last quiet sleep, 
 and his own smile was on his lips. 
 
 Our prayers had been answered, and in gratitude my 
 heart whispered, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
 taken away : blessed be the name of the Lord." 
 
 As I think of the last weeks of his suffering and weari- 
 ness, exchanged for rest and triumph, these stanzas of 
 one of his own hymns come to replace selfish longings 
 by thanksgiving to our Father, who has given his beloved 
 sleep : — 
 
 Into those mansions pure and holy, 
 
 Cometh tears nor pain; 
 Followers of the meek and lowly 
 
 Meet their Lord again. 
 Singing are the angels, singing, singing, 
 
 In that sinless land ; 
 Ringing are the voices, ringing, ringing, 
 
 Voices of a sainted band. 
 
 Sorrow and sighing from the immortal 
 Evermore are fled ; 
 Joyfully at the heavenly portal, 
 Shout the risen dead. 
 
MEMORIES. 17s 
 
 Everlasting joy, all glorious, glorious, 
 
 On their heads shall be, 
 Everlasting life, o'er death victorious, 
 
 Through a long eternity. 
 
 It would be a relief to my own heart if I could ex- 
 press at all adequately my gratitude to those who, in so 
 many ways, blessed us during the days of my husband's 
 sickness. The members of the university and their 
 families, our pastor, and the members of our own church, 
 neighbors and friends of every name, — these were not 
 all. But many on whom we had not even the claim of 
 acquaintance came to show their sympathy. Aged and 
 infirm ones toiled feebly to our door to exchange words 
 of Christian greeting, and little children brought their 
 sweet smiles of cheer. The various tokens of kind re- 
 membrance caused the patient sufferer repeatedly to say, 
 "It almost pays to be sick, so to learn the wealth of 
 human sympathy." 
 
 His room was almost literally a flower-garden. He 
 never failed to ask for the donor's name, and often feared 
 his pleasure in the gifts would not be known. Once, when 
 luscious fruits, tastefully arranged with flowers, were pre- 
 sented him, he exclaimed, with moistened eyes, " What 
 shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits ? For 
 surely, though the messengers who bring all these gifts 
 are human, the real giver is Divine." 
 
 One morning in August, after looking about with pleas- 
 ure on the profusion of fragrant flowers that brightened 
 his room, a cloud came over his face, and he said, " Do 
 you know what I dread? It is the time when these gifts 
 will cease. These dear friends think that I am soon to 
 
176 MEMORIES. 
 
 leave them, and their kind sympathy is expressed in this 
 abundance of flowers. But I dread the time when I shall 
 have lived on and on, until they have become weary 
 waiting, — for they must he absorbed in their own duties, 
 — and I shall miss them." I suggested that this was the 
 season of flowers, and the abundance now caused his 
 friends comparatively little sacrifice, and doubtless gave 
 them pleasure ; but by and by, when the cold came, 
 and the flowers withered, we would not expect them, and 
 would know that the lack was not a change in our friends, 
 whose sympathy surely was not limited by the flower- 
 season. " I guess that is the right way to look at it," 
 said he ; " and so we will enjoy them while we can." 
 
 But the flowers never failed to come. The frosts came. 
 Winter came with its cold and wind and snow. But 
 flowers came too ; and as the days grew colder, their 
 presence was sweeter. Only a few days before he went 
 away, a dear neighbor brought a lily in bud, whose de- 
 velopment he watched with much interest, directing its 
 position to favor the sun's rays and his own view ; and 
 when he closed his eyes to earth's beauties, the pure 
 white lily was beside him. 
 
 After his spirit fled to the land of perennial flowers, 
 these unfailing friends came to place the bright, sweet 
 things he loved upon his bier, and to strew them on his 
 grave. God bless them, and lead them up where he 
 can tell them better how precious were their ministra- 
 tions ! 
 
 Among such kind memorials as those of the Prohibi- 
 tion Society of Middletown, the Xi Chapter of the Psi 
 Upsilon Fraternity, and the Alumni of Wesleyan Univer- 
 sity, it seems peculiarly appropriate for that of the Fac- 
 
MEMORIES. 177 
 
 ulty, in which he had been a brother for nearly a quarter 
 of a century, to be inserted here : — 
 
 Wesleyan University, March 16, 1886. 
 
 " We desire to place upon the records of the Faculty 
 an expression of our sense of the loss we have sustained 
 as a Faculty, and of the yet deeper sense of loss we feel 
 as individuals, in the death of our colleague and friend, 
 Professor Calvin Sears Harrington. For nearly twenty- 
 five years, Professor Harrington had been a member of 
 this Faculty. He had proved himself an accurate and 
 etegant scholar, a careful and successful teacher. In 
 the punctual discharge of all his professorial duties, in 
 his constant concern for all the interests of the college, 
 and his unselfish devotion to its welfare, he was a model 
 or us all. 
 
 " But it is as the friend and the Christian, that Pro- 
 fessor Harrington will always be thought of first, and re- 
 membered longest. The moral and religious tone of the 
 college community was to him a matter of constant 
 solicitude. It is probable that he was not absent from 
 his Thursday- evening religious class-meeting more than 
 half a dozen times in twenty years (except when he was 
 out of town) ; and it was very seldom indeed that he 
 failed to be present at the students' prayer-meeting on 
 sabbath mornings ; while his own daily religious life was a 
 guide and inspiration to all who knew him. His charac- 
 ter was so sincere, and his disposition so kindly, that it is 
 doubtful whether he ever gave offence to a pupil in his 
 life ; and it seems certain that no student could pass under 
 the influence of his presence for four years without being 
 deeply impressed by the gracious charm of his character. 
 
178 MEMORIES. 
 
 " To a degree very rare he united positiveness of con- 
 viction with gentleness of manner, strictness of moral 
 principle with kindness for the individual. In the coun- 
 sels of the Faculty it used to be frequently noticed, when 
 matters of discipline were under discussion, that no one 
 would insist on so high and strict a rule of conduct for 
 the student, but that no one was so forbearing and 
 hopeful in his dealing with the individual offender. 
 
 " Only those who had the privilege of knowing Profes- 
 sor Harrington intimately, as most of us had, can under- 
 stand the rare social charm of his character. A native 
 courtesy and gentleness, a winning unselfishness and kind- 
 ness of disposition, an active intelligence, and a culti- 
 vated taste, a peculiar, ever-present humor, made all the 
 more irresistible by a certain demureness of manner, — 
 all these qualities combined to make Professor Harring- 
 ton one of the most congenial of companions, as well as 
 one of the truest of friends. 
 
 " All the traits of mind and heart that won our admira- 
 tion and love during the years of his active association 
 with us, were only heightened and intensified during the 
 months of weakness and weariness that preceded his 
 death. And, now that he is gone, we find the memory 
 of him a constant inspiration ; and as we think of him 
 we say, — higher praise no man can give, — ' He was a 
 Christian gentleman.' " 
 

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